CHAPTER EIGHT.
We must follow Philip in his perilous adventure. He felt more doubtfulas to the strength of the ice than he had expressed; but should it breakbeneath him, he relied on his long pole to extricate himself. He lookedback every now and then, and he appeared to be taking a straight course;he felt the breeze also always on his left cheek. This inspirited him,though he could not see the shore. The snow was yielding enough, thoughrather clogging about his heels; the fog, however, grew thicker thanever; it was evidently the fog caused by a warm thaw. He had seen manysuch in England. He pushed on boldly--faster than he had gone with hisbrothers--he was lightly clad and carried no weight. Did he hear soundscoming from the shore--sleigh-bells--or sheep-bells--men's voices also?If so, he was probably near the settlement. He was trying to pierce themist, when suddenly he felt his feet sinking from under him, and beforehe could spring back, he was sent gliding down a slab of ice, andplunged in the water. For several yards before him there was nothingbut water. Holding his pole he swam on. He reached the edge of theice: it broke as he clutched it. It is a difficult operation to get outof water on to a slab of ice. He found it so. If he got one end of thepole on the ice the other slipped off. He saw the danger of exhaustinghis strength by useless struggles. He had heard voices. He might makehimself heard, so he shouted--"Help! help! the ice has broken in--help!"
It was a sad fate which seemed about to overwhelm him. Life had manycharms in spite of the one disappointment, which had, rather given agravity to his manner than in any way embittered his existence. He hadhoped to do something in the world--his duty, at all events. He hadmany too depending on him. How would they bear his loss? He lookedupward. A thick veil hung over his head. Below was the dark water--onevery side the wide expanse of treacherous ice and snow. His limbs weregetting chilled; still he would struggle on while consciousness wasallowed him. Had the hole been smaller into which he had fallen, hemight have got his pole across it. It was, however, of much assistance,as holding on to it, he could rest without breaking the edge of the ice.He was certain that he heard sleigh-bells. He shouted louder thanbefore. The bells ceased. He instantly shouted again. A voicereplied, "We'll be with you directly, friend." His heart leaped withinhim. The voices sounded louder. He discerned objects dimly moving overthe ice, here and there. They must be looking for him. He shoutedagain. They resolved themselves into the forms of two men. Theyapproached him. One had a rope in his hand. "Lay hold of this, we'llsoon have you out," said the man. Philip passed the rope round hispole, and then grasped it tightly. With care he was dragged out. Theother person stood at a distance. "We must not put more weight than wecan help on this treacherous stuff," he said. "Why, I do believe thatyou are young Ashton."
"The same: and you Mr Norman," cried Philip. "I am indeed thankful foryour timely aid."
"Which my man rendered, and not I; and which he would have rendered to adrowning dog, so don't say anything about that," replied Mr Norman."But we must not stop talking here. The sooner we are on _terra firma_,and you in a warm bed, the better."
Philip found, on reaching the shore, that he was fully half a mile northof the settlement. Mr Norman, who was on his way to pay his family avisit, was passing in his sleigh at the moment. "I hoped that the snowwould remain long enough to enable me to get up to you, for your roadscarcely allows of a wheeled conveyance," he observed, as they droverapidly back to the settlement, Philip sitting covered up with furs atthe bottom of the sleigh. A warm bed was, however, not a luxury to befound at the settlement; indeed, Philip assured his friend, that if hecould obtain a change of clothes, he would much rather set off at onceto rescue his brothers. "Not till you are more fit to go than atpresent," said Mr Norman. "My friend Job Judson, at the hotel, willhelp us; and while you are drying outwardly, and warming inwardly, wewill get a boat or canoe of some sort to shove over across the ice tobring away the youngsters. They are happy enough in the meantime,depend on that; I have had many such an adventure in my younger days,greatly to my enjoyment."
In a few minutes Philip was sitting wrapped up in a sheet and blanketbefore the almost red-hot stove of the log-hut, y-clept an hotel, whileMr Job Judson was administering a stiffer tumbler of rum-and-water thanPhilip had ever before tasted, probably, though it appeared to him nostronger than weak negus. Believing this to be the case he did notdecline a second, the effect of which was to throw him into a glow andto send him fast asleep. Meantime his clothes, hung up round the stove,were drying rapidly; and when the landlord at last aroused him to putthem on, he found that they were, as he said, as warm as a toast; indeedthey were, he had reason to suspect, rather overdone. He found MrNorman with a large dug-out canoe on runners, with a couple of poles,one on each side, and two men who had volunteered to accompany him.
"I'd go myself, but I guess I'd rather over-ballast your craft," saidJob Judson, turning round his rotund figure, such as was not often seenin the bush. Philip thanked him, and agreed that no more persons wererequired for the expedition.
Mr Norman insisted on going. "Do not be afraid of my being tired," heremarked; "I have always lived in so hardy a way that nothing tires me."
Philip was not aware that more than three hours had passed since hereached the settlement. The fog was still as thick as ever. The twomen dragged on the canoe; Mr Norman pushed astern, and placing acompass down on the seat before him, observed, "It is necessary to takeour departure very carefully, or we shall find it more difficult to hitthe island than you did on leaving it to reach the shore. I do notsuppose that there is a person in the settlement can give us thebearings of the island from this."
"No; but the map of the Geological Survey will," said the gentleman whokept the store in the settlement. In another instant he brought out alarge map, where the island was clearly laid down. "All right, thankyou," said Mr Norman: "away we go." The two men laid hold of thefore-end of the poles; Philip and Mr Norman behind. The ice was farfrom secure; it did not crack nor bend, but it evidently rested on thewater, and such ice generally gives way without any warning or sound.The party, however, pushed dauntlessly on, steadily, but not so fast asPhilip would have liked. He thought, indeed, at last, that they musthave passed the island; but Mr Norman was too good a navigator forthat--it rose up suddenly before them.
Philip shouted, "Harry--Charley--all right, boys--hurrah!" but there wasno answer. Again he cried out; no one replied. "They are hiding to tryto frighten me, Mr Norman," he said, laughing,--"the rogues." Theparty landed and looked about. "O very well, they cannot be here, andso we'll go away," he cried out, thinking that would make them appear;it had no such effect. Philip began to grow anxious: they wouldcertainly not carry their joke so far. He went round the island,sometimes on the ice and sometimes on shore. As he was hurrying on,what was his dismay to see a large hole in the ice: his poor youngbrothers had met the fate which he had so narrowly escaped. He sawexactly how it had happened; one had gone through, and the other intrying to help him out had fallen in likewise. There had been astruggle, as there were prints of feet and knees in the snow round it;some the water had washed over.
His exclamations of grief brought his companions to the spot. "Not socertain that anything dreadful has occurred," said Mr Norman. "Youtold me you had killed a bear: now Bruin has been deprived of his hinderlegs, which make the best hams; and his four paws, which turn into goodsoup; and I don't think that they would have walked off by themselves.Come, let us examine your hut. Ah! the skin too has disappeared."
"Yes, and I see that the remainder of the fish which D'Arcy gave us arenot here," said Philip, somewhat relieved. "But perhaps the island hasbeen visited by some trapper, who would naturally carry off the mostvaluable parts of the bear."
"Ah! but look here: if the island has been visited by a trapper, he camewith a vehicle on runners from the direction of your clearing, andreturned to the same place. There are the marks clear enough still; anIndian would have told us exactly how things
occurred."
"I wish that we had had one," said Philip, in whom fatigue had producedlow spirits. "The visitor, whoever he was, not finding them, may havecarried off the bear's flesh and returned without them."
"I think that I can convince you that my conjectures are correct," saidMr Norman, after looking about for some time longer. "You killed thebear with long stakes: I can find none; they would naturally havecarried them off as trophies. They had skates; none are to be seen, thefoot-prints are those of shoes."
"How came the hole?" asked Philip.
"They made it themselves to fish through. See here are some scaleswhich Tom Smith has just brought me, and which his sharp eye detectednear the hole: the fish was evidently thrown down there on beingunhooked. Come, I doubt if any Indian would read marks more clearlythan I have done, though probably he would explain matters in a far morepompous style. The fact is, my experience of bush-life and Indian lifehas been very considerable, as you will understand if you like some dayto listen to some of my adventures. But there is nothing to keep uslonger here."
Philip was happier, but not thoroughly satisfied. The party set out ontheir return.
"This ice would not have borne us many hours hence; be ready for a leapinto the canoe," said Mr Norman. They reached the settlement, however,in safety. The inhabitants were divided in opinion as to whether theyoung Ashtons were lost or not; Philip was eager to reach home to settlethe point. Mr Norman had sent for wheels for his vehicle, as the snowhad melted too much to allow of runners. It was soon mounted, and awaythey rattled, bumped and thumped, Mr Norman singing--
"`You and I, Billy, have often heard how folks are ruined and undone, By overturns in carriages, by fires and thieves in London.'
"You see, my young friend, we must look out for haps and mishaps in thecountry as well as in town, on shore as well as at sea. Ignorant ofreligion as seamen are, they have a right feeling of a superintendingProvidence, which makes them feel as secure in the midst of the ragingstorm as they would driving about in the crowded city. The truebeliever in Christ is ready to die at any moment. This it is makes weakwomen courageous, while strong men show themselves to be cowards wheninstant death threatens them."
Philip thought to himself, "How did I behave and feel when I was in thewater this morning?--how when I found the hole in the ice, and thoughtthat my brothers had fallen through?" The journey to the clearing,which across the ice would not have occupied twenty minutes, and not anhour by land had the snow been hard, took up more than two hours, withthe risk of an overturn or break-down every yard, and such jolting asonly well-knit limbs would endure.
At last the log-house appeared before them. "A very creditable edifice;really, Mr Philip, you were born a backwoodsman," exclaimed Mr Norman."I learned carpentering, and the principal rules for house-building,while my hands and eyes have been kept in exercise from my childhood,"was the answer. "That is the preparation required for all settlers inthe bush, and which so large a number want and fail of success inconsequence--or at all events waste precious years in gaining at a heavycost the knowledge with which they ought to begin. I commenced theworld without a sixpence, and have worked my way up to wealth andindependence by the proper use of my hands and head. A settler, torise, must have both. We welcome hands in the province. The possessorof a head benefits himself chiefly--not that we could get on withoutheads either."
As they drove up to the door, D'Arcy was the first person to meet them.Philip's heart sunk within him in spite of what Mr Norman had beensaying. He hoped to have seen his brothers. "Where are the lads?" heexclaimed, eagerly. "All right, come in. I will take your horse round,Mr Norman," said D'Arcy; and as the door opened, the boys' voices wereheard from their room. The rest of the family quickly came to theentrance to welcome them; and D'Arcy, coming back, explained what hadoccurred. He had seen the blaze of their burning hut, but notsuspecting the cause, had gone across the lake with his canoe onrunners, to ascertain if they had got home safe, not sorry for a goodexcuse for his visit. His appearance naturally caused great dismay andanxiety. He, however, afforded his friends some comfort, by assuringthem that he believed the missing ones would be found on the island,towards which, supplied with a compass, he immediately set out,accompanied by Peter, and carrying provisions, cordials, and blankets.His satisfaction was considerable when laughing voices proceeded fromthe direction of the island, and he found the young gentlemen amusingthemselves greatly by fishing for tommicods. Taking the best parts ofthe bear, he hurried back with his rescued friends to prevent Philip,should he arrive first, from setting off to meet them.
Philip's long delay had again caused his family great anxiety. A happyparty, with grateful hearts, assembled round Mr Ashton's supper-tablethat evening--a table framed by his own hands, while most of theluxuries were supplied by the industry of those sitting round it. Inanother year there would not be an article of food on it which had notbeen produced on the farm, or procured from the lake, or surroundingwoods. Not the least happy was Lawrence D'Arcy; and perhaps a glance atMiss Ashton's countenance might have told the reason why.
"Well, Mr Norman, I am glad at length to see you here; and I can assureyou, that your prognostications as to my liking the country, have beenmore than fulfilled," said Mr Ashton. "I have never for an instantregretted coming out here; and I believe that I am happier, and that mywife and children are so, than we should have been had we lived on thelife we had been proposing for ourselves in London, when I found myselfdeprived of the property which I thought my own."
"God's merciful Providence overruled your plan for your own and yourchildren's good," said Mr Norman. "I know nothing practically of largecities, and little enough of towns; but from what I have read, I suspectthat the temptations to evil in them are great, and the advantagescomparatively small, when the chief object of man's life is considered.No life can more conduce to virtue and a healthful state of body andmind than that which the industrious settler in the country leads outhere. He has hard work and rough living, may be; but what is that,whether he be gentle or simple, compared to what he would have had toendure, had he without fortune remained idle at home? That is thequestion all settlers must ask themselves over and over again, wheneverthey get out of sorts with the Province."
The Log House by the Lake: A Tale of Canada Page 8
