CHAPTER SEVEN.
THE STORE.
At whatever establishment in the fur-trader's dominions you may chanceto alight, you will find a particular building which is surrounded by ahalo of interest; towards which there seems to be a general leaning onthe part of everybody, especially of the Indians; and with which areconnected, in the minds of all, the most stirring reminiscences andpleasing associations.
This is the trading-store. It is always recognisable, if natives are inthe neighbourhood, by the bevy of red men that cluster round it,awaiting the coming of the storekeeper or the trader with that stoicpatience which is peculiar to Indians. It may be further recognised, bya close observer, by the soiled condition of its walls, occasioned byloungers rubbing their backs perpetually against it, and the peculiardinginess round the keyhole, caused by frequent applications of the key,which renders it conspicuous beyond all its comrades. Here is containedthat which makes the red man's life enjoyable; that which causes hisheart to leap, and induces him to toil for months and months together inthe heat of summer and amid the frost and snow of winter; that which_actually_ accomplishes, what music is _said_ to achieve, the "soothingof the savage breast:" in short, here are stored up blankets, guns,powder, shot, kettles, axes, and knives; twine for nets, vermilion forwar-paint, fish-hooks and scalping-knives, capotes, cloth, beads,needles, and a host of miscellaneous articles, much too numerous tomention. Here, also, occur periodical scenes of bustle and excitement,when bands of natives arrive from distant hunting-grounds, laden withrich furs, which are speedily transferred to the Hudson's Bay Company'sstores in exchange for the goods aforementioned. And many a toughwrangle has the trader on such occasions with sharp natives, who mighthave graduated in Billingsgate, so close are they at a bargain. Here,too, voyageurs are supplied with an equivalent for their wages, part inadvance, if they desire it (and they generally do desire it), and partat the conclusion of their long and arduous voyages.
It is to one of these stores, reader, that we wish to introduce you now,that you may witness the men of the North brigade receive theiradvances.
The store at Fort Garry stands on the right of the fort, as you enter bythe front gate. Its interior resembles that of the other stores in thecountry, being only a little larger. A counter encloses a spacesufficiently wide to admit a dozen men, and serves to keep back thosewho are more eager than the rest. Inside this counter, at the time wewrite of, stood our friend Peter Mactavish, who was the presiding geniusof the scene.
"Shut the door now, and lock it" said Peter, in an authoritative tone,after eight or ten young voyageurs had crushed into the space in frontof the counter. "I'll not supply you with so much as an ounce oftobacco if you let in another man."
Peter needed not to repeat the command. Three or four stalwartshoulders were applied to the door, which shut with a bang like acannon-shot, and the key was turned.
"Come now, Antoine," began the trader, "we've lots to do, and not muchtime to do it in, so pray look sharp."
Antoine, however, was not to be urged on so easily. He had beenmeditating deeply all morning on what he should purchase. Moreover, hehad a sweetheart, and of course he had to buy something for her beforesetting out on his travels. Besides, Antoine was six feet high, andbroad shouldered, and well made, with a dark face and glossy black hair;and he entertained a notion that there were one or two points in hiscostume which required to be carefully rectified, ere he could considerthat he had attained to perfection: so he brushed the long hair off hisforehead, crossed his arms, and gazed around him.
"Come now, Antoine," said Peter, throwing a green blanket at him, "Iknow you want _that_ to begin with. What's the use of thinking so longabout it, eh? And _that_, too," he added, throwing him a blue clothcapote. "Anything else?"
"Oui, oui, monsieur," cried Antoine, as he disengaged himself from thefolds of the coat which Peter had thrown over his head. "Tabac,monsieur, tabac!"
"Oh, to be sure," cried Peter. "I might have guessed that _that_ wasuppermost in your mind. Well, how much will you have?" Peter began tounwind the fragrant weed off a coil of most appalling size and thicknesswhich looked like a snake of endless length. "Will that do?" and heflourished about four feet of the snake before the eyes of the voyageur.
Antoine accepted the quantity, and young Harry Somerville entered thearticles against him in a book.
"Anything more, Antoine?" said the trader. "Ah, some beads and silks,eh? Oho, Antoine!--By the way, Louis, have you seen Annette lately?"
Peter turned to another voyageur when he put this question, and thevoyageur gave a broad grin as he replied in the affirmative, whileAntoine looked a little confused. He did not care much, however, forjesting. So, after getting one or two more articles--not forgettinghalf a dozen clay pipes, and a few yards of gaudy calico, which calledforth from Peter a second reference to Annette--he bundled up his goods,and made way for another comrade.
Louis Peltier, one of the principal guides, and a man of importancetherefore, now stood forward. He was probably about forty-five years ofage; had a plain, olive-coloured countenance, surrounded by a mass oflong jet-black hair, which he inherited, along with a pair of dark,piercing eyes, from his Indian mother; and a robust, heavy, yet activeframe, which bore a strong resemblance to what his Canadian father's hadbeen many years before. His arms, in particular, were of herculeanmould, with large, swelling veins and strongly-marked muscles. Theyseemed, in fact, just formed for the purpose of pulling the heavy sweepof an inland boat among strong rapids. His face combined an expressionof stern resolution with great good-humour; and truly his countenancedid not belie him, for he was known among his comrades as the mostcourageous and at the same time the most peaceable man in thesettlement. Louis Peltier was singular in possessing the latterquality, for assuredly the half-breeds, whatever other good points theyboast, cannot lay claim to very gentle or dove-like dispositions. Hisgrey capote and blue leggings were decorated with no unusual ornaments,and the scarlet belt which encircled his massive figure was the only bitof colour he displayed.
The younger men fell respectfully into the rear as Louis stepped forwardand begged pardon for coming so early in the day. "Mais, monsieur," hesaid, "I have to look after the boats to-day, and get them ready for astart to-morrow."
Peter Mactavish gave Louis a hearty shake of the hand before proceedingto supply his wants, which were simple and moderate, excepting in thearticle of _tabac_, in the use of which he was immoderate, being aninveterate smoker; so that a considerable portion of the snake had to beuncoiled for his benefit.
"Fond as ever of smoking, Louis?" said Peter Mactavish, as he handed himthe coil.
"Oui, monsieur--very fond," answered the guide, smelling the weed. "Ah,this is very good. I must take a good supply this voyage, because Ilost the half of my roll last year;" and the guide gave a sigh as hethought of the overwhelming bereavement.
"Lost the half of it, Louis!" said Mactavish. "Why, how was that? Youmust have lost _more_ than half your spirits with it!"
"Ah, oui, I lost _all_ my spirits, and my comrade Francois at the sametime!"
"Dear me!" exclaimed the clerk, bustling about the store while the guidecontinued to talk.
"Oui, monsieur, oui. I lost _him_, and my tabac, and my spirits, andvery nearly my life, all in one moment!"
"Why, how came that about?" said Peter, pausing in his work, and layinga handful of pipes on the counter.
"Ah, monsieur, it was very sad (merci, monsieur, merci; thirty pipes, ifyou please), and I thought at the time that I should give up my voyageurlife, and remain altogether in the settlement with my old woman. Mais,monsieur, that was not possible. When I spoke of it to my old woman,she called _me_ an old woman; and you know, monsieur, that _two_ oldwomen never could live together in peace for twelve months under thesame roof. So here I am, you see, ready again for the voyage."
The voyageurs, who had drawn round Louis when he alluded to an anecdotewhich they had often heard before, but
were never weary of hearing overagain, laughed loudly at this sally, and urged the guide to relate thestory to "_monsieur_," who, nothing loath to suspend his operations fora little, leaned his arms on the counter and said,--"Tell us all aboutit, Louis; I am anxious to know how you managed to come by so manylosses all at one time."
"Bien, monsieur, I shall soon relate it, for the story is very short."
Harry Somerville, who was entering the pipes in Louis's account, hadjust set down the figures "30" when Louis cleared his throat to begin.Not having the mental fortitude to finish the line, he dropped his pen,sprang off his stool, which he upset in so doing, jumped up,sitting-ways, upon the counter, and gazed with breathless interest intothe guide's face as he spoke.
"It was on a cold, wet afternoon," said Louis, "that we were descendingthe Hill River, at a part of the rapids where there is a sharp bend inthe stream, and two or three great rocks that stand up in front of thewater, as it plunges over a ledge, as if they were put there a purposeto catch it, and split it up into foam, or to stop the boats and canoesthat try to run the rapids, and cut them up into splinters. It was anugly place, monsieur, I can tell you; and though I've run it again andagain, I always hold my breath tighter when we get to the top, andbreathe freer when we get to the bottom. Well, there was a chum of mineat the bow, Francois by name, and a fine fellow he was as I ever cameacross. He used to sleep with me at night under the same blanket,although it _was_ somewhat inconvenient; for being as big as myself anda stone heavier, it was all we could do to make the blanket cover us.However, he and I were great friends, and we managed it somehow. Well,he was at the bow when we took the rapids, and a first-rate bowman hemade. His pole was twice as long and twice as thick as any other polein the boat, and he twisted it about just like a fiddlestick. Iremember well the night before we came to the rapids, as he was sittingby the fire, which was blazing up among the pine branches that overhungus, he said that he wanted a good pole for the rapids next day; and withthat he jumped up, laid hold of an axe, and went back into the woods abit to get one. When he returned, he brought a young tree on hisshoulder, which he began to strip of its branches and bark. `Louis,'says he, `this is hot work; give us a pipe.' So I rummaged about forsome tobacco, but found there was none left in my bag; so I went to mykit and got out my roll, about three fathoms or so, and cutting half ofit off, I went to the fire and twisted it round his neck by way of ajoke, and he said he'd wear it as a necklace all night--and so he did,too, and forgot to take it off in the morning; and when we came near therapids I couldn't get at my bag to stow it away, so says I, `Francois,you'll have to run with it on, for I can't stop to stow it now.' `Allright,' says he, `go ahead;' and just as he said it, we came in sight ofthe first run, foaming and boiling like a kettle of robbiboo. `Takecare, lads,' I cried, and the next moment we were dashing down towardsthe bend in the river. As we came near to the shoot, I saw Francoisstanding up on the gunwale to get a better view of the rocks ahead, andevery now and then giving me a signal with his hand how to steer.Suddenly he gave a shout, and plunged his long pole into the water, tofend off from a rock which a swirl in the stream had concealed. For asecond or two his pole bent like a willow, and we could feel the heavyboat jerk off a little with the tremendous strain; but all at once thepole broke off short with a crack, Francois' heels made a flourish inthe air, and then he disappeared head foremost into the foaming water,with my tobacco coiled round his neck! As we flew past the place, oneof his arms appeared, and I made a grab at it, and caught him by thesleeve; but the effort upset myself, and over I went too. Fortunately,however, one of my men caught me by the foot, and held on like a vice;but the force of the current tore Francois' sleeve out of my grasp, andI was dragged into the boat again just in time to see my comrade's legsand arms going like the sails of a windmill, as he rolled over severaltimes and disappeared. Well, we put ashore the moment we got into stillwater, and then five or six of us started off on foot to look forFrancois. After half an hour's search, we found him pitched upon a flatrock in the middle of the stream like a bit of driftwood. Weimmediately waded out to the rock and brought him ashore, where welighted a fire, took off all his clothes, and rubbed him till he beganto show signs of life again. But you may judge, mes garcons, of mymisery when I found that the coil of tobacco was gone. It had come offhis neck during his struggles, and there wasn't a vestige of it left,except a bright red mark on the throat, where it had nearly strangledhim. When he began to recover, he put his hand up to his neck as iffeeling for something, and muttered faintly, `The tabac.' `Ah,morbleu!' said I, `you may say that! Where is it?' Well, we soonbrought him round, but he had swallowed so much water that it damagedhis lungs, and we had to leave him at the next post we came to; and so Ilost my friend too."
"Did Francois get better?" said Charley Kennedy, in a voice of greatconcern.
Charley had entered the store by another door, just as the guide beganhis story, and had listened to it unobserved with breathless interest.
"Recover! Oh oui, monsieur, he soon got well again."
"Oh, I'm so glad," cried Charley.
"But I lost him for that voyage," added the guide; "and I lost my tabacfor ever!"
"You must take better care of it this time, Louis," said PeterMactavish, as he resumed his work.
"That I shall, monsieur," replied Louis, shouldering his goods andquitting the store, while a short, slim, active little Canadian took hisplace.
"Now then, Baptiste," said Mactavish, "you want a--"
"Blanket, monsieur."
"Good. And--"
"A capote, monsieur."
"And--"
"An axe--"
"Stop, stop!" shouted Harry Somerville from his desk. "Here's an entryin Louis's account that I can't make out--30 something or other; whatcan it have been?"
"How often," said Mactavish, going up to him with a look ofannoyance--"how often have I told you, Mr Somerville, not to leave anentry half finished on any account!"
"I didn't know that I left it so," said Harry, twisting his features andscratching his head in great perplexity. "What _can_ it have been? 30--30--not blankets, eh?" (Harry was becoming banteringly bitter.) "Hecouldn't have got thirty guns, could he? or thirty knives, or thirtycopper kettles?"
"Perhaps it was thirty pounds of tea," suggested Charley.
"No doubt it was thirty _pipes_," said Peter Mactavish.
"Oh, that was it!" cried Harry, "that was it! thirty pipes, to be sure.What an ass I am!"
"And pray what is _that_?" said Mactavish, pointing sarcastically to anentry in the previous account--"5 _yards of superfine Annette_? Really,Mr Somerville, I wish you would pay more attention to your work andless to the conversation."
"Oh dear!" cried Harry, becoming almost hysterical under the combinedeffects of chagrin at making so many mistakes, and suppressed merrimentat the idea of selling Annettes by the yard. "Oh, dear me--"
Harry could say no more, but stuffed his handkerchief into his mouth andturned away.
"Well, sir," said the offended Peter, "when you have laughed to yourentire satisfaction, we will go on with our work, if you please."
"All right," cried Harry, suppressing his feelings with a strong effort;"what next?"
Just then a tall, raw-boned man entered the store, and rudely thrustingBaptiste aside, asked if he could get his supplies now.
"No," said Mactavish, sharply; "you'll take your turn like the rest."
The new-comer was a native of Orkney, a country from which, and theneighbouring islands, the Fur Company almost exclusively recruits itsstaff of labourers. These men are steady, useful servants, althoughinclined to be slow and lazy _at first_; but they soon get used to thecountry, and rapidly improve under the example of the active Canadiansand half-breeds with whom they associate. Some of them are the bestservants the Company possess. Hugh Mathison, however, was a very badspecimen of the race, being rough and coarse in his manners, and verylazy withal. Upon receiving the trader's answer, Hugh tur
ned sulkily onhis heel and strode towards the door. Now, it happened that Baptiste'sbundle lay just behind him, and on turning to leave the place, hetripped over it and stumbled, whereat the voyageurs burst into anironical laugh (for Hugh was not a favourite).
"Confound your trash!" he cried, giving the little bundle a kick thatscattered everything over the floor.
"Crapaud!" said Baptiste, between his set teeth, while his eyes flashedangrily, and he stood up before Hugh with clinched fists, "what mean youby that, eh?"
The big Scotchman held his little opponent in contempt; so that, insteadof putting himself on the defensive, he leaned his back against thedoor, thrust his hands into his pockets, and requested to know "whatthat was to him."
Baptiste was not a man of many words, and this reply, coupled with theinsolent sneer with which it was uttered, caused him to plant a suddenand well-directed blow on the point of Hugh's nose, which flattened iton his face, and brought the back of his head into violent contact withthe door.
"Well done!" shouted the men; "bravo, Baptiste! _Regardez le nez, mesenfants_!"
"Hold!" cried Mactavish, vaulting the counter, and intercepting Hugh ashe rushed upon his antagonist; "no fighting here, you blackguards! Ifyou want to do _that_, go outside the fort;" and Peter, opening thedoor, thrust the Orkneyman out.
In the meantime, Baptiste gathered up his goods and left the store, incompany with several of his friends, vowing that he would wreak hisvengeance on the "gros chien" before the sun should set.
He had not long to wait, however, for just outside the gate he foundHugh, still smarting under the pain and indignity of the blow, and readyto pounce upon him like a cat on a mouse.
Baptiste instantly threw down his bundle, and prepared for battle bydiscarding his coat.
Every nation has its own peculiar method of fighting, and its own ideasof what is honourable and dishonourable in combat. The English, asevery one knows, have particularly stringent rules regarding the part ofthe body which may or may not be hit with propriety, and count it fouldisgrace to strike a man when he is down; although, by some strangeperversity of reasoning, they deem it right and fair to _fall_ upon himwhile in this helpless condition, and burst him if possible. TheScotchman has less of the science, and we are half inclined to believethat he would go the length of kicking a fallen opponent; but on thispoint we are not quite positive. In regard to the style adopted by thehalf-breeds, however, we have no doubt. They fight _any_ way and_every_ way, without reference to rules at all; and really, although wemay bring ourselves into contempt by admitting the fact, we think theyare quite right. No doubt the best course of action is _not_ to fight;but if a man does find it _necessary_ to do so, surely the wisest planis to get it over at once (as the dentist suggested to his timorouspatient), and to do it in the most effectual manner.
Be this as it may, Baptiste flew at Hugh, and alighted upon him, nothead first, or fist first, or feet first, or _anything_ first, butaltogether in a heap, as it were; fist, feet, knees, nails, and teethall taking effect at one and the same time, with a force so irresistiblethat the next moment they both rolled in the dust together.
For a minute or so they struggled and kicked like a couple of serpents,and then, bounding to their feet again, they began to perform awar-dance round each other, revolving their fists at the same time in,we presume, the most approved fashion. Owing to his bulk and naturallaziness, which rendered jumping about like a jack-in-the-boximpossible, Hugh Mathison preferred to stand on the defensive; while hislighter opponent, giving way to the natural bent of his mercurialtemperament and corporeal predilections, comported himself in a mannerthat cannot be likened to anything mortal or immortal, human or inhuman,unless it be to an insane cat, whose veins ran wild-fire instead ofblood. Or perhaps we might liken him to that ingenious piece offire-work called a zigzag cracker, which explodes with unexpected andrepeated suddenness, changing its position in a most perplexing mannerat every crack. Baptiste, after the first onset danced backwards withsurprising lightness, glaring at his adversary the while, and rapidlyrevolving his fists as before mentioned; then a terrific yell was heard;his head, arms, and legs became a sort of whirling conglomerate; thespot on which he danced was suddenly vacant, and at the same momentMathison received a bite, a scratch, a dab on the nose, and a kick onthe stomach all at once. Feeling that it was impossible to plant awell-directed blow on such an assailant, he waited for the nextonslaught; and the moment he saw the explosive object flying through theair towards him, he met it with a crack of his heavy fist, which,happening to take effect in the middle of the chest, drove it backwardswith about as much velocity as it had approached, and poor Baptistemeasured his length on the ground.
"Oh pauvre chien!" cried the spectators, "c'est fini!"
"Not yet," cried Baptiste, as he sprang with a scream to his feet again,and began his dance with redoubled energy, just as if all that had gonebefore was a mere sketch--a sort of playful rehearsal, as it were, ofwhat was now to follow. At this moment Hugh stumbled over a canoepaddle, and fell headlong into Baptiste's arms, as he was in the veryact of making one of his violent descents. This unlooked-for occurrencebrought them both to a sudden pause, partly from necessity and partlyfrom surprise. Out of this state Baptiste recovered first, and takingadvantage of the accident, threw Mathison heavily to the ground. Herose quickly, however, and renewed the fight with freshened vigour.
Just at this moment a passionate growl was heard, and old Mr Kennedyrushed out of the fort in a towering rage.
Now Mr Kennedy had no reason whatever for being angry. He was only avisitor at the fort, and so had no concern in the behaviour of thoseconnected with it. He was not even in the Company's service now, andcould not, therefore, lay claim, as one of its officers, to any right tointerfere with its men. But Mr Kennedy never acted much from reason;impulse was generally his guiding-star. He had, moreover, been anabsolute monarch, and a commander of men, for many years past in hiscapacity of fur-trader. Being, as we have said, a powerful, fiery man,he had ruled very much by means of brute force--a species of suasion, bythe way, which is too common among many of the gentlemen (?) in theemployment of the Hudson's Bay Company. On hearing, therefore, that themen were fighting in front of the fort, Mr Kennedy rushed out in atowering rage.
"Oh, you precious blackguards!" he cried, running up to the combatants,while with flashing eyes he gazed first at one and then at the other, asif uncertain on which to launch his ire. "Have you no place in theworld to fight but _here_--eh, blackguards?"
"O monsieur," said Baptiste, lowering his hands, and assuming thatpoliteness of demeanour which seems inseparable from French blood,however much mixed with baser fluid, "I was just giving _that dog_ athrashing, monsieur."
"Go!" cried Mr Kennedy, in a voice of thunder, turning to Hugh, whostill stood in a pugilistic attitude, with very little respect in hislooks.
Hugh hesitated to obey the order; but Mr Kennedy continued to advance,grinding his teeth and working his fingers convulsively, as if belongedto lay violent hold of the Orkney-man's swelled nose; so he retreated inhis uncertainty, but still with his face to the foe. As has beenalready said, the Assiniboine River flows within a hundred yards of thegate of Fort Garry. The two men, in their combat, had approached prettynear to the bank, at a place where it descends somewhat precipitatelyinto the stream. It was towards this bank that Hugh Mathison was nowretreating, crab fashion, followed by Mr Kennedy, and both of them sotaken up with each other that neither perceived the fact until Hugh'sheel struck against a stone just at the moment that Mr Kennedy raisedhis clinched fist in a threatening attitude. The effect of thiscombination was to pitch the poor man head over heels down the bank,into a row of willow bushes, through which, as he rolled with greatspeed, he went with a loud crash, and shot head first, like a startledalligator, into the water, amid a roar of laughter from his comrades andthe people belonging to the fort; most of whom, attracted by the fight,were now assembled on the banks of the river.
Mr Kennedy's wrath vanished immediately, and he joined in the laughter;but his face instantly changed when he beheld Hugh sputtering in deepwater, and heard some one say that he could not swim.
"What! can't swim?" he exclaimed, running down the bank to the edge ofthe water. Baptiste was before him, however. In a moment he plunged inup to the neck, stretched forth his arm, grasped Hugh by the hair, anddragged him to the land.
The Young Fur Traders Page 7
