CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
DIFFICULTIES OF VARIOUS KINDS OVERCOME.
When the bright warm days and cool starry nights of the Indian summergave place to the sharp days and frosty nights of early winter--whenyoung ice formed on the lakes and rendered canoeing impossible, and theducks and geese had fled to warmer climes, and the Frost King had senthis first messengers of snow to cover the wilderness with awinding-sheet and herald his return to the Winter Palace--then it wasthat the banished Red River settlers began to feel the pinch of povertyand to understand the full extent of the calamity that had befallenthem.
We have not space to follow them through all the details of that winterat Jack River. Some died, all suffered more or less; but they had toendure it, for escape from the country to the civilised world was evenmore difficult and hopeless than escape from the dreaded wilds ofSiberia. The men hunted, fished under the ice, trapped, and sustainedthemselves and their families in life during the long, dreary winter;the only gain being that they became more or less expert at theRed-man's work and ways of life.
Only two of the Indians remained with them to help them over theirdifficulties--namely, Okematan and Kateegoose, with their respectivesquaws. These last were invaluable as the makers of moccasins andduffle socks and leathern coats, without which existence in such aclimate would have been impossible. They also imparted their knowledgein such matters to the squaws of the white men.
There was one friend, however, who did not remain with the settlers whenthings began to look dismal around them. This was the amiable, musical,story-telling La Certe. That tender-hearted man could not endure thesight of human distress. If he could not relieve it, he feltconstrained to shut his eyes to it and to flee from it. At the firstindication of the approach of winter he had come to old McKay with thatpeculiarly mild, humble, deprecatory expression of countenance withwhich he was wont to preface an appeal for assistance of some sort.
"What iss it you will be wantin' _now_?" demanded the old man, rathertestily, for he had an aversion to the half-breed's sneaking ways."Surely you will not be wantin' more powder an' shot efter the supply Igave you last week?"
O no! nothing could be further from the mind of La Certe. He had plentyof ammunition and provisions. He had only come to say that he was goingback to--to--Red River.
"Weel, weel," returned the Highlander, "there is no call for hesitation,man, in tellin' me that. I will not be breakin' my heart when ye aregone. I suppose that now ye hev got the best the season can supply, yethink the comforts o' the Settlement will be more to your taste."
The remonstrative expression on La Certe's face deepened. The idea ofhis own taste or comfort had not once entered his head: but he had awife and child whom he was bound to consider, and he had a hut--a home--in Red River which he felt constrained to look after. Besides, he hadsocial duties of many kinds which claimed attention.
"I've no doubt ye hev," said McKay, with a short sarcastic laugh, "an'ye will attend to them too--I'll be bound. But ye did not come here, Isuppose, to take a tender farewell o' me. What iss it you will bewantin'? Oot wi' it, man!"
"There is a canoe--" said La Certe, with some hesitation.
"There iss many a canoe!" returned McKay with a peculiar grin.
"True, but there is one on the shore now, close to the flat rockwhich--"
"My own canoe!" interrupted the other, "what will ye be wantin' wi'that?"
La Certe did not wish to appear greedy, but the season was late, and hisown canoe was not in a very fit condition to carry a family round theshores of a lake so large as Lake Winnipeg. Would the white father lendhis canoe to him? It could not be wanted much longer that Fall, and theone he would leave behind him was an excellent canoe for ordinaryfishing and hunting purposes. He would be quite willing to hire thecanoe or to pay the full price for it if any accident should happen toit.
"No," said McKay, firmly. "No, La Certe; your hiring means borrowing,and your payin' means owin' a debt for the remainder o' your naturallife. I will see you at the bottom o' Lake Winnipeg before I will belending you my canoe."
La Certe smiled sadly, and gazed at the cap with which his hands played,as if appealing to it for sympathy.
With an aspect of the profoundest resignation he made his bow and leftthe Presence.
But La Certe was not in the least put out by this failure. He went tohis tent, and recounted the interview to his squaw, who, when heentered, was in the act of giving her child, a creature of about fouryears of age, one or two draws of her pipe, to let it taste how nice itwas.
Smoking in calm placidity, the amiable pair discussed the subject. Theconclusion they came to was, as usual, harmonious.
"I think he will agree to lend it next time I go to him," said La Certe,hopefully.
"He will give in," replied Slowfoot, decidedly.
The four-year-old could not understand the subject, and made no comment;but it howled for another smoke, and got it.
La Certe was wrong, and his wife was right--as usual. Old McKay did notagree to "lend" his canoe the "next time," or the next again, but he did"give in" at last, more, perhaps, to get rid of the half-breed'simportunity than because of good-will, and sold the canoe to him--oncredit.
When that winter was over, the Hudson's Bay Company again encouraged thesettlers to return, under promise of protection, and the spring foundthe persevering people, in spite of all difficulties and previousfailures, busy putting into the ground what little seed they possessed,and otherwise cultivating the soil.
Some of them there were, however, who, after lending a hand in thiswork, determined to provide second strings to their bows by followingthe buffalo-hunters to the plains. These were chiefly the young andstrong men, such as Dan Davidson and his brother Peter, Fergus McKay,Antoine Dechamp, and Jacques Bourassin, among many others.
La Certe also went, as well as his squaw and the four-year-old. Hemanaged the thing characteristically thus.
When the half-breeds were making preparations for their spring hunt, hepaid a visit to Duncan McKay, who was busy at the time helping hisfather and brother to rebuild their house. Indeed the edifice wasalmost rebuilt, for the erection of small wooden houses does not usuallytake long.
"You've come to beg, borrow, or steal, no doubt," said Cloudbrow, whowas worthy of his nickname, for he was as short of temper as Duncansenior.
No, La Certe had come to do none of these things, he said, with aconciliatory smile.
"Well, then, you can't have come to buy or to ask advances," growledDuncan; "for you see that our store and all we possessed has been burntby your precious countrymen."
La Certe knew this, and professed himself profoundly grieved as well asindignant with his countrymen. No, he did not come to buy or to borrow,but to hire. The McKays had still some horses left, and carts. Couldthey not spare a horse and cart to him on hire?
"No, we can do nothing of the sort," said Duncan shortly, resuming hisaxe and work. "You can go to the Company. Perhaps they will trustyou--though they are fools if they do."
La Certe was regretful, but not cast down. He changed the subject,commented on the building that was going on, the prospects of a goodharvest, and finally took refuge in that stale old subject, the weather.Then he said in a casual way--as if it had just occurred to him--
"By the way--that knife that my wife got from Marie Blanc--"
Young McKay stopped, and looked quickly up for a moment, with a slightflush, but instantly resumed work.
"Well," he said, quietly, "what about the knife?"
"Would you like to have it--my wife bade me inquire?"
"Why should _I_ like to have it?" he asked carelessly.
"Oh! I thought it was yours," said La Certe.
"You are mistaken. I said it was very like mine. But it is _not_mine--and I have no wish for what does not belong to me."
"Of course not. Well, I must be going," said the half-breed, preparingto leave. "I wished much to have your horse and cart, for
they are bothgood, and I would offer you 4 pounds for the trip, which, you know, isdouble the usual charge, for I never grudge a good price for a goodthing."
"Yes, all the more when you hev no intention to pay it," said McKay witha laugh. "However, since you seem so anxious, and offer so good aprice, I am willing to oblige you this time, in the hope that you arereally becoming an honest man!"
The half-breed was profuse in his thanks, and in his assurance thatCloudbrow's hopes would certainly not be disappointed.
Having thus attained his chief object, our arch-beggar went off toobtain provisions. Those which had been supplied him the previousautumn by young McKay had been quite consumed by himself and hisfriends--for the man, you see, had a liberal heart and hand.
But his first attempts were unsuccessful. He wanted ammunition. To goto the plains without ammunition was obviously useless. He wantedfood--sugar, tea, flour, pork. To go to the plains without these wouldbe dreary work. But men knew La Certe's character, and refused him.One after another he tried his friends. Then he tried them again. Thenhe tried comparative strangers. He could not try his enemies, for,strange to say, he had none. Then he went over them all again.
At last, by indomitable perseverance, he managed to wear out thepatience of one of his friends, who believed in the restoration of theincorrigible, and he found himself fully equipped to take the field withhis hard-working comrades.
It may be remarked here that the buffalo runners generally went on thecredit system, trusting to a successful hunt to pay off their debts, andleave them supplied with food for the winter. But, then, most of thesemen were in earnest, and meant to pay off their debts loyally. WhereasLa Certe--good, humorous, easy-going man--had not the slightestintention of paying his debts at all!
The Buffalo Runners: A Tale of the Red River Plains Page 13
