How Canada Was Won: A Tale of Wolfe and Quebec

by F. S. Brereton

  Chapter VI

  Left in Charge

  "Marse Steve, Marse Steve, I'se that glad to see you. I'se prayed andprayed offen, and sometimes I think you never come home agin. Och,honey, I'se glad you'se back agin."

  The black boy who acted as Tom's housekeeper wept with joy as the twosturdy trappers stepped into the hut. He was busy superintending theroasting of a wild turkey which hung to a string dangling over thecabin fire, and the return of his masters was entirely unexpected.

  "I'se that glad, Marse Mainwaring and Marse Steve. Sammy wonder andwonder when yo gwine to come to de log cab'n agin. Sholy yo stay herenow fo' ever."

  The faithful fellow looked up at them through his tears while he stillgripped both by the hand.

  "There, there, Sammy," said Tom at length, touched by the warm welcomewhich the honest fellow had given them. "Let us have something to eat,and afterwards we'll lie down and take the best rest we have had formany a long day. We've been hunted, lad. Hunted by redskins."

  Sammy's mouth opened wide at that, and he stared still harder at hismaster. Then he let his hand fall, and began to bustle about thetable, chattering as he prepared a meal for them.

  "Yo's sit down and eat and rest, Marse Mainwaring and Marse Steve," hesaid, giggling between the words. "Den yo'se lie down, and Sammy watchto seen no Red Injun come near to hurt yo. Marse Steve?"

  "Well, Sammy."

  "To'morrer p'raps yo sit outside'r the door and speak to Sammy? P'rapsyo tell us all what's happ'nd?"

  "Perhaps," answered Steve. "Now, hurry up with that turkey. Father andI have not had a peaceful meal for many a day. As for sleep, I fancywe have seldom had both eyes closed."

  It was wonderful the way in which they settled down at the log hutwhich Tom had made his home. As if he had not been away from the placefor even an hour, Tom strode across to the fireplace, and, taking hismusket in his hand, spilled the powder from the pan, and blew the lastof the grains away. Then he laid the weapon across the buck hornsnailed to the logs, stringing the powder horn to one of the antlers,and the bag of bullets opposite. His coon-skin cap went still higher,while his damp moccasins were placed a few inches from the embers.Steve followed suit, and very soon the two were discussing the wildturkey.

  Some three weeks later, as Steve and Sammy were engaged inmanufacturing maple sugar, Tom came and sat on a log close by andwatched them carefully. They had three large iron cauldrons danglingover log fires, while a fourth, a smaller one, hung over a separatefire placed some yards from the others. And here they were making astore of sugar to last them throughout the winter. Very early that daySammy and Steve had been out in the forest, and having blazed certainof the maples, had set their jars beneath the slashes to catch thesap. And now they were boiling the latter down, throwing fresh sapinto the larger cauldrons as the bubbling mass threatened to overflowthe sides. It was a long process, and for some hours now they had beenengaged in the task. They had boiled and boiled the mass till theirstore of sap was reduced to a third of its former volume, and now thatthird was placed in the smaller cauldron. Tom watched as they liftedthe latter from its iron support and poured its contents into stonevessels to crystallise and cool.

  "Steve," he called out. "Steve, I'm going away. I'll be back in acouple of months if nothing turns up to stop me."

  Steve was not surprised. His father had gone away from the settlementon some business on several occasions before, while he had remained tokeep house.

  "Very well, father," he said. "I'll stay here and look out for yourreturn. It will be winter almost by the time you come back."

  "Almost, lad. About the Indian summer, I fancy, Steve."

  He looked closely at his son as he called him again.

  "Steve, my lad, these are uncertain times, and--and I might not have achance of coming back. If I should not, there is a lot that you shouldlearn in the next few years. Things you have never dreamed of. If I amnot back in a year, if anything happens to me, just go to this addressand hand in this letter. There it is. Now, I'm going."

  It was not the backwoods fashion to take long in preparing for ajourney, and so it happened that Tom Mainwaring set out for theAlleghany within half an hour of his conversation with Steve. Theyparted some ten miles from the log hut, Tom turning his face for thecoast, while our hero stepped back to the settlement. And there for alittle more than a month he went on quietly with the usual routine. Hefished and shot and laid in a store of corn and dried bear's meat forthe coming winter, the grinning Sammy looking after the log hut whenhe was away. Now and again, too, Mac and Jim would come over and spendan evening with him, while Steve would return the visit. For withinten miles of the hut there were some fifteen families, and it was thecustom for all to visit one another.

  And so the days passed uneventfully till one bright morning in lateSeptember, when there was a crispness in the air which denoted thecoming winter. A shout from Sammy brought Steve to the door of the loghut.

  "Marse Steve," he cried. "There's people sure on the water. They'scomin' dis way."

  Two canoes were being paddled down the river, and as Steve looked theyturned towards the bank, with the evident intention of putting in atthe rough landing stage where his own canoes lay.

  "They are strangers," said Steve at once, shading his eyes from theslanting rays of the sun. "There are three white men in the firstcanoe, and three Indians in the second. I think that they have comefrom the French settlements."

  He went to the buck horns over which his gun was suspended, and slungthe weapon across his shoulders. Then he took his bullet pouch, hispowder horn and tomahawk, and issued from the hut. By this time thestrangers had landed, and as Steve walked down towards them the threewhite men moved towards a giant tree which grew within a few paces ofthe bank, a tree which stood alone amidst a host of blackened stumps;for when Tom had first come to the place virgin forest covered theland, and he had expended much labour in clearing it.

  "What can they be doing?" wondered Steve, seeing the three halt at thefoot of the tree and lift an object against the trunk. "They seem tobe nailing something to the tree."

  A few minutes later he arrived within a couple of yards of the group,and at once unslung his rifle, for with a start he recognised one ofthe strangers. It was Jules Lapon, dressed now in the hunting costumeworn by French and English backwoodsmen alike.

  "Bon jour, monsieur," said Jules, swinging round and greetingSteve with a cool and satirical smile. "I wish you a fine day andprosperity. You will be pleased to look at this notice, and afterwardsyou will take steps to move."

  He pointed to the tree and stood aside, watching Steve with anexpression which boded little good, and which seemed to combine maliceand triumph. Our hero stepped closer and stared at the strip of tinwhich the Frenchman had pointed out. It was nailed to the bark ofthe tree, and bore in high relief the arms of France, while beneath,stamped on to the metal, were the following words, in the Englishlanguage:

  "In the name of Louis XV., King of France and of the Continent beyondthe sea, we, Louis Joseph, Marquis de Montcalm-Gozon de Saint-Veran,Captain-General of the Forces in North America, and others of theKing's servants, renew our possession of this land. We warn all whoare not good and faithful subjects of France to depart peacefully andwithout delay."

  There was a date and a rough signature underneath, while at the footof the tree lay a leaden disc, with a somewhat similar inscription,destined to be buried there so that there might not be wantingevidence in the future to prove the aims and aspirations of Franceand her king. Nor was this the first time that Steve had looked atsuch a disc. Some while before he had come upon another, nearer thegreat lakes, and he had heard that the French had placed many more indifferent parts.

  "You will observe his Majesty's wishes," said Jules Lapon, with anirritating smile of triumph which brought a flush of anger to Steve'scheek. "The orders are that you depart peacefully and without delay.You will go this evening. To-morrow I and my Indians will come to yourhut and the place will be France.
Comprenez vous? Bien!"

  Steve could have struck the rascally Frenchman, so great was hisanger. Moreover, when he recollected that it was this same ruffianlyforeigner who but a few weeks before had hunted himself and hisfriends with his band of cut-throats, he felt that he would be almostjustified in shooting him where he stood. Then, too, there was thispreposterous demand. For three miles on either hand the land belongedto Tom Mainwaring. He had paid dues for it to a land company, and hehad settled the place. His labour had cleared the forest till therewas sufficient open space to grow corn. The hut was his, the bankof the river, and a stretch on the far side lying opposite the hut.Steve's gorge rose at the thought that a Frenchman should order himto give up his own belongings, and it was with difficulty that herestrained himself. He bit his lip, stared at the tin placard, andthen swung round on the Frenchman, a cool smile on his lips.

  "You are joking," he said in French, causing Jules to start backwardsin surprise. "Surely you are playing with me, just as you and yourband of Indians played with our hunting party in the neighbourhood ofAlbany. That was a sad joke, monsieur. I fear that we were too much inearnest."

  It was Steve's turn to laugh, for there was no doubt that theFrenchman was utterly taken aback. He staggered, flushed to the rootsof his hair, and gripped at his tomahawk.

  "You lie," he gasped. "I lead a band of redskins near Albany! You lie,I say!"

  "You say so, monsieur," replied Steve calmly, with a smile whichmaddened Jules. "Yes, it is you who say that, and I hear. But my eyesare good. I know that you led that band. It was I who saw you in thecamp which you had hidden in the forest."

  "You saw the camp, and I was in it? And you say that it was nearAlbany? Monsieur is mad, or he does not know how to tell the truth."

  Jules mastered his rage and mortification and made a bold attemptto deceive the young colonist. After all, he thought, it was morethan possible that this Steve might have seen him there. But thenFrenchmen were much alike, and the glimpse he had obtained could havebeen but a glimpse after all: and besides, Jules reflected, at thattime he was dressed as an Indian.

  "Does monsieur think that I am a bird?" he demanded brazenly. "I havelands to look to across the river, and how can I be there and atAlbany?"

  "I hardly think you could be in two places so far apart, at one andthe same time," answered Steve, his temper well in hand now. "Afterall, it is sufficient for me to know that you were in that camp in thewoods at Albany, where Hunting Jim and I saw you distinctly. That wasa long chase, Monsieur Jules, and I fancy it must have been somewhatof a surprise to you and your men to come across so small a bandprepared to make a fight of it. Your men must have been discontented.I believe we killed ten at least."

  This time he left no doubt in the Frenchman's mind that his rascalitywas discovered, and as Steve looked down at him he saw a gleam ofmalice light up the eyes of the ruffian, a gleam which seemed tosay, "I will kill you at the first opportunity, Steve Mainwaring."Then Jules Lapon suddenly changed his intentions, a smile of triumphwreathed his face, and he pointed to the placard on the tree.

  "After all, monsieur, it is not a question of men who have beenkilled, or of my presence at Albany," he said easily. "It is aquestion of this notice. You have read it?"

  "I have."

  "Then you will obey?"

  "If I do not? Supposing I stay?"

  "Monsieur, you see this whistle?" Jules took a whistle, made of horn,from his belt, and held it before Steve's eyes. "You observe thatlittle toy, monsieur? Ah. Now I will tell you. Supposing you are sorash as to stay, I shall blow that whistle, and within an hour the farshore of the river will be darkened by the boats of my friends."

  "Cut-throat Indians, monsieur," said Steve.

  "You will be careful to describe my friends properly," cried Jules,making an obvious effort to control his anger. "I was saying that theIndians would come. They would hound you and your friends out of thissettlement, and, after that, who can keep a check upon them?"

  He shrugged his shoulders and looked significantly at his two comrades.

  "Only the men with the guns," answered Steve. "I know your Indians,monsieur, and I know also that they have ravaged our settlementscruelly. But for all your threats, I will not give up my father'sproperty. He was here long before the French had advanced south ofLake Erie. He paid for this land, and he has expended labour upon it.It is his. No king of France or his servants shall demand it of him orof me."

  Steve looked the three Frenchmen calmly in the eyes, and then steppedup to the tree. Plunging his hunting knife under the sheet of tin, helevered it from the bark, and, tearing it free of the nail, threw itinto the river.

  "That is what I think of your demand and of your placard, JulesLapon," he said, "and I promise that if you come with your Indiansand drive me away, I and my father will hound you off the place. Fora time we English may be beaten back. But, mark my words, we shallregain our own again, and you will be defeated."

  There was a shout as he went to the tree and tossed the inscriptioninto the water. Then no sooner had he spoken than Jules sprang at himwith an oath.

  "You defy us. You defy me!" he shouted. "Then listen to this, youEnglishman. Go now. I will give you a minute. If you are not then outof sight I will shoot you. Yes, I will shoot you as I had hoped to doup on the Mohawk. And after that I shall live in your cabin."

  He threw all secrecy to the winds, and lifting his musket presentedit at Steve's head. Indeed, for an instant or two it looked as if hewould have shot him down on the spot.

  "You see that I am ready," he shouted, as he looked along the sights."Run for your life."

  Steve was cornered. To turn and obey the command given him was themost natural thing under the circumstances, and it may be wonderedthat he did not do so. But he knew the methods of the backwoods, andwas well acquainted with the reputation of this Frenchman.

  "He will shoot me as I walk," he thought. "I will stay and face him.After all, one can dodge a bullet sometimes if one keeps one's eyeon the weapon. Monsieur, I will stay here. Get into your canoe andretire," he said sternly. "I also will shoot you if you do not lowerthat musket."

  There was a shout of surprise and anger from the two who accompaniedJules, and they at once sprang forward and lifted their muskets,levelling the barrels at Steve's head. And there for a moment theystood, Steve holding his ground stubbornly, while the Frenchmen lookedalong their sights as if they were about to shoot at the defencelessfigure standing before them. Then the scene was unexpectedlyinterrupted.

  "That air enough. Put them shootin' irons down. Do yer hear?" A gruffvoice suddenly burst from the edge of the forest, some twenty pacesaway, and the tall gaunt figure of Hunting Jim appeared amidst theleaves, the autumn tints matching strangely with the colour of hishunting shirt and his leggings. "Drop yer guns, and git!"

  No wonder that the Frenchmen started, that Steve swung round witha cry of delight. For not a sound had warned the disputants of theapproach of the trapper. He stood there, outlined grimly amidst theleaves, for all the world as if he had sprung out of the ground. Hismusket was gripped in his hands, while the long shining barrels oftwo other weapons protruded from the trees on either hand.

  "Yer see, we ain't quite alone," he said hoarsely, "and ef them gunsain't down in a jiffy--ah! that air well for yer. Now Jules Lapon,murderer and robber, I reckon you can git, you and the hul crowd. Efwe had shot yer down as yer stood, we'd have done what was right, andp'raps we'd have saved a hangman a bad job one of these days. Git,that's the order!"

  The tables were suddenly turned with a vengeance. Steve, standingthere bravely with three barrels presented at him, suddenly foundhimself looking into three very startled faces. The Frenchmen steppedbackward involuntarily, and lowered their weapons as Jim began tospeak. Then, unable to face the guns which were directed at them, theyglanced at one another swiftly, turned, and made off at a run to theircanoe.

  "Stop! Jest drop them muskets. That air the ticket. Now put yer knivesand tomahawks down, and Ju
les Lapon, you as wanted to get our scalpsover by Albany, jest hook that ere whistle out'er yer belt. Now yercan go, and jest remember this. When we meet again there won't be nowarnin'. It'll be shoot at sight. Don't ax fer nor expect no favors."

  Jim watched with a grim smile of triumph as the three disconsolateFrenchmen put down their weapons and embarked. Then he and hiscomrades emerged and took up their stations beside Steve, staring outat the canoe as it stole away from the bank. More than a minute passedbefore Steve turned to look at those who had come so opportunely tohis help. Beside the lanky form of Jim was Mac, his beard flamingin the sun, his broad hand gripping the stock of his musket, and alook of bitterness on his usually jolly features. On the other side,impassive as was his custom and the habit of his race, his head thrownforward and the feathers of his head-dress trailing down over hisshoulders, was Silver Fox, alert and vigilant, his eye following everymovement of the Frenchmen.

  "Bad cess to the blackguards," cried Mac, a note of unusual bitternessin his tones. "They kin hunt me and you, Jim, and young Steve heretoo if they like, but faith whin they come to huntin' the women andchilder it makes me blood boil. For why can't they lave us alone? Whathave we done to the bastes to set thim agin the whole of us?"

  "You've got land," answered Jim shortly. "That's what you've got.You've gone and put yer broad carcass in the way of this here King ofFrance. Steve, reckon this placard air worth keepin'."

  He stepped to the bank of the river, waded in a little way andrecovered the plaque, the sun glancing from the bright tin having madeits position clear to those standing on the shore.

  "Best keep it, lad," he went on. "It'll mind yer of a time when yerwas precious near to death, and of the pluck as a youngster kin show.Reckon you stood up to them 'ere skunks as well as any man could hadone."

  There was a murmur of approval from the others, while Steve shook hishead.

  "I wasn't going to be frightened by a canoe full of Frenchmen," hesaid doggedly. "This place is ours, and if this king wants it let himcome and take it. The best man will hold it in the end. But I suspectit is not his Majesty of France. Louis XV. can have no great use forour little holding. But Jules Lapon has. He owns the ground on the farside next to father's, and with ours thrown in he'd have the whole ofthe river banks for three miles either way."

  "You've hit it, Steve. It air that skunk as brought this bit of tinalong, and it air him as wants the place," cried Jim, staring outacross the river at the fast-retreating canoes. "What is more, lad,he's goin' to have it for a time. Me and Mac and Silver Fox guessed asthere was somethin' up, and ever since daylight we've had our eyes onthe varmint. There was a lot too much movement amongst the Injuns, andwe reckoned it didn't mean good to us. Them critters has nailed theirbits of tin at three other places along this bank, and they air goingto take the land whether we want it or not."

  "Do you actually mean that they will drive us out of the place?" askedSteve.

  "That air so. There's news comin' slowly through that the French andtheir Injuns is movin' on and drivin' the British before 'em. There'stales of settlements attacked and taken, men and women scalped,and children carried off by them redskin devils. We've heard thesame before, and I don't know how it is that we along here at thissettlement have escaped so long. But reckon these fellers is out onthe war-path agin, and, lad, we've got to git."

  Go! They must leave the place where Steve had lived ever since he wasa tiny little fellow. The log cabin which was his home must be givenup to these Frenchmen and their allies! The thought was a cruel one,and it is not to be wondered at that an exclamation of bitternessescaped him.

  "Faith, Steve, me lad, it's hard to think on, so it is," said Mac,coming to him and placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "Hasn'tMac and the loikes of him settled peaceful here? hasn't the wivesand the childer made homes for all of us, so they have? But ye'veto choose what's the best. To see these thavin' damons here in ourvery own places, or to see ivery mother's son of us, and the womenand childer too--God bless the darlints!--scalped and kilt by thesefellers. Sure, Steve, better to see the settlements burn, to put firesto ivery roof and watch 'em flare, than have them fellers settin' inour doorways, or scalpin' all of us. Och, but it's a sore time for us,a sore time, and we'll have to foight before we get back what's ourown. Bedad! Ye'll know soon, Steve, darlint. 'Tis you and me, and Jimand Silver Fox, and ivery one of us, as'll take our muskets and go outto foight the blackguards."

  "Mac's jest talkin' sense. Reckon it air as he says, Steve," criedJim. "Yer was near bein' wiped clean out jest now, and if yer waitit'll be a case with yer. Best get back to the hut and take what yerwant. You've a bit of a pony, and I fancy you'll be able to takemost of yer things. Then set fire to the place. We'll cross to theAlleghanies, and then we'll take service with the regiments which arebein' formed."

  Steve stood looking at his rough but honest-hearted friends for somefew minutes, and then his eyes roamed across the peaceful stretch ofthe river to the far bank, under the shade of which Jules Lapon andhis comrades were paddling. Then the whistle which the French leaderhad dropped caught his attention, and he stared at that, too, for alittle while.

  "Father would do the same," he said aloud, but addressing no one inparticular. "Yes, he would go, after firing the hut. There is no othercourse open. We have often talked over the possible coming of theFrench, and decided that we should have to retire unless supported bytroops. But they are nowhere here. We have only ourselves to rely on.We must go."

  He led the way to the log cabin, and at once set about packing themost valuable of his and Tom's possessions. Sammy led out the old ponywhich was usually employed in dragging timber, and roped the articlesto his back, big tears welling up in his eyes as he did so. When allwas ready Steve took a brand from the fire, looked once more upon hisold home, the cabin in which he had lived sixteen happy years, andthen fired the shingles. There was an air of resolution on his face ashe did so, and he stood to windward watching the flames as they caughthold and licked round the logs with the same expression. Then, as theroof fell in and huge tongues of flame flared up into the air, heturned away with a smile.

  "I will help to build a mansion where that happy home was," he said."Come Jim and Mac, and you too, Silver Fox, old friends, we will gowhere we can be of use to our country, and one of these days we willsettle again in these parts, when the French have been driven intoCanada."

  "When they have been sent neck and crop out of North America," growledJim. "Pick up yer traps, Steve. The other folks air waitin' for us wayup there back of the rise."

  Sammy took the rope bridle of the laden animal, and the trappers andtheir Indian friend fell in behind. And thus did Steve leave his home,not to return again till many an adventure had befallen him, and nottill many and many a man had fallen in the contest which was about tobreak out with a ferocity which was almost unexampled.