Kate handed him a glass of water, smoothed his pillow, brushed the curls gently off his forehead, and sat down on the bedside.
Thank you, Kate; now go on.
Well, you see she began.
Pardon me, dearest, interrupted Charley, if you would please to look at me you would observe that my two eyes are tightly closed, so that I dont see at all.
Well, then, you must understand
Must I? oh!
That after that wicked horse leaped with you over the stable fence, you were thrown high into the air, and turning completely round, fell head foremost into the snow, and your poor head went through the top of an old cask that had been buried there all winter.
Dear me! ejaculated Charley; did any one see me, Kate?
Oh yes.
Who? asked Charley, somewhat anxiously; not Mrs Grant, I hope? for if she did shed never let me hear the last of it.
No; only our father, who was chasing you at the time, replied Kate, with a merry laugh.
And no one else?
Nooh yes, by-the-bye, Tom Whyte was there too.
Oh, hes nobody! Go on.
But tell me, Charley, why do you care about Mrs Grant seeing you?
Oh! no reason at all, only shes such an abominable quiz.
We must guard the reader here against the supposition that Mrs Grant was a quiz of the ordinary kind. She was by no means a sprightly, clever woman, rather fond of a joke than otherwise, as the term might lead you to suppose. Her corporeal frame was very large, excessively fat, and remarkably unwieldy; being an appropriate casket in which to enshrine a mind of the heaviest and most sluggish nature. She spoke little, ate largely, and slept muchthe latter recreation being very frequently enjoyed in a large arm-chair of a peculiar kind. It had been a water-butt, which her ingenious husband had cut half-way down the middle, then half-way across, and in the angle thus formed fixed a bottom, which, together with the back, he padded with tow, and covered the whole with a mantle of glaring bed-curtain chintz, whose pattern alternated in stripes of sky-blue and china roses, with broken fragments of rainbow between. Notwithstanding her excessive slowness, however, Mrs Grant was fond of taking a firm hold of anything or any circumstance in the character or affairs of her friends, and twitting them thereupon in a grave but persevering manner that was exceedingly irritating. No one could ever ascertain whether Mrs Grant did this in a sly way or not, as her visage never expressed anything except unalterable good-humour. She was a good wife and an affectionate mother, had a family of ten children, and could boast of never having had more than one quarrel with her husband. This disagreement was occasioned by a rather awkward mischance. One day, not long after her last baby was born, Mrs Grant waddled towards her tub with the intention of enjoying her accustomed siesta. A few minutes previously her seventh child, which was just able to walk, had scrambled up into the seat and fallen fast asleep there. As has been already said, Mrs Grants intellect was never very bright, and at this particular time she was rather drowsy, so that she did not observe the child, and on reaching her chair, turned round preparatory to letting herself plump into it. She always plumped into her chair. Her muscles were too soft to lower her gently down into it. Invariably on reaching a certain point they ceased to act, and let her down with a crash. She had just reached this point, and her babys hopes and prospects were on the eve of being cruelly crushed for ever, when Mr Grant noticed the impending calamity. He had no time to warn her, for she had already passed the point at which her powers of muscular endurance terminated; so grasping the chair, he suddenly withdrew it with such force that the baby rolled off upon the floor like a hedgehog, straightened out flat, and gave vent to an outrageous roar, while its horror-struck mother came to the ground with a sound resembling the fall of an enormous sack of wool. Although the old lady could not see exactly that there was anything very blameworthy in her husbands conduct upon this occasion, yet her nerves had received so severe a shock that she refused to be comforted for two entire days.
But to return from this digression. After Charley had two or three times recommended Kate (who was a little inclined to be quizzical) to proceed, she continued
Well, then, you were carried up here by father and Tom Whyte, and put to bed, and after a good deal of rubbing and rough treatment you were got round. Then Peter Mactavish nearly poisoned you; but fortunately he was such a goose that he did not think of reading the label of the phial, and so gave you a dose of tincture of rhubarb instead of laudanum, as he had intended; and then father flew into a passion, and Tom Whyte was sent to fetch the doctor, and couldnt find him; but fortunately he found me, which was much better, I think, and brought me up here. And so here I am, and here I intend to remain.
And so thats the end of it. Well, Kate, Im very glad it was no worse.
And I am very thankful, said Kate, with emphasis on the word, that its no worse.
Oh, well, you know, Kate, I meant that, of course.
But you did not say it, replied his sister earnestly.
To be sure not, said Charley gaily; it would be absurd to be always making solemn speeches, and things of that sort, every time one has a little accident.
True, Charley; but when one has a very serious accident, and escapes unhurt, dont you think that then it would be
Oh yes, to be sure, interrupted Charley, who still strove to turn Kate from her serious frame of mind; but, sister dear, how could I possibly say I was thankful, with my head crammed into an old cask and my feet pointing up to the blue sky, eh?
Kate smiled at this, and laid her hand on his arm, while she bent over the pillow and looked tenderly into his eyes.
O my darling Charley, you are disposed to jest about it; but I cannot tell you how my heart trembled this morning when I heard from Tom Whyte of what had happened. As we drove up to the fort, I thought how terrible it would have been if you had been killed; and then the happy days we have spent together rushed into my mind, and I thought of the willow creek where we used to fish for gold-eyes, and the spot in the woods where we have so often chased the little birds, and the lake in the prairies where we used to go in spring to watch the water-fowl sporting in the sunshine. When I recalled these things, Charley, and thought of you as dead, I felt as if I should die too. And when I came here and found that my fears were needless, that you were alive and safe, and almost well, I felt thankfulyes, very, very thankfulto God for sparing your life, my dear, dear Charley. And Kate laid her head on his bosom and sobbed, when she thought of what might have been, as if her very heart would break.
Charleys disposition to levity entirely vanished while his sister spoke; and twining his tough little arm round her neck, he pressed her fervently to his heart.
Bless you, Kate, he said at length. I am indeed thankful to God, not only for sparing my life, but for giving me such a darling sister to live for. But now, Kate, tell me, what do you think of fathers determination to have me placed in the office here?
Indeed, I think its very hard. Oh, I do wish so much that I could do it for you, said Kate, with a sigh.
Do what for me? asked Charley.
Indeed, I think its very hard. Oh, I do wish so much that I could do it for you, said Kate, with a sigh.
Do what for me? asked Charley.
Why, the office work, said Kate.
Tuts! fiddlesticks! But isnt it, now, really a very hard case?
Indeed it is; but then, what can you do?
Do? said Charley impatiently; run away, to be sure.
Oh, dont speak of that! said Kate anxiously. You know it will kill our beloved mother; and then it would grieve father very much.
Well, father dont care much about grieving me, when he hunted me down like a wolf till I nearly broke my neck.
Now, Charley, you must not speak so. Father loves you tenderly, although he is a little rough at times. If you only heard how kindly he speaks of you to our mother when you are away, you could not think of giving him so much pain. And then the Bible says, Honour thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee; and as God speaks in the Bible, surely we should pay attention to it!
Charley was silent for a few seconds; then heaving a deep sigh, he said,Well, I believe youre right, Kate; but then, what am I to do? If I dont run away, I must live, like poor Harry Somerville, on a longlegged stool; and if I do that, IllIll
As Charley spoke, the door opened, and his father entered.
Well, my boy, said he, seating himself on the bedside and taking his sons hand, how goes it now? Head getting all right again? I fear that Kate has been talking too much to you.Is it so, you little chatterbox?
Mr Kennedy parted Kates clustering ringlets and kissed her forehead.
Charley assured his father that he was almost well, and much the better of having Kate to tend him. In fact, he felt so much revived that he said he would get up and go out for a walk.
Had I not better tell Tom Whyte to saddle the young horse for you? said his father, half ironically. No, no, boy; lie still where you are to-day, and get up if you feel better to-morrow. In the meantime, Ive come to say goodbye, as I intend to go home to relieve your mothers anxiety about you. Ill see you again, probably, the day after to-morrow. Hark you, boy; Ive been talking your affairs over again with Mr Grant, and weve come to the conclusion to give you a run in the woods for a time. Youll have to be ready to start early in spring with the first brigades for the north. So adieu!
Mr Kennedy patted him on the head, and hastily left the room.
A burning blush of shame arose on Charleys cheek as he recollected his late remarks about his father; and then, recalling the purport of his last words, he sent forth an exulting shout as he thought of the coming spring.
Well now, Charley, said Kate, with an arch smile, let us talk seriously over your arrangements for running away.
Charley replied by seizing the pillow and throwing it at his sisters head; but being accustomed to such eccentricities, she anticipated the movement, and evaded the blow.
Ah, Charley, cried Kate, laughing, you mustnt let your hand get out of practice! That was a shockingly bad shot for a man thirsting to become a bear and buffalo hunter!
Ill make my fortune at once, cried Charley, as Kate replaced the pillow, build a wooden castle on the shores of Great Bear Lake, take you to keep house for me, and when Im out hunting youll fish for whales in the lake, and well live there to a good old age; so good-night, Kate dear, and go to bed.
Kate laughed, gave her brother a parting kiss, and left him.
Chapter Six.
Spring and the voyageurs
Winter, with its snow and its ice; winter, with its sharp winds and white drifts; winter, with its various characteristic occupations and employments, is past, and it is spring now.
The sun no longer glitters on fields of white; the wood-mans axe is no longer heard hacking the oaken billets, to keep alive the roaring fires. That inexpressibly cheerful sound the merry chime of sleigh-bells, that tells more of winter than all other sounds together, is no longer heard on the bosom of Red River; for the sleighs are thrown aside as uselesslumber-carts and gigs have supplanted them. The old Canadian, who used to drive the ox with its water-barrel to the ice-hole for his daily supply, has substituted a small cart with wheels for the old sleigh that used to glide so smoothly over the snow, and grit so sharply on it in the more than usually frosty mornings in the days gone by. The trees have lost their white patches, and the clump of willows, that used to look like islands in the prairie, have disappeared, as the carpeting that gave them prominence has dissolved. The aspect of everything in the isolated settlement has changed. The winter is gone, and springbright, beautiful, hilarious springhas come again.
By those who have never known an arctic winter, the delights of an arctic spring can never, we fear, be fully appreciated or understood. Contrast is one of its strongest elements; indeed, we might say, the element which gives to all the others peculiar zest. Life in the arctic regions is like one of Turners pictures, in which the lights are strong, the shadows deep, and the tout ensemble hazy and romantic. So cold and prolonged is the winter, that the first mild breath of spring breaks on the senses like a zephyr from the plains of paradise. Everything bursts suddenly into vigorous life, after the long death-like sleep of Nature, as little children burst into the romping gaieties of a new day after the deep repose of a long and tranquil night. The snow melts, the ice breaks up, and rushes in broken masses, heaving and tossing in the rising flood, that grind and whirl them into the ocean, or into those great fresh-water lakes that vie with ocean itself in magnitude and grandeur. The buds come out and the leaves appear, clothing all nature with a bright, refreshing green, which derives additional brilliancy from sundry patches of snow that fill the deep creeks and hollows everywhere, and form ephemeral fountains whose waters continue to supply a thousand rills for many a long day, until the fierce glare of the summer sun prevails at last and melts them all away.
Red River flows on now to mix its long-pent-up waters with Lake Winnipeg. Boats are seen rowing about upon its waters, as the settlers travel from place to place; and wooden canoes, made of the hollowed-out trunks of large trees, shoot across from shore to shorethese canoes being a substitute for bridges, of which there are none, although the settlement lies on both sides of the river. Birds have now entered upon the scene, their wild cries and ceaseless flight adding to it a cheerful activity. Ground squirrels pop up out of their holes to bask their round, fat, beautifully-striped little bodies in the sun, or to gaze in admiration at the farmer, as he urges a pair of very slow-going oxen, that drag the plough at a pace which induces one to believe that the wide field may possibly be ploughed up by the end of next year. Frogs whistle in the marshy ground so loudly that men new to the country believe they are being regaled by the songs of millions of birds. There is no mistake about their whistle. It is not merely like a whistle, but it is a whistle, shrill and continuous; and as the swamps swarm with these creatures, the song never ceases for a moment, although each individual frog creates only one little gush of music, composed of half a dozen trills, and then stops a moment for breath before commencing the second bar. Bull-frogs, too, though not so numerous, help to vary the sound by croaking vociferously, as if they understood the value of bass, and were glad of having an opportunity to join in the universal hum of life and joy which rises everywhere, from the river and the swamp, the forest and the prairie, to welcome back the spring.