Rob Nixon, the Old White Trader: A Tale of Central British North America

“I will not disappoint you, father, for I love to speak of Him,” said the Indian; “I will come anon and sit by your side and tell you what I know. It will interest you, I doubt not, and maybe you will wish to know more about Him.” Some time passed, however, before the Indian was able to fulfil his promise. He had to tend his horse and to set some traps to catch any small game which might pass, and to search for certain roots and berries for food. He showed, too, by all his movements that he considered himself in an enemy’s country, or in the neighbourhood of an enemy from whom it was necessary to keep concealed. When he came back the old man had fallen asleep. “Let him sleep on,” said the Indian to himself: “our Father in Heaven will watch over and protect us both. I would that I could watch, but my body requires rest.” Having tethered his horse close at hand, strewed the ground with a few spruce-fir tops, and placed his rifle by his side, he knelt down and prayed, not as once to Manitou, to the Great Spirit, the unknown God, but to the true God, – a God no longer feared as a worker of evil, but beloved as the source of all good, of all blessings, spiritual and temporal. His prayer finished, he stretched himself on his couch, and was in an instant asleep.

The silvery streaks of early dawn were just appearing in the eastern sky – seen amid the foliage of the wood, when the Indian, impulsively grasping his rifle, started to his feet. His quick ear had caught, even in his sleep, the sound of a distant shot. It might be fired by a friend, but very likely by a foe, and it behoved him to be on the alert. The old hunter heard it also, but it did not awake him. “Ah! they are on us. No matter, we’ll fight for our lives,” he muttered in his sleep. “Hurrah, lads! Rob Nixon will not yield – never while he’s an arm to strike.” He spoke in English, which the Indian seemed to understand, though the observation he made was in his own language. “Our own arms will do little for us, father, unless we trust in Him who is all-powerful to save.” His voice awoke the old man, who sat up and looked around from out of his hut. Seeing the Indian in the attitude of listening, he at once comprehended the state of matters. “Few or many I’ll stand by you, friend Redskin,” he exclaimed, apparently forgetting his helpless condition; “load my rifle, and hand it to me. If foes are coming, they shall learn that Rob Nixon has not lost the use of his arms and eyes, whatever he may have of his legs.”

“I doubt not your readiness to fight, father,” said the Indian, addressing the old man thus to show his respect for age; “but we may hope to avoid the necessity of having to defend ourselves. Friends and not foes may be near us, or we may escape discovery; or, what is better still, we may overcome the enmity of those who approach us with bad intent.”

“Your talk is again strange, as it was yesterday,” answered the hunter; “I know not what you mean by overcoming enmity. There is only one way that I have ever found answer both with pale-faces and redskins, and that is by killing your enemy.”

“Try what kindness will do, father. Love is the law of the true God,” said the Indian; “but we will anon talk of these things. I will go forth and learn what the shot we heard just now means.”

“Load my rifle, and give it me first, I pray you,” said the white hunter; “I have great faith in my old way of doing things, and am not likely to change.” The Indian loaded the rifle and handed it to him, and without saying a word more set off through the wood, and was soon out of sight. Rob Nixon lay still, with his rifle resting across his body, ready to fire should an enemy appear. Over and over again he muttered: “Strange! strange! that a redskin should talk so. I cannot make it out.” Several minutes passed by, and the Indian did not return. The old man grew more anxious than he would have acknowledged to himself. He had some natural feeling on his own account should his new friend have been cut off, but he was also anxious for that new friend, to whom he could not but be grateful for the service he had rendered him. At length he saw the bushes move, and the Indian appeared and crept close up to him. “There are foes, and many of them,” he said in a low voice; “they are near at hand, but they are not seeking for us; and thus, if they do not cross our trail, we may yet escape discovery.”

The Indian had already concealed his horse in a thicket, and, by carefully surrounding the spot where they lay with boughs, their little camp was completely hidden from the sight of any casual passer-by. The boughs he had cut from the interior part of a thicket, for, had they been taken from the outer side, the eye of an Indian would at once have observed the white stumps which were left. Again, by crossing the river in the mode they had done, there was no trail to lead to their camp. For these reasons the Indian and the white hunter had good cause to believe that they might escape discovery. As their enemies were as yet at some distance it was not deemed necessary to keep altogether silent. The old hunter was the most loquacious. “I would, friend Redskin,” said he, “that I had the use of my legs and half a dozen of my old companions at my back, and I wouldn’t fear as to holding my own against three-score or more of Crees, or Ojibways; no offence to you, friend; for there are not many like you, I guess.”

“Your people fight bravely but foolishly, according to Indian notions,” answered the Indian; “for, instead of advancing on their foes under shelter and trying to take them unawares, they dress themselves in fine clothes, make a great noise when going forth to battle, and expose their bodies to be shot at. I was once esteemed a mighty warrior, and was a man of blood; I have engaged in much fighting, but would now wish to bury the hatchet of war with all the world. I thank you for what you say of me; but things of which I once boasted, I boast of no longer. I am a chief of many people; but instead, as at one time, of wishing to lead them to war, I now desire to lead them to a knowledge of the Lord and Master whom I serve – the Saviour of the world.”

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