Cedar Creek: From the Shanty to the Settlement. A Tale of Canadian Life

'But you know that's all false pride,' said Robert, with a little glow on his cheek nevertheless. 'We shouldn't be ashamed of anything but wrong.'

'Say what you will, Bob, it strikes me that we aren't of the class which do best in Canada. The men of hard hands, labouring men and women, are those who will conquer the forest and gain wealth here.'

'Well, if that be the rule, you and I must strive to be the exception,' said Robert; 'for I'm determined to have a comfortable homestead for the dear old people from Dunore, and I'm equally determined to set my mark on Canadian soil, and to prosper, if it be God's will.'

He lifted off his cap for a moment, looking at the serene sky. The rising discontent in his brother's heart was stilled by the gesture. Both worked assiduously, till Andy, with an unusual twinkle in his eyes, summoned them to dinner.

'What has the fellow been about, I wonder? I know 'twasn't respect for the holiday kept him indoors all the morning.'

It was presently explained. Andy, ignorant of courses, dished up, together with the ham, a very fine dumpling emitting the odour of apples.

'Sure, as ye can't have yer own plum puddin' in this outlandish counthry, ye can have a thing the same shape, anyhow. Mrs. Jackey showed me how to make it iligant, of the string of dried bits I had thrun in the box since we kem here first. Throth an' I'm cur'ous to see did they ever swell out agin, afther the parchin' they got.'

But for a slightly peculiar taste in the sweet, the dumpling was unimpeachable.

'I suppose Mrs. Jackey uses maple sugar in her confectionery,' said Robert; 'a soupçon of trees runs through it.'

Late in the evening, as the pitch-pine logs were flaring abundance of light through the cabin—light upon Robert at his shingles, and upon Arthur at his work-bench, and upon Andy shaving and packing the slips of white pine as fast as his master split them, with a stinging night outside, some twenty-five degrees below zero, and the snow crusted at top hard enough to bear anything—all three raised their heads to listen to some approaching sound through the dead silence of the frozen air. It was a very distant vagrant tinkling, as of sheep-bells on a common in old Europe; they looked at one another, and Andy crossed himself reverently.

'Like chapel bells over the say from poor Ireland,' he muttered, and crept to the door, which Robert had opened. 'Sure there isn't fairies all the ways out here? an' 'tis mighty like it'—

'Hush—h—!' Andy crossed himself again as the tinkling became more plainly audible. A sweetly plaintive jangling it seemed—a tangled careless music. Nearer, and still nearer it came.

'What a fool I am!' exclaimed Robert; 'it must be sleigh-bells. Travellers, I suppose.'

And before many minutes were past, the sleigh had rounded its way among the stumps, over the smooth snow, to the shanty door, filled with brilliant wood-light.

CHAPTER XXIII

STILL-HUNTING

From the buffalo robes of the sleigh emerged a gentleman so wrapped in lynx-furs and bearskin, that, until his face stood revealed by the firelight, nothing but his voice was recognisable by the Wynns.

'Argent! is it possible?'

'Most possible: didn't you remember that my regiment was quartered out here? But I'm sure it is a very unexpected pleasure to meet you in the bush, old fellow;' and they shook hands warmly again. 'For though I heard from my mother that you had gone to settle in Canada, she didn't mention the locality, and I've been inquiring about you in all directions without success, until, as good fortune would have it, I stopped at the odious Yankee tavern yonder this evening, and overheard a fellow in the bar mention your name. You may imagine I seized him, and ascertained particulars—harnessed the sleigh again, and started off up here, to ask you for a night's lodging, which means a rug before the fire.'

His servant had been unloading the sleigh of knapsacks, and rifles, and other hunting gear. Captain Argent gave him a few directions, and presently the silver-sounding bells tinkled swiftly away along the concession road, and back to the 'Corner' again.

'Och sure,' quoth Andy to himself, as he witnessed from among his shingles the reunion of the old acquaintances, 'what a house for him to come into—not as big as the butler's bedroom at Scutcheon Castle—an' nothin' but pork an' bear's mate to give the likes of a gran' gintleman like him: I wish he'd sted at home, so I do. Oh, Misther Robert asthore, if I ever thought to see the family so reduced; an' sure I was hopin' nobody would know it but ourselves—leastways, none of the quality at home.'

Andy's soliloquy was interrupted by a summons from his master to prepare supper; but the under-current of his thoughts went on as he set about his cooking.

'An' to have to be fryin' mate ondher his very nose, an' the kitchen in the castle is a good quarther of a mile from the dinin' parlour, anyhow; an' all our chaney is made of wood, barrin' the couple of plates; an' our glasses is nothin' but cows' horns. An' sorra a bit of a table-cloth, unless I spread one of the sheets. An' to sit on shtools for want of chairs. An' to sleep on the flure like meself. Arrah, what brought him here at all?'

The subject of these reflections had meanwhile lighted his silver-mounted meerschaum, and was puffing contentedly in the intervals of animated chat, apparently quite satisfied with his position and prospective hardships, not giving a thought to the humble accommodations of his friends' shanty; which, on the first entrance, had contracted in Robert's vision into a mere wood-cutter's hut, devoid of every elegance and most of the comforts of civilised life. He imagined that thus it would be seen through Argent's eyes. But if it was so, Argent neither by look nor manner gave token of the least thought of the sort.

He was the youngest son of a poor peer, Lord Scutcheon, living in the neighbourhood of Dunore; and often had the Wynns ridden with him at the same meet, and shouldered fowling-pieces in the same sporting party.

'But picking off pheasants in a preserve is tame work to the noble game one can shoot in these forests,' said he. 'I'm bound at present on a "still-hunting" expedition; which doesn't mean looking out for illegal distilleries, as it might signify in Ireland, ha, ha!'

Captain Argent had very high animal spirits, and a small joke sufficed to wake them into buoyant laughter, which was infectious by its very abundance.

'Deer-stalking is the right word; I've done it in Scotland, but now I mean to try my hand on the moose—grandest of American ruminants. I've engaged an old trapper to come with me for a few days into their haunts. Now, 'twould be a delightful party if you two would join. What do you say, Wynn? Come, lay by your axe, and recreate yourself for a week, man.'

Arthur looked a very decided acceptance of the proposition, but Robert shook his head. 'Couldn't leave the place,' said he, smiling; 'too much to be done.'

'Nonsense; the trees will stand till your return, and you can't plough through four feet of snow.'

'If I was far enough advanced to have land fit for ploughing, nothing could be pleasanter than to join you, Argent; but unfortunately no end of trees have to be cut down, and logged in heaps for burning before then. But, Arthur, wouldn't you go?'

His faint opposition, because he did not like to leave his brother, was easily overcome. Captain Argent made another attack upon Robert's resolve. 'People always consider winter the time for amusement in Canada. Nature gives a tolerably good hint to the same effect, by blocking up the rivers so that ships can't sail, and snowing up the farms, so that the ground isn't seen for months; and if that isn't a licence for relaxation'—

'I suspect that in the earlier stages of bush-life there are no holidays,' replied Robert: 'if you just reflect that everything in the way of civilisation has to be done afresh from the beginning pretty much like living on a desert island. Now I've got a house to build by summer time, and here are all the preparations towards it as yet;' and he pointed to the shingles.

'Why, thin, I'd like to know for what Misther Robert is dhrawin' up the poverty of the family, an' makin' little of himself before the captain,' thought Andy angrily, and betraying the feeling by a bang of the frying-pan as he laid it aside. 'Can't he talk to him of sojers, or guns, or wild bastes, or somethin' ginteel of that kind, an' not be makin' a poor mouth, as if he hadn't a single hap'ny.' Andy was relieved when the conversation veered round to a consideration of Canada as military quarters.

'About the pleasantest going,' was the Hon. Captain Argent's opinion. 'Of course I can't exactly make out why we're sent here, unless to stave off the Yankees, which it seems to me the colonists are sufficiently inclined and sufficiently able to do themselves; neither can I imagine why Joe Hume and his school of economists submit to such expense without gaining anything in return, save the honour and glory of calling Canada our colony. But leaving that matter to wiser heads than mine, I can say for myself that I like the quarters greatly, and am inclined to agree with Canadian eulogists, that it is the finest country in the world—barring our own little islands.'

'I don't feel, though, as if it ever could be home,' observed Robert, who had taken to his shingles again.

'Perhaps not; but we military men have an essentially homeless profession, you know.'

'The red-coats in Montreal and Quebec seemed a visible link with mother country, most welcome to my eyes in the new land; and so, Argent, when you're commander-in-chief, do continue the regiments in Canada, for my sake.'

'But, my dear fellow,' said the officer quite seriously, as he struck the ashes from his pipe, 'it is waste of the most expensive manufactured material on earth, the British soldier. When he's within reach of the States, he deserts by whole pickets, ready armed and accoutred to the Yankees' hands; I've had the pleasant job of pursuing the chaps myself, and being baulked by the frontier. It's the garrison duty they detest; and an unlimited licence beckons them over the border.'

'And you think,' said Robert, 'the colonists are sufficiently loyal, and all that, to be left to themselves?'

'I don't think they would join the States, at all events. What a horrid set those Yankees are! Canadians are too respectable to wish to sail in the same ship with them.' This truly cogent argument was followed by a series of profound whiffs. 'And if they did,' added Captain Argent presently, 'we've been building the strongest fortifications in the world, spending millions at Halifax and Quebec and other places, on fosses and casemates, and bomb-proof towers, just for the Yankees! And I suppose that Barrack Hill in the middle of Bytown will be made into another Acropolis for the same end.'

'Ah,' said Robert, shaving his shingle attentively, 'so long as Canadians look back to England as home, and speak of it as home, there's little fear of annexation or revolt. Mother country has only to keep up the motherly relation, and patiently loosen the leading strings, according as her colonies grow able to run alone.'

'That sentiment might fall from the lips of a Colonial Secretary in his place in the Commons. By the way, did you hear that my brother Percy has been returned member for the county at home?'

'No; we have not seen a newspaper since we left, except a shabby little Canadian print, which gives half a dozen lines to the English mail. Tell us about it, Argent. Was there a contest?'

How intensely interesting were the particulars, and how Robert and Arthur did devour the ill-printed provincial news-sheet issuing from the obscure Irish country town, and burning all through with political partisanship! Luckily Argent had the last received copy in his pocket, which detailed all the gossip of the election, with the familiar names, and localities of the struggle.

Looking back half a lifetime seemed to be concentrated in the months since they had left Europe. Things widely different from all past experience had filled their thoughts to overflowing, and drowned out old sympathies, till this evening vivified them afresh. Yet Robert felt, with a sort of little pain, that they must gradually die away, be detached, and fall off from his life. His logs and shingles, his beaver meadow and water privilege, were more to him now than all the political movements which might shake Ireland to its centre.

Long after Argent's short athletic figure, crowned with fair curls, lay fast asleep on his buffalo rugs, enjoying hunters' repose, the brothers sat talking and musing. It was not the first time that Robert had to reason down Arthur's restless spirit, if he could. This rencontre had roused it again. He was not satisfied with the monotonous life of the backwoods. He envied Argent, rather, who could make pleasure his pursuit, if he chose.

They set off for the hunting grounds with sunrise next morning; the experienced Ina Moose, a half-bred trapper, marching in advance of the sledge. First, he had stored in the shanty the jingling strings of bells, without consulting their owner; he had a constitutional antipathy to noise of all sorts, and could see no especial good in warning the game.

'What an erect fellow he is, and as taciturn as a mole!' quoth the lively Argent. 'I hope we shall meet with some of his step-relations, the Indians; I've quite a passion for savage life, that is, to look at. Last winter's leave I made some excursions on Lake Simcoe; the islands there are all savage territory, belonging to the Ojibbeways. Poor fellows, they're dying out—every year becoming fewer; yet one can discern the relics of a magnificent race. Red cunning has been no match for white wisdom, that's certain.'

Arthur was a willing listener to many stories about his friend's excursions; and so the time was wiled away as they drove deeper into the recesses of the forest, even to the extreme end of all concession lines.

Here was Ina's wigwam, on the edge of a small pond, which was closely hedged in with pines. Wasting no words, he merely stepped back to unbuckle the shaggy pony, and at the ensuing noonday meal Arthur for the first time tasted the wilderness preserve called 'pemmican.' It was not unlike what housewives at home denominate 'collar,' he thought, cutting in compact slices of interwoven fat and lean.

'How is it made, Argent?'

'I believe the dried venison is pounded between stones till the fibres separate, and in that powdery state is mixed with hot melted buffalo's fat, and sewed up in bags of skin. They say it is most nutritive—a pound equal to four pounds of ordinary meat. A sort of concentrated nourishment, you see.'

'What are those blackish things hanging up in the smoke, I wonder?'

'Beavers' tails, captured in the creeks off the lake, I suppose; capital food, tasting like bacon, but a little gristly.'

'And does the fellow live here, all alone?' A quick and perhaps unfriendly glance of Ina's black eyes proved that he was not deaf, though by choice dumb.

'Well, I suppose so, this year; but he's a great rover. Was with me on the Simcoe last year. I never met such a lover of the chase for its own sake. His forefathers' instincts are rampant in him. Ina, have we any chance of a moose?'

The trapper shook his grisly head. 'Only on the hard wood ridges all winter,' he answered; 'they "yard" whar maples grows, for they live on the tops and bark. Bariboos come down here, mostly.'

What these were, Arthur had soon an opportunity of knowing. Ina kindled into a different being when the hunting instinct came over him. Every sense was on the alert.

The hunters had drawn white shirts over their clothes, to disguise their approach through the snow from the far-seeing deer which they were to stalk. They proceeded some distance before meeting with game. What intense and inexpressible stillness through the grand woods! Arthur started, and almost exclaimed, when, from a pine tree close to him, issued a report sharp as a pistol shot. It was only the violent contraction of the wood from the severe frost, as he knew in a moment; and the deer browsing yonder on branch tops never winced, though a whisper or a footfall would have sent them bounding away. Presently the crack of Argent's rifle was followed by the spring of a buck high into the air, all four feet together, poor animal, as the death-pang pierced his heart.

'I thought I never should get fair aim, from the way he was protected by trees,' said the sportsman, reloading with satisfaction. 'And it's cruel to maim a creature, you know;' whence the reader may perceive that Captain Argent was humane.

'Holloa! what's this?' said Arthur, nearly stumbling over a pair of antlers.

'Moose,' replied Ina laconically, as he glanced upwards to see whether the maple twigs had been nipped short.

'He must have been a trifle lighter for the loss of these,' observed Arthur, lifting them. 'Nearly six feet across, and half-a-hundred weight, if an ounce. I'm curious to see the animal that can carry them composedly.'

'The largest beast on the continent,' said Argent. But much as they searched, the shed antlers were all they saw of moose for that day.

CHAPTER XXIV

LUMBERERS

Scene, early morning; the sun pouring clear light over the snowy world, and upon Captain Argent in front of the hut, just emerged from his blankets and rugs.

'Why, Arthur, here's an elk walking up to the very hall door!'

Almost at the same minute Ina appeared among the distant trees, and fired. He had gone off on snow-shoes long before daybreak, to run down the moose he knew to be in the neighbourhood, had wounded a fine bull, and driven him towards his camp.

'Why didn't you finish him off on the spot,' asked Arthur, 'instead of taking all that trouble?'

'No cart to send for the flesh,' replied Ina significantly.

There might be a thousand pounds of that, covered with long coarse hair, and crested with the ponderous antlers. A hunch on the shoulders seemed arranged as a cushion support to these last; and in the living specimens seen afterwards by Arthur, they carried the huge horns laid back horizontally, as they marched at a long trot, nose in the air, and large sharp eyes looking out on all sides.

'It was a sharp idea to make the elk his own butcher's boy,' quoth Argent.

The massive thick lips formed the 'mouffle,' prized in the wilderness as a dainty: Arthur would have been ashamed to state his preference for a civilised mutton chop. Other elks shared the fate of this first; though it seemed a wanton waste of nature's bounties to slay the noble animals merely for their skins, noses, and tongues. Ina was callous, for he knew that thus perished multitudes every year in Canada West, and thousands of buffaloes in the Hudson's Bay territory. Arthur could not help recalling little Jay; and many a time her lesson kept his rifle silent, and spared a wound or a life.

One day, while stalking wild turkeys, creeping cautiously from tree to tree, an unwonted sound dissipated their calculations. Coming out on a ridge whence the wood swept down to one of the endless ponds, they heard distant noises as of men and horses drawing a heavy load.

'Lumberers,' explained Ina, pricking his ears. He would have immediately turned in a contrary direction; but the prospect of seeing a new phase of life was a strong temptation to Captain Argent, so they went forward towards a smoke that curled above a knot of pines.

It proceeded from the lumber shanty; a long, windowless log-hut with a door at one end, a perpetual fire in the centre, on a large open hearth of stones; the chimney, a hole in the roof. Along both sides and the farther end was a sort of dais, or low platform of unhewn trees laid close together, and supporting the 'bunks,' or general bed, of spruce boughs and blankets. Pots slung in the smoke and blaze were bubbling merrily, under presidence of a red night-capped French Canadian, who acted as cook, and was as civil, after the manner of his race, as if the new arrivals were expected guests.

'Ah, bon-jour, Messieurs; vous êtes les bienvenus. Oui, monsieur—sans doute ce sont des gens de chantier. Dey vork in forest,' he added, with a wave of his hand—plunging into English. 'Nous sommes tous les gens de chantier—vat you call hommes de lumbare: mais pour moi, je suis chef de cuisine pour le présent:' and a conversation ensued with Argent, in which Arthur made out little more than an occasional word of the Canadian's—with ease when it was so Anglican as 'le foreman.'

'What a good-looking, merry-faced chap he is!' observed Arthur, when the red nightcap had been pulled off in an obeisance of adieu, as they went to seek for the others, and witness their disforesting operations.

'French Canadians are generally the personifications of good humour and liveliness,' returned Argent; 'the pleasantest possible servants and the best voyagers. Listen to him now, carolling a "chanson" as he manages his smutty cookery. That's the way they sing at everything.'

'So the lumberers have a foreman?'

'Curious how the French can't invent words expressive of such things, but must adopt ours. He tells me "le foreman's" duty is to distribute the work properly, allotting to each gang its portion; and also to make a report of conduct to the overseer at the end of the season, for which purpose he keeps a journal of events. I had no idea there was so much organization among them; and it seems the gangs have regular duties—one to fell, one to hew, one to draw to the water's edge with oxen; and each gang has a headman directing its labours.'

Nearing the sound of the axes, they came to where a group of lumber-men were cutting down some tall spruce-firs, having first laid across over the snow a series of logs, called 'bedding timbers,' in the line that each tree would fall. One giant pine slowly swayed downwards, and finally crashed its full length on the prepared sleepers, just as the strangers approached. Immediately on its fall, the 'liner' commenced to chop away the bark for a few inches wide all along the trunk, before marking with charcoal where the axes were to hew, in squaring the timber; meantime another man was lopping the top off the tree, and a third cutting a sort of rough mortise-hole at the base, which he afterwards repeated at the upper end.

So busy were the whole party, that the hewer, a genuine Paddy, who stood leaning on his broad axe until the timber was ready for him, was the first to raise his eyes and notice the new-comers. Arthur asked him what the holes were for.

'Why, then, to raft the trees together when we get 'em into the water,' was his reply; and in the same breath he jumped on to the trunk, and commenced to notch with his axe as fast as possible along the sides, about two feet apart. Another of his gang followed, splitting off the blocks between the deep notches into the line mark. And this operation, repeated for the four sides, squared the pine into such a beam as we see piled in our English timber yards.

What was Arthur's surprise to recognise, in the mass of lumberers gathered round a huge mast, the Milesian countenance of Murty Keefe, a discontented emigrant with whom he had picked up a casual acquaintance on the steamboat which took him to Montreal. He was dressing away the knots near the top with his axe, as though he had been used to the implement all his life. When, after infinite trouble and shouting in all tongues, the half-dozen span of strong patient oxen were set in motion, dragging the seventy-feet length of timber along the snow towards the lake, Arthur contrived to get near enough to his countryman for audible speech. Murty's exaggerated expectations had suffered a grievous eclipse; still, if he became an expert hewer, he might look forward to earning more than a curate's salary by his axe. And they were well fed: he had more meat in a week now than in a twelvemonth in Ireland. He was one of half-a-dozen Irishmen in this lumberers' party of French Canadians, headed by a Scotch foreman; for through Canada, where address and administrative ability are required, it is found that Scotchmen work themselves into the highest posts.

During the rude but abundant dinner which followed, this head of the gang gave Argent some further bits of information about the lumber trade.

'We don't go about at random, and fell trees where we like,' said he. 'We've got a double tax to pay: first, ground rent per acre per annum for a licence, and then a duty of a cent for every cubic foot of timber we bring to market. Then, lest we should take land and not work it, we are compelled to produce a certain quantity of wood from every acre of forest we rent, under pain of forfeiting our licence.'