Silver Lake

Meanwhile they were closely watched by Roy and Wapaw. When the Black Swan’s head appeared, Roy exclaimed in a whisper, “An Injun—d’ye know him, Wapaw?”

“He is one of our tribe, I think,” replied the Indian, in the same low voice, “but I know him not; the light of the fire is not strong.”

“If he’s one o’ your tribe,” said Roy, “it’s all up with us, for they won’t be long o’ findin’ us here. Keep close to me, Nell. I’ll stick by you, lass, don’t fear.”

Wapaw’s brows lowered when he saw the Black Swan step into the encampment, and make the signal to his comrades to advance. He raised his rifle, and took deliberate aim at his heart.

“Roy,” he whispered, “get an arrow ready, aim at the next man that steps into the light and let fly; I’ll not fire till after you, for the smoke would blind you.”

Roy obeyed with a trembling hand. Notwithstanding the rough life he had led in those wild woods of the West, he had never yet been called on to lift his hand against a human being, and the thought of taking life in this deliberate and almost murderous way caused him to shudder; still he felt that their case was desperate, and he nerved himself to the deed.

Another moment, and Robin stood beside the Black Swan. Roy tried to raise his bow, but his heart failed him. Wapaw glanced at him, and said sternly—

“Shoot first.”

At that moment Obadiah Stiff stepped into the encampment, and, stirring the embers of the fire with a piece of stick, caused a bright flame and showers of sparks to shoot upwards. This revealed the fact that some of the party were white men, so Wapaw lowered his rifle. A single glance of his practised eye told him who they were. Laying his hand suddenly and heavily on Roy’s shoulder he pressed him down.

“Come, let us go,” he said quickly; “I must see these men alone, and you must keep close—you must not look.”

He said the latter words with emphasis; but in order to make sure that they should not have a chance of looking, he led his young companions to a point whence the encampment could not be seen, and left them there with strict injunctions not to quit the spot until he should return.

In a few seconds Wapaw stepped into the circle of light where Robin and his party were all assembled, and so rapid and noiseless had his movement been, that he was in the midst of them almost before they were aware of his approach.

“Wapaw!” exclaimed Walter in surprise, “why, you seem to have dropped from the clouds.”

“Sure it’s a ghost ye must be,” cried Larry. The Indian took no notice of these remarks, but turned to Robin, who, with a look of deep anxiety, said—

“Have ’ee seed the childer, Wapaw?”

“They are safe,” answered the Indian.

“Thank God for that!” cried Robin, while a sigh of relief burst from him: “I believe ye, Wapaw, yer a true man an’ wouldn’t tell me a lie, would ye?”

The tone in which the hunter said this implied that the statement was scarcely a true index to his feelings, and that he would be glad to hear Wapaw assure him that he was indeed telling the truth. But this Indian was a man of truthfulness, and did not deem it necessary to repeat his assertion. He said, however, that he would go and fetch the children, and immediately quitted the camp. Soon after he returned with Roy and Nelly; he had not told them, however, who the strangers were.

When Roy first caught sight of his father he gave a shout of surprise, and stood still as if he were bewildered. Nelly uttered a wild scream, and rushed forward with outstretched arms. Robin met her more than half way, and the next moment folded his long-lost little one to his bosom.

Chapter Twenty Two.

At Silver Lake once more

It were needless to detail all that was said and done during the remainder of that night, or, rather, morning, for day began to break soon after the happy meeting narrated in the last chapter. It would require more space than we can afford to tell of all that was said and done; how Robin embraced his children over and over again in the strength of his love, and thanked God in the fervour of his gratitude; how Roy and Nelly were eager to relate all that had befallen them since they were carried away into captivity, in a much shorter time than such a long story could by any possibility be told; how Walter rendered the telling of it much more difficult by frequent interruptions with eager questions, which induced divergencies from which the tale-tellers forgot to return to the points where the interruptions occurred; how Larry O’Dowd complicated matters by sometimes volunteering anecdotes of his own, illustrative of points similar to those which were being related; how Slugs always cut these anecdotes short with a facetious poke in the ribs, which caused Larry to howl; how Stiff rendered confusion worse confounded by trying to cook some breakfast, and by upsetting the whole affair into the fire; and how the children themselves broke in on their own discourse continually with sudden and enthusiastic questions as to the health of their mother and the welfare of the live stock at Fort Enterprise.

All this cannot be described, therefore we leave it to the vivid imagination of the reader.

“Now, comrades,” said Robin, after the sun had risen, after breakfast had been and eaten, after every incident had been related at least twice over, and after every conceivable question had been asked four or five times—“now, comrades, it remains for us to fix what we’ll do.”

“To the Fort,” said Larry O’Dowd abruptly.

“Ay—home!” cried Walter.

“Oh yes—home—home!” exclaimed Roy and Nelly in the same breath.

“Ditto,” observed Obadiah Stiff.

Slugs and the Black Swan, being men of few words, said nothing, but nodded approval.

“Well, it’s quite plain that we’re all of one mind,” resumed Robin; “nevertheless, there are one or two points to which I ax yer attention. In the first place, it’s now near the end of November. Fort Enterprise, in a straight line, is more nor three weeks’ march from hereaway. Our provisions is low. When I left the Fort provisions was low there too, an’ if my brother Jeff ha’nt had more nor his usual luck in huntin’ they’ll be lower yet before long. Now, I think it would be better to go back to Silver Lake for a week or so, hunt an’ fish there till we’ve got a good supply, make noo sleds, load ’em chock full, an’ then—ho! for home. What say ye to that, comrades?”

As every one assented readily to this plan, they proceeded at once to carry it into execution. At first, indeed, Nelly looked a little disappointed, saying that she wanted to get to her darling mother without delay; but, on Walter pointing out to her that it would only delay matters a week or so, and that it would enable the whole party to rest and recruit, and give Wapaw time to recover thoroughly from his wounds, she became reconciled, and put on her snow-shoes to return to Silver Lake with some degree of cheerfulness; and when, in the course of that day’s walk, she began to tell her father of all the beauties and wonders of Silver Lake, she was not only reconciled but delighted to return.

“O father!” said she, as they walked briskly through the forest, “you’ve no notion what a beautiful place Silver Lake is. It’s so clear, and so—so—oh! I don’t know how to tell you; so like the fairy places Walter used to tell us of, with clear water and high cliffs, and the clouds shining up at the clouds shining down, and two suns—one below and another above. And then the hut! we made it all ourselves.”

“What! made the trees and all?” said Robin, with a smile.

“No, of course not the trees; but we cut the trees and piled ’em up, and spread the brush-wood, and—and—then the fish! we caught such big ones.”

“How big, Nelly?”

“Oh, ever so big!”

“How big may that be?”

“Well, some were so long,” (measuring off the size on her arm,) “an’ some near as long as my leg—an’ they were good to eat too—no good! you’ve no notion; but you’ll see and taste ’em too. Then there’s the shooskin’! Did you ever shoosk, father?”

“No, lass—leastways I don’t remember, if I did.”

“But you know what it is?”

“To be sure, Nelly; ha’nt I seed ye do it often on the slopes at Fort Enterprise?”

“Well, the shooskin’ here is far, far better. The first time Roy did it he said it nearly banged all his bones to pieces—yes, he said he felt as if his backbone was shoved up into his brain; and I sometimes thought it would squeeze all my ribs together. Oh, it is so nice! You shall try it, father.”

Robin laughed heartily at this, and remarked that he would be very glad to try it, though he had no particular desire to have his ribs squeezed together, or his backbone shoved up into his brain!

Then Nelly went on with great animation and volubility to tell of the trapping of the bear, and the snaring of rabbits, and the catching of fish, and of Roy’s peculiar method of wading into the lake for ducks, and many other things.

Roy, meanwhile, entertained Walter and Larry O’Dowd with a somewhat similar account of their doings during the months of their residence in that wild region; and thus the journey was beguiled, so that the time seemed to pass on swallows’ wings.

Towards evening the party approached the spot where Silver Lake had first burst upon the enraptured gaze of the wandering pair. As they drew near, Roy and Nelly hurried on in advance, and, mounting the fallen tree on which they had formerly rested, waved to the others to come on, and shouted for glee. And well might they shout, for the evening happened to be brighter and calmer, if possible, than the one on which they first saw the lake. The rolling clouds were whiter, too, and the waters looked more silvery than ever.

The exclamations of delight, and the looks of admiration with which the glorious scene was greeted by the hunters when they came up, gratified the hearts of Roy and Nelly very much.

“Oh, how I wish mother was here to see it!” cried Nelly.

“Ain’t that a place for a king to live in, daddy?” said Roy, enthusiastically.

“So ’tis, lad, so ’tis—leastwise it’s a goodish spot for a hunter. How say you, Slugs?”

Slugs smiled grimly, and nodded his head.

“Would the red man like to pitch his wigwam there?” said Robin, addressing the Black Swan.

“He has pitched his wigwam here before,” replied the Black Swan softly. “When he first took the White Swan home to be his mate, he came to hunt here.”

“Och! is it the honeymoon ye spint here?” broke in Larry. “Faix, it’s a purty spot for courtin’, and no mistake. Is that a beehive over there?” he added, pointing across the lake.

“Why that’s our hut—our palace,” cried Nell, with gleeful look.

“Then the sooner we get down to it, and have supper, the better,” observed Walter, “for we’ll have to work hard to-morrow.”

“Come along, then,” cried Robin, “an’ go you ahead, Roy; beat the track, and show us the way.”

Roy accepted the position of honour. Nelly followed him, and the whole band marched off in single file along the shores of Silver Lake. They soon reached the hut, and here again Nelly found many interesting points to dilate upon. She poured her words into willing and sympathetic ears, so that she monopolised nearly all the talk during the time that Larry O’Dowd was preparing supper.

When that meal was being eaten the conversation became more general. Plans were discussed as to the intended procedure on the morrow, and various courses of action fixed. After that, as a matter of course, the pipes came out, and while these were being smoked, only the talkative members of the party kept up the conversation at intervals. Roy and Nelly having exhausted all they had to say, began to feel desperately sleepy, and the latter, having laid her head on her father’s knee, fell sound asleep in that position. Soon the pipes were smoked out, the fire was replenished, the blankets unrolled; and in a very brief period of time the whole party was in a state of happy unconsciousness, with the exception of poor Wapaw, whose wounds made him rather restless, and the Black Swan, whose duty it was to take the first watch; for it was, deemed right to set a watch, lest by any chance the Indians should have followed the hunters’ tracks, though this was not probable.

Next morning Robin aroused the sleepers somewhat abruptly by shooting a grey hen with his rifle from the tent door.

“There’s breakfast for you and me, Nelly, at any rate,” remarked the hunter, as he went down to the lake to secure his bird.

“An’ won’t there be the bones and feathers for the rest of us?” observed Larry, yawning, “so we won’t starve this day, anyhow.”

In a few minutes every man was actively engaged in work of some sort or other. Robin and Walter prepared fishing-lines from some pieces of buckskin parchment; Black Swan and Slugs went out to cut wood for making sledges; Stiff repaired the snow-shoes of the party, or rather assisted Nelly in this operation; and Larry attended to the preparation of breakfast. Wapaw was the only one who lay still, it being thought better to make him rest, and get strong for the approaching journey.

During the course of the day the lines were tried, and a good number of fish caught. Slugs also went off in search of deer, and returned in the evening with a large stag on his broad shoulders. This raised the spirits of the party greatly, and they feasted that night, with much rejoicing, on venison, marrowbones, and broiled fish!

Thus they spent their time for several days. One party went regularly every morning to fish in the ice-holes; another party roamed the woods, and returned with grouse, or rabbits, and sometimes with deer; while some remained, part of the day at least, in the hut, mending snow-shoes and moccasins, and making other preparations.

In the midst of all this busy labour, the shoosking was not forgotten. One day Robin said to his little daughter, at breakfast, that as they had got nearly enough of provisions for the journey they would take a holiday and go and have a shoosk. The proposal was hailed with delight, and the whole party went off with the new sledges, and spent the forenoon in sliding and tumbling down the hills like very children.

At last everything was ready for a start. The provisions were tightly fastened on the sledges, which were to be drawn by each of the men in turn. Snow-shoes were put on, guns and bows looked to and shouldered, and on a bright, frosty December morning the hunters left the hut, struck into the woods, and set out for Fort Enterprise.

At the top of the slope, beside the fallen tree, they stopped with one consent and gazed back; and there Nelly took her last sad look at Silver Lake, and sorrowfully said her last farewell.

Chapter Twenty Three.

The Happiest Meeting of All

The snow was driving through the forests and over the plains of the North American wilderness; the wind was shrieking among the tree-tops, and whirling the drift in great clouds high up into the frosty air; and the sun was setting in a glow of fiery red, when, on the last day of the year, Robin Gore and his followers came to an abrupt halt, and, with one consent, admitted that “the thing was impossible.”

“We can’t do it, boys,” said Robin, resting his rifle against a tree; “so it’s o’ no use to try. The Fort is good ten miles off, an’ the children are dead beat—”

“No they ain’t,” interrupted Roy, whose tone and aspect, however, proved that his father’s statement was true; “at least I’m not beat yet—I’m game for two or three hours more.”

“Well, lad, p’raps ye are, but Nelly ain’t; so we’ll camp here, an’ take ’em by surprise in the morning early.”

Nelly, who had been carried on the backs of those who had broadest shoulders during the last dozen miles, smiled faintly when spoken to, and said she was “ve–y s’eepy!”

So they set to work in the usual style, and were soon comfortably seated in their snowy encampment.

Next morning before dawn Robin awoke them.

“Ho!” he cried, “get up, lads, look alive! A happy New Year to ’ee all, young an’ old, red an’ white. Kiss me, Nell, dear—a shake o’ yer paw, Roy. An’ it’s a good New Year’s day, too, in more ways than one, praise the Almighty for that.”

The whole party was astir immediately, and that feeling of kindly brotherhood which usually pervades the hearts of men on the first day of a new year, induced them to shake hands heartily all round.

“You’ll eat your New Year’s dinner at home, after all,” said Walter to Nelly.

“Sure, an’ it’s a happy ’ooman yer mother’ll be this good day,” said Larry, as he stirred up the embers of the fire, and blew them into a flame.

The kettle was boiled, and a good breakfast eaten, because, although it is usually the custom for hunters to start on their day’s journey, and accomplish a good many miles of it before breakfast, they had consideration for Roy and Nelly, both of whom were still suffering a little from the fatigue of the previous day. They hoped to be at Fort Enterprise in about four hours, and were anxious to arrive fresh.

The sun was rising when they reached the top of a ridge, whence they could obtain a distant view of the Fort.

“Here we are at home, Nelly,” said Robin, stooping down to kiss his child on the forehead.

“Darling, darling mother!” was all that poor Nelly could say, as she tried in vain to see the Fort though the tears which sprang to her eyes.

“Don’t you see it, Nell?” said Roy, passing his arm round his sister’s waist.

“No, I don’t,” cried Nelly, brushing the tears away; “oh, do let us go on!”

Robin patted her on the had, and at once resumed the march.

That morning Mrs Gore rose from her bed about the saddest woman in the land. Her mind flew back to the last New Year’s day, when her children were lost to her, as she feared, for ever. The very fact that people are usually more jocose, and hearty, and happy, on the first day of the year, was sufficient to make her more sorrowful than usual; so she got up and sighed, and then, not being a woman of great self-restraint, she wept.

In a few minutes she dried her eyes, and took up her Bible, and, as she read its blessed pages, she felt comfort—such as the world can neither give nor take away—gradually stealing over her soul. When she met her kinsman and his friends at breakfast she was comparatively cheerful, and returned their hearty salutation with some show of a reciprocal spirit.

“Jeff,” said Mrs Gore, with a slight sigh, “it’s a year, this day, since my two darlings were lost in the snow.”

“D’ye say so?” observed Jeff, as he sat down to his morning meal, and commenced eating with much voracity.

Jeff was not an unkind man, but he was very stupid. He said nothing more for some time, but, after consuming nearly a pound of venison steak, he observed suddenly—

“Wall, I guess it wor a bad business that—worn’t it, missus?”

“It was,” responded Mrs Gore; and, feeling that she had no hope of meeting with sympathy from Jeff, she relapsed into silence. After a time, she said—

“But we must get up a feast, Jeff. It won’t do to let New Year’s day pass without a good dinner.”

“That’s true as gosp’l,” said Jeff. “Feed up is my motto, always. It don’t much matter wot turns up, if ye don’t feed up yer fit for nothin’; but, contrairy-wise, if ye do feed up, why yer ready for anythin’ or nothin’, as the case may be.”

Having given vent to this sentiment, Jeff finished his meal with a prolonged draught of tea.

“Wall, now,” said he, filling his pipe, “we’ve got enough o’ deer’s meat an’ other things to make a pretty fair feast, missus, but my comrades and we will go an’ try to git somethin’ fresh for dinner. If we git nothin’ else we’ll git a appetite and that’s worth a good long march any day; so, lads, if—”

Jeff’s speech was interrupted here by a sudden and tremendous outburst of barking on the part of the dogs of the establishment. He sprang up and hastened to the door, followed by his companions and Mrs Gore.

“Injuns, mayhap; see to your guns, boys, we can niver be sure o’ the reptiles.”

“They’re friendly,” observed one of Jeff’s friends, as they stood at the Fort gate; “enemies never come on in that straightforward fashion.”

“Not so sure o’ that,” said Jeff. “I’ve seen redskins do somethin’ o’ that kind when they meant mischief; but, if my eyes ain’t telling lies, I’d say there were white men there.”

“Ay, an’ young folk, too,” remarked one of the others.

“Young folk!” exclaimed Mrs Gore, as she shaded her eyes from the sun with her hand, and gazed earnestly at the band which was approaching.

Suddenly one of them ran a little in advance of the rest, and waved a handkerchief. The figure was a small one. A faint cheer was heard in the distance. It was followed, or rather accompanied, by a loud, manly, and well-known shout.

Mrs Gore grew pale, and would have fallen to the ground had not Jeff caught and supported her.

“Why, I do declare it’s Robin—an’—eh! if there beant the children wi’ ’im!”

The advancing party broke into a run as he spoke, another loud cheer burst forth, and in a few seconds Nelly was locked once more in her dear mother’s arms.

Chapter Twenty Four.

Conclusion

It is not necessary to say that there was joy—powerful, inexpressible—within the wooden walls of Fort Enterprise on that New Year’s morning, and a New Year’s hymn of praise welled up continually from the glad mother’s heart, finding expression sometimes in her voice, but oftener in her eyes, as she gazed upon the faces of her dear ones, the lost and found.

The flag at Fort Enterprise, which had not flaunted its red field from the flagstaff since the sad day—that day twelve months exactly—when the children were lost, once more waved gaily in the frosty air, and glowed in the beams of the wintry sun. The sound of joyful revelry, which had not been heard within the walls of the Fort for a long, long year, once again burst forth with such energy that one might have been led to suppose its being pent up so long had intensified its power.

The huge fireplace roared, and blazed, and crackled, with a log so massive that no other Yule log in the known world could have held a candle to it; and in, on, and around that fire were pots, pans, and goblets innumerable, all of which hissed, and spluttered, and steamed at Larry O’Dowd, as if with glee at the sight of his honest face once again presiding over his own peculiar domain. And the parlour of Fort Enterprise—that parlour which we have mentioned as being Robin’s dining-room and drawing-room, besides being his bedroom and his kitchen—was converted into a leafy bower by means of pine branches and festooned evergreens, and laid out for a feast the like of which had not been seen there for many a day, and which was transcendently more magnificent than that memorable New Year’s day dinner which had been cooked, but not eaten, just three hundred and sixty-five days before.

In short, everything in and about Fort Enterprise bore evidence that its inmates meant to rejoice and make merry on that first day of a new year, as it was meet they should do under such favourable circumstances.

Jeff Gore had shot a deer not many days before, and one of its fat haunches was to be the great dish of the feast; but Robin said that it was not enough: so, after the first congratulations were over, he and Walter, and Slugs, and Black Swan, set off into the forest, and ere long returned with several brace of grouse, and a few rabbits. Roy, with a very sly look, had asked leave to go and have a walk on snow-shoes in the woods with Nelly before dinner, but his father threatened to lock him up in the cellar, so he consented to remain at home for that day and assist his mother.

“Now, Nelly, you and Roy will come help me to prepare the feast,” said Mrs Gore, whose eyes were swollen with joyful weeping till they looked like a couple of inflamed oysters; “not that there’s much to do, for, now that Larry is come back, we’ll leave everything to him except the pl–plum—poo—poo—ding—oh! my darling!”

Here Mrs Gore broke down for the fifteenth time, and, catching Nelly to her bosom, hugged her.

“Darling mother!” sighed Nelly.

“Och! but it’s a sight good for sore eyes, anyhow,” exclaimed Larry, looking up from his occupation among the steaming pots and pans.

Wapaw, who was the only other member of the party who chose to remain in the house during the forenoon of that day, sat smoking his pipe in the chimney corner, and regarded the whole scene with that look of stoical solemnity which is peculiar to North American Indians.