Читать книгу Grit A-Plenty - Dillon Wallace - Страница 6

AS soon as ever Margaret could get them a cup of tea and a snack to eat, David and Andy were to be off upon their voyage to the post. They were good boatmen and sailors, both of them, for down on The Labrador every lad learns the art of sailing early. Often enough they had made the journey to the post in the small boat. But now they were to be entrusted with the big boat, and with the season’s catch of fish as cargo, and they were to purchase the winter’s supplies for the house. This was an important mission indeed.

David, as skipper of the big boat, and Andy as crew, therefore felt a vast deal of responsibility, when Thomas called them to his bedside and gave David the final instructions. They were to bring back with them flour, pork, tea and molasses for the house, and woolen duffle, kersey and moleskin cloth for clothing, besides many little odds and ends to be purchased at the store. Then there were verbal messages to be delivered to Mr. MacCreary, the factor, and to Zeke Hodge, the post servant.

“And tell Mr. MacCreary I may be askin’ he for more debt than I been askin’ for many a year,” added Thomas with a tinge of regret, for it had been his pride to avoid debt. “But tell he I’ll pay un. I’ll pay un all when my leg is mended and I gets about again.”

“I’ll tell he, sir,” said David.

“’Twouldn’t be so bad, now, if you had two more years on your shoulders, Davy, lad,” Thomas continued, a little wistfully. “You could tend my trail then, and we might get th’ money t’ send Jamie for the cure.”

“I’m ’most sixteen!” David boasted. “I could tend un now. I knows I could, an’ you’d let me try un.”

“You’re too young yet, lad,” Thomas objected. “You’re too young to be alone up there in th’ bush, I couldn’t rest easy with you up there alone.”

“I could try un, whatever,” persisted David, eagerly.

“I’m not sayin’ you couldn’t tend th’ traps, lad,” assured Thomas, with pride. “You’d tend un, and not slight un. But a lad o’ your age is too young t’ be reasonable always. You’d take risks on nasty days, and run dangers. No,” he added decidedly, “I couldn’t think o’ lettin’ you go alone. If anything were to happen to you I never could rest easy again.”

David was plainly disappointed, for he felt the reliance and self-confidence of youth, and the romance and adventure of a winter’s isolation on the far-off trail appealed to him. And in his heart perhaps he resented what he deemed his father’s lack of confidence in him as a woodsman. It is the way of boys the world over to place their judgment sometimes above that of their elders.

The two lads ate their snack and drank their tea hurriedly, for the day was none too long, and then, with Doctor Joe to accompany them to the jetty and see them off with a cheery farewell, they loosed the boat from her moorings and David, with a long sculling oar, worked her down through The Jug and beyond the Point, where her sails caught the wind. Then David put away the sculling oar, shipped the rudder, and took the tiller, and turning to Andy he said:

“Since Pop broke his leg I been thinking’ wonderful hard, Andy.”

“What you been thinkin’, Davy?” asked Andy.

“I been thinkin’ I’ve got t’ hunt now, whatever,” announced David. “I’m goin’ t’ ask Pop again t’ let me hunt his trail this winter. He were sayin’ I can’t, but somebody must hunt un, and I’m th’ only one t’ do it. We got t’ have fur t’ pay for th’ cure o’ Jamie’s eyes, and Pop can’t hunt, and they’s no way t’ get un if I don’t hunt. If we don’t get un, Jimmie’ll go blind, and we must get un, whatever. You’ll have t’ do my work about home and hunt th’ meat and feed th’ dogs, and get th’ wood.”

“Pop won’t let you go t’ Seal Lake alone!” exclaimed Andy, startled by David’s apparent revolt against his father’s decision. “He said you couldn’t!”

“Yes he will. You’ll see,” declared David. “I has a plan, an’ Pop’ll let me go, I’m thinkin’, when he hears un. And ’tis th’ only chance t’ save Jamie from goin’ blind. I can’t make th’ hunt Pop would, but I’ll do my best, and anyway I’m ’most a man. I’ll soon be sixteen!”

David, standing in the stern of the boat, drew himself to his full height and squared his shoulders, and indeed he was a stalwart lad, and Andy was proud of his big brother.

“You is fine and strong!” said Andy in admiration.

“Aye, that I be,” admitted David with no little pride, “and you’re fine and strong, too, for your age. You can handle th’ dogs and ’tend th’ traps about home, and look after things whilst I’m away, and we’ll show Pop and Doctor Joe what we can do.”

“And Pop lets you go!” said Andy. “But I’m wonderful afraid, now, he won’t let you go.”

“But I has a plan. You’ll see,” said David with assurance.

“What’s your plan, now?” asked Andy.

“’Tis a plan come t’ me while Doctor Joe were settin’ Pop’s leg,” said David, “but I weren’t tellin’ he about un when he speaks of my goin’. I wanted t’ find out first. Indian Jake is back in th’ Bay, and he’s wantin’ a place t’ hunt on shares because he can’t buy his own traps. He’s been away two years, and th’ Company won’t let he have traps on debt because he’s owin’ so much there already that he didn’t pay before he goes away. Trowbridge & Gray won’t let he have traps because he took his fur away two years ago when he were owin’ so much, and didn’t try t’ clear up any of his debt. Pop’s got plenty o’ traps, and my plan is t’ have Indian Jake hunt along o’ me on shares.”

“It seems like cheatin’ for Indian Jake t’ take his fur away when he were owin’ a debt t’ th’ Company,” suggested Andy.

“’Tweren’t honest,” agreed David, “but he’s sayin’ now if he has a chance he’ll pay his debt. It seems hard for he not t’ have a chance, and by huntin’ on shares along o’ me ’twill give he a chance, and ’twill help us. Pop will have a third o’ Indian Jake’s hunt, and he’s ’most as good a hunter as Pop. Then I’ll have some one t’ hunt with, and I’ll be safe, and Pop won’t mind my goin’. All o’ my hunt and a third o’ Indian Jake’s, I’m thinkin’, would be ’most as much as Pop’s would ha’ been if he hadn’t broke his leg. Then Pop and Doctor Joe will sure have th’ money t’ pay for fixin’ Jamie’s eyes.”

“Oh, I hopes he’ll let you go!” exclaimed Andy. “Th’ plan is fine!”

David’s plan was an ambitious one. Thomas had stated that he would be quite too young for another two years to endure the hardship and danger and isolation of the winter fur trails. But if he could arrange for Indian Jake to accompany him, his father might consent. Jamie’s eyes were at stake, and that was the vital thing. David felt that no sacrifice or risk was too great if they could save Jamie from blindness, and he hoped that his father would, after consideration, take the same view.

It is rare that even an old, experienced trapper, enters the far Labrador wilderness without a companion, though Thomas, who knew no danger where he himself was concerned, had usually hunted alone. It is the custom of trappers to work in pairs, with a central meeting point where at stated intervals, sometimes once a fortnight and sometimes at the end of each week, they may enjoy each other’s society for a day or two, and, if necessary, lend each other assistance.

David was aware, however, that at this late season the trappers had already gone to their trails, or had already completed their arrangements for the winter. Therefore he had decided upon making a bargain, if possible with Indian Jake, the only hunter in the Bay, so far as he knew, who had no trail to hunt. It was only under these circumstances that he suggested the half breed as his hunting companion, for he was a man whom no one trusted. This general lack of confidence in Indian Jake might lead his father to refuse to grant his request, but he was determined to do his utmost to induce him to grant it.

Hugely interested, and more or less excited with their project, the boys talked and schemed, until at length the line of whitewashed buildings of the Hudson’s Bay Company’s post came into view.

“There’s the Post!” exclaimed David. “I hope Indian Jake is stoppin’ there yet.”

“’Twill be fine, now, if he is, and if he’ll go, and Pop lets he have th’ trail t’ hunt along with you. The Indian tents are all gone,” said Andy, indicating a long stretch of beach to the eastward of the post which had been occupied by Indian camps during the summer.

“Yes,” said David, “they mostly goes th’ middle of August t’ hunt deer before th’ fur hunt begins. We won’t see them again till the break-up next spring, whatever.”

They were silent for a little, and then David, pointing to the rolling wilderness to the westward remarked:

“It looks fine t’ me out there! And think o’ th’ martens and foxes and lynx! It’s full o’ fur, Andy, waitin’ t’ be trapped, and if Pop lets me go, I can trap some of un, whatever!”

“There’s Indian Jake! See him? The lanky one!” exclaimed Andy, as the boat drew near the wharf and four men came out of one of the buildings and down the wharf to meet them.

“Sure ’tis he! And there’s Uncle Ben Rudder and Hiram Muggs, along with Zeke Hodge! They must be gettin’ their winter outfit. I’m wonderful glad Indian Jake’s here!” exclaimed David.

Zeke Hodge, the Company’s servant, with the assistance of the three, quickly unloaded the boat.

“Where’s your pop? Makin’ ready for th’ winter huntin’?” asked Zeke, as the boys came ashore after discharging the cargo and making the boat fast.

“He broke his leg this mornin’ whilst we were loadin’ th’ boat,” said David. “Doctor Joe was there and fixed un, but Pop won’t be out o’ bed for five or six weeks, whatever, and won’t be strong to go t’ th’ huntin’ th’ whole winter.”

“Good gracious! Good gracious! Dear eyes!” exclaimed Uncle Ben Rudder, a grizzled, stockily-built old trapper of sixty years or thereabouts. “Broke his leg! Tom Angus went, now, and broke his leg, did you say?”

“Aye, Uncle Ben, broke un clear off, but she’s fixed good and proper, and Doctor Joe says she’ll heal fine,” David explained.

Zeke, and Hiram Muggs and Indian Jake all declared it was “too bad, and a sore misfortune, just at th’ beginnin’ o’ th’ huntin’ season,” and Uncle Ben exclaimed:

“Tom Angus broke his leg! Dear eyes! But Doctor Joe’ll fix un! Good gracious, yes! He’ll fix un! He’s a wonderful man, now, is Doctor Joe!”

“Too bad he can’t hunt,” remarked Indian Jake. “His trail up on Seal Lake is one o’ th’ best in th’ country. Too bad t’ let it stand idle.”

“Hum-m-m!” grunted Uncle Ben.

“’Tis a fine trail,” agreed David, “and Pop makes fine hunts on it.”

“He might let some one hunt it on shares?” suggested Indian Jake.

“Tom Angus won’t need much help in decidin’ whether he wants his trail hunted on shares or no,” Uncle Ben broke in with some asperity. “Tom Angus is a great man t’ decide for himself what he’s wantin’, and what he’s not wantin’. Good gracious! Tom Angus can decide for himself!”

With this outburst Uncle Ben followed Zeke and Hiram into Zeke’s cabin, in response to Zeke’s suggestion that “supper was ’most ready and they might as well go in,” but Indian Jake tarried behind with David and Andy.

Indian Jake, the half-breed, was not a native of the Bay. He had appeared here first some five years before, coming from “somewhere south,” and after trapping in the vicinity for three seasons, disappeared. During this time, as David had explained to Andy, he had contracted a debt, and when he left he took with him furs which should rightfully have been used in discharging it. Now after two years he had returned, to remain permanently, as he stated, in the Bay.

He was a tall, muscular fellow, with the dark red skin, straight black hair and swinging stride of the Indian. A pair of keen, restless black eyes and a beaked nose, suggested the hawk. His features, however, were not those of an Indian, and plainly indicated a mixed ancestry.

“I’d like t’ hunt your father’s trail on shares,” suggested Indian Jake, when he was alone with David and Andy.

“Pop’s got two trails up at Seal Lake,” said David. “I knows his old trail, and I were thinkin’ t’ hunt she myself if Pop lets me, and I’m not doubtin’ he would if some one were along with me huntin’ th’ new trail. He’s got all th’ traps for th’ new trail. I were goin’ t’ ask you t’ speak to he about un, Jake.”

“I’d like t’ hunt with ye, Davy. I think we’d get along fine,” said Indian Jake, smiling down ingratiatingly at David, and Indian Jake had a bland and pleasant smile when he chose, in spite of his beaked nose and hawk’s eyes.

And so it came about that Indian Jake went to The Jug the next day with David and Andy. And because there was such urgent need of money, and also because David pleaded so hard, and Indian Jake was so good a trapper—for no one doubted his ability—it was decided that not only David, but Andy also, should go with Indian Jake to Seal Lake for the winter, as we shall presently see.

The boys were pleased beyond measure, for now each felt he was in truth to take a man’s place and do his part in earnest, and they were quite sure that the problem of getting the money to pay the expense of curing Jamie’s eyes was solved. And perhaps, too, they were pleased with the promise of adventure, for every red-blooded boy loves adventure; and to be buried in the depths of the great wilderness for many months, with no other companion than Indian Jake, was adventure in itself. And, indeed, there was to be plenty of it for both of them, and of hardships, too.

“Then you’ll be goin’ home with Andy and me tomorrow to ask Pop?” inquired David expectantly.

“Yes,” said Indian Jake, with undoubted satisfaction. “I’ll go back with you.”

David could scarce suppress his excitement, but neither he nor Andy nor Indian Jake himself thought best to refer to the arrangement when, a moment later, they followed the others into Zeke Hodge’s cabin. Tea was ready, and they drew up to the table with Zeke and Hiram and Uncle Ben.

In the center of the clean-scoured, uncovered table was a big, steaming dish of stewed porcupine and doughboys, and at either end a plate piled high with huge slices of bread, and when Zeke had asked the blessing, Mrs. Hodge and Kate, her fifteen-year-old daughter, poured tea and otherwise served the men while they ate.

“Porcupine! Dear eyes! Porcupine!” exclaimed Uncle Ben, helping himself generously. “Where’d ye get un, Zeke? They’re wonderful scarce these days. Wonderful scarce! I ain’t seen one since last spring.”

“Right back here in th’ green-woods,” said Zeke. “I heard th’ dogs yelpin’ this mornin’; and I goes t’ see what ’tis all about. There sat th’ porcupine hunched up, and th’ old dogs in a circle around he, doin’ th’ yelpin’, and two of th’ young dogs pawin’ at their noses and whinin’, with their mouths full o’ quills.”

“Huh-huh,” chuckled Uncle Ben. “Th’ old uns knew enough t’ keep away from danger. They’d been there theirselves, or seen them that had, and th’ young dogs had t’ get hurt t’ learn enough t’ leave dangerous things alone.”

“It took me an hour t’ pull th’ quills out o’ their noses and mouths with a pair of pincers,” said Zeke. “They’ll know enough t’ give porcupines room after this.”

“Some folks is like porcupines,” observed Uncle Ben, glancing at Indian Jake, who seemed quite unconscious of the thrust. “It’s best not t’ have any dealin’s with un.”

David and Andy were too full of their plans, and too hungry, and well occupied with the toothsome dish, to heed Uncle Ben’s suggestion. And though many times that evening, while the men sat smoking their pipes and talking about this and that, Uncle Ben made blunt and cutting remarks that were aimed at Indian Jake’s character and honesty, the half-breed kept his temper and silence, with a remarkable display of self-control. Once or twice, to be sure, a sneering smile stole upon his face. It might have been that he held the esteem of the others in fine contempt, or possibly he awaited a better opportunity for accounting and revenge.

But so far as David and Andy were concerned, they were thinking only of Indian Jake’s ability as a trapper, and were quite transported by the belief that they had already solved the problems of the future. With Indian Jake’s help they were well satisfied the money would be earned to pay for Jamie’s cure. It only remained to gain their father’s consent to David’s plan. They were optimists. They believed that what they wished to be, would be, if they did their best to make their wishes realized. Only experience can teach that the best laid plans sometimes fail.