a new friend with startling news.
turn we now to the island in the great lake where hendrick, the hunter, had set up his romantic home.
the premature touch of winter, which had put so sudden a stop to the work of our explorers, gave way to a burst of warmth and sunshine almost as sudden. it was that brief period of calm repose in which nature indulges in some parts of the world as if to brace herself for the rough work of approaching winter. there was a softness in the air which induced one to court its embrace. absolute stillness characterised the inanimate world. clouds floated in the heavenly blue in rotund masses, which seemed, to the careless glance, as unchangeable as the hills, and the glassy water reflected them with perfect fidelity. it also reflected gulls, ducks, plover, and other wildfowl, as they sailed, whirred, or waded about, absorbed in the activities of their domestic economy, or in the hilarious enjoyment of the sweet influences around them. colours most resplendent dyed the forest trees; gentle sounds from bird and beast told of joyous life everywhere, and the blessed sun threw a golden haze over wood and lake and hill. it was as though paradise had been restored to man, and our loving creator had swept away every trace of evil and misery from the beautiful earth.
but although the day is surely coming when, through jesus christ, “sorrow and sighing shall flee away,” paradise had certainly not returned to earth at the date we write of. doubtless, however, something which seemed marvellously like it had reappeared round the hunter’s home, for, while all nature was peaceful as well as beautiful, love was the grand motive power which actuated the hearts of those who dwelt there, and that love had been greatly intensified, as well as purified, since the advent of paul burns with the manuscript gospel of john in his bosom, and the spirit of god in his heart.
besides being naturally sympathetic, paul and hendrick were thus drawn still more strongly together, as they communed with each other—sometimes while walking through the forest engaged in the chase; often beside the camp-fire after supper while others slept; and, not unfrequently, while paddling in their canoe over the sleeping lake.
one evening they were in the latter position—returning from a successful day’s hunt in the canoe—when hendrick became more communicative than usual about the indian tribe to which his wife belonged, and in regard to which subject he had hitherto been reticent. the sun was setting; the island home was not far distant. the total absence of wind and consequent stillness of the lake rendered it unnecessary to do more than make an occasional dip of the paddles with which the light craft was propelled—paul using his in the bow, while hendrick sat in the stern and steered. no one was with them—indeed the canoe was too small to carry more than two when loaded with the proceeds of the chase.
“i have often thought” said the hunter, dipping his paddle lazily, “that you must wonder why one whose position in the world warranted his looking forward to a bright and prosperous career should inflict on himself voluntary banishment, and wed an indian woman.”
“hendrick,” returned paul, “i wonder at few things in this life, for i know something of the working of the human mind and heart and have ceased to judge other men’s feelings by my own. besides, i criticise not the actions of my friend. the motives of his acts are known only to himself and his god. the gospel tells me to ‘judge not according to the appearance.’ moreover, the longer i live with you, the more have i learned to know that there are qualities in trueheart which would do honour to dames of the highest station.”
a gleam of satisfaction lightened the hunter’s face for a moment as he exclaimed, with unwonted energy, “you do her no more than justice, my friend. i have lived to learn that love, truth, and every virtue are to be found in every station—alike with the high-born and the lowly; also that the lack of these qualities is common to both, and, to say truth, i had rather mate with a gentle savage than with a civilised female tiger!”
“but trueheart is not a gentle savage,” returned paul, scarcely able to repress a smile at the tone in which his friend uttered his sentiments; “she is a gentle woman.”
“of course, i know that” rejoined hendrick; “moreover she is a half-caste! i only used the word to designate the class of humanity to which she belongs, and to contrast her with that other class which deems itself at the top of the civilised tree.”
“but it seems to me, master hendrick, that you are inclined to be too severe on the high-born. there are those among them whose lives conform to the teachings of the gospel of jesus.”
“do i not know it?” replied the hunter abruptly. “have i not told you that my murdered wife was high-born and endowed with every grace?”
“true, but what of this civilised female tiger whom you would scorn to wed. did not christ die for her? may she not be saved by the same power that drags the tiger of the lower ranks—both male and female—from the pit?”
“i doubt it not,” answered hendrick thoughtfully, as he relapsed into his usual quiet manner, “and i am glad you appreciate trueheart, for she is worthy of your regard. her name was bestowed on her by her indian relations. my children i have named after some of my kindred in the old country. the tribe to which my wife belongs are called bethucks. they are well-disposed and kindly in disposition, and do not quarrel among themselves more than other human beings—indeed not so much as men in our own land; probably because they have not so much to quarrel about and have more elbow-room. they are good kinsmen, as i know; good hunters also, and inclined for peace, but the natives of labrador render peace impossible, for they make frequent raids on our island, and of course we have to drive them away. if white men now come to newfoundland, i fear that the poor bethucks will be exterminated.” (the bethucks are now extinct.)
“i trust not,” said paul.
“so do i,” returned hendrick, “and if the gospel you have brought here only takes good root in our own land all will be well, for if men acted on the command ‘let us love one another,’ war and robbery, murder and strife, would be at an end.”
“can we expect all men to act upon that precept?” asked paul.
“apparently not; but we might at least expect christians to do so; those who accept the gospel as their book of law. i had expected to escape from war and bloodshed when i left civilised lands and settled here, but i have been disappointed. the necessity for fighting still exists!”
“and will exist until the reign of jesus extends to every human heart,” returned paul. “it seems to me that what we have some right and ground to expect is, not the stoppage of all war, but the abolition of war between nations calling themselves christian.”
it is a curious circumstance that, only a few days after the above conversation, an incident occurred which induced both paul and hendrick to buckle on their armour, and sally forth with a clear perception that it was their bounden duty to engage in war!
that incident was the arrival of an indian hunter who was slightly known to hendrick’s wife.
he came in a canoe just as the family on the island were about to sit down to supper.
it was dark when his tall figure was seen to stalk out of the surrounding gloom into the circle of firelight. trueheart recognised him at once, and a word from her sufficed to inform her husband that the stranger was a friend. he was welcomed of course cordially, and made to sit down in the place of honour.
every attention he accepted with the grave solemnity of an owl, and without any other recognition than a mild grunt, which was by no means meant as a surly return of thanks, but as a quiet mode of intimating that the attention was agreeable to his feelings.
it may, perhaps, be not unknown to the reader that grave reticence is one of the characteristics of the red men of the west. they are never in a hurry to communicate their news, whether important or otherwise, but usually, on arriving at any hospitable abode, sit down with calm dignity and smoke a pipe, or make slight reference to unimportant matters before coming to the main point of their visit—if it have a main point at all. as it is with the red men now, so was it with the bethucks at the time we write of. true, the pernicious practice of smoking tobacco had not yet been introduced among them, so that the social pipe was neither offered, desired, nor missed! but the indian accepted a birch-bark basket of soup with placid satisfaction, and consumed it with slow felicity. then, being offered a formidable venison steak, he looked calmly at his host, blinked his thanks—or whatever he felt—and devoured it.
“has he got nothing to say for himself?” asked captain trench, surprised at the man’s silence.
“plenty to say, i doubt not,” answered hendrick, who then explained to the captain the indian characteristic just referred to.
“what a power of suction he has got” said olly, referring not to the indian, but to the family baby which he had got on his knee, and was feeding with a dangerously large lump of bear’s fat.
“what does he say?” asked paul, referring to their visitor, who, having come to a temporary pause, with a sigh of contentment had said something in his native tongue to hendrick.
“he asked me if the singing-birds will gladden his ears and cause his heart to thrill.”
“what means he by that?”
“he only refers to a fact well known among the indians,” replied the hunter, with a quiet smile, “that trueheart and goodred have such sweet voices that they are known everywhere by the name of the singing-birds. happening to have some knowledge of music, i have trained them to sing in parts one or two hymns taught to me by my mother, and composed, i believe, by a good monk of the olden time. some things in the hymns puzzled me, i confess, until i had the good fortune to meet with you. i understand them better now. you shall hear one of them.”
so saying, he turned and nodded to trueheart who of course understood the conversation. with a slight inclination of the head denoting acquiescence she began to sing. at the same moment goodred parted her pretty lips and joined her. the result was to fill the air with harmony so sweet that the captain and his comrade were struck dumb with delight and surprise, the indian’s jaw was arrested with an unchewed morsel in the mouth, and the family baby gazing upward in wonder, ceased the effort to choke itself on bear’s fat.
it need scarcely be said that the grunt of the indian was very emphatic when the sounds died away like fairy-music, and that the hunter’s white guests entreated for more. trueheart and her daughter were quite willing, and, for a considerable time, kept their audience enthralled.
at last, having washed down his meal with a final basketful of soup, the indian began to unbosom himself of his news—a few words at a time. it was soon found, however, that he had no news of importance to tell. he was a hunter; he had been out with a party of his tribe, but having differed with them as to the best district to be visited, he had left them and continued the hunt alone. being not far distant from the home of the white hunter who had mated with the bethuck singing-bird, he had turned aside for no other purpose than to have his ears gladdened and his heart thrilled!
“we are happy,” said hendrick, “that our bethuck brother should have his ears gladdened and his heart thrilled, and we trust that the spirit of the wolf within him is subdued, now that his stomach is also filled.”
a polite grunt was the reply.
“will our bethuck brother tell us more news?”
“there is no more,” he answered, “strongbow is now an empty vessel.”
“considering that strongbow has just filled himself with venison, he can hardly call himself an empty vessel,” responded the hunter, with intense gravity.
strongbow turned his head quickly and gazed at the speaker. his solemnity deepened. could his white brother be jesting? the white brother’s gravity forbade the idea. in order to convey more strongly the fact that he had no news to give the indian touched his forehead—“strongbow is empty here.”
“that may well be,” remarked hendrick quietly.
again the indian glared. solemnity is but a feeble word after all! he said nothing, but was evidently puzzled.
“has our bethuck brother seen no enemies from the setting sun? is all quiet and peaceful among his friends?” asked the hunter.
“all is peaceful—all is quiet. but we have news of a war party that left us many days past. they had gone, about the time that the deer begin to move, to punish some white men who were cast on shore by the sea where the sun rises.”
“what say you?” cried hendrick, starting. “have the red warriors been successful?”
“they have. some of the white men have been killed, others caught and taken to our wigwams to be made slaves or to die.”
the consternation of paul and his friends, on this being translated to them, may be imagined. past injuries were forgotten, and instant preparations were made to set off to the rescue at the earliest dawn of the following day.
