“ho!” ejaculated swiftarrow.
“smoke!” exclaimed reuben guff.
both men spoke at the same moment,—their discovery having been simultaneous. at the same time lawrence pointed with the blade of his paddle to a thin line of smoke which rose above the tree-tops into the blue sky, and was faithfully mirrored in the lake on which they floated.
“injins!” said reuben, resting his steering paddle across the canoe for a few seconds.
swiftarrow assented with another “ho,” and lawrence moved his gun into a handy position to be ready for an emergency; but there was no other sign of man’s presence than the wreath of smoke. all was perfectly silent. the air too was quite still, and the surface of the lake resembled a sheet of glass.
“strange,” observed reuben, “red-skins ain’t usually so shy. if they mean mischief they don’t ever let smoke be seen, an’ when they don’t mean mischief they generally show themselves. come, push on, lads; we’ll go see what’s i’ the wind.”
“i’ll show them the muzzle, father,” said lawrence, laying down his paddle and taking up his gun: “it may be well to let ’em see that we have arms.”
“no need for that, boy. if they know anything at all, they know that white men don’t go about in the wilderness empty-handed. put down the piece, and use your paddle.”
thus reproved, lawrence flushed slightly, but obeyed the order and resumed paddling.
in a few minutes they were on shore. still all was silent as the grave. hauling the bow of the canoe on the beach to keep it fast, the three men took their weapons, and, entering the woods in single file, walked cautiously but swiftly in the direction of the smoke. they soon reached the spot, and the scene which met their eyes was one which, while it accounted for the silence that reigned around, filled their minds with sadness and horror.
in an open space, where a number of trees had been cut down, stood about a dozen skin tents or indian lodges, some with the curtain-doors closed, others open, exposing the interiors, on the floors of which the dead bodies of indian men, women, and children, lay in every attitude and in all stages of decomposition. outside of the tents other corpses lay strewn on the ground, and most of these bore evidence of having been more or less torn by wolves. the travellers knew at a glance that these unfortunate people had fallen before that terrible disease, small-pox, which had recently attacked and almost depopulated several districts of the indian country.
how the disease was introduced among the indians at the time of which we write, it is impossible to say and useless to conjecture. the fact of its desolating effects is unquestionable. one who dwelt in the country at the time writes: (see sir alexander mackenzie’s voyages, page 14.) “the fatal infection spread around with a baneful rapidity which no flight could escape, and with a fatal effect that nothing could resist. it destroyed with its pestilential breath whole families and tribes; and the horrid scene presented, to those who had the melancholy opportunity of beholding it, a combination of the dead, the dying, and such as, to avoid the fate of their friends around them, prepared to disappoint the plague of its prey by terminating their own existence. to aggravate the picture, if aggravation were possible, the carcases were dragged forth from the huts by the wolves, or were mangled within them by the dogs, which thus sought to satisfy their hunger with the putrid remains of their masters. it was not uncommon at this time for the father of a family, whom the infection had not reached, to call his household around him, represent the terrible sufferings and fate that awaited them, which he believed was owing to the influence of an evil spirit who desired to extirpate the race, and incited them to baffle death with all its horrors by at once killing themselves—at the same time offering to perform the deed of mercy with his own hand if their hearts should fail them.”
that some of the dead before our pioneers had acted in this way was evident, for while most of the corpses bore marks of having been smitten with the disease, others were there which showed nothing to account for death save a knife wound over the region of the heart.
it was a sad and sickening sight, and drew forth one or two low-toned sorrowful remarks from reuben, as he moved slowly towards the tent from which smoke still issued.
the three men paused before it because a sound came from within, and they felt reluctant to disturb the awful silence. the pause, however, was but momentary. reuben lifted the covering and opened it wide. a small fire still burned on the hearth in the centre of the lodge; around it lay the bodies of dead men, women, and children. only one figure, that of an old woman, remained in a half-reclining position, but she was motionless, and they thought her dead also. this, however, was not the case. the flood of light which streamed in on her appeared to rouse her, for she raised her grey head, and, gazing anxiously at the figures which darkened the entrance of the lodge, asked in a tremulous voice: “is that you, my son?”
“no, mother, but it is a friend,” said swiftarrow, who understood her language.
“a friend,” repeated the old woman, shaking her head slowly, “i don’t want a friend. the master of life is my friend. my people said that an evil spirit was slaying them; but i know better. it was the great spirit who came to us. we have been very wicked. we needed punishment. but why has he spared me? i was the worst of them all.”
there was something terrible in the tone and manner in which this was uttered, as if the breast of the speaker were torn with conflicting feelings.
“she must have met wi’ the missionaries some time or other,” whispered reuben.
“is the old woman the only one of all the tribe left alive?” asked swiftarrow.
“ay, the only one—no, not the only one; my son is yet alive. he went to set a bear-trap not very long since; but he should have come back before now. he will be back soon.”
the deep sigh which followed proved that the poor old woman was hoping against hope.
“how long is’t since he left you, mother?” asked lawrence eagerly.
“two suns have risen and set since he left, and he had not far to go.”
“father, i’ll go seek for this man,” said lawrence; “something may have befallen him.”
reuben made no objection, and the youth set off immediately in a direction which was pointed out by the old woman.
after he was gone his father and the indian shifted one of the cleanest looking of the empty tents to a considerable distance from the spot where the terrible work of death had been done, and removing the old woman from the neighbourhood of the pestilential atmosphere, placed her therein, kindled a fire and cooked her a little food, of which she evidently stood much in need.
meanwhile lawrence sped through the pathless forest with the light step of a strong youth and the precision of a practised hunter. about four miles from the indian camp he came upon the track of a bear, the footprints of which proved that it was an unusually large one. he followed it up closely, and was led by it to a spot where some trees had been cut down, and not far from which he saw what appeared to him to be the remains of a trap. almost at the same moment of his making this discovery he heard a growl, and saw the bear itself—a monster of the brown species, which differs from the ordinary black bear of america in being more carnivorous and much larger, as well as more savage and bold. no sooner did it see the youth than it rushed upon him with great fury. a piece of broken line was drawn tight round its neck, and another piece round its fore-leg, while four arrows stuck in its shoulder and side, showing plainly that it had broken loose from a snare and had been attacked by man. but lawrence had no time to think on these things. he had barely time to throw forward and cock his gun when the bear was upon him. it rose on its hind-legs, and in doing so towered high above the youth, who, whatever his feelings might have been, looked undismayed. with an unflinching eye he took aim at the monster’s heart, and shot it dead. so close was it to him that he singed the hair on its breast and had to leap to one side to avoid being struck as it fell.
reloading quickly, the young hunter advanced towards the trap, where his worst fears were realised, for near to it he found the body of an indian torn limb from limb, and mostly eaten, except the head, which remained entire. it was evident that the poor man, having set several snares for bears, had gone to visit them, and found this brown bear caught by the head and leg. he seemed to have tried to kill it with arrows, but must have been afraid to go near enough to use his weapons with effect, and the enraged animal, having broken the snare, flew upon him and tore him to pieces.
brown bears of this kind are very powerful. one traveller in these regions saw the footprints of a large one, which, having seized a moose-deer in a river, dragged it for a quarter of a mile along the sandy banks, and afterwards devoured it all except part of the hind-quarters; and the moose which had been treated in this unceremonious way, judging from the size and hardness of the bones, must have been upwards of a year old, when it would weigh as much as an ox of the same age.
collecting the scattered remnants of the unfortunate indian, who was no other than the old woman’s son, lawrence covered them over with leaves and sticks. he then skinned the bear and cut off its claws, which he carried away as trophies, along with one or two choice steaks cut from the creature’s flank. he also collected the weapons and part of the dress of the indian, with which he returned to the camp.
“heyday! lawrence, what have you got there, lad?” said reuben, as his son came up and threw the bundle on the ground.
“a brown bear, father.”
“well done!” exclaimed reuben, with a look of pride, for although his son had shot many a black bear in the forest, he had never before stood face to face with such a monster as that whose skin and claws now lay at his feet.
“it would have been well, father,” said lawrence gravely, “if the man who first saw this had owned a gun. his arrows were no better than needles in such a hide. see here!”
he drew from his breast the bloody portions of dress which had belonged to the slaughtered indian.
“the son of the old woman has gone to the happy hunting-grounds,” said swiftarrow, referring to the heaven of the indian, as he lifted and examined the dress.
“ay, ay,” said reuben sadly, “’tis the chances of the wilderness. you’d better tell the poor old creetur’, swiftarrow; you understand her ways and lingo better than me.”
silently the indian went to the old woman, and laid the bloody garments before her. at first she did not understand what had happened. suddenly the truth flashed upon her, and she looked quickly up into the grave countenance of the indian, but death and sorrow appeared to have already done their worst on her, for she neither spoke nor wept for some time. she took up the shreds of cloth and turned them over tenderly; but neither sign nor groan escaped her. evidently she had been already so stunned by the horrors which had surrounded her for some time, that this additional blow did not tell—at least, not at first—but reuben observed, while trying to comfort her some time afterwards, that a few tears were coursing slowly down her withered cheeks.
that night, round the camp-fire, the pioneers held earnest counsel, and resolved, sadly but firmly, that their projected journey must be given up for that season.
“it’s a hard thing to do,” said reuben, as he lay at full length before the fire after supper, “to give up our plans after comin’ so far; but it ain’t possible to carry that old ’ooman along with us an’ it’s not to be thought of to leave her behind to starve, so there’s nothin’ for it but to go back an’ take her wi’ us to the settlements. i would feel like a murderer if i was to leave one o’ god’s creeturs to perish in the wilderness. what think you, lawrence?”
“i think you are right, father,” replied the youth, with a deep sigh.
“an’ what says swiftarrow?”
“go back,” was the indian’s prompt and laconic answer.
“well, then, we’re all agreed, so we’ll turn back on our trail to-morrow; but i shall try again next year if i’m above ground. i once know’d a yankee who had what he called a motto, an’ it was this, ‘never give in, ’xcept w’en yer wrong.’ i think i’ll take to that motto. it seems to me a good ’un.”
in proof, we presume, of his sincerity, reuben guff rolled himself in his blanket, stretched his feet towards the fire, pillowed his head on a bundle of moss, and at once gave in to the seductive influences of sleep; an example which was so irresistible that his companions followed it without delay.
