Snowflakes and Sunbeams; Or, The Young Fur-traders: A Tale of the Far North by - (little red riding hood ebook free .txt) 📖

obliged him to remain for many weeks in bed, under the influence of a slow fever; so that Charley felt a desolation creeping over his soul that no effort he was capable of making could shake off. It is true he found both occupation and pleasure in attending upon his sick friend; but as Harry’s illness rendered great quiet necessary, and as Hamilton had been sent to take charge of the fishing-station mentioned in a former chapter, Charley was obliged to indulge his gloomy reveries in silence. To add to his wretchedness he received a letter from Kate about a week after Mr. Whyte’s burial, telling him of the death of his mother.

Meanwhile, Redfeather and Jacques—both of whom at their young master’s earnest solicitation, agreed to winter at Stoney Creek—cultivated each other’s acquaintance sedulously. There were no books of any kind at the outpost, excepting three Bibles—one belonging to Charley, and one to Harry, the third being that which had been presented to Jacques by Mr. Conway the missionary. This single volume, however, proved to be an ample library to Jacques and his Indian friend. Neither of these sons of the forest was much accustomed to reading, and neither of them would have for a moment entertained the idea of taking to literature as a pastime; but Redfeather loved the Bible for the sake of the great truths which he discovered in its inspired pages, though much of what he read was to him mysterious and utterly incomprehensible. Jacques, on the other hand, read it, or listened to his friend, with that philosophic gravity of countenance and earnestness of purpose which he displayed in regard to everything; and deep, serious, and protracted were the discussions they entered into, as night after night they sat on a log, with the Bible spread out before them, and read by the light of the blazing fire in the men’s house at Stoney Creek. Their intercourse, however, was brought to an abrupt conclusion by the unexpected arrival, one day, of Mr. Conway the missionary in his tin canoe. This gentleman’s appearance was most welcome to all parties. It was like a bright ray of sunshine to Charley to meet with one who could fully sympathise with him in his present sorrowful frame of mind. It was an event of some consequence to Harry Somerville, inasmuch as it provided him with an amateur doctor who really understood somewhat of his physical complaint, and was able to pour balm, at once literally and spiritually, into his wounds. It was an event productive of the liveliest satisfaction to Redfeather, who now felt assured that his tribe would have those mysteries explained which he only imperfectly understood himself; and it was an event of much rejoicing to the Indians themselves, because their curiosity had been not a little roused by what they heard of the doings and sayings of the white missionary, who lived on the borders of the great lake. The only person, perhaps, on whom Mr. Conway’s arrival acted with other than a pleasing influence was Jacques Caradoc. This worthy, although glad to meet with a man whom he felt inclined both to love and respect, was by no means gratified to find that his friend Redfeather had agreed to go with the missionary on his visit to the Indian tribe, and thereafter to accompany him to the settlement on Playgreen Lake. But with the stoicism that was natural to him, Jacques submitted to circumstances which he could not alter, and contented himself with assuring Redfeather that if he lived till next spring he would most certainly “make tracks for the great lake,” and settle down at the missionary’s station along with him. This promise was made at the end of the wharf of Stoney Creek the morning on which Mr. Conway and his party embarked in their tin canoe—the same tin canoe at which Jacques had curled his nose contemptuously when he saw it in process of being constructed, and at which he did not by any means curl it the less contemptuously now that he saw it finished. The little craft answered its purpose marvellously well, however, and bounded lightly away under the vigorous strokes of its crew, leaving Charley and Jacques on the pier gazing wistfully after their friends, and listening sadly to the echoes of their parting song as it floated more and more faintly over the lake.

Winter came, but no ray of sunshine broke through the dark cloud that hung over Stoney Creek. Harry Somerville, instead of becoming better, grew worse and worse every day, so that when Charley despatched the winter packet, he represented the illness of his friend to the powers at headquarters as being of a nature that required serious and immediate attention and change of scene. But the word immediate bears a slightly different signification in the backwoods to what it does in the lands of railroads and steamboats. The letter containing this hint took many weeks to traverse the waste wilderness to its destination; months passed before the reply was written, and many weeks more elapsed ere its contents were perused by Charley and his friend. When they did read it, however, the dark cloud that had hung over them so long burst at last; a ray of sunshine streamed down brightly upon their hearts, and never forsook them again, although it did lose a little of its brilliancy after the first flash. It was on a rich, dewy, cheerful morning in early spring when the packet arrived, and Charley led Harry, who was slowly recovering his wonted health and spirits, to their favourite rocky resting-place on the margin of the lake. Here he placed the letter in his friend’s hand with a smile of genuine delight. It ran as follows:—

MY DEAR SIR,—Your letter containing the account of Mr. Somerville’s illness has been forwarded to me, and I am instructed to inform you that leave of absence for a short time has been granted to him. I have had a conversation with the doctor here, who advises me to recommend that, if your friend has no other summer residence in view, he should spend part of his time in Red River settlement. In the event of his agreeing to this, I would suggest that he should leave Stoney Creek with the first brigade in spring, or by express canoe if you think it advisable.—I am, etc.

“Short but sweet—uncommonly sweet!” said Harry, as a deep flush of joy crimsoned his pale cheeks, while his own merry smile, that had been absent for many a weary day, returned once more to its old haunt, and danced round its accustomed dimples like a repentant wanderer who has been long absent from and has at last returned to his native home.

“Sweet indeed!” echoed Charley. “But that’s not all; here’s another lump of sugar for you.” So saying, he pulled a letter from his pocket, unfolded it slowly, spread it out on his knee, and, looking up at his expectant friend, winked.

“Go on, Charley; pray don’t tantalize me.”

“Tantalize you! My dear fellow, nothing is farther from my thoughts. Listen to this paragraph in my dear old father’s letter:—

“‘So you see, my dear Charley, that we have managed to get you appointed to the charge of Lower Fort Garry, and as I hear that poor Harry Somerville is to get leave of absence, you had better bring him along with you. I need not add that my house is at his service as long as he may wish to remain in it.’

“There! what think ye of that, my boy?” said Charley, as he folded the letter and returned it to his pocket.

“I think,” replied Harry, “that your father is a dear old gentleman, and I hope that you’ll only be half as good when you come to his time of life; and I think I’m so happy to-day that I’ll be able to walk without the assistance of your arm to-morrow; and I think we had better go back to the house now, for I feel, oddly enough, as tired as if I had had a long walk. Ah, Charley, my dear fellow, that letter will prove to be the best doctor I have had yet. But now tell me what you intend to do.”

Charley assisted his friend to rise, and led him slowly back to the house, as he replied,—

“Do, my boy? that’s soon said. I’ll make things square and straight at Stoney Creek. I’ll send for Hamilton and make him interim commander-in-chief. I’ll write two letters—one to the gentleman in charge of the district, telling him of my movements; the other (containing a screed of formal instructions) to the miserable mortal who shall succeed me here. I’ll take the best canoe in our store, load it with provisions, put you carefully in the middle of it, stick Jacques in the bow and myself in the stern, and start, two weeks hence, neck and crop, head over heels, through thick and thin, wet and dry, over portage, river, fall, and lake, for Red River settlement!”