Wrecked but not Ruined by Robert Michael Ballantyne (best ereader for pdf and epub .txt) 📖

started up eagerly and hastened to the door.

They were right. Flora, jumping out of the furs of a vehicle which resembled a slipper-bath, and was drawn by four panting dogs, ran into the hut, exclaiming, "Dear father," and threw her arms round the neck of the elder McLeod, who was not slow to return the embrace. Elise entered with smiling face, and curtsied to the young men, who advanced and shook her heartily by the hand.

"Hould their hids, Mister Kenneth," exclaimed the driver of the foremost sleigh, as he sought to undo the traces of the dogs. "Sure they're all alike--horses or dogs, they never _will_ lay still when they're wanted to; bad luck to 'em intirely. Me heart is all but broke. There--git along wid ye."

"Don't be hard on them, Rooney," said Kenneth, laughing, "they seem to have done good service."

"True for ye," replied Rooney, "it wouldn't have bin aisy to git the ladies down here widout 'em, the snow was so soft wi' the thaw that it nigh tore the snow-shoes off me feet, an' my poor legs is at laist three inches longer than whin I set out, if not four."

"Well, Flo," said Ian, "although I know you to be a resolute girl, I didn't believe you would undertake a journey over a country without a road at such a season of the year."

"I _knew_ she would come," said her father, patting the girl's head tenderly, "but didn't expect her quite so soon."

"That's just the reason why I came," said Flora, bustling about the room in search of a reasonably clean spot, on which to deposit her fur cap and muff; "I wanted to take you by surprise, you dear old duck. Here, Elise, take these things and put them on a bed, or something of that sort, if there is one in the house. I declare there is not a spot in this room that is not covered with smoke and grease. How can you be so dirty? It is high time that Elise and I came to put your house in order. You needn't laugh, Kenneth, you ought to be ashamed of yourselves. This is dinner-time, I fancy. Have you any to spare for us? Let me see--but stay; first tell me how you have been and what you have done, and--"

"Please, Miss," said the maid, returning from a little side-room, "there isn't a spot clean enough to put your things on. The beds are no better than the chairs and tables."

"Oh you dirty thing!" said Flora, seating herself on her father's knee, and gazing remonstratively into his face.

A quiet smile played on the dark visage of the elder McLeod as he kissed her, and said:--

"How could you expect us, Flo, to keep things very tidy in a place like this, where we've had to work hard with our axes every day and all day, and no woman to help us in domestic affairs? Why, sometimes we've been so tired at the end of a day, that instead of cleaning up, we have tumbled into bed, boots and all! But there _is_ one little corner of our otherwise dirty hut which we have reserved for lady-visitors. See here!"

He rose, unlocked a little door in a corner of the dining-hall, and throwing it open, disclosed to the astonished gaze of his visitors a small apartment which was a perfect marvel of cleanliness and propriety. True, it was a very simple and, what may be styled, a home-made apartment. The walls, floor, and ceiling were of unpainted wood, but the wood was perfectly fresh, and smelt pleasantly of resin. The window was preposterously small, with only four squares of glass in it, and it was curtained with mere calico, but the calico was rose-coloured, which imparted a delightfully warm glow to the room, and the view from the window of pine-woods and cliffs, and snow-fields, backed by the distant sea, was magnificent. Two little beds in the corner furthest from the window looked so snug that the tendency of beholders to lie down and go to sleep forthwith was only overcome by a sensation of fear lest the fairies, to whom they unquestionably belonged, might object. There was a rather clumsily-made chest of drawers in one corner, the workmanship of Kenneth; a book-shelf fashioned by Ian; and a table, with three chairs, made by McLeod senior.

"Oh, how kind of you," said Flora to her father, when she afterwards sat with him alone in this boudoir, and looked round on everything with the deepest interest.

"Well, it was natural that I should get ready a comfortable place for my only flower."

"Your _only_ flower," exclaimed Flora, "why, what do you call Ian, and Kenneth, and Roderick?"

"Not flowers, certainly," replied her father, pulling her down on his knee; "they may be regarded as useful vegetables, if you will, but they are scarcely flowers that one likes to fondle."

"There, now, sir, you have fondled me enough at present, so tell me all about yourself and your doings."

"Tell me first, Flo, how it fared with you by the way."

"Oh, that is soon told. After you left me I remained with old Mrs Crowder in peaceful serenity until Rooney came back from Quebec, and then I consulted with him as to the possibility of getting down here before the close of winter. Being an old nor'-wester, and an Irishman, he had his answer ready. `Sure,' said he, `there's nothin' aisier. The masther bade me go down to Jenkins Creek wi' the things as soon as possible, which or'narily mains faster than yer able, so I meant to be off to-morrow be daybreak on fut, wid a sled behind me. But if your ladyship intinds to honour me wid yer company, this is how we cud do it. I'll hire a sleigh an' drive ye down to Sam Small's hut. I know that Sam has got one or two sleds and teams of dogs, for, like myself, he's an owld nor'-wester, an' likes to revive owld memories by takin' a trip now an' then in the owld fashion. There's no road av coorse, but dogs ain't like horses; they don't have no need of roads, so that don't matter. I'll git owld Bogus, the Injin, to help. He an' I can bate the tracks wid our snowshoes, and the dogs 'ill follow kindly, an' so we'll all go down to the creek together.'"

"Well," continued Flora, "this plan was carried out at once. We started next day and got on famously in the sledge. We had only one upset. It might have been an awkward one, for the horse was very restive when he got off the track into the deep snow, but fortunately, just at the time, up came two travellers, one of them _such_ a handsome man! and they got us out of our difficulty."

"Were you in danger, my pet?" asked McLeod.

"Not exactly in danger, except the danger of having to walk at night through the forest, and without snow-shoes."

"Hm! not such a small danger that as you seem to think, Flo," said McLeod gravely. "However, these gentlemen got you out of the scrape-- well, go on."

"Well, on we went, came to Sam Small's hut, slept there, got two dog-sledges, slept at the hut of Jonas Bellew in Boulder Creek, whose door we were obliged to break open, for he wasn't at home--and, here we are."

"Well, my pet, here you are likely to remain for some time to come. It's not exactly as fine a residence as you've been accustomed to, but there are many worse."

"Worse," exclaimed Flora, "there couldn't be many better--in the circumstances. I regard it as a small palace. Dear father," she added, "don't let our reverses weigh so heavily on you. Think of your favourite saying, `It's an ill wind that blows no good.' Perhaps good may be in the wind somewhere for us."

"Ay, and I'll think of one of _your_ favourite sayings too, Flo, `Every cloud has a silver lining.'"

"But I've got a better saying than that _now_, father," said Flora, with sudden earnestness, "the saying that dear mother was so fond of quoting from the Bible before she died: `Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.' Oh, father, that word comforts me now, for I have gone to Jesus and have pleaded with Him His own promise that whatever we shall ask in His name God will give it to us."

"Bless you, Flo," said her father tenderly, "and what did you ask for,-- success in our new enterprise?"

"No, I asked for guidance in every step of it, for that is certain to lead to success."

"Do you feel sure of getting an answer to that prayer, Flo?" asked McLeod, gazing at his daughter with a perplexed expression.

"Quite sure," replied Flo confidently, "because God, who cannot lie, has promised."

"Now, what will you say if we fail in this enterprise?" asked her father.

"That my prayer has been answered," replied Flo.

"What? if he guides us to failure will you count that an answer?"

"Yes, indeed I will. More than that, I will count our failure to be success, for whatever God leads us to _must_ be success if we commit our ways to Him."

"That's a convenient doctrine," replied McLeod, with a slight smile, as he called to remembrance several conversations he had had with infidels during his travels, "and no one will ever be able to refute you, for, whatever betide, you will still be able to maintain, logically, that you have received an answer."

"Just so, father, and why not? Is not that convenient doctrine, as you call it, in accordance with the word of God Himself, who says that `_all_ things work together for good to them that love Him?'"

"You have learned to talk like your dear mother, Flo," said McLeod, rising; "we will continue this subject another time. At present I must away to work with the boys."

He left the room hastily, and his daughter, calling in the assistance of Elise, proceeded to arrange her little boudoir in a somewhat more sedate, though by no means less joyful, frame of mind than that in which she had made her entry into her new and unquestionably humble residence.


CHAPTER FIVE.


THE "ENEMY."

Meanwhile, Reginald Redding--still breathing defiance to the clan of McLeod, with his heart steeled against all softer influences, and with all his bristles erect--arrived at Jenkins Creek.

Seeing no one about the door of the hut, he passed it with an indignant frown, and proceeded direct to the cascade, where, from a considerable distance, he had observed the three settlers as they busily plied their axes.

A thaw had set in. The little cascade was beginning to roar ominously, almost savagely, behind the curtain of ice which had concealed almost the whole of it during winter. The ice on the edge of the Saint Lawrence had already given way, and was being swept out to sea in variously-sized fields and masses. Everything gave indication that the reign of winter had come to an end, that the short-lived spring had laid its warm hand on the whole region, and that summer was not far distant. Summer acts its