Canadian Crusoes by Catherine Parr Traill

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"This flour," said Catharine, "would make good porridge with milk."

"Excellent, no doubt, my wise little cook and housekeeper," said Louis,
laughing, "but ma belle cousine, where is the milk, and where is the
porridge-pot to come from?"

"Indeed," said Catharine, "I fear, Louis, we must wait long for both."

One fine day, Louis returned home from the lake shore in great haste, for
the bows and arrows, with the interesting news that a herd of five deer
were in the water, and making for Long Island.

"But, Louis, they will be gone out of sight and beyond the reach of the
arrows," said Catharine, as she handed him down the bows and a sheaf of
arrows, which she quickly slung round his shoulders by the belt of skin,
which, the young hunter had made for himself.

"No fear, ma chère; they will stop to feed on the beds of rice and lilies.
We must have Wolfe. Here, Wolfe, Wolfe, Wolfe,--here, boy, here!"

Catharine caught a portion of the excitement that danced in the bright eyes
of her cousin, and declaring that she too would go and witness the hunt,
ran down the ravine by his side, while Wolfe, who evidently understood that
they had some sport in view, trotted along by his mistress, wagging his
great bushy tail, and looking in high good humour.

Hector was impatiently waiting the arrival of the bows and Wolfe. The herd
of deer, consisting of a noble buck, two full-grown females, and two young
half-grown males, were quietly feeding among the beds of rice and rushes,
not more than fifteen or twenty yards from the shore, apparently quite
unconcerned at the presence of Hector, who stood on a fallen trunk eagerly
eyeing their motions; but the hurried steps of Louis and Catharine, with
the deep sonorous baying of Wolfe, soon roused the timid creatures to a
sense of danger, and the stag, raising his head and making, as the children
thought, a signal for retreat, now struck boldly out for the nearest point
of Long Island.

"We shall lose them," cried Louis, despairingly, eyeing the long bright
track that cut the silvery waters, as the deer swam gallantly out.

"Hist, hist, Louis," said Hector, "all depends upon Wolfe. Turn them,
Wolfe; hey, hey, seek them, boy!"

Wolfe dashed bravely into the lake.

"Head them! head them!" shouted Hector.

Wolfe knew what was meant; with the sagacity of a long-trained hunter, he
made a desperate effort to gain the advantage by a circuitous route. Twice
the stag turned irresolute, as if to face his foe, and Wolfe, taking the
time, swam ahead, and then the race began. As soon as the boys saw the herd
had turned, and that Wolfe was between them and the island, they separated,
Louis making good his ambush to the right among the cedars, and Hector
at the spring to the west, while Catharine was stationed at the solitary
pine-tree, at the point which commanded the entrance of the ravine.

"Now, Cathy," said her brother, "when you see the herd making for the
ravine, shout and and, clap your hands, and they will turn either to the ten
right or to the left. Do not let them land, or we shall lose them. We must
trust to Wolfe for their not escaping to the island. Wolfe is well trained,
he knows what he is about."

Catharine proved a dutiful ally, she did as she was bid; she waited till
the deer were within a few yards of the shore, then she shouted and clapped
her hands. Frightened at the noise and clamour, the terrified creatures
coasted along for some way, till within a little distance of the thicket
where Hector lay concealed, the very spot from which they had emerged when
they first took to the water; to this place they boldly steered. Louis, who
had watched the direction the herd had taken with breathless interest, now
noiselessly hurried to Hector's assistance, taking an advantageous post for
aim, in case Hector's arrow missed, or only slightly wounded one of the
deer.

Hector, crouched beneath the trees, waited cautiously till one of the does
was within reach of his arrow, and so good and true was his aim, that it
hit the animal hi the throat a little above the chest; the stag now turned
again, but Wolfe was behind, and pressed him forward, and again the noble
animal strained every nerve for the shore. Louis now shot his arrow, but it
swerved from the mark, he was too eager, it glanced harmlessly along the
water; but the cool, unimpassioned hand of Hector sent another arrow
between the eyes of the doe, stunning her with its force, and then, another
from Louis laid her on her side, dying, and staining the water with her
blood.

The herd, abandoning their dying companion, dashed frantically to the
shore, and the young hunters, elated by their success, suffered them to
make good their landing without further molestation. Wolfe, at a signal
from his master, ran in the quarry, and Louis declared exultingly, that as
his last arrow had given the _coup de grace_, he was entitled to the honour
of cutting the throat of the doe; but this, the stern Highlander protested
against, and Louis, with a careless laugh, yielded the point, contenting
himself with saying, "Ah, well, I will get the first steak of the venison
when it is roasted, and that is far more to my taste." Moreover, he
privately recounted to Catharine the important share he had had in the
exploit, giving her, at the same time, full credit for the worthy service
she had performed, in withstanding the landing of the herd. Wolfe, too,
came in for a large share of the honour and glory of the chase.

The boys were soon hard at work, skinning the animal, and cutting it up.
This was the most valuable acquisition they had yet effected, for many uses
were to be made of the deer, besides eating the flesh. It was a store of
wealth in their eyes.

During the many years that their fathers had sojourned in the country,
there had been occasional intercourse with the fur traders and trappers,
and, sometimes, with friendly disposed Indians, who had called at the
lodges of their white brothers for food and tobacco.

From all these men, rude as they were, some practical knowledge had been
acquired, and their visits, though few and far between, had left good fruit
behind them; something to think about and talk about, and turn to future
advantage.

The boys had learned from the Indians how precious were the tough sinews
of the deer for sewing. They knew how to prepare the skins of the deer
for mocassins, which they could cut out and make as neatly as the squaws
themselves. They could fashion arrow-heads, and knew how best to season the
wood for making both the long and cross-bow; they had seen the fish-hooks
these people manufactured from bone and hard wood; they knew that strips of
fresh-cut skins would make bow-strings, or the entrails of animals dried
and rendered pliable. They had watched the squaws making baskets of the
inner bark of the oak, elm, and basswood, and mats of the inner bark of
the cedar, with many other ingenious works that they now found would prove
useful to them, after a little practice had perfected their inexperienced
attempts. They also knew how to dry venison as the Indians and trappers
prepare it, by cutting the thick fleshy portions of the meat into strips,
from four to six inches in breadth, and two or more in thickness. These
strips they strung upon poles supported on forked sticks, and exposed them
to the drying action of the sun and wind. Fish they split open, and removed
the back and head bones, and smoked them slightly, or dried them in the
sun.

Their success in killing the doe greatly raised their spirits; in their joy
they embraced each other, and bestowed the most affectionate caresses on
Wolfe for his good conduct.

"But for this dear, wise old fellow, we should have had no venison for
dinner to-day," said Louis; "and so, Wolfe, you shall have a choice piece
for your own share."

Every part of the deer seemed valuable in the eyes of the young hunters;
the skin they carefully stretched out upon sticks to dry gradually, and the
entrails they also preserved for bow-strings. The sinews of the legs and
back, they drew out, and laid carefully aside for future use.

"We shall be glad enough of these strings by-and-by," said careful Hector;
"for the summer will soon be at an end, and then we must turn our attention
to making ourselves winter clothes and mocassins."

"Yes, Hec., and a good warm shanty; these huts of bark and boughs will not
do when once the cold weather sets in."

"A shanty would soon be put up," said Hector; "for even Kate, wee bit
lassie as she is, could give us some help in trimming up the logs.

"That I could, indeed," replied Catherine; "for you may remember, Hec.,
that the last journey my father made to the Bay, [Footnote: Bay of Quints.]
with the pack of furs, that you and I called a _Bee_

[Footnote: A _Bee_ is a practical instance of duty to a neighbour. We
fear it is peculiar to Canada, although deserving of imitation in all
Christian colonies. When any work which requires many hands is in the
course of performance, as the building of log-houses, barns, or
shanties, all the neighbours are summoned, and give their best
assistance in the construction. Of course the assisted party is liable
to be called upon by the community in turn, to repay in kind the help he
has received.]

to put up a shed for the new cow that he was to drive back with him, and
I am sure Mathilde and I did as much good as you and Louis. You know you
said you could not have got on nearly so well without our help."

"Yes, and you cried because you got a fall off the shed when if was only
four logs high."

"It was not for the fall that I cried," said Catharine, resentfully, "but
because cousin Louis and you laughed at me, and said, 'Cats, you know, have
nine lives, and seldom are hurt, because they light on their feet,' and I
thought it was very cruel to laugh at me when I was in pain. Beside, you
called me 'puss,' and 'poor pussie' all the rest of the _Bee_."

"I am sure, ma belle, I am very sorry if I was rude to you," said Louis,
trying to look penitent for the offence. "For my part, I had forgotten all
about the fall; I only know that we passed a very merry day. Dear aunt made
us a fine Johnny-cake for tea, with lots of maple molasses; and the shed
was a capital shed, and the cow must have thought us fine builders, to have
made such a comfortable shelter for her, with no better help."

"After all," said Hector, thoughtfully; "children can do a great many
things if they only resolutely set to work, and use the wits and the
strength that God has given them to work with. A few weeks ago, and we
should have thought it utterly impossible to have supported ourselves in a
lonely wilderness like this by our own exertions in fishing and hunting."

"If we had been lost in the forest, we must have died with hunger," said
Catharine; "but let us be thankful to the good God who led us hither, and
gave us health and strength to help ourselves."

CHAPTER IV.

"Aye from the sultry heat,
We to our cave retreat,
O'ercanopied by huge roots, intertwined,
Of wildest texture, blacken'd o'er with age,
Bound them their mantle green the climbers twine.
Beneath whose mantle--pale,
Fann'd by the breathing gale,
We shield us from the fervid mid-day rage,
Thither, while the murmuring throng
Of wild bees hum their drowsy song."--COLERIDGE.

"Louis, what are you cutting out of that bit of wood?" said Catharine, the
very next day after the first ideas of the shanty had been started.

"Hollowing out a canoe."

"Out of that piece of stick?" said Catharine, laughing. "How many
passengers is it to accommodate, my dear."

"Don't teaze, ma belle. I am only making a model. My canoe will be made out
of a big pine log, and large enough to hold three."

"Is it to be like the big sap-trough in the sugar-bush at home?" Louis
nodded assent.

"I long to go over to the island; I see lots of ducks popping in and out
of the little bays beneath the cedars, and there are plenty of partridges,
I am sure, and squirrels,--it is the very place for them."

"And shall we have a sail as well as oars?"

"Yes; set up your apron for a sail."

Catharine cast a rueful look upon the tattered remnant of the apron.

"It is worth nothing now," she said, sighing; "and what am I to do when
my gown is worn out? It is a good thing it is so strong; if it had been
cotton, now, it would have been torn to bits among the bushes."

"We must make clothes of skins as soon as we get enough," said Hector;
"Louis, I think you can manufacture a bone needle; we can pierce the holes
with the strong thorns, or a little round bone bodkin, that can be easily
made."

"The first rainy day, we will see what we can do," replied Louis; "but I am
full of my canoe just now."

"Indeed, Louis, I believe you never think of anything else; but even if we
had a canoe to-morrow, I do not think that either you or I could manage
one," said cautions Hector.

"I could soon learn, as others have done before me. I wonder who first
taught the Indians to make canoes, and venture out on the lakes and
streams. Why should we be more stupid than these untaught heathens? I have
listened so often to my father's stories and adventures when he was out
lumbering on the St. John's river, that I am as familiar with the idea of
a boat, as if I had been born in one. Only think now, ma belle," he said,
turning to Catharine; "just think of the fish--the big ones we could get if
we had but a canoe to push out from the shore beyond those rush-beds."

"It strikes me, Louis, that those rush-beds, as you call them, must be the
Indian rice that we have seen the squaws make their soup of."

"Yes; and you remember old Jacob used to talk of a fine lake that he called
Rice Lake, somewhere to the northward of the Cold Springs, where he said
there was plenty of game of all kinds, and a fine open place, where people
could see through the openings among the trees. He said it was a great
hunting-place for the Indians in the fall of the year, and that they came
there to gather in the harvest of wild rice."

"I hope the Indians will not come here and find us out," said Catharine,
shuddering; "I think I should be more frightened at the Indians than at the
wolves. Have we not heard fearful tales of their cruelty?"

"But we have never been harmed by them; they have always been civil enough
when they came to the Springs." "They came, you know, for food, or shelter,
or something that they wanted from us; but it may be different when they
find us alone and unprotected, encroaching upon their hunting grounds."

"The place is wide enough for us and them; we will try and make them our
friends."

"The wolf and the lamb do not lie down in the fold together," observed
Hector. "The Indian is treacherous. The wild man and the civilized man do
not live well together, their habits and dispositions are so contrary the
one to the other. We are open, and they are cunning, and they suspect our
openness to be only a greater degree of cunning than their own--they do
not understand us. They are taught to be revengeful, and we are taught to
forgive our enemies. So you see that what is a virtue with the savage, is a
crime with the Christian. If the Indian could be taught the word of God, he
might be kind and true, and gentle as well as brave."

It was with conversations like this that our poor wanderers wiled away
their weariness. The love of life, and the exertions necessary for
self-preservation, occupied so large a portion of their thoughts and time,
that they had hardly leisure for repining. They mutually cheered and
animated each other to bear up against the sad fate that had thus severed
them from every kindred tie, and shut them out from that home to which
their young hearts were bound by every endearing remembrance from infancy
upwards.

One bright September morning, our young people set off on an exploring
expedition, leaving the faithful Wolfe to watch the wigwam, for they well
knew he was too honest to touch their store of dried fish and venison
himself, and too trusty and fierce to suffer wolf or wild cat near it.

They crossed several narrow deep ravines, and the low wooded flat
[Footnote: Now the fertile firm of Joe Harris, a Yankee settler whose
pleasant meadows and fields of grain form a pretty feature from the lake.
It is one of the oldest clearings on the shore, and speaks well for the
persevering industry of the settler and his family.] along the lake shore,
to the eastward of Pine-tree Point. Finding it difficult to force their
way through the thick underwood that always impedes the progress of the
traveller on the low shores of the lake, they followed the course of an
ascending narrow ridge, which formed a sort of natural causeway between two
parallel hollows, the top of this ridge being in many places, not wider
than a cart or waggon could pass along. The sides were most gracefully
adorned with flowering shrubs, wild vines, creepers of various species,
wild cherries of several kinds, hawthorns, bilberry bushes, high-bush
cranberries, silver birch, poplars, oaks and pines; while in the deep
ravines on either side grew trees of the largest growth, the heads of which
lay on a level with their path. Wild cliffy banks, beset with huge boulders
of red and grey granite and water-worn limestone, showed that it had once
formed the boundary of the lake, though now it was almost a quarter of a
mile in its rear. Springs of pure water were in abundance, trickling down
the steep rugged sides of this wooded glen. The children wandered onwards,
delighted with the wild picturesque path they had chosen, sometimes resting
on a huge block of moss-covered stone, or on the twisted roots of some
ancient grey old oak or pine, while they gazed with curiosity and interest
on the lonely but lovely landscape before them. Across the lake, the dark
forest shut all else from their view, rising in gradual far-off slopes,
till it reached the utmost boundary of sight. Much the children marvelled
what country it might be that lay in the dim, blue, hazy distance,--to
them, indeed, a _terra incognita_--a land of mystery; but neither of her
companions laughed when Catharine gravely suggested the probability of this
unknown shore to the northward being her father's beloved Highlands. Let
not youthful and more learned reader smile at the ignorance of the Canadian
girl; she knew nothing of maps, and globes, and hemispheres,--her only
book of study had been the Holy Scriptures, her only teacher a poor
Highland soldier.

Following the elevated ground above this deep valley, the travellers at
last halted on the extreme, edge of a high and precipitous mound, that
formed an abrupt termination to the deep glen. They found water not far
from this spot fit for drinking, by following a deer-path a little to the
southward. And there, on the borders of a little basin on a pleasant brae,
where the bright silver birch waved gracefully over its sides, they decided
upon building a winter house. They named the spot Mount Ararat: "For here."
said they, "we will build us an ark of refuge and wander no more." And
mount Ararat is the name which the spot still bears. Here they sat them
down on a fallen tree, and ate a meal of dried venison, and drank of the
cold spring that welled out from beneath the edge of the bank. Hector
felled a tree to mark the site of their house near the birches, and they
made a regular blaze on the trees as they returned home towards the wigwam,
that they might not miss the place. They found less difficulty in retracing
their path than they had formerly, a there were some striking peculiarities
to mark it, and they had learned to be very minute in the remarks they made
as they travelled, so that they now seldom missed the way they came by. A
few days after this, they removed all their household stores, viz. the axe,
the tin pot, bows and arrows, baskets, and bags of dried fruit, the dried
venison and fish, and the deerskin; nor did they forget the deer scalp,
which they bore away as a trophy, to be fastened up over the door of their
new dwelling, for a memorial of their first hunt on the shores of the Rice
Lake. The skin was given to Catharine to sleep on.

The boys were now busy from morning till night chopping down trees for
house-logs. It was a work of time and labour, as the axe was blunt, and the
oaks hard to cut; but they laboured on without grumbling, and Kate watched
the fall of each tree with lively joy. They were no longer dull; there was
something to look forward to from day to day-they were going to commence
housekeeping in good earnest and they should be warm and well lodged before
the bitter frosts of winter could come to chill their blood. It was a
joyful day when the log walls of the little shanty were put up, and the
door hewed out. Windows they had none, so they did not cut out the spaces
for them; [Footnote: Many a shanty is put up in Canada without windows, and
only an open space for a door, with a rude plank set up to close it in at
night.] they could do very well without, as hundreds of Irish and Highland
emigrants have done before and since.

A pile of stones rudely cemented together with wet clay and ashes against
the logs, and a hole cut in the roof, formed the chimney and hearth in this
primitive dwelling. The chinks were filled with wedge-shaped pieces of
wood, and plastered with clay: the trees, being chiefly oaks and pines,
afforded no moss. This deficiency rather surprised the boys, for in the
thick forest and close cedar swamps, moss grows in abundance on the north
side of the trees, especially on the cedar, maple, beech, bass, and iron
wood; but there were few of these, excepting a chance one or two in the
little basin in front of the house. The roof was next put on, which
consisted of split cedars; and when the little dwelling was thus far
habitable, they were all very happy. While the boys had been putting on the
roof, Catharine had collected the stones for the chimney, and cleared the
earthen floor of the chips and rubbish with a broom of cedar boughs, bound
together with a leathern thong. She had swept it all clean, carefully
removing all unsightly objects, and strewing it over with fresh cedar
sprigs, which gave out a pleasant odour, and formed a smooth and not
unseemly carpet for their little dwelling. How cheerful was the first fire
blazing up on their own hearth! It was so pleasant to sit by its gladdening
light, and chat away of all they had done and all that they meant to do.
Here was to be a set of split cedar shelves, to hold their provisions and
baskets; there a set of stout pegs were to be inserted between the logs for
hanging up strings of dried meat, bags of birch-bark, or the skins of the
animals they were to shoot or trap. A table was to be fixed on posts in the
centre of the floor. Louis was to carve wooden platters and dishes, and
some stools were to be made with hewn blocks of wood, till something better
could be devised. Their bedsteads were rough poles of iron-wood, supported
by posts driven into the ground, and partly upheld by the projection of the
logs at the angles of the wall. Nothing could be more simple. The framework
was of split cedar; and a safe bed was made by pine boughs being first
laid upon the frame, and then thickly covered with dried grass, moss, and
withered leaves. Such were the lowly but healthy couches on which these
children of the forest slept.

A dwelling so rudely framed and scantily furnished would be regarded with
disdain by the poorest English peasant. Yet many a settler's family have I
seen as roughly lodged, while a better house was being prepared for
their reception; and many a gentleman's son has voluntarily submitted to
privations as great as these, from the love of novelty and adventure, or
to embark in the tempting expectation of realizing money in the lumbering
trade, working hard, and sharing the rude log shanty and ruder society of
those reckless and hardy men, the Canadian lumberers. During the spring and
summer months, these men spread themselves through the trackless forests,
and along the shores of nameless lakes and unknown streams, to cut the pine
or oak lumber, such being the name they give to the felled stems of trees,
which are then hewn, and in the winter dragged out upon the ice, where they
are formed into rafts, and floated down the waters till they reach the
great St. Lawrence, and are, after innumerable difficulties and casualties,
finally shipped for England. I have likewise known European gentlemen
voluntarily leave the comforts of a civilized home, and associate
themselves with the Indian trappers and hunters, leading lives as wandering
and as wild as the uncultivated children of the forest. The nights and
early mornings were already growing sensibly more chilly. The dews at this
season fall heavily, and the mists fill the valleys, till the sun has risen
with sufficient heat to draw up the vapours. It was a good thing that the
shanty was finished so soon, or the exposure to the damp air might have
been productive of ague and fever. Every hour almost they spent in making
little additions to their household comforts, but some time was necessarily
passed in trying to obtain provisions. One day Hector, who had been out
from dawn till moonrise, returned with the welcome news that he had shot a
young deer, and required the assistance of his cousin to bring it up the
steep bank--(it was just at the entrance of the great ravine)--below the
precipitous cliff near the lake; he had left old Wolfe to guard it in the
meantime. They had now plenty of fresh broiled meat, and this store was
very acceptable, as they were obliged to be very careful of the dried meat
that they had.

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