IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-S}

1.0 !f"^i

I.I

1.25

2.5

^ 1^ III 2.2
1^ 112.0

U 1111.6

Hiotographic

Sciences

Corporation

<«^

23 WIST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. M5S0

(716)873-4303

CIHM/ICMH

Microfiche

Series.

CIHM/ICIVIH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historical IVIicroreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques

Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques

Th>> mstitute has attempted to obtain the best
cfiginal copy available for filming. Features of this
copy which may be bibliographically unique,
which may alter any of the images in the
reproduction, or which may significantly change
the usual method of filming, are checked below.

□ Coloured covers/
Couverture de couleur

l~~~| Covers damaged/

Couverture endommagde

Covers restored and/or laminated/
Couverture restaurto et/ou pellicul^e

□ Cover title missing/
Le titre de couverture manque

I I Coloured maps/

Cartes gdographiques en couleur

Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/
Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire)

I I Coloured plates and/or illustrations/

Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur

Bound with other material/
Relid avec d'autres documents

Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion
along interior margin/

La re liure serr6e peut causer de I'ombre ou de la
distortion le long de la marge intdrieure

Blank leaves added during restoration may
appear within the text. Whenever possible, these
have been omitted from filming/
II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajouties
lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte,
mais, lorsque cela dtait possible, ces pages n'ont
pas 6t6 fiimdes.

Additional comments:/
Commentaires suppiimentaires;

L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire
qu'il lui a 6X6 possible de se procurer. Les details
de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-Atre uniques du
point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier
une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une
r<iodification dans la mithode normale de filmage
sont indiqu^s ci-dessous.

□ Coloured pages/
Pages de couleur

n Pages damaged/
Pages endommagies

I I Pages restored and/or laminated/

Thee
tothi

This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/

Ce document est film6 au taux de reduction indiquA ci-dessous.

Pages restaurdes et/ou pelliculies

Pages discoloured, stained or foxei
Pages ddcolordes, tachet6es ou piqudes

Pages detached/
Pages d6tach6es

Showthrough/
Transparence

Quality of prir

Qualitd inigale de I'impression

Includes supplementary materit
Comprend du materiel suppl^mentaire

Only edition available/
Seule Edition disponible

r~71 Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/

I I Pages detached/

r~7| Showthrough/

r*7| Quality of print varies/

I I Includes supplementary material/

I I Only edition available/

Thei
possi
of th
filmii

Orlgi
begii
the |j
sion,
othei
first
sion,
or ilii

The I
shall
TINL
whic

Mapi
diffe
entir
begii
right
requ
met^

Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata
slips, tissues, etc., have been refilnr.H>d to
ensure the best possible image/
Les pages totaiement ou partiellement
obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure,
etc., ont 6t6 filmies d nouveau de fa^on A
obtenir la meilleure image possible.

10X

14X

18X

22X

26X

30X

12X

16X

20X

24X

28X

32X

^tails
I du
lodifier
r une
Image

The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks
to the generosity of:

l^ational Library of Canada

The images appearing here are the best quality
possible considering the condition and legibility
of the original copy and in keeping with the
filming contract specifications.

L'exemplaire film6 f ut reproduit grdce d la
g6n6rosit6 de:

Bibliothdque nationale du Canada

Les images suivantes ont 6t6 reproduites avec le
plus grand soin. compte tenu de la condition et
de la nettetd de l'exemplaire film6, et en
conformity avec les conditions du contrat de
filmage.

Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed
beginning with the front cover and ending on
the last page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All
other original copies are filmed beginning on the
first page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, and ending on the last page with a printed
or illustrated impression.

The last recorded frame on each microfiche
shall contain the symbol -^(meaning "CON-
TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"),
whichever applies.

Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en
papier est imprimde sont film6s en commengant
par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la
dernidre page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second
plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires
originaux sont film6s en commengant par la
premidre page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par
la dernidre page qui comporte une telle
empreinte.

Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la
dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le
cas: le symbols — ► signifie "A SUIVRE", le
symbols y signifie "FIN".

l\/laps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at
different reduction ratios. Those too large to be
entirely included in one exposure are filmed
beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to
right and top to bottom, as many frames as
required. The following diagrams illustrate the
method:

Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre
film6s d des taux de reduction diffdrents.
Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre
reproduit en un seul clichd, il est film6 d partir
de I'angle sup6rieur gauche, de gauche d droite,
et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre
d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants
illustrent la mdthode.

Brrata
to

pelure,
>n A

32X

1 2 3

i.-:'^ ■■■■-.. ■- ^^ -

'-'■"■ ... ., J '

•

;

TALES

WESTERN LIFE,

LAKE SUPERIOR AND THE CANADIAN PRAIRIE.

H. R. A. POCOCK.

OTTAWA :
PRINTED BY C. W. MITCHELL.

1888.

Kntored according to Act of Parliament of Canada in tl,e year 1888. by H. R. A
PococK, in tlie ofBco of the Minister of Agriculture.

III.

TO THE

" RIDERS OF THE PLAINS,"

THE GALLANT

NORTH-WEST MOUNTED POLICE,

This Volume is, by permission,

DE Die A TE D

ir
di
w

ir
b;
ir

k]
tl
la
b]
fl
a
ei
fl

t£

fa
ai
II
tl
rf
a:
k:
e:
if
a:
ii
s]
d

PREFACE.

IN the following pages an attempt has been made to
dercribe certain phases of Western Life and Scenery
in Canada, and to present some of the peculiarities which
distinguish western from more civilized communities else-
where.

It must not however be supposed that men and women
in the North- West are of necessity picturesque and bav-
barous ; for indeed the towns and villages are all complete
models of their kind, the women have harmoniums and
social differences, choir practices, and an exhaustive
knowledge of their neighbours' affairs ; the men look after
the politics and the weather, go to church when not too
lazy, and are sometimes depraved enough to carry um-
brellas. The farmer's house has the proper garrison of
flies, the furniture is as comfortless as he could wish, and
at the harvest a western growl is much the same as a down
east growl. The cooking and eating on the Plains, the
flirting and the marrying, the births, the funerals, and the
taxes, are imitated from the same amenities in the
favoured East. If the enterprising Mrs. Brown imports
at a great expense a servant girl, the latter promptly gets
married, and the mistress writes to her friends at home
that the country is therefore a delusion and a fraud, and it
rained all last week, and Mr. Brown has an awful cold,
and a strange cat has come to board and had a litter of
kittens in the back kitchen. But for all that, and it's bad
enough to be sure, the logical Mrs. Brown knows that even

if she quarrels with the country, the weather, Mr. B ,

and the kittens, she yet enjoys all modern inconveniences
in her western home, she would never be satisfied until
she got back if she did go away,- and the monthly bills
don't come in move frequently now than of old.

VI.

PREFAOK.

But this book is not about the citizens and tlie farmers,
nor even that all absorbing topic of emigration ; nor does
it pretend to describe the country as seen by the distin-
guished visitor, who is conducted to the Missions, Indian
Agencies, swell farms, and other show places, dines with
the chief officials, and writes a book of his adventures,
cuisine, and opinions while on the war path.

I have ventured to describe only the portions of the
community that do not live in the routine of civilized life,
to tell the truth about them, to do justice to them, to re-
present as far as possible the action of law and other cir-
cumstance upon such elements; to describe them before
they are all gone, swept away by the advance of Mrs.
Grundy. Great care has been taken to depict justly the
phenomena of nature, the aspects of the seasons, and the
typical scenery of the regions described. The style of
conversation has been copied at the risk of appearing
awkward and unnatural to those not accustomed to the
peculiar manner of western men. The scenes, incidents,
and characters of those sketches are nearly all taken
directly from life, but combined for the purposes of fiction ;
but should any offence be taken by friends and acquaint-
ances at the relation in this disguised form of their adven-
tures, it is to be hoped that my sincere apology will be
accepted.

Greatly indebted for candid criticism and other assist-
ance to numerous friends, I must more especially thank
Mr. Walpole Roland, the author of a recent valuable work
on Western Algoma, for help that has gone far to ensure
the success of these pictures of Western Life.

Ottawa, February, 1888.

VII.

INDEX.

Lake Superior.

A Useless Man 3

Thk Ice Coktkok 10

The Whiskey RuNNEn« 14

The Leuend oi- Thunukk Sf)

The Prairie.

The Lean Man 46

A NioHT Halt 72

D'Anqdera 7S

The Trails 02

Lost 9()

P:ric 115

Death of Wakuzza 148

*Bdck Stanton 152

'< Lights Out !'' 157

Tlie Wilderness.

The Laurentides 160

LAKE SUPEEIOK.

th
of
w
a
bi

w
te
an
pr
ov
an
he
di]
to:

A USELESS MAN.

From the Toronto "Week."

I WAS sent to survey a three mile section of the
Canadian Pacific Railway on the Bay of St.
Ignace, Lake iSuperior. The lay of the land was
that of a house roof, and the grade was at the base
of an eight-hundred foot cliff. Most of the road-
way was cut out of solid rock, wuth here and there
a bridge over a ravine, or a tunnel under a spur to
break monotony.

The w^ork was half finished when I was
visited by the District Engineer, who brought
with him a boy whom he proposed to leave to my
tende'r mercies. The apprentice was described as
an interesting and amiable youth, and had im-
proved the occasion by scaling the precipice
overhead. He had also succeeded in getting lost ;
and we were organizing a search party, when
he favoured us with his presence and was intro-
duced. He presented an interesting and rather
torn up appearance, and was dressed in brown

4 A USELESS MAN.

corduroy; he wes of slender build, with very
marked, irregular features, a good skin, and soft
expressive eyes. He began our acquaintance by
expressing doubts as to whethei he formation was
metamorphic or plutonic, exhibited some very
poisonous berries which he described as having an
agreeable flavour, and borrowed live dollars.

Next day we went to work and measured out
one of the big rock cuts. I tried Eustace with the
chain, the measure, the rod, and in all these he
showed and cheerfully admitted the grossest incom-
petence. His talent for making blunders was
marvellous, and the cause of it all was — thinking.
Often when his negligence stopped the work of
the party, I feared to rouse him from meditations
that I felt might beneiit the human race. In
climbing he was slow and heavy ; in locating he
was blind and obtuse. I set him to mark the
stakes, and blessed him when he forgot their
sequence. Before evening I was convinced that
he was entirely useless.

"Whenever he got a chance he would go up
among the cliffs and get lost. When he did turn
up he was generally more or less damaged from
falls, and always laden with amethysts, herbs,

A USELESS MAN. 5

ores, sketches, and ideas. He would favor me
V iih his ideas on anatomy, speculatiA^e astronomy,
submarine navigation, statuary, boating, and kind-
red topics. He would draw plans ol' houses, and
of cities ; and sometimes on the sly write verses.
He never inllicted these on me however, and 1
forgave him because he was a good listener. In
the evenings I tried him at the " estimates" ; but
he would make little digressions, estimating the
velocity of the earth, or drawing heads on waste
paper — and was incompetent. He was at home
with logarithms, and stuck at a common fraction :
I did the estimates alone.

Notwithstanding the fact that he hindered
my work, I grew to like the boy. He would ask
questions that set my hair on end without show-
ing any effort, or seeking efi'ect. Once he asked me
if I thought him a coward, and I could not say ;
but when a stone from one of the blasts knocked
the paint pot out of his hand, he only observed
that it was a wasteful method of blastinsr.

A day came that I had been dreading for
weeks : the Black Cape had to be measured. I
postponed the job until the afternoon, walking up
and down brooding over the difficulty. I told my

A USELESS MAN.

party that one of ns must be lowered over the edge
of the cliff* and swinging out from the face of the
rock must make a conspicuous mark with a paint
brush at a point that I should name. The narrow-
ness of the ledge from which the work must be
done, a spot only to be reached by ropes and lad-
ders from the side, the weakness of our only ropes ;
the difficulty of keeping a clear head while
swinging a hundred feet in the air ; all these
things made the operation very dangerous. I could
not do the work myself for my presence was ne-
cessary at the tripod : my men were too heavy for

the rope, and Eustace — " Mr. B I'm going down

that cliff". " Eustace was standing before me rather
pale, and his eyes glittering. As he walked away
I could distinctly see that his limbs were trembl-
ing : I must say I had never thought the lad was
so easily moved. After dinner I told my chainman :
" Sinclair, you'll have to do that cliff business- "
The three started the ascent by the ropes and lad-
ders from the grade ; the rodman first, Eustace after
him, and then the chainman. The rope was being
attached to a small cedar at the ledge as I adjusted
my instrument. The lens being focussed, still look-
ing through it, I bade them lower away. Tn the
inverted picture presented within the instrument,^

A USEl.ESS MAN. 7

I saw a human form hanging on a rope swing into
view. " Lower, five feet — lower yet — stop, one
foot up — three to the right, a little to the right —
more, an inch higher — a little to the left — steady,
now mark there." I finished signalling these direc-
tions from the distance with my hands ; and leav-
ing the instrument, looked towards the cliff. The
men above were in great distress, and the voice
came up from below : " Cease lowering — hold on
I say ! " It was Eustace swinging in mid-air, and
the cedar yielding ! A mo.rient of confusion — I
shouted directions — the distance was too great, and
T could hear the navvies below join in the shout-
ing- The cedar was crashing down the cliff with
on avalanche of stones. The men above were safe,
but Eustace

From out of the cloud of dust I heard his
voice : " Have you got any more cedars, up there 1 "

When the dust cleared the cedar was floating in
the Lake below, but Eustace was hanging on the
face of the cliff below the impending ledge. How
he got free from the rope in time I do not know, or
how even then he hung on the bare perpendicular
face of the clift*. We recovered part of the rope,
and took it up the ladders, drawing up one

A USELESS MAN.

•of the guide ropes to eke out the length. Some
men were piling blankets and sacks upon the
rocks below in order to break the fall. Hastily
we lowered the rope and called out to Eustr^^e.
From below he was seen to swing outwards
from the cliff", holding only by one foot and
hand — his last support gave way, and he fell
into space — a tremendous wrench threatened to
drag us from the ledge — he had caught the rope
and was swinging like a pendulum in mid air. As
we lowered away we felt him swarming down to
the lower end — a moment more and they were
calling loudly from below for more rope, and the
last yard was in our hands. " How much more ? "
^'Twenty feet." We gave up the hold of one man,
and lowered a little ; we gave up the second man,
and one bore the strain alone — the strain was more
than one could bear : "Look out ! " There was a
dull thud — a cry of expectation — and three ringing
cheers !

When I had descended to the grade again
Eustace led me away from the crowd, he had en-
joyed a faint in the meantime he said, and thrust
a scrap of stone into my hand : "What's this ? I
found it where the mark was to be made." "Why,
it's silver !"

A USELESS MAN. U

Next day Ilustace told me that he thought
that it would be advisable for him to go down to
Port Arthur and have his teeth doctored : *' Because
I have neuralgia you know — and really the diet
here does not suit me."

I have had many a worse investment than in
the shares of a certain mine found on the face of a
cliff by a thoroughly useless man.

THE ICE CORTEGE.

From the Toronto " Week," August, 188T.

THUNDER Bay is formed bj-^ a monster island
rock, and by a peninsular extending into
Lake Superior, whose cliffs on either side arc ver-
tical and of immense height. Thunder Cape in-
deed, from its resemblance to the human form,
from its great size and desolation is looked upon
with awe by the Indians, and as the sleeping Nani-
bijou, worshipped. The Bay is almost landlocked,
and can be entered only by two straits, one of
which is that between the Cape and Island.

To-night the Giant is veiled in a soft mist, and
the moonlight where it can pierce that mist is
faint and ghostly. Where the precipice towers up
some thirteen hundred feet above the bay, there is
a little shanty by the water's edge. The vast wall
hangs over it, its blackness more awful by contrast
with the summit silvered in the moonlight. The
mountain seems to breathe as the night sets in, and

THE ICE OORTEOE.

the mournful cedars tremble, as the flowers on the
altar tremble at the sound of a cathedral organ.

There is a lamp in the shanty, and its light
illumines the ice below the window, showing a
path leading out on to the bay. The wind is rous-
ing, and the great Spirit wiil breathe heavily to-
night.

A half-breed comes ©ut of the shanty, and
stands in the doorway looking across the bay. The
•■ light from the house illumines lus sash, a medley
of claret, orange, and Vermillion, contrasting
strongly with his homespun clothes. The black
hair falls from under a cap of brown fur ; and his
deep eyes and red brown skin look strange under
the vague moonlight.

The voice of his young wife is heard within
in earnest dissuasive tones ; but half angrily he
persists in his enterprise ; and, when she has come
to the door and kissed him, he throws a sack of
fish over his shoulder, calls his dog, and sets out
across the bay. She watches him as his form is
fading slowly into the dim distance, and soon he
is alone upon ihe Bay despite the warning of
the Spirit Cape.

THE ICE CORTEGE.

She looks up at the black precipice, and some-
thing of its gloom is in her heart as she turns
away. She sits clown on a bench and mends her
husband's old moccasins ; she busies herself pre-
paring delicacies to welcome his return ; she turns
down the light and sits brooding by the stove.

The wind is howling along the cliff; the snow
is driving on the bay ; the Griant is breathing in
his sleep. She is iilled with dread presentiment,
but is weary. The snow drifts are hurled against
the house ; the cedars are writhing, tortured in the :
tempest. There is a scratching sound at the door —
but she has sunk upon the ground and is sleeping ;
the dog without, his dog, frozen and sheeted with
ice, is howiing piteously — but she never heeds.

She stands — her eyes are open and filled with
yearning love — she leans forward and mutters in
her sleep. She throw^s a plaid about her head,
and the folds cover her. She has gone out, and
the dog is leaping about her, barking, and looking
towards the bay — then, uttering a sharp strange
low cry, he runs before. She accepts its guidance
on the rotten ice ; the drift is blinding, the storm
is rising still, but she pays no heed — she never
swerves or turns as she goes to meet her death.

THE ICE CORTEOE.

The ice has broken up on Thunder Bay, and
is moving through the strait between the Cape
and Island, on its way to the open lake. The
Spirit of the Cape looks down on the glittering-
rioe : the Island and the Capo look down in sor-
row. The ice is sweeping through the mighty
gate as it has for many a thousand years before ;
but never has it moved the clilTs to sorrow until
to-day. In the centre of the lloe is a larger frag-
ment than its fellows. It is studded with clear
emerald pools, fretted with a lace work of pure
white ice, and in the centre is a mound of snow
outlined with turquoise shadows. There lie two
human forms clasped in each other's arms, taking
their rest together upon the drifting ice, and lying
upon the snowy forms is a dog.

The ice cortege advances to the Lake, and
there will the mourners bury their human dead.
How grand a pageant this sejmlture in the crystal
waters under the piv^e sunlight !

And there will be a day when the mighty
Lake will render up its dead, taken away from the
earth by an all-seeing God.

THE WHISKEY RUNNERS.

WHY what's up Fred ? You haven't a word
to say to a ( hap all day — you goes growl-
inn^ along as though both of us was to be hanged
when the loads was sold out."

" Oh shut up, for heaven's sake : a man must
be talking away like a durned old woman or you
think he's got jim-jams."

"That's your play, is it ? AV^ell, I trump. It
won't do Fied, worth a cent. Here you goes like a
bear with a sore ' ead, as though youd been robbed
of a new five cent tail. Why what more could
you have man ? A good dog train, diy moccasins,
plenty of tobacco, any amount ot whiskey, fine
weather, and a good supper ahead ! Get up there,

Smeller! Git up, you ! ' And Tom

reached out the bitter end of his whip, and caught
the leader of his team a welt on the off ear that
made him uplift i hearty yell, and all the other
dogs inly shudder.

" Taint that, Tom," said his chum confiden-

THl-: WHISKEY RUNNEUS.

tially, as he jumped on his carriole and proceeded
with the solemn ceremony oi invoking a light lor
his pipe : " It's the darned meanness of the thing-.
Think how these railway men would get on ii' it
wasn't tor the likes of us."

" How they might get on, eh~get on the Jirst
boat in the Spring, and olF to the "Landing"
(Port Arthur) for a three hundred dollar drunk
that'd etarnally clean bust them tor good-and-all.
instead of letting down easy like with a small
spree between times that don't do no harm. "

•' Don't see it — don't see it, nohow. What <'all
have they for to go and get drunk at all, anyway ? "

" Why what do you get on the spree for re-
gular as soon as we strike the first saloon ? "

" Blamed if I know."

"Why, isn't it because you kind'er want to
have a whooping time, and nothing better turns
up, so you go to Black Auntie's, and set the bills a-
flying, and have a bully good time 'till it's all
gone ? " Why what else could you do when
you've got lots of wealth. You can't spend it all
in board and clothes ? "

" Why not bank it V "

THE WHISKEY RUNNEES.

" Bank it ? Catch me banking it ! What !
after being chased three hundred miles down the
line from the " Landing " to Pic and Michipicoten
and three hundred miles back keen jump — with
any amount of storms, and perhaps a two hundred
dollar fine to finish up on ! I say bank it !
Whoop — I'm a wolf, and its my night to howl-
to h-o-w-1 ! Let me out ! Let me out ! Whoop !
Ky— aaiii-i-i-i ! — !

! "

" You're tough, you are ! You'll have a wild
and woolly time, you will ! Have a big time in
gaol ; guess you'll have a big time and no end —
but what then ? what then, eh ?"

" Well, I guess the world owes me a living,
anyhow ; and when the ranches get too hot, I'll
turn an honest dollar stealing cattle or selling
whiskey; and you bet I'll have a gay old time
until I go under. That's what this chicken says."

" And what then ? "

" What then ? I dunno — Let's see : I dunno."
And then they both relapsed into silence while
Tom solemnly filled his pipe and evoked a light.

" Hullo ! Say Fred, what's that coming out of

THE WHISKEY RUNNERS.

Mazukama yonder ? Well I'll be etarnally chawed
up if it aint Bertie."

" Full cry too," said the other, "about time we
was out of this, eh ? "

•' Out of this ? No, hold on— let her flicker ' "
and pulling the dogs up to a solemn walk, Tom
began to make signals to two detectives, who
haAdng come from under cover of the land, were
now in hot pursuit and about a mile distant.

" Lucky they're on foot," said Fred, as he set
his carriole rather ahead of the other, but appeared
to enjoy the game notwithstanding ; for he was
by no means averse to a little innocent sport with
the Law ; which, as represented by the detectives
employed by the Canadian Pacific Railway Syn-
dicate, did not inspire much reverence.

To the sunny Australian with his merry blue
eyes, and sunburnt face, no observer would have
attributed the character of a law breaker ; and half
his friends thought, from his voice and manner,
that he was an Englishman and a sailor ; but,
perhaps he had picked up his unconv^entional half
(childish air and manner from the life of the wild
free prairie, for the plains as well as the mountains-

THE WHISKEY liUNMEKS.

and the sea can breed children of Nature in Nat-
iire's own wise way. But if Tom represented the
Prairie, his chum no less represented Lake Supe-
rior with his gloomy moods and occasional rousing
storms ; and one could read well the meaning of
his deep set eyes, his firm jaw, and dusky count-
enance ; for they meant unalterable strength of
will, and passion, and courage. Yivd was a ruined
man.

The detectives Bertie and Slicke were gaining
rapidly on the dog trains, which were creeping
along as though tired out, while their masters sat
on the sleighs M'ith their snowshoi^s at hand ; and
the pursuers pursued on foot the rugged trail,
bent on etFecting a capture. The trail was one
[leading over the ice along the North Channel from
Nipigon to the eastern end of the islands, and
thence skirted the open coast as far as Michipi-
€oten some two hundred miles away. The whiskey
runners were bound eastward with their carrioles,
•each, drawn by a team of seven dogs, loaded with
whiskey. When the detectives got within hailing
•distance the game began.

"Well I guess you fellows are coming down to
the Landing with us, aint it ?"

THE WHISKEY RUNNERS. 19

" Not by a long chalk."

The dogs now kept the distajice at about a
hundred and fifty yards, and the silence was pre-
sently broken by Tom saying:

" Well, what are you going to do about it, iny-
way ? "

" Wait ! " yelled 81ieke, " and you'll soon find
out."

" Sorry not to oblige you, gentlemen. Grot an
appointment at Michipicoten. Any messages?"

"Say Bertie," cried Fred, "hope your wiie's
getting round nicely ? Sorry to hear she's down."

" Thanks ; much better by last accounts.
Pretty close call, though. How long are you
fellows going to keep up this monkey business? "

"'Oh, I dunno ; guess it'll be as long as you
grind the old organ, governor. Say, Italian man,
want something to grease the old machine ? "

"You bet."

" See here ! " and Tom dropped a bottle of his
best liquor on the trail, the only seizure made that
day. Having pacified the Law, and gone through

THE WHISKEY RUNNERS.

the '* So long ! " " Good bye." " An revoir," &(.,
proper to the occasion ; the peddlers slipped on their
snowshoes, whipped up the dogs, and soon left noth-
ing in sight to the detectives but the long sway-
ing motions of the runners, and the gliding carii-
oles beside them, melting into the blue-grey mists
of evening. Soon after, the two travellers reached
a point where they had agreed to separate, Fred
being bound to the East end of the Line, and Tom
intending to sell out among the camps on the road
back to Nipigon, and afterwards to take up a
' cache ' he had left at Camp Roland near that place.
So, after drinking each other's healths, and hearty
farewells, the two set off' on their respective ways,
Tom intending to do a good business that night at
McRae's Camp in Grravel Bay.

Knowing that the camp he had chosen was
reputed to have a bad cook, our hero abstained
from supper, contenting himself with a few hard-
tacks as he went along ; and iiually located him-
self in the bush near the big log building where
the men slept. After giving the dogs their even-
ing ration of tish, he proceeded to decoy the rail-
way men to his place of business. He was before
long surrounded by a stalwart crowd of navvies,
regaling themseh'es at the rate of twenty-five

THE WHISKEY EUNNERS.

cents a drink; and before the stars were out he
was supplying his patrons with good wholesome
water at the same rate, without their knowing the
difference. When none of his customers could
hold any more, Tom securely cached his load
under a snow bank ; and, taking a bottle in his
pocket to propitiate the host, he passed the re-
mainder of the night in a comfortable bunk pro-
vided at the shanty of an acquaintance.

Bright and early the following morning, Tom
got the dogs harnessed, and proceeded to a small
camp perched among the rocks some three hun-
dred feet above the channel ; and; having run his
team into a deep black ravine close by, he enjoyed
an excellent breakfast and a cigar at the camp build-
ing. Leaving word with the cook that he had
some lemonade for sale down in the ravine, he
went thither, and passed the greater part of the
forenoon in disposing- of his merchandise at five
dollars for each well watered bottle ; but refused
to sell by the drink lest his doings should attract
the attention of any Engineer, for the Surveyors
were Justices of the Peace for the prevention of
the liquor traffic among the navvies.

Grravel Bay is probably as wild and rough a

THE WHISKEY RUNNERS.

locality as any in the Laurentian wilderness. Foi*
some three miles the coast consists of aline of clitts
from eight to nine hundred feet high, with spurs,
crevasses, stone slides, and vertical precipices of
every variety, the general plane being that of a
mansard roof. Along the base of the cliff runs the
line of the great railway, a succession of curves,
deep cuttings, side cuts and tunnels, at a rate they
say of $250,000 a mile. It was along this grade
that Tom proceeded ; and although there were few
men to be seen in that part because the grading
was complete, Tom was not disposed to show his
carffo in broad daylight, and passed leisurely on.
Just before he reached Death's Head Peak, he en-
countered an acquaintance, and remained for some
time in conversation with him ; and, while talk-
ing, his sharp eyes noticed a man set off from Mc-
Clellan and Fay's camp, which was about a quarter
of a mile beyond the Peak. The man was on snow-
shoes, and struck out across the Bay towards Mac-
Rae's Camp. I'om left his friend, and went on some
little distance upon the grade, still watching the
stranger, whom he presently recognised as Bertie
the detective, doubtless bent on his capture. But
just when Tom got immediately under Death's
Head Peak, a vertical cliff or spur from the heights

THE WHISKEY RUNNERS.

above, that towered somewhat over a hundred feet
directly over the road, Bertie turned and saw the
carriole and the law breaker, and made directly
for the Peak. Tom stood with his back against
the cliff waiting to see what Bertie would do, and
chuckling quietly to himself. Bertie took off his
snowshoes at the foot of the dump, and proceeded
to crawl up ; and when he reached the level there
stood Tom with an amused smile on his face await-
ing developments. " Well," gasped Bertie, " I guess
I got you ; " and he came forward with his revol-
ver at full cock and levelled. Tom was still smil-
ing and made no move, but presently observed :
'' By the G-reat Horn Spoon of the Palefaces, Bertie,
what are you gaping at ? " Still watching the
detective, Tom began to look as though he meant
business ; and, stooping down, he picked up a
cylindrical canister, which he raised at arms length
over his head. Bertie was about twelve paces off.
There is some thing about the eyes of a real prairie
man very like the steel blue eye of a revolver, not
less clear, not less stern, not less persuasive.

"Now Bertie, don't let that toy go off by mis-
take. When you make your second pace doivn comes
fke cliff! "

THE WHISKEY RUNNEKS.

Now Reader, when Tom said that you couldn't
have seen Bertie's tail for dust — the flight of birds
was nothing to the flight of that bird — his pre-
cipitation was simply immense. Persuasive as a
revolver may be with a real man behind it, it is
iiothing to the argumentative cogency of a canister
of nitro glycerine. And, as the form of the retiring
detective began to be at some distance, Tom
solemnly drank his health out of the canister.

That night McClellan and Fay's camp had such
a time that Tom completely sold out his load ; and
next morning, after turning the empty kegs loose,
he ballasted with a sack of frozen fish, bought from
an Indian, and proceeded to Mazukama, the place
from whence the detectives had made their first
sally. On reaching the vicinity of the camp, Tom
fed the dogs with some of the fish, and hung the
sack up in a tree to prevent the hungry brutes
getting to it while he was away having dinner.
He was seated in the mess room of the cami^ en-
joying the meal in company with the time-keeper,
w^hen the outer door opened, and the detective
Slicke burst in and proceeded to take possession of
our hero, who was too much amused by the idea
of what would follow to make any remonstrance.

} i

THE WHISKEY RUNNERS.

" "What's the trouble Slicke, old man," said
Tom ; as, despite the heavy hand on his shoulder,
he poured a second supply of tea into his dish.
" Well, if you are pretty sharp set, you needn't eat
me for Mazukama st«^ak. I may be a pretty hard
seed, but I'm not as tough as that by half. Why
in thunder don't you take a seat and set to — sit down
man ! " — and in a somewhat sheepish manner the
detective sat down.

" Now you just put those bracelets aw^ay 'til T
chain you up for a bear afterwards ; you fellows
are too much given to sporting cheap jewellery. If
you'll only behave yourself I'll stand drinks to the
crowd," there were several persons present attract-
ed by tlie signs of a row^ — " and w^e'll go down to
the Magistrate afterwards and work the boss
oracle. Who's the Beak in this here locality, any-
way?"

There was some little silence after this, Tom
probably having a soliloquy all to himself, for pre-
sently he broke out :

" Durned if I can see why these fellows get all
the soft soap ; Justices of the Peace because that
they happen to be Civil Engineers ; its little enough
justice, peace, or civility that we poor runners

r\i

THE WHI8KEY RUNNERS.

have of them, anyway. Finished Slicke? All
right you fellows, come and see his lordship run-
ning the show."

When they reached the sleigh, Slicke, who
had been putting on a few airs and graces of
authority, ordered the prisoner to unload — which
the prisoner accordingly didn't. The by-standers
also told the detective that he might go somewhere
where there was a warm climate to get flunkies ; so
he was obliged to set to work himself,and uncovered
the carriole, calling on two others to witness the
transaction. The load was duly inspected, and
found to consist of a buffalo coat, a pair of Hudson's
Bay blankets, and a few hard-tacks.

" Come, stop this fooling around, Slicke ; don't
you see the bag of bottles right over head .^ "
Slicke did, and immediately began to climb up to
the bough of a young balsam from which hung*
the sack of fish. Tom called the crowd to make
room ; and the dogs, seeing a stranger about to
make off'wiih their provisions, began to assemble
under the tree, and impatiently await events.
Disregarding the dogs, the detective dropped from
the tree with the bag firmly clutched in one hand ;
and the dogs proceeded to make hair fly. Slicke

THE WHISKEY RUNNERS.

.-m

went down before the first rush, tightly claspiiiii;
the bag in both arms ; and for a few moments all
was fur, hair, and feathers. When the detective,
amid roars of applause, finally gained his feet, and
stood with clenched fists menacing Tom, the latter
coolly observed : " Grive us a rest Slicke, old chap —
you're altogether too fresh. "

The detective without a particle of evidence
to warrant an arrest, strode off into the bush to
cool off; and the crowd returned jubilant to the
Camp.

In the course of the afternoon the detective
turned up ; and Tom, while watching him closely,
plunged into a confidential conversation with the
cook. Before long the astute Whiskey Runner
began to suspect Slicke's motive in loafing about
the various buildings, and soon contrived to place
himself and the cook in a place where, from behind
a neighbouring corner, they could be easily over-
heard. It was not long before his suspicions were
confirmed by the sound of suppressed breathing
around that corner ; and he immediately began to
concoct a yarn about his intentions, all of which
was greedily swallowed by both the cook and the
eaves-dropper. He said that he was going to make

•28

THE WHISKEY RUNNERS.

a run to Port Arthur for a fresh cargo, but go round
in the direction of Nipigon first to put the detective
oil' the track ; he said there was some fear about the
latter being too smart for him, and running at once
to Port Arthur in order to catch him on his outset
on the next trip, which ought not to be later than
the first day of the next month ; in answer to a
question from the other he said that he always
used to slip out of the town early by way of the
Shuniah mine, as far as wherethe 'tote road' branched
oil' towards Nipigon. Then Tom began to say the
most dreadful things about the detective Slicke,
and all the rest ol them for that matter, and he
more than once thought he heard the suppressed
grinding of teeth round the corner. When Slicke
was charged up to the muzzle, Tom went into
supper with the "Walking Boss who happened to
come on the scene, and chuckled quietly to himself
about the ruse all the time he was a ^-^ble. Ten min-
utes after Tom had finished supper and had lit his
pipe in one of the shanties, the detective Stevenson
arrived at Mazukama with Fred as a prisoner, and
half a load of whiskey on the carriole as evidence ;
and Tom, ^rom the window of the shanty, saw his
chum led har>dcufFed into one of the other build-
ings, while his dogs were unharnessed and fed in

THE WHISKEY RUNNERS.

• )i ),

the neighboring hush. Our hero was downcast ;
and felt, as he strode oil' to I'eod his own dogs, as hi'
would have expressed it ' mean.'

But from the first moment his quick brniii
was planning some form of escape for his chum,
and presently a bright idea came as a match ro
a train of powder, and the plot was no sooner
laid than iired. First he placed his own dogs con-
v^eniently, then brought those of his captive chum
to the same spot; a few minutes sulhced to
harness both teams to one carriole, that of F'red ; ;i
slip knot bound them to a tree, and a bush trail
was open right ahead that would enable them
defy pursuit if once they got the start. He had
conjectured that the astute Slicke would not fail to
set out that night on snovvshoes ni the direction of
the Landing ; and that a supply of whiskey and a
pack -of cards could be made to keep him until the
time when it suited the plotter to have him s^»t
forth, and to bring him to any condition that
might be desired at the time of his starting. Our
friend, having started the game of cards and
whiskey, left his own hand to a bystander while
he interviewed the Cook, and procured a file from
the blacksmith. When the Cook was told that

THE WHISKEY RUNNERS.

the conversation of the afternoon had been over-
hoard by the subject of it, he was easily roused
to great indignation ; and when Tom had
sufficiently applied whiskey to the case, his
excitable friend began to clamour for a whip to
thrash the detective, with which Tom promptly
supplied him. Our hero went away, leaving the
Cook protesting that if Slicke ventured out of
Camp that night he would thrash him into a jelly
fish ; and, on rejoining the card party, commenced
to prime the" other hero for the approaching com-
bat. A little after eleven o'clock the game broke
up, Slicke being in a most combatant mnod, and
determined to catch Tom at Port Arthur at all
coats. True to that gentleman's expectations, Slicke
no sooner thought he was unobserved, then he
slipped on a coat and his snowshoes, and set off on
the first stage towards the town. Before he had
been out of sight more than a minute, sounds of
terrific combat were heard from the direcrion of
the wharf ; and Tom began to batter the door of
the shanty where slept Stevenson and his prisoner,
to such good purpose that, before the row was
properly started, the officer of the law was rushing
wildly to the rescue, leaving the door of the prison
open, and no one within save Fred. A few sharp

THE WHISKEY RUNNERS.

words from his chum made the latter spring to his
I'eet ; and without the slightest hesitation both
took to the bush. To reach the carriole, to slip the
knot, to lash up the dogs was the work of a min-
ute ; but that minute had also roused the whole
camp, the ruse was discovered, and at least fii'ly
man headed by Stevenson and the Engineer in
charge were already in hot pursuit. But a disor-
ganised pursuit on foot was hardly to be expected
to overtake a sleigh with fourteen dogs for a team ;
and the carriole, scarcely heavier than an ordinary
toboggan, was flying like a rumour or a telegram
through the bush. It would have been all right
if the trail had only proceeded in a btisiness like
manner ; but, as ill luck had it, it must needs cross
the railway in full view of the camp, and then
suddenly end at a little shanty under the trees-
The delay caused by climbing the dump brought
the pursuers within a few yards ; two were actu-
ally ahead, so preventing fliaht in that direction ;
and the only course was to descend the dump on
the other side, and, with the whole crowd at their
heels, take to the thick woods on the far side. Con-
summate steering alone prevented the two men
from being smashed against the trees as the dogs
rushed madly through the undergrowth, which, as

:]2

THE WHISKEY RUNNERS.

they passed, swept against their faces, knocked otf
their caps, and sometimes severely bruised thein.
One of the lines broke, and brought them to a halt ;
and before the damage was repaired the pursuers
were again upon them, and this time very nearly
effected a capture. The knot tied — the dogs
lashed with the fierce whip — again they began
their flight ; and, bruised and torn, at last they
reached the bank, and plunged madly down the
slope on to the smooth surface of the great Lake ;
then, as the baffled pursuers emerged from the
bush, Tom who had recklessly pulled up to await
their coming, yelled out :

"Bully for you Stevenson! Get there every
time you don't fail ! Many happy returns old man.
Give my love to Slicke!"

The fury of the law must be left to the ima-
gination as the crowd on the bank watched the
carriole with its double team tearing gaily over
the sea of snow, already but a speck in the
distance, and rapidly being swallowed up in ine
night. To follow would have been madness, for
the larger live stock of Mazukama consisted of
three curs and a torn cat, and there was not a horse

THE WHISKEY RUNNERS.

33-

for miles round ; so the detectives were fain to con-
tent themselves with a mutual disagreement which
lasted until morning. The question then arose
whether the camp should lose a good cook because
he had pounded a bad detective ; and the cook
having proved his charge cf eaves-dropping, and
several coming forward to assert that Slicke was
drunk when he set out from the camp, the latter
begged that the prisoner might be let off, as he did
not want to get the poor fellow into a scrape ; and
he withdrew his indictment. That afternoon the
two detectives, on the information overheard by
Slicke, set off together for Port Arthur to capture
the Peddlers on their next outset from that town.

By aid of the file Fred was soon released from
the handcuffs, and the two proceeded gaily to
Camp Nipigon. The cache at Camp Roland having
been brought forth in addition to the half load
saved from Mazukama, everybody between Red
Rock and Lake Helen was on the spree for three
whole days, and all the whiskey fetched good
prices. But our Iriends knew that it was time to
close the business and seek occupation elsewhere,
for the Lake Superior country was becoming too
hot to hold young men of such enterprise. When

THE WHISKEY RUNNERS.

therefore they reached Port Arthur, it was only to
take the first train for the West ; and they landed
in Winnipeg with several hundred dollars, pre-
pared to have a good time.

So it all ended happily ? No reader, that is
just what it d?dn't. Breaking the laws of God and
man never en ' hanpily, and this ca?e was no excep-
tion. It end I in that most horrible of all kinds
of moral, physical, and financial ruin^Delirium
Tremens.

The Legend of Thunder.

Note by Walpole Roland. Faq., CE , with which Ihia ballad ia headed
:in hiaricent woik " Algoma West." 'Among the mo&t popular tradltiona
touching the origin of this auggeativo title " Thunder Cape," ia the follow*
irg aa related in the Otchipiway, by " Weiaaw," and very freely translated
by a friend of the wi iter'a :— " Long yeara ago whi'e my great, great
"grandfather, then a young brave, waa returning with a war party from
" a bloody encounter with our foe8(the Sioux) near Dog Mountair, a p!acu
"twenty-five milea north-west of the Kaministiquia River, their atten-
" tion was suddenly arretted by loud and prolonged reverberations, ac-
" oompanied by vivid ftaahes of lightning. Aacending the heighta over-
"looking the Kitchee Gamee, (Lake Superior) an appalling sight met
" their ge ze— far out in the bay towarda the east, vthcro the 'Sleeping
" Giant,' Nanlbijou uaually reclined on hia fleecy couch, all appeared in
" llamea, while at intervala great pinnacles or ahafts of flame and black

'•clouds were driven upwarda with terrible fury Arriving at the

" mouth of the Kamlniatiquia River they were told of the fate of two
" huntera fiom a diatant tnbe who. regardleaa of repeated warninga, pro-
" voked the fiery spirit of the great 'Thunder Eagle' by ascending its home
" in thecloud-oapped clifT. and perished in the vain attempt to bring down
" a great medicine. Previcua to the advent of the white man our storm?
" were grander and more frequent, and only upon rare occasions indeed
*' could a view from a distance be obtained of the Cape or Nanlbijou." '

Behold the gentle waters lap against the Giant's side
The playful w^ ispers of the winds that by his slumber

glide,
The warm sun bending o'er his sleep, the breathing of

the sea,
The cool grey shadows nestled down beneath each

fragrant tree.

THE LEGEND OF THUNDER.

5. The Monarch of this sombre land, he dwells in clouded
state,
Beside the "mortals of the East, where yonder mighty

gate
At morning sunders his broad leaves to let the daylight

When Night must quit the Giant's throne, and con-
qu'riug Day begin.

'Tis then across the waters that the earliest sunlight
laves
In The myriad spirit forms that throng that pathway o'er
the waves,

The beings that come to take the form and humble
garb of man ,

That come to labour and to love, to tread their des-
tined span

Of sorrow, sickness, and despair, of evil years and few,

Before the Potter comes to make the broken vessels
new.

We fathers, and our fathers saw, before ye White Men

came,
Yon mighty Giant heave in sleep, and breathe the

sulphurous flame ;
Have seen him roused to anger, lash these seas m

furioup wrath,
And all the torrents of his ire in lightning pouring

forth—
Have seen him ever wrapt in smoke, and his tremen-
dous form
Forever shrouded in his robe — his night robe of the

storm ;
But never saw his rugged sides bared to the day, till ye
Brake through the mighty Gates as gods, the Masters

of the Sea.

20.

Once from some nation far away two wand'ring huntera
strayed,

THE LEGEND OF THUNDER.

•1

Their birch canoe all patched and old, 'lieir dress of

deerskin made ;
^6. They rested in our Chieftain's lodge beside the stormy

bay
Ere towards the setting sun in peace they should

pursue their way.
They came towards the setting sun to seek his resting

place,
Where all the spirits of our dead and all the huip 'u

race
Dwell where the sky is ever bath'd in floods of sunset

light,
30. The everlasting eventide that knows not death, or

night,
Or fire, or flood, or drought, or war, where winter

never reigns,
To the far happy Hunting Grounds upon the Golden

Plains.

But when men of the Giant spoke, and his deep shroud
of gloom,

And when they saw across the bay the clouded moun-
tain loom,
35, And heard of the dread Thunder Bird whose nest is in
the height,

Who guards the unassailed cliffs all wrapt in end-
less night ;

And heard their fate who dared to seek his nest, and
bring us down

The wondrous sacred medicine hid upon the mountain
crown :

They laughed our fears to scorn, and said : " Should
brave men danger fear ? "
40, "And what is danger if it bring the Life Hereafter
near !

" He who hath sought through doubt and dread the
Mystery of Life.

;;8

THE LEGEND OF THUNDER.

•' And won a blessing for Mankind by warring giant

strife
" With deathless gods, hath vanyuish'd death, and in

his body slain
" Lust, wrath, and darkness, self, and shame ; and from

a beast's flesh free
4r,. ** Stands naked — man — "

So o'er the breast of that still

moonlit sea
Led by the stranger braves we sped ; and all the night

time long
The startled clouds fled past the moon, the sad wind's

dirge like song
Wail'd in vague echoes down the heights, and moaned

across the bay.
And moaned in tremulous low sighs from great clifl's

far away.

50. So on the strangers sped — the spray that from their
paddles gleam'd
Made in the wake a path whereon our long procession

stream'd
A cortege to the grave — it seem'd that in that midnight

gloom
Huge enemies stalked by and frown'd, and moments

big with doom
Fled wailing lost into the night — Oh why should brave
men die
55 While coward hearts of thousands fail, and wing'd with
terror fly I

So when the East was cold with dawn, and all the

clouds were grey
The shadow of the mountain loom'd against the wak'-

ning day.
Twas then an earnest conclave pray'd that Manitoa

should save

THE LEGEND OF THUNDER.

! .

The strangers who amid the clouds sought wisdom or

a grave.
eo. The agatos rattled as their skiff touch'd light the sombre

main —
We heard the solemn thunders warn, but warn the

braves in vain.
With red plumes waving as they strode they passed

along the shore
To where a clouded canyon loom'd through broken

rocks and hoar ;
And high the ancient cliffs soar'd up on every side

around,
05. And at their base the fragments lay, and brushwood

strew'd the ground.
They, clamb'ring o'er the boulders, leapt from rock to

rock, and climb'd
Right up amid the canyon's gloom, till troubled sight

and mind
Had lost the tiny spots that moved among the shadows

vasji,
And every vestige of their forms passed from our sight

at last.

70. Then morning instant sank to gloom, and gloom was

steep'd in night.
The waters all so late at rest had crests of foaming

white.
Our prayers assail'd and storm'd the heaven for ten-
der youth, and age,
And the Great Spirit saved our barks amid the

cyclone's rage.
The hurricanes swept by — a lull — a blast — a loud

wild cry —
76. From the rent altitudes, the towers, and battlements, on

high
And ancient crags crash'd down the heights, and lo-

each breaking wave

THE LEGEND OF THUNDER.

Scream'd in his triumph round a crag, and bounded

o'er its grave !
The Giant shook with wrath, the trees, uprooted,

hurl'd in space,
A hail of monster .spears were shot adown the moun-
tain face ;
88. Against the precipice on high the wildest breakers

iurl'd.
And round a whirlpool's circling deeps the broken

waters swirl'd —
And who can tell the lightning's glare, recount the

thunder's roar.
Or the fierce shrieks that through the gloom the

vengeful cyclones bore ]

How long the tempests swept the bay, how long we

fought for life,
85 How long among the lodges mourn'd the aged, child,

and wile ;
How loDg before we saw the smoke of camp fires far

away,
Just where the Kamiiiistiquia is emptied in the bay ;
How long we s'-pt an J wearied lay restored to home

at last —
We could not tell, but heard the squaws relate four

days were past
so. Since they had seen the tempest rage about the Giant's

bed,
And saw the seas contend with heaven, and mourned

their braves for dead.

Full many suns were set behind the darksome western

height,
And still the tempest roar'd by day, and lightning

glared by night ;
And still these dark cliffs answer'd loud the thunders

from the bay ;

THE LEGEND OF THUNDER.

ys. The forests dared not sleep by night, the beasts were
dumb by day !
We pray'd that Manitou should aid the strangers to

escape —
'Twas then we named this " Thunder Bay," the moun-
tain " Thunder Cape,"

At last the shades of evening crept across the mighty

sea,
When all the waters slept at last, the cloud-chained sky

was free ;
100. And all the great blue vault on high was ec hoed in the

deep,
And floating in two azure skies the mountains lay

asleep ;
Then as the waning sunlight flushed the crested cliffs

on high
There came to us a lone canoe across the nether sky.
It came not urged by by sail or blade, but as a mother's

breast
105. The bearing waters nestled it and laid it in its rest.
The little ripples at the sides laughed in their heedless

play,
And in that cradle of the sea a dying warrior lay.

We laid him down beside the tents, and death shades

like the night
Upon his face were chased away by the red sunset

light.
110. His dim eyes opened and he spoke, but in the >roice

was told
The fever spirit dwelt within ; in each stern feature's

mould
We saw that youth was changed to age since on the

mountain side
We ceased to find him in the gloom, and hope grew sick

and died.

THE LEGEND OF THUNDER.

•' I Hee the thunder clouds stoop down, and with thoir

lean hands grasp
116 " And hurl abroad their lightning fires— the mad winds

halt and gasp —
•• The hills are sweating in their fear — the weary Air is

slain —
"The very crags crouch down and hide upon the

upper plain.
** The storm is breaking — lo the trees as hail are hurl'd

in space —
"And all the huge rocks glow with fire along the

mountain face ;
120. ** From all the mountain mighty flames in fell contor-
tion soar,
" And through a whirling rain of fire unearthly

cyclones roar !
"In this great storm unaided man a thousand deaths

had died —
" Break Giant all this world to nought —Avenge — Thou

art defied !
" And thou inviolate Thunder hail, for Man lias raped

thy hold
125. " Thy nest is desecrate at last — the mighty secret told-
' * He strikes ! And death is near — is come — Erect thy

pride my friend —
"Lay down the life but not the man, for death is not

the End !
" And he is dead — and I shall live to tell to all mankind
" The vulture Death is slain by death, and deathless

reigns the Mind.
ISO. " But oh the price ! — For he is gone —he who had won

the fight ;
' ' He who alone had grasped the Truth from that abyss

of night —
' ' By fire, by fever, or in fight, by lightning, ice, or wave,
"There never sank a braver man than to yon hero's

grave. "

THE liE(tENl) OV TIIUNDHR.

A mightier hero still than he who on the mountain

(lied
(5. Lay hy the KaminiHtiquia.

Now all the hars aside,
And mighty barriers of death were melted in the light
That streara'd from out the Courts of Heaven o'lr all

the realms of Night —
The kmgdom of the Life to Come reigned once o'er

earthly sin,

For sunset opens wide the gates to let the dead come in.

The Land of the Hereafter lay before our straining eyes.

And amethystine glories tlashed across the amber skies ;

And in that light the Hero lay, and closed his eyes and

slept —
The silver mists upon his brow their tears of parting

wept —
So all the air was filled with light, and all the earth

with rest
As that brave Spirit took the trail that leads towards

the West.

Mil

14.'

THE PRAIRIE,

ii:

n
ri
h

g
P

"THE LEAN MAN"

From the Toronto World of 5th Nov., 1887.

chapter I.

HEN " The Lean Man " entered his lodge at
nightfall, and saw his young squaw adorn-
ing her cheeks with vermillion, and braiding her
straight black hair in tails alter the enlightened
manner of the Palefaces; when she had made him a
robe for his comfort at night of the skins of over 200
rabbits ; when she welcomed him at the door of
his tent with good things earned or stolen from the
white men : no wonder that the young husband
felt that the Great Spirit had been good to him in
giving "medicine" to ward off evil times, and to
provide for his modest wants during the long
winters.

He didn't say much about it however ; but,
relieved of a great anxiety after the risky perpetra-
tion of early marriage, settled down to a life of
honorable theft and genteel idleness, leaving
"Turkey Legs" to manage his worldly affairs in the

THE LEAN MAN.

i ■/

shape of a daily meal, which that lady never failed
to produce in good season.

" The Lean Man " used to spend much of his
time in admiring his red blanket, for which he had
wisely traded something that did not belong to
him ; and in meditating upon the obtuseness of the
"Shermogonish" in arresting "the party of the
second part " in that transaction instead of himself.
For that ingenuous youth, " The-Man-Who-Bites-
His-Nails," had been arrested on the information of
the Indian agent at "Big Child's " reserve ; and was
now in the guard room at the barracks, and like to
be tried for larceny. Our friend was a Sioux ; and
had come from Montana to the far Saskatchewan
after an escapade on the part of his tribe that did
not meet with the approval of the United States
authorities. This was the glorious victory of
"Sitting Bull" over "The Sun Child," Gen. Custer,
who, with some four hundred American soldiers,
had been slain in a coulee by only about 1400
Sioux. They had then come to the land of the
Great Mother, where the white Okemow told them,
to their great surprise, that their conduct was
wicked and disreputable ; though, even after the
usual largesse of tea and tobacco, they still retain-

THE LEA.N MAN.

ed some scepticism about the peculiar views of the
white men. Gradually this little band had drifted
to the Saskatchewan ; and, providing the Great
Mother didn't bother them about reserves and
treaty — even with the loss of flour and other
emoluments — they were fairly content. True, it
was a great shame that they couldn't get "treaty
payments " like the Crees, without being corralled
on a reserve ; but they were better off than when
bad<?ered and hunted in the south because of their
natural proclivities for lifting the wandering cattle
on the prairie, such as they had eaten from time
immemorial, and which were their rightful prey.

And even if these poor wanderers could not
overthrow the hosts of Pharaoh, as they had tried
to do last year, they could at least have the
satisfaction of spoiling individual Egyptians, and
so gain a precarious but honest livelihood in
default of larger game.

And so it was that our hero went out to take
the air one fine summer morning, and walked down
the main trail on the river bank with his blanket
held about him with inimitable grace, while he
fanned himself with the bedraggled old wing of a
crane in great peace and dignity. For in truth it

t ■

THE LEAN MAN.

was a hot day, and the sun burned down on the
dusty road. He wore his great hat, the abandoned
top-hat of a departed Jesuit missionary, from which
he had cut the crown, and after cutting battle-
ments from the raw edge, adorned it with a fea-
ther and three brass nails. His leggings were of
embroidered bead work, beautifully designed by
his squaw. He had also well-fitting moccasins and
a pipe-tomahawk. Altogether, despite that he felt
it was foolish to expose himself to such a hot sun,
he was delighted to feel that he looked his best,
and that his new " lire bag " showed to perfection.
He saw a white man cursing a team in one of the
adjoining fields, and felt that his Race was able to
look with superior calmness upon the irritable and
too talkative whites.

But as he strode leisurely down the trail and
was nearing the Hudson Bay Company's Post, he
saw a cloud of dust beyond and the glitter of hel-
mets above it. " By the G-reat Horn Spoon of the
Pale-faces," he soliloquised, " here come the Sher-
mogonish," and he went and hid himself. When
"The Lean Man" had effaced himself he continued to
gaze at the approaching horsemen from a secluded
corner. And presently there came up the trail a

THE LEAN MAN.

gallant troop of Mounted Police, their accoutre-
ments and scarlet tunics, their white helmets and
riiies across the saddle, resplendent in the sunlight.
First came videttes, then twenty mounted men,
followed by the rumbling transport. The waggons,
loaded with provisions and bedding, carried each
three men ; and, at the trot, sent clouds of dust to
leeward. Then came the rear guard of mounted
men ; and the commanding officer, the sergeant-
major, and the bugler rodebeside them. It v;as a
stirring sight to see these splendid horses, the hardy
sensitiA'e bronchos of Alberta with their sun-burnt
young riders ; and all the eclat of military usage,
and all the power of good rule over the great land-
oceans of the far west.

The Indian followed the party with wistful
eyes ; these proud careless masters of the plains —
these robbers of his people's heritage, who had
driven away the buftalo, and sent disease among
the tribes, to slowly blight his kindred until thev
were all dead.

And they went on through the Mission, and
out on the rolling prairie beyond, to patrol the
country that had last year been the seat of w^ar —
when the restless wandering peoples had made

THE LFAN MAN.

one la.it useless stand against the tide that wa&
overwhelming them. Their leader, Louis Rio],
who had seemed their only t'liend, had turned out
but a self-seeking adventurer, and a traitor to them ;
and now he was de-id, and the whites were more
powerful than ever.

But " The Lean Man" was not a po^Uician or a
sociologist, but only a poor Sioux, who, nut know-
ing the meaning of events, was moderately happy.
He w^ent to the barracks, where he knew that the
troop, having broken up camp, must have left many
treasures in the shape of brass buttons, scarlet
cloth and old boot-legs, among the refuse. But
by the time he arrived at the barracks the camp
had been cleared by a fatigue party, and he had to
resort to the ash heaps. He was not challenged,
save by a half-kindly, half-disdainful, "A w^uss
nitchie. — get away out of this," from the (^ook ; and
in the evening he returned homewards laden with
spoil. Now it happened that Const. Anstaye,
being on pass that evening, was proceeding up
town to see Her, when he remembered that his
w^ashing w^as not contracted for. He therefore
turned into a tepee by the wayside and sat down.
He knew four words of the language, and pro-
nounced two of these wrong ; but had little difli-

THE LEAN MAN.

cully ill making hi msell' understood, and presently
left the tent. So "The Lean Man" saw from the dis-
tance a young soldier coming out of his tent, and
with his boots flashing in the sunlight, his forage
cap balanced on the traditional three hairs, and his
white gauntlets and switch and other finery, pro-
ceed gaily towards the Mission. Then " The Lean
Man's " heart was lilled with bad ! When he came
to the tent he disregarded the vacuous broad smiles
of welcome that greeted him, and said to himself
that these were full of guile (although they cer-
tainly did not look it,) and he sat on the robes and
sulked.

i ,1

Later in the evening he crossed the river to
where a bright fire burned amid the tents under
the pine trees ; and the usual pow-wow made the
evening hideous, and continued with the gayest of
howling and the most festive treatment of the tom-
tom until a late hour. But there were speeches be-
sides the music that night : the young Chief " Four
Sky" made an oration, in which he said he would go
to Carrot River — to the land of rabbits, and stray
cattle, and hen roosts, and settlers, and every other
kind of game — to the land of good water, and lots
offish, and all kinds of idleness. Then "The Lean

THE LEAN MAN,

Man" made a long and very stupid speech in which
he paid he would go too. Upon which the ancient
and v^enerable ])ig Chief " Stick-in-the-Mud," aided
and abetted by " Resting Bird," the mother of "The
Lean Man," made deprecations, and platitudes, and
objections— all of whi('h were overruled by the
young men. " The Resting Bird," a few days after,
retired in great gloom to a meadow some six miles
up the river, with her brave and some other fogies.

Upon the morrow " Yr.ar Sky,' with " The Lean
Man," " Little Egg" with his son " Would not-go-
out," " Wandering Mule '" and " Snt On," with their
horses, their squaws, their dogs, their children,
their dignity, and all that thcsy hal, went down to
Carrot River to sojourn.

A short time afterwards " Would not-go-out,
the son of " Little Kgg," was v^urning from an
unsuccessful hunt after a lost cot/use, when he was
OA'ertaken by a settler driving an empty waggon,
and asked for a iift. The white man grumbled out
a surly refusal, which so far incensed the lad that
he climbed up into the waggon from behind, and
carried out the traditions of his name by refusing
to climb out again. Thereupon the settler, greatly
to the annoyance of his passenger, lashed out be-^

THE LKAN MAN.

i»

hind with the whip, and " Would-not-go-out"
became very angry, and pointed his " shooting stick"
at the enemy. Happening to remember that the
old flintlock gun was not loaded, he relented, and
proceeded to have satisfaction with a threat. He
told the white man that he wouldn't trouble to kill
him now. " Because we are going to kill all you
whites in a few days anyhow.' Having delivered
himself of this very silly remark, and perceiving-
that he was now close to the tents, he jumped out
of the waggon and walked home. But the settler
went about with information "on the very best au-
thority" that there was to be a general massacre of
the whole settlement, and so much alarmed were
the neighbors that a deputation was sent to beg for
a detachment of Police.

The little group of lodges were placed among
the aspens by a lake, in a sheltered, shadowy hollow
in the plain. The wide rolling prairie whose yel-
low grass, starred with flowers, melted towards the
greys and softest azures that lay against the sky ;
the beautiful still waters where the young ducks
swam ; the delicate shimmering poplars ; the smoke
shaded lodges, and ponies grazing in the meadow —
this was the lovely scene where the Red Men

THE LEAN MAN.

dwelt the happy abundant plain that the Good
Spirit had given them.

In due course there came to the settlement u
«ergeant and four constables of the Mounted Police,
bringing with them a tent or two in the waggon,
and a general impression that they had come to
stay. The people had seldom had the soldiers
among them, and there was some idea among the
women that they w^ere queer animals with red
coats and bad habits. The "Riders of the Plains,"
however, used, even as re(;ently as that, to travel
like bandits, often indeed being mistaken for
horse-thieves ; and soon won the hearts of the good
wives by iheir liberal purchase of milk, eggs, and
butter, by their quiet good humor and tendency
towards a chat. To any one tired of the prosaic
life of the cities of the East the very sight of these
men would have been refreshment. Picturesque,
liberal, unconventional, often highly educated, the
Shermogonish have no flavor of the old tiresome
life of the umbrella and the table-cloth, and I wish
no man a better medicine than their company. Of
course an early and rigorous examination w^as
made into the causes that had given rise to such
uneasiness among the people. Sergeant Monmouth

THK LEAN MAN.

had a chat with "Four Sky," whose people were
found busy iskiniiiiig rabbits ; but there was some
delay in p^ oducing the settler who had raised the
alarm, he having- gone to Fort a la Come, from
whence he could not be expected for a day or two.
In the meantime nothing (jould be done, and there
was no pressing necessity for action because every-
thing was quiet.

Upon the third day some of the police were
sitting in the little general store having a com-
fortable growl for want of something better to
do. Steen having lit a very bad cigar, sat down
on a barrel, and with his broad slouch hat jammed
down on the back of his head, opened a discus-
sion.

"Oh! it's all right," he said in reply to a
iivneral observation on the part of the storekeepi'i'
concerning the state of the country. "It's all
right, if it warnt for them miserable 'nitchies' —
who are no use anyhow — running the whole
'shebang' with their confounded monkey business.
'Sif thar wasn't enough drills and fatigues to kecj)
the whole darned outfit on the keen jump without
their fooling around the country stealing horses,
and killing cattle, and raising rackets from one

1,1

THE LEAN MAN.

year's end to another ; and now there's that damn:
fool G-arnett robbinj? the mails, and he'll give
enough trouble by the time he'b hanged to keep

half the troop busy hunting him. 1 " He

was interrupted by Sergt. Monmouth ; "Look
here, I'll bet anyone a month's pay that there'll be
a mounted escort for every mail in the country
within this month — you jest see if there ain't i"

Constable Mercer took up the growl at this
point, and made out a very bad case against the

Canadian Government "for running a poor of

a buck policeman 'sif he was a nigger or suthin^
worse."

Here Le Soeur broke in : "There was — wot
you say — General Ordaire ? Yes, General Ordaire,
jest befor' we come away — er "

Sergt. Monmouth : "0, give us a rest,
"nitchie" — go away back to your reserve, man !"

At this moment Constable Anstaye burst inta
the store wath a joke that could not be kept back
a minute, but in a sad dilemma that he had not
breath to tell it. The substance of his tale was
gathered in the course of a few minutes, and was
to the effect that he had been in one ot the tepees

THE LEAN MAN.

55>

talking to a squaw when a " nitchie " came in, and,
when he saw him, looked as black as thunder
and went out. Presently he heard a racket out-
side, and found the same Indian unmercifully
thrashing a boy ; but he was interrupted by "Four
Sky" and another, who dragged him off and look-
ed about as cheerful as a blizzard on a cold day.

•'But which 'tepee' were you in — and what
were you up to ? "

"Oh, I dunno, it was the one next the trail,
and the chap that raised the row was that lanky
young cuss in a red blanket, and a top hat with
the crown out."

ivionmouth strolled down to the camp, but on
• his return said that everything was quiet enough
there. No further notice was taken of the affair,
and the next day it was forg-otten ; but Anstave
noticed that whenever he went down to the camp
the Indian with the red blanket scowled upon him.

In course of time the man Brown, who had
raised the alarm, returned from Fort a la Corne ;
and was taken by Sergt. Monmouth to the Indian
camp. He felt uncomfortable about the result of
his assertions ; and being a mean man determined

THE LEAN MAN.

/•■

that instead of an open confession that he had
been needlessly scared, he would justify himself
at all costs. Unfortunately it happened that
" Would-not-go-out " was absent ; and when all
the braves in the little band were brought before
him, and he was asked to produce the bloodthirsty
savage who had, as he said, attempted to murder
him, the white man hesitated, and tried to excusse
himself, and make light of it all in the most gene-
rous manner, saying that he would be very sorry
to get the poor fellow into trouble.

" Come on — no fooling ! " said Monmouth.
Brown asked in Sioux whether all the band were
there ; and the Chief replied that they were all
there except a lad who was not even full grown,
and could scare nobody with any spirit.

Monmouth : " Well, which was it ? "

Brown : " Oh, I don't want to get a poor miser-
able nitchie in jail ! "

Monmouth : " Well you're a pretty specimen,
having us sent pretty near 200 miles to take the
man who was going to kill you. You say that he
attempted murder — by Jove, I'll arrest you if you
don't take care, for trying to screen a murderer !"

THE LEAN MAN.

Brown was now thoroughly cowed, and felt
that he must do a dirty crime to save himself from
public contempt. Pointing to a tall, surly-looking
young man in a red blanket he said : " That one."

Monmouth asked the Chief what character the
accused bore ; and the reply was sorrowfully ex-
piessed that of late the evil spirit had been upon
"The Lean Man," for only two days ago he had
wantonly attacked and thrashed a lad in camp,
named " Would-not-go-out," for no cause.

And so it came about that the detachment
returned to Headquarters, and carried away " The
Lean Man" p prisoner.

I ti

THE LEAN MAN.

CHAPTER 11.

It was a pleasant sight to see a party of
Mounted Police ride in from some command,
bronzed, dusty and travel-stained, their harness
rusted with the rough usages ot the camp, their eyes
bright with the reflected breath and freedom of the
plains, while the horses pricked their ears to hear
the whinny of a colt in the corrall, as they foresaw
the quietude of the dim stables, or the sunny up-
land where the hero was grazing. Thus came
hom(c the party from Carrot River, and drew up
sharp before the Guard House. The prisoner was
sent into his allotted cell, the waggon unloaded at
the Quartermaster's Store, the horses led to water,
the bedding taken to the barrack rooms, the cook
urged to be ready with the provisions. The arrivals
shed their prairie dress, while a rapid discussion
took ace on the current news ; and a Guard was
tok . L, and having got into uniform its members
mauc their way to the Guard House, growlins: not
a little that a single prisoner should cause so much
extra work. Until then the picquet, had gone
on solitary night rounds with his lantern, and dozed

THE LEAN MAN.

away the spare hours in .*:he Guard Room ; but this
was only a pleasant reminiscence now. But the
Indian, the restless unthinking child of the plains,
had come to the weariness of an imprisoned spirit,
and sank into the heavy lethargy of despair. The
log walls of his prison, the iron bars of the door,
the soldier sitting at the little table beyond, and
what might he seen through a loop-hole in the
wall, were now exchanged for the glorious horizon,
with all the sweet sounds and sights of nature
that people the broad tent of day. That loop-
hole, pierced during the war, was now his only
consolation, and he would sit for hours before it
looking out upon the world. The sadness ol his
spirit seemed to weigh the atmosphere, for the air
was dense for days with the smoke of prairie fires ;
and once at night he saw the sharp lines of flames
coming down over the hills into the river flat, and
hoped against h ope that these would come down
to release him,

" The Lean Man " was examined by the officer
in command, but he was found so sullen and in-
tractable that no evidence of his innocence could
^■e come at: so he was committed for trial. One
thing that he said to the interpreter was beyond

THE LEAN MAN.

the man's powers of translation, but was several
times repeated among the men on the detachment
in the words m which it was rendered : " The
(Jood Spirit gave me the prairie for a bed, the trees
to shelter me — but you Shermogonish have given
me cold boards." And afterwards he said to Ser-
geant Monmouth, " You are going to kill me be-
cause I fought against you ; be quick — kill me
now — I am tired of waiting to die." He thought
of the past — when he had gone through the tor-
tures of the Sun Dance to come forth from the
ordeal a warrior ; he thought of all the excitement
of the war, how he had seen the red flames of
P'ort Carlton leap up against the night, and had
fought in the rifle pits of Batoche under Gabriel
Dumont ; he thought of his short happy married
life before the dark cloud settled down upon him ;
and he brooded over what the Interpreter had said
to him ; " You will be tri^d next month."

Weeks passed outside the Cruard House ; and
Change sat as usual on the wings of Time. The
Mission people had ever since the war been as
prompt in the matter of alarms as a fire brigade ;
and the Carrot River "scare," added to contempor-
ary fictions about the Indians, had caused a general
feeling of alarm. This was by no means mitigated

THE LEAN MAN.

by the departure of the Troop for the south by
ibrced marches, to meet a great dignitary in the
neighborhood of Long Lake ; and by the rumored
outbreak of an Indian war at Wood Mountain.

The band of " Four Sky " returned from Carrot
River bringing the bereaved " Turkey Legs/' who
would sit for hours on the ground outside of the
Gruard House waiting for a casual glimpse of hev
lord ; and comforted him much by her silent sym-
pathy.

In duo course the great dignitary returned to
the East ; and the Troop came home again, to the
infinite regret of the little garrison, who by no
means yearned for drill and discipline. The sum-
mer was ended, the harvest was gathered in, the
winter began to send forth scouts to feel the way,
and the full ripe year was waiiing to its close.
And still " The Lean Man" knelt atthe loop-hole,
or made his little daily excuses for access to the
free air of heaven. He lay through the long nights
wondering what would be done to him after the
trial, and feeling in his UTimbed sensibilities only
the one terror — Disgrace. And he said within his
heart, and whispered it to himself, and heard the
winds whisper the words at night : " I will not be
tried."

(10

THE LEAN MAN.

•II

Three days after he arrived at this determina-
tion some of the men were spending a spare hour
in the large barrac^k room engaged in " bed f*ati
gue," and between he whiffs of a quiet smoke
carrying ol •< d Aitoiy conversation. Burk, who
w^as on guai' ^h-A. day, a tall, handsome, good-
natured Englitohma-i sat on the edge of his bed
fumbling in a kit-bag underneath lor some tob-
acco, having permission to leave the Guard House
for a few minutes.

" AVell, Geometry," said Anstaye, " has the
Nitchie been up to any of his games to-day?"

Burk : " I should just think he was ! Why, 1
Avas ju'^t taking him over to the kitchen for the
guard dinner at noon, when he made a break and
got clean away past the Hospital.*'

Sergeant Monmouth : " AVell, I hope you shot
the—"

" Oh, it was no use shooting him ; I just hol-
lared out to the others and skinned after him."

" That is, you made use A your compasses,
Geometry ? "

" Oh shut up, Tribulation," said Burk ; "Well, I

THE LEAN MAN.

taught up close to the Kiding School and nabbed
him. A.nd then I ran him ott'to the kitchen and
made him lay hold of the big tea pot without any
more fooling."

'• And did he buck ? "

" I saw buck I No, you bet he was as quiet
as — as — er — death. That's the third bolt he's iD'^da
to-day ; he must have a j)retty bad conscience

Indeed, "The Lean Man " had made <" vc 'al
attempts to escape, })ut his escorts had each ,'in''
seized him, and taken no extra precautic^^ other
than to show him the butt of a revolver or set iorth
some counsel. That evening, howan^er, before he
was sent with an escort for the supper, he was
shackled with a " ball and chain," an instrument
intended to restrain the most volatile of captives
should he become too retiring. It must not be
imagined that the prisoner was treated harshly,
for if there is one A'irtue possessed by the rough
soldiery of ihe prairies, it is their invariable kind-
ness to the criminals committed to their charge.

" The Lean Man," thwarted in his attempts to
escape, brought to the humiliation of chains, and
filled with the darkest forebodings of evil, came to

<;8

THE LEAN :\IAN.

the black shadows of utter despair ; and then, as
man can do in the immediate presence of dtath,
transcended his poor life as the day transcends
night ; he for^^ot the dogrodation of his people,
and fought with all the magniiicent courage and
haughty endurance of Iiis barbaric forefathers. He
stood in the door of his cell when the time came
that it was to be locked for the night, and, with
his eyes aiiame, his body trembling with the ex-
citement, fought with the fury and the strength of
madness for liberty. The whole guard hardly sut-
iiced to cope with him, and it wasonly after a long
and furious struggle that the Indian, overwhelmed
with the weight of number^', fell back into the cell
utterly exhausted. He had cast aside the dross that
had come over the Indian character from ruinous
contact with the ruling; race : he had asserted for
once the inalienable rights of heredity, the greatci-
and manlier past. The change in him was inter-
preted by the authorities as insanity.

Night deepened down upon the world, and the
dim after-light waned through long hours into the
north. The air was misty with smoke from the
prairies ; and, chilled in the shadowy, day night of
Indian summer, all the valley lay in mysterious
silence.

THE LEAN MAN.

61)

The Indian sat long- brooding in the intense
stillneBS. Through the barred aperture in the door
a stream of golden light poured into the cell ; and
under the lamp in the Guard Room the Sergeant of
the Guard sat at the table writing. The two men
oH'duty lay asleep on the sloping dais at the other
side of the room, still in complete uniform, and
wearing their heavy side-arms as they took their
brief, uneasy hours of rest. There was no sound
save their breathing, and the steady scratching of
the Sergeant's pen, as he proceeded with his let-
ters. Presently the "picket" came in for the stable
keys, saying that " the buckskin mare and Bulk-
eley's horse broke loose in the long stable — I can
manage all right." Then he went out, and the pris
oner watched him through the loophole as he went
swinging his lantern towards the " corralls."

" The Lean Man " slowly unbound the sash
from hif waist, and knotted the ends together — he
thrust ihe knot through the loop-hole — he drew
the sash sharply back, catching the knot against
the sides of a narrow gap between two logs — he
pulled hard to make sure that the knot would
hold. Then he sat a few moments in silence, and
covered his face with his hands. He looked about

THE liKAN MAN.

liim — the Sergeant ot the CxUiinl had taken a book
and lay on the trestle bed beside his table reading;
and the night around was inlinitely still. Hold
ing the loop ot the sash the prisoner looked up
towards heaven and prayed ; then he plated his
head within the loop and crouched down, leaning
heavily with his throat against the sash. The
Sergeant of the Gruard was still reading — the two
men were ])reathing (paietly in their sleep — the
" picquet " came out from the stables and went and
stood on the bank ol the river near by — the mist
lay over the valley, and all was still.

The cold autumn day broke upon the world,
and reveille echoed from the wooded sides of the
little valley, and rang melodiously against the
banks of the broad river ; the sun rose triumphant
over the mists, and the waters were resplendant
before his slantins* ravs — but the Indian had gone
to the place of his fathers, and his sad stern eyes
were closed forever in sleep. This man had dared
the long agonies of torture in utter silence, had
crushed with determined hands the life within
him, and had gone down to the grave triumphant,
without one sound to tell the watchful soldier,
who was actually in the same room with him, that

til
in

on
in
In
of
ra

THK LKAN MAX.

the last tragedy was being transarted in a linycr-
ina" anj»ui«h of sutFocation.

They buried him on the banlt of the river, and
one of the soldiers made two laths into a cross dur-
ing an idle moment and set it over the grave. The
Indian lay und»»r the prairie flowers in the shadow
of the <ross : on the one side of him Humanity
rattled down the long dusty trail, and on the other
lay the still expanses of silver, the broad, silent
waters of the great tSaskatchewan.

A NIGHT HALT.

FROM " CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL."

THE Canadian North-West is not peopled with
very savage races, nor is it wholly unex-
plored, like some parts of the Empire ; there are
villages every two hundred miles or so, and trails
between them good or bad according to season.
There are wide tracts where the houses are in sight
of each other ; and all over the plains the survey-
marks and buffalo bones lie together. Sometimes
the trail for many days' march is over plains level
as the sea, or rolling land verdureless and stony ;
sometimes the country is like a stormy ocean, with
all the hollows planted with shrubby bushes, or
filled with stagnant water, with meagre reeds and
alkaline deposits. Large areas are covered with
kills ; but rarely, and as a great treat, one en-
counters running-water in a deep ravine.

A stream called Eagle Creek has cut a ravine
some two hundred feet deep in a stony plain near
the North Saskatchewan, and carved the banks
into a medley of grotesque and isolated mounds.

A NIGHT HALT.

strewn with boulders, and nearly void of grass,
whose steep and eccentric shapes give the view
from the bottom a most singular and impressive
rontour. The stream itself has evaporated, and
left one or two miry ponds, whose stagnant waters
feed the few and small shrubs that adorn the bot-
tom ; and beside them is a space of half an acre of
pleasant grass, with many round patches in it,
tiaces of fire beside which passengers on that lonely
way have been wont to rest. How waggons get
down the trail to the bottom is marvellous.

The sun has set behind the hills towards the
west ; the wind is sinking ; the foxes are running
about, and a crane stands in the untroubled water
and looks melancholy. A cloud of dust behind
the hills to the east, and the distant tramp of
horses, announce that the valley will presently be
disturbed ; and immediately, a mounted man in a
bright cavalry uniform rides to the edge of the
hills, and stands out against the sky, a beautiful
silhouette, motionless as a statue. Then two arid
two, come twenty mounted men, each with a riile
poised on the horn of his Mexican saddle, and
many a glittering point of brass and steel al^out
his harness. At the word of command thev dis-

A iNIGHT HALT.

ii ■

mount ; and iidvance, leading their horses down
the slope ; and we see behind them live waggons
eaeh carrying two men, and a rearguard of two,
who linger behind a bit before they dismount and
ioUow the groaning transport. They are coming
nearer now — young, broii/ed, and sturdy, their
equipment suited to tae prairir, but very strange
to those who live in cities. Ojie or two wear
cavalry In'eeches, with l)road yellow stripes down
the sides ; but most of them are dressed in dark
» anvas adorned with brass buttons : and there is a
large variety of slomh-hats, and western shirts.
and old red jackets, according to th«^ [)leasuro of
the wearers. All w^ear riding-boots, spurs, cart-
ridge belts heavily mounted, and big revolvers,
with lanyards buckled to the butt., and passing
over one shoulder.

When they reach the level land at the bottom
of the ravine, the mounted men Ibrm \ip in line,
and the waggons draw up behind ihem forty feet
apart : a rope is stretched along the line of wag-
gons ; and, leaving the saeldles on the first line, the
horses are attached to the rope almost as soon as
the teams are unharnessed. Two or three men
select a spot by the bushes, where an iron bar is
quickly set on uprights live feet apart ; and, before

the s

heav

lire.

nian<

and

gene

from

ingf

the

w^he

i om]

lire.

]>lue

lire

diah

hob)

thre

lUai

in i^.

has
vf rsi
the

abo
dut

A N.'dHT HALT.

( •>

the sound ol' the axes has (•ea^sed in the bush, three
heavy camp-kettles are swinging over a roarinu"
lire. A bell tent is pitched I'or the oUlcer in com-
mand : the horses are watered, uroonied, and led ;
and at a last merry order I'rom the buo-lc, there is a
general dash i'or plates and cups : and knives drawn
from belts and boot-legs arc ready i'or an astonish-
ing slaughter of pork and hard-tark. The latter is
the Western name lor that whieh is known else-
where as ship-biscuit, and it is partaken iu
company with strong and hot tea around the camp-
lire. The meal is accompanied by an u[)lil'linu" d'
blue smoke into the clear skv. and there is a livelv
lire of ehaff in good American and even Jjrili>h
dialects, Aft(^r a decent interval, the horses aiv
hohbled or picketed for the night, and a guard of
tliree men placed on picket duty until sunrise.
lllajike s are spread out along the saddle-line, and
in ii.nd under the waggons ; and betore the sound-
ing of the last of thre(^, beautiful evening •' call> '
has awakened the echoes of the sterile hills, con-
versation has flagged, and there is silence under
the starlight.

The horsi's are pulling at the grass, rovinu"
about, and clanking their hobbles ; and the man on
duty stands l)y the five or glides about amonii

7»;

A NIGHT HALT.

thorn ; and overhead the stars are blazing in heaven,
and the dim white aurora is flitting in the north.
Then the stars and the aurora pale, and the north-
*iast glows with rose and orange, and the wind
wakes up, and the soft mists rise. Startling all the
echoes, making the keen air tremble, waking the
summer world, and losing coherence in the distant
sky, reveille rings, out clear and sharp, a burst of
triumphant unexpected music — and the night is
gone. Then to successive bugle calls, blankets are
rolled, waggons loaded, the horses carefully tended,
and breakfast finished ; and ere the sunlight warms
the ravine, the mounted party is toiling up the
hillside, and the waggons are following across the
narrow bottom.

Such is a night-halt of a party of Mounted
Police under the pleasantest conditions, and while
travelling at about forty miles a day. But there
are no members of the Force of over a few months'
standing who have not travelled i^/Mom^ night-hgclts,
or under conditions of hardship that it would be
difficult for the reader to realise. Although tht^
statement little accords with those of emigration
aueiits. the climate of many districts is extremely
rioo 'ous ; and althouii'h this does not detract from

A NIGHT HALT.

i i

the value of the crops, the cold is so great in Decem-
ber and January that even an emigration agent
would not willingly travel during those months in
any part of the Territories. As pioneers preparing-
for the advance of civilization, the Mounted Police
undertake to suffer discomfort and to perform duties
of unexampled difficulty, without the performance
of which the new provinces of the western plain^^
must be, as they were before the white men came-
a howling wilderness.

.'\

D'ANQUERA.

THE story is about the Prairies, vast, varied,
filled w^ith the melodies of the vrinds, scented
with wildernesses of roses ; and the time is the
summer of 1884, a year before those months of blood
and lire crowded with the events oi Kiel's Second

liebellion.

Constable Carlo dAnquera, whom we all lall-
ed Tough'un, because he didi^'t like it, was a Mex-
ican of noble blood, educated m France, and now
wandering" in North America. He could speak
both French and English almost as well as his
native tongue, had sworn allegiance to Her Majesty
of Britair and was now travelling over the
Plains in her service on a little self-w illed bay
broncho. He wore an old red coal, with l)ras.s
buttons, embossed with the head of a butfalo and
•N. W. M. P.,' moaning North West Mounted
Police ; his legs were encased in great and heavy
clmparjos (commonly know as " chaps ") of reddish
leather with long fringes ; he wore a mighty cart-
lidge belt, with a revolver in the holster a foot

1) ANQUERA.

7{^

long ; and a grey slouch hat looped up with a
silver brooch and adorned with a dainty wild rose.
IJut in all his formidable attire there was no mis.
taking the merry black eyes, w^eapons — bright
weapons for the heart alone, and rejmted to have
done great execution at times. He was not hand-
some but for those eyes ; but who can speak ill of
a man with such a neat figure, such an honest
sun-burnt face, and such a gay reckless laugh as
used to disarm all criticism of the person of Carlo
d'Anquera. The broncho went on as slowly as he
dared, grabbing furtively at some tuft of grass with
his ears set back and his eyes on the v. a^ h, pre-
tending to a stumble into a gopher hole, or whisk-
ing his 'banged" tail at the flies as far as the
mutilation of that member would permit. And
the Plain extended forever and ever, bright with
prairie flowers, aiul blessed with the sweet breath-
ing of the wind in the burning noon-time.

Presently, at an unusually A'enturous effort
aftergrass on the i)art of the broncho, and much
to the disgust of the latter, his rider straightened
his back, glanced at his watch, and cast certain
tender thoughts to the wind , then the spurs came
home in a tender spot, a)id betaking himself to

ill

d'anquera.

business with a wistful glance at the pasture as »
iarewell, the horse fell into a pleasant lope, swift,
pasy and sustained, that carried him far in thediv-
ortion of stables. And if anyone wants to see the
world's Master as his best let him watch this
toung ji-entleman sweep by, with the long fringes
waving, and the great-rovvelled spurs ringing out
their sharp notes, and the soft white hand com-
manding the horse, and the great dark eyes com-
manding the plains.

Sunset found him at a log building with a
few outhouses ; and, having stabled and tended the
broncho, he entered the building.

Coon was there, and MoMurrich ; and Black
bent over the frying-pan skilllTilly burning some
slap-jacii:,3 ; and all greeted d'Anquera, and asked
him what brought him into this particular district.
He told them that he had been transferred to that
troop to which they belonged, and after a week or
two in the Post he had been sent with a despatch
to the Coon, with orders to continue with the
detachment, n^hile his baggage was to be sent on
in the next raiion waggon. So he formally report-
ed to Coon, who was the Corporal in charge ; and,
while the despatch was opened by the latter.

d'anquera,

'/■iv

,.\ . , '

went out to his saddle to get some letters ont of
the wallets for one of the party. On his return he
found the rest all gathered about Coon, who was
giving instructions in his usual quiet tone as he
continued to read the despatch.

" Well, you fellov'«, the 'soft snap's' over at last.
Black — IMcquet eight to eleven, McMurrich — Pic-
quet — relieve Black and wake me at four, I'll tiikc
the rest ot the night myself"

"Why, what's up?"

" Talk about what's up when we're out of ear-
shot of these ' civvies.' Look here, you fellows. 1
advise you all to turn in sharp at eight, for we may
start off before daylight. Picquet will have to
keep a sharp lookout for old Steve the Scout, for he
ought to be here from Little Blull's any time be-
tween this and to-morrow. When he arrives we

are off to the B Hills, with a week's rations.

Come and let's see that we have everything ready
while Black gets the supper."

Everything being ready for the march next
morning as far as the greasing of axles and gather-
ing up and storing of heavy baggage was concerned,
the men came in to supper, the old settler and his

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-S)

1.0

i.i

1^ 1^
2.2

IIIII18

1.25 1.4 III 1.6

.^ 6"

Photographic

Sdences
Corporation

^^ ^\ WrsS

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716)873-4503

■S2

1) ANQUERA.

wife listening in vain ibr any information as to
what the stir was about. Nor could any satisfac-
tion be had from Coon either during the supper or
the short smoke afterwards ; and the horses were
duly attended to, the picquet posted to guard the
horses, and the bedding unrolled for the night,
without the host or hostess learning anything be-
yond the fact that their boarders were going away
on duty next morning, and the rich gleanings from
the Government harvest would be theirs no more.

The Scout arrived very early the next morning;
and about two hours alter the whole party was on
the march, bound for the defiles of the hill country
near by, where a desperate band of outlaws were
to be discovered and arrested in the interests of
Justice.

The Tough'un had naturally much to tell his
comrades concerning the Troop, and the Force to
which they belonged; of sicknesses of men and
horses, promotions, punishments, expeditions, and
a hundred other scraps of news welcome to a party
that for some weeks had been isolated on the fron-
tier. The old Scout rode along growling and sleepy
after his ride of two hundred miles to join the party,
and prophesied all sorts of bad luck to an expedition

d'anquera.

that left no time for a decent sleep ; and swore
blue streaks when the ' boys' began chaffing* him,
and was not comforted until the day after when he
found a good listener in the person of d'Anquera
to his long and often tedious narratives of past ad-
venture, and the never failing topic of the virtue
and grace of his adopted daughter Annette, the joy
and pride of his old heart, lie spoke sorrowfully
of how he had barely time to kiss her and tell her
why he was going away at the moment of depar-
ture from Little Bluffs, and she had turned deadly
pale at the thought of his going after such a
desperate gang of horse thieves. So were they
conversing while following a tortuous track that
led up a stony coulee ; and the keen eyes of old
:Steve were the first to descry a figure on horseback
beckoning from the hills above them. The rider
was coming down the steep and dangerous side of
the coulee as the party halted to observe what
happened, and Steve cried out " Why eet ees my
niece, my niece Annette, What for my Annette
come here ? Annette I " and he began to cry out
in French until, clearing the stream at the bottom
with a bound, a young woman rode gaily laughing
to his side, her dark face all aglow with excitement,
and her long black hair streaming in the wind.

DANQUERA.

Nor did Annette appear to consider it a very odd
thing that she should ride all the way from Little
Bluffs alone to look after her old uncle ; and she
drew some stale cakes from her wallets for him.
and said gaiJy that she was come to nurse him and
to ride with the Police. Surprise gave way to ad-
miration when the ' boys ' saw how she rode, and
how with perfect modesty and the most innocent
air in the world she would enter trustingly into
their rude company, never thinking even of asking
assent, but simply taking everything for granted.
Her unbounded confidence in them stirred up
every spark of latent chivalry ; and, though they
fell in love with her to a man, they did so as re-
spectfully and fearfully as a true man should.
But it was the young Mexican with his gay prairie
dress, and his French, and his old time courtesy
that won her heart ; and she twisted him round
her linger before supper. Once as they rode to-
gether that day by the side of some bush, dAn-
quera thought that a dark swarthy face was looking
at him from among the branches ; and was going
to find out about it, when she laughed at him for
seeing ghosts, and made him feel so silly that he
neglected his duty, and so missed the only chance
that party ever got of arresting the notable horse-

d'anquera.

thieves. How was it that as he lay under the lee of
the trees that night, he awaked and raised his head
from his saddle, and thought he heard a girl's voice
pleading with a man called Mac in broken English,
half sobs, half whispers ? He fell asleep again
wondering what it was ; and next morning he said
he had dreamed of a woman's voice pleading with
a man, and all the 'boys' laughed at him.

What had Annette really joined the party for?

And so the search failed, and the outlaws went
free, and the girl rode home with the Police and
her old uncle, but more especially with d'Anquera
to Little Bluffs. And the 'boys' let Annette fire oif
all their ammunition, and ride all their horses, and
command the party ; and not only could she ride
and shoot better than they, but she could make
herself charming in two languages, and cooked
divinely. She was not pretty, she was not a lady,
she was not neat, she showed strains of Indian
blood ; but she was a girl, and she could ride and
shoot, and it certainly was a treat to see her shoot
gophers.

When the other fellows saw her marked pre-
ference for the Tough'un, they very sensibly be-
took themselves to other topics, and contemplated

i M

d'anquera.

'■■ f

future love's promotions and drunks, the health
and spirits of their horses, and the rustiness of
their guns.

And so the party went by way of their for-
mer quarters at the settler's house, where they
picked up the heavier baggage, to Little Bluffs ; and
reported by telegraph to Headquarters at Regina.
In reply Coon received orders to remain with his
party at Little Blufl's as a town detachment, to in-
spect passing trains on the Canadian Pacific line in
search for illicit whiskey, and to rent a house and
stable for quarters. Old Steve took his niece home,
where she was soundly rated by her aunt for her
wicked conduct in committing more iniquities, real
and imaginary, than there are in the calendar.
D'Anquera was placid, the rest hilarious; and
when the ' boys ' from their new detachment
station, saw the Tough'un setting forth in perfect
undress uniform to call on Mrs. Steve on the first
of many occasions, they calculated to a nicety the
effect on the young girl's mind of the glowing
scarlet. If she loved him in prairie dress, she
hardly knew it until she saw him in uniform ; and
what with the tinkle of his silvered spurs, and
the accurate fit of his riding boots, and the poise

DANQUERA..

on three hairs of the daintiest of forage caps, she
was fairly bewitched, aye and the old lady too.

After three short months the detachment was
called in ; and d'Anquera declared that " the beast-
ly Government never did let a chap have half a
show anyhow, and as soon as they thought you
were having a good time they would call yon iiL
to Headquarters just to see how you looked ' prairie
pounding,' or shovelling coal, or bucking wood, or
suthin," to all of which the detachment gloomily
assented. And so they went out to pay farewell
calls, and to see how much was owing at the
saloons, and to have a quiet growl all to themselves
on general principles. But although d'Anquera
had been popping the question to himself by way
of rehearsal, and had very nearly tumbled down a
well one night while at the most momentous part
of the performance ; and although he had stift'ened
his gauntlets with pipe-clay, and exceeded all legit-
imate credit in buying perfumes, not to mention
gifts and propitiatory offerings to the old lady, ho
had never got to the point ; and left the place in an;
awful temper, and his little lover crying her heart
out over a sock — the only relic she had of him.

Somehow during the longer months that fol-

i I

I i

•88

I) ANUUERA.

lowed, the winter in 1 rracks with the endless
round of the " guaru, ' " stables," " orderly,"
" fatigue," &c., of military routine, the Tough'un al-
ways managed to preserve an even temper, a perfect
digestion, and a large correspondence. The winter
•was, however, broken for him by one spell of sun-
shine, which has seemed to him ever since a moral
Chinook (that is the wind from the west, a smile
of mud six hundred miles broad that illumines the
grim face of the western winter.) He had showed
me a ring with rubies and diamonds in it, got re-
gardless of expense from Montreal ; and shoriiy
afterwards he eame to me as I lay on my bed in
the barrack room reading a novel, and asked me,
" Which is it— YES, or NOV" He held a sealed
letter in his hand, and I said "YES." He went
away to the hay corrall and read the letter, and
it was " Yes." Then the Tough'un went off on a
m Tsterious furlough, and was seen at Little Bluffs
in a buckskin shirt. If one of the Little Bluffs
girls had poisoned herself in a fit of jealousy about
^ ring nobody would have been surprised.

With the early days of March came news to us
from the north ; and on the 18th of the month we
were all oft' to Fort Carlton on a forced march to
try and prevent w^ar, and reinforce our garrison in

-tl
R

k^
tl

a1
('{
fr

q
b

a:
b

■ei
r(
n
o
d
h
b
ft
^.

r]
n

d'anquera.

81)

-the iroubled district. So came the North-West
Rebellion. From his dreams of love and house-
keeping the Tough'un had to turn his attention to
the stern realities of war ; for days he was un-
washen, for months his moustache had to prowl
about his face untended, but worst of all, communi-
cjition was shut ott, and there were no letters
from Little Blulfs for seven weeks. Then, d'An-
quera smeared soot on his face to keep off snow-
blindness, and his duck clothes were covered with
axle grease, and he lived on rancid bacon and
broken hard tack. But none bore so well the vari-
eties of freezing, starving, watching, and subsequent
roasting, the sleepless vigilance, the tremendous
marches, the incessant labour. When it was all
over, and we returned to the world of letters and
dry clothes, his boots were the first polished, and
his letters the jBrst posted. The iirst letters brought
bad news for the Tough'un — another man pro-
fessed the love and desired the hand of the future
Mrs. Carlo d'Anquera. Unfortunately the new-
comer had won Annette by the presentation of a
rich gift two years before ; and on the second and
much more attractive admirer turning up, the
young woman, knowing that rich gifts and hand-

' .1

{♦0

D ANQUEKA.

somo adorers were not to be had every day, sup-
pressed No. 1 and forgot all about him. This the
artless child had been able to do because No. 1 had
disappeared, and nobody seemed to know what had
))ecome of him ; and on her second engagement she
would gladly have returned the gift of the recreant
if he had been at hand. No. 1 was a " tough,"
supposed to be a very determined fellow and a
dead shot, and had determined to have the " measly
policeman's blood," as soon as he found out that
the girl had fallen in love with his gift and the
policeman's self. The Tough 'un bought a revolver,
and was seen practicing every day at a bottle,
which he most viciously shot at and missed at
grpat ranges. Moreover he applied for a "pass"
and could not get one because his services were
required, and he was not entitled to two in one
year. Therefore, the Tough'un m«de thick the
atmosphere with maledictions in three languages,
and spent the whole summer abusing the benevo-
lent Government, to its great danger. The girl's
letters, unless intercepted by the " tough," who lit
all his cigars with them, continued to pour forth
unalterable affection for her betrothed ; and, except
for an occasional ride in his buckboard, the pro-
foiindest dislike and contempt for the unfortunate

D ANQUERA.

No. 1. D'Anquera continued to explain his senti-
ments to his family and his love to Annette until
the year 1885 had spent his last 'quarter,' and set
up the drinks before he lay down overcome with
the mirth and punch of Christmas, to sleep
through the night of ages, or until his services
were required by another planet.

At last our hero succeeded in uncorking the
paternal bottle, and pouring out for himself a gen-
erous bumper of the paternal wealth ; and having
after some little delay purchased his discharge from
the Mounted Police, he set off, fashionably attired
after the western taste, with the blessing of his
brothers-in-arms, to demolish the " tough," and live
happily ever after. And so Carlo d'Anquera set otf
dowm the long trail that leads to prosperity and
earthly fatness, ajid Annette is his true wife.

As to the '• tough " : the Police wanted, with
their usual impertinent curiosity, to know w^hat he
had been up to in B Hills the previous sum-
mer ; and Annette tells in her pretty broken English
how glad she is that, with all her husband's tender
enquiries, he w^as never able to discover as much as
a hair or feather of the missing deperado.

I ,

! I

THE TRAILS,

s
t

AN ESSAY.

THE word Trail originates, I believe, from the
resemblance between the path of western man
and the track of wild beasts. A prairie trail in
fact exactly resembles the track of a corkscrew. It
was probably started by somebody benighted and
lost, who went that way by mistake ; and its con-
tinuance was due to that instinct of going where
someone else has been that is so highly character-
istic of the pioneer. The path thus formed is
used by the winds as a dust bin, and in winter as
a camping place for snowdrifts. As to the traffic,
once in a long time a gopher may or may not cross
the trail, but probably won't.

On the maps there are places in big letters
every forty miles or so, presumably cities. But
really they don't amount to much, the names being
the most imposing part ; vide : Hoodoo, Whoop-up,
and Way-Back, on the trail to Bitter Creek. These
places generally have a population of two, or if
very populous, two and a boy.

THE TRAILS.

Trails are of a malignant disposition, and do
take an evil delight in climbing up steep hills
sideways ; and nothing is more hopelessly lutih*
than the attempt of the pious freighter to climl)
up (with perhaps a parson in the rig) without
blessing things generally. If there is rolling prai-
rie the trail pursues a tortuous course, like a buggy
with two wheels off, and ./ith a view to iinding
all the steep pitches and inserting double barrelled,
soul destroying, twists therein. The vehicles are
also adapted to give effect to any snags, or young*
rocks and holes, that may be planted incidentally.
It excites the profoundest emotions to see a bob-
sleigh with the horses tangled up on a side hill in
winter, the sleigh trying to illustrate the manner
of a tom cat on a snow covered roof that was half
thawed and fro/en. ^icture to yourself the cat a
la slide sideways, and the bobsleigh a la cat ! But
we are getting all diverted up.

So to return to the summer, bushes are placed
where there is occasion for such hat removals and
eye extinctions, as may be essential to the main-
tenance of friendly feelings amongst travellers.
Western drivers as a rule pray earnestly when an-
noyed or bored. Bull waggons are of a plaintive
temperament ; and their sorrows prey upon the

THE TRAILS.

minds of the teamsters, and cause them to conjure
up swears that put to shame the civilizations of
the east.

Black flies, mosquitos, and bull-dogs form a
crescendo, a positive, comi^arative, and superlative,
a black-fly-flier-lliest of insect fiendishness. The
motive power expressed in wagging horses tails on
this account would drive all the locomotive en-
gines in the Great Lone Land. "We have a pro-
posal on hand to utilize this great natural force ;
but it would have been better for the souls of
poor prairie-pounding humanity, and for the morals
of the beasts, had the said energy been stored up
in the bowels of the vv^orld by Providence, just as
the carbonic acid gas is stored as fuel in the coal
measures. We w^ould gladly mourn at the obse-
quies of insect life ; but the delight of dancing on
the graves of these three species of fiends trans-
cends the human imagination.

Winter travelling is the driving of a bob
sleigh or jumper, i. e. running behind ; a friend of
mine objected to this method of driving, saying
that he would rather " freeze like a man than run
behind like a dog." He got his wish.

The best function of the trails is to stop loco-

THE TRAILS.

9")

motion (of prairie firew) but they are also valued
for the shipment of that which is illicit. Realiz-
ing their importance, our benevolent Government
has recently sent plenipotentiaries to proclaim one
of our most lengthy and conspicuous routes a pub-
lic highway. Now this is not only highly compli-
mentary, but absolutely flattering — to the trail.

Owing to their continued existence it will not
be imagined that I have any spite against the trails.
Nay, I will maintain that they are indispensable,
and as the works of Nature simply marvellous.

LOST,

I I

THE STOllY OF A STRANGE ArYHNTURE.

[was sent by the Officer Commanding with a
despatch to Pipeclay Creek, the telegraph line
])eing down; and, since there were no 'jumpers'
(light sleighs) in the Post, I travelled mounted,
trusting that the weather would hold steady until
I got back. I was well provided against the cold
with a buffalo coat, fur cap, two pairs of riding
breeches, three of stockings, and good moose moc-
casins. No one would have suspected any danger
on that jolly winter day. The thermometer was
steady at forty degrees below zero, the sun bright,
and the air sparkling with tiny points of light,
while the snow beside the trail shone like a sheet
ol gems. Breathing that clear air set all one's blood
racing, and it seemed like a draught of spring-
water in one's throat. The frost from my breath
soon made long icicles from my moustache ; the
film spread across my eyes and had to be brushed
olf every few minutes ; my cap, and the breast of
my coat were sparkling with frost, and the horse

h a
line
ers '
ted,
ntil
3old
Ling
aoc-
iger
was
ght,
ght,
tieet
iood
ring
3ath
the

hed

t of

oi'se

■ ii

LO?!.

Iftl

H
»

was all white with rime. But a chap doesn't mind
cold with good furs, an easy Mexican saddle, and
a fine broncho like mine under him. Sometimes
trotting a mile or so, but walking usually, and
keeping Buck held in lest he should play out, I
came at about noon to Brown's ' stopping place ; '
and, having rubbed down, watered, and fed my
horse, I got Mrs. Brown, who is a fair cook although
a half-breed, to make me some dinner. There must
have been something wrong with the food, for it
made me uneasy all the afternoon with something
like colic.

It must have been four o'clock, and I had
made some miles since dinner, when I saw that the
weather was changing; and, although the sun
still shpne in a clear sky, the air became hazy, and
breaths of wind began to sift up the snow in
places. I tried to take my bearings, although I
knew that there was not so much as a stone for
twenty miles ahead, but the horizon was already
hidden ; and, in a few minutes after I first feared a
change, there set in the wildest blizzard I had
ever seen. The wind swirled in fierce eddies, the
snow lashing my face like a thousand whips ; and

'98

LOST.

where I could catch sight of the ground I saw that
the trail was fast drifting over, and even Buck's
fresh tracks were covered almost as soon as he made
them. Seeing that there was no hope unless x
kept the trail, I dismounted to lead Buck, who
would do nothing but back up against the wind ;
and I might hare got on even then but for the
colic, that seemed to take all the strength out of
me. Instead of warming I tired, and the snow
was now so soft that there was great difficultly in
making any headway. After a time my cheeks
began to freeze ; and, my hands getting wet in
attempting to thaw them with snow, they got so
numb that I couldn't dry them, and froze too. At
last I mounted and left the way to Buck's inst-
inct ; and as a last resort fired oiFthe seven rounds
in my revolver in case there were any freighters
near ; but I could hear no sound except the wind
howling all round, and began to give up hope.

I had read in dime novels of men lost on the
prairie cutting their horses open and getting in-
side ; but I guess that they only do that in dime
novels, for a chap who would serve an old friend
like Buck in that fashion deserves to freeze stiff.

LOST.

I could see where the sun was setting, and knew
that my proper course was south ; but which way
did the sun set — North West ? I knew it ought to
set there at that season, and so I must keep it to
the right. Or was I to keep to the right of it? And
which was my right ? Before the sun set I believe
I turned my face from it in order to go towards it.

I remembered as the night set in that if I fell
asleep I should never wake ; so I rode on swaying
from side to side of the saddle, so drowsy that I
I'ould hardly remember to keep my knees tight
against the horse's sides. I beat my hands toge-
ther until the arms ached, but could not warm
them ; and, sometimes I slid down to the ground
to walk until I could get my eyes open. I suppose
the storm went down after the sun set, because I
remember the night was very calm, and the stars
unusually bright. There was a light on the hori-
zon that seemed to come from a shack, for there
appeared to be barns near it, and a hay rick. 1
tried all night to get to the light, but it seemed to
keep just at the same distance off, and at last melt-
ed away.

It must have been at about noon the next day

100

LOST.

that I remembei sitting still in the saddle, and
there being bushes all round ; and Buck went
along a step at a time scraping away the snow
with his hoofs, with his head down. I seemed to-
think that I was wanted somewhere, and yet could
not tell where to go. I set Buck off at the trot ;
and kept travelling some time, until the plain was
all left behind and I saw Chief Mountain right
ahead and made for a Pass beside it.

Soon I came to the Pass, and went in until the
mountains shut in the view all around. The tops
seemed to get higher and higher, and the gorge
deeper and blacker, until the mountains actually
began arching overhead, but miles high. I stopped
still, and kept watching until I saw them join
overhead ; and then they all fell v.^ith a crash over
me and I was buried. First I was broad awake ;
but a delicious sleep seemed to creep up me until
I was nearly covered as it were with cold still
water. But there was a beating going on in my
brain ; and, while the sleep crept up my face and
covered me, it crashed harder and harder, and then
something seemed to close in over my eyes with
a little throbbing, and I was dead. ,

LOST,

101

I seemed to awaken without any body, and I
had no size or weight, but only just me. I was
hanging in awful eternity all dark and cold and
full of horror. I was hanging on what seemed a
thread of light, but I could not feel or see it. The
ray or thread seemed t slant away forever up-
wards and downwards, and I was frightened lest
I should fall off although there was nothing to fall
to. But the most awful thing was being alone. I
had never been alune in my life before, and it was
so awful that for months after I could never think
of it without terror. Then somehow I felt I was
moving at a frightful speed as it were on an orbit
like the earth does. Each time I passed round the
circle something passed going in the opposite direc-
tion to me. And that other thing was me, but
not the me I had been before I died, but as it were
another half of me I had never come across before.
Each time we crossed something of knowledge
passed between us. At first it used to be millions
of years between our meetings, but the time bet-
ween got shorter and shorter until I had hardly
time to understand one meeting before another
came. Once it seemed that one of a set of ten rounds
was missed, and it was a horrible aching loss re-

102

LOST.

peated every tenth round. At last I felt that I gain-
ed whole worlds of knowledge at each meetins^,
and kept waiting for them with fear, but yet felt
that I existed for nothing else. And then they
came so quickly that I had not time to expect them,
for they were like crashes falling on me quicker
and quicker and destroyins* me. At last they
blended one with another with such a feeling as
though the sian were to be suddenly blown out at
noon ; and that instant I was joined with the other
me in one, knowing all things in Heaven and
Earth, all things that ever were, or are, or shall be ;
and I said it was like the blowing out of the sud,
for everything in the past, the present, or eternal
future, everything in all Space and all Time was
but ONE WORD — and the name of that one word
was GOD !

We talk of the ordinary Being we call God as
being great : but I tell you that then I was greater
than any god I had known enough to think about.
I don't want to be disrespectful to Him mind, be-
cause I know that He is greater than any ordinary
god could imagine, so grand and terrible and good
that I feel now as though I could cry with shame

L08T.

103

at ever having said as much as a common damn.
It may seem a queer thing for a man like me to be
writing on such a subject ; but I am a very differ-
ent sort of chap since that dream, and I want to
tell the World about the awful things I saw.

As to what followed you must wait Reader
until there is a Heavenly Language to write it
down in. I saw God with these eyes, I saw Him
as I would see you if you were standing before me
now ; but I could no more tell what He was like
than — than blow out the sun. It was not meant
that I should, or I should have been given a way
to do it, so I will go on with my story.

"When I awoke I was lying on the snow with
my buffalo coal open, and Buck with one hoof on
my breast, and gently licking my forehead with
his rough tongue. I talked to him as I lay there^
and he looked down in my face just as though he
were trying to speak. I wish men would show as
much feeling for a chap when he's down in his
luck. I recollect distinctly saying " A.re you dead
too, Biick, old chap V " Then my head seemed to
get quite clear, and I stood up. " Say Buck, we're
dying — at least I am. We have got to get home

104

T.C)ST.

again somehow — which way shall we go, old man?"
]3uck took a long look all round, then snitled and
looked at me as much as to say " Well you'd ough-
ter know." " I don't Buck, though," I said, " you
see we're lost us two. Wait a bit we'll have a
smoke and a ])it of lire anyhow." 1 had matches
and tobacco, and when I got ihe pipe lit I fell
splendid. Then I took the despatch, and commit-
ted it to memory, and used the pai)er to light a lire
of twigs from the poplar bush near by. I was not
so badly frozen as I had thought, and the pain of
thawing out bra«'ed me so that 1 began toleel hun-
gry. There was no food to be had, so I chewed
one of my mitts '^istead. I had eased Buck of the
saddle, and found his back was not a bit sore,
which surprised me considering the length of time
he must have had it on. I found he had been keep-
ing himself alive by scraping away the snow with
his hoofs to get at the long grass near the bush,
and in the hollows. I took a whisp of grass and
rubbed him down until he began to feel quite com-
fortable, and to dance round as though he had been
in the stable a week. I suppose he did this to
cheer me up, for he couldn't have been so merry
after having no oats since noon the day before.

By the time we got finished it was quite dark ;

LOST.

105

80 for fear of freezing if I slept, and knowing I
must do all I knew how to got back to tho Post, I
steered North by the Pole Star, but eould go no fas-
ter than a walk on a(;count of the snow. For some
hours we kept on, and I repeated all tho poetry I
could think of to keep up our spirits ; and even
got oH' two or three songs, which were not up to
much for I am a poor singcn*. Dy and by I conclud-
ed I would try my hand at praying, that l)eingthe
most appropriate thing on su(^h an occasion. But
I could only think of the Lord's Prayer, and part
of the Ten Commandments, which I soon finished.
Then I tried to recall my catechism, but I got it
all mixed up. By the time I had got to Keeping
one's tongue from picking and stealing I thought I
had better quit. After that my mind began to be
hazy again, and I knew that the delirium must be
coming on, but (3ould do nothing to prevent it. I
repeated the multiplication table to try and kee])
my head clear, but it was no use, and I had thi;
wildest fancies imaginable, so magnificent some-
times that I wonder that ray mind could have
imagined them. I seemed to be one Hero, a great
ideal man, who had saved England by his own
splendid daring in time of War ; that some time in
the twentieth century the Masses rose up and

106

LOST.

! ;

overthrew the Government, and in the Revolution
London was on fire, but Hero came and overthrew
the mob government, and put out the fire. After
that he built up the old Empire again, only more
magnificent than men had ever dreamed of in the
past ; that he built up a great new London with a
Capitol covering a mile square in the middle,
adorned with a Cathedral whose dome soared up
nine hundred feet into the sky ; that he converted
all nations to the Christian P^aith, and caused a
great re-union of all the churches ; that he taught
the world a new architecture, new sciences, new
methods of art. and how to bring all the laws of
Nature to be servants of Man ; and at last how he
was killed in a great battle in which England was
fighting the whole world in defence of Freeiom,
aided by her colonies and the United States ; and
his death shook the whole earth.

The next thing I can recall was watching the
Aurora in my natural senses, and I suppose the
same night. There was a grand display that
night — First came streamers of the common white,
four bands abreast, and extending across the whole
sky. When they got overhead they seemed to be

LOST.

10"

only a hundred feet ov^erhead. In a minute all
the four bands changed into snake-like strips of red
fire, gquirmmg about, and moving at a terrible
speed, while behind them seemed to be a pale
green ground. The huge, fiery snakes were so
bright and sharp that more than once I thought I
heard the queer rustling crackling sound that the
Aurora make sometimes, but I may be mistaken.
I was surprised at this, because I thought that
that kind of Aurora, which I had seen once before,
was only seen in the spring and fall.

Buck was again scraping away the snow ; and
I set him off at a trot and wei t on for some t'rae.
Then it. was broad daylight, and Buck was going at
the keen jump when we came it seemed to the top
of a hill j below me lay the city of Montreal just as
you see it from the Mountain. Buck balked and
wouldn't go down the hill ; and as I had brought
no spurs on the trip for fear of freezing my feet, I
was obliged to swear at him until he started.
When we got down into the town I made a break
for home, for Mother lives in Montreal, and had
been there since we came from England years ago.
I reached the house, and tied the horse to the gar-

108

LOST.

<» I

den railing; then stole in quietly at the frontdoor,
and found in the drawingroom sitting by the fire
darning a stocking, just as I see her now while I
am writing this ; and 1 stole up behind her and
kissed her.

Then the scene changed, and I was on the deck
of my Father's old ship, with a regular Atlantic
gale blowing ; on the quarter deck stood Father
]ust as I had seen him many a time ; and the waves
washed over the vessel again and again, and had
we not all held on to bolts and shrouds we should
have been ^\^ashed overboard. A try pail was set
to keep her steady, and the ship could stand not a
rag of canvass more. But Father seemed to have
lost his senses, and sent both watches aloft to make
sail as though we had a summer breeze, instead of
a storm that looked as if it was to be our last.
However I went aloft too ; and was on the 3'^ard
arm with the men, while the sail we were
working at was flapping angrily in our faces.
Then I felt a sharp blow on the breast and face
from the canvass, and heard Father cry out, and
the next moment I was falling through space, and
then many fathoms deep in the cold sea. I struck

LOST.

10!>

out, and came up far in the wake ot* the ship : and
was beaten hither and thither by the <'onfusod
rush of the waves, that seemed to grin at me with
the faces of the dead, all white as drifting snow.
The gulls wheeled screaming in the air a])ovt, the
wild waves circled round me like the vortex of the
Maelstrom, and then all was still as death. I could
hear a voice calling, but could not make out w^liat
was said ; and then I thought it was the voice of
the Sergeant Major of my Trooj) callinicout : "Now
then — w^hat are you abont ? Who told you to dis-
mount — eh '^ " I knew that I must have been buck-
ed off my horse in the Riding School, and that all
the rest were waiting for me to mount ac'iin, but
still I CO lid not as much as open my eyes, There
was a moving to and fro, and I felt myself carried
on a stretcher to the Hospital. The next thing I
was conscious of was the ruml)ling and jolting of
wheels, the tramp of feet, and the awful music of
the Dead March. J knew I was being buried alive,
and I even thought I could hear my Mother cry-
ing behind, yet couldn't move or speak, or give
any sign of life. I fought and fought but could
make no sign, and presently felt to my horror that

) I

110

LOST.

1 I

I was dozing off again. I made one great struggle,
and felt I could break my body to pieces rather
than not be heard — then there was a low rushing
sound, and I was awake.

The prairie round me was hazy, the wind was
sweeping up the snow with low melancholy gusts,
the sky was grey with clouds, and, as I watched,
a heavy storm set in — not cold, but one of those
moist heavy falls of snow, that with wind are
taken for blizzards by many people. I watched
the storm for a long time sitting quite still in
the saddle, but then the delirium must have set
in, for 1 became first a Russian Arch Duke and then
a Montana Cow-boy.

After thai I remembered very little of what
happened ; and, as the yarn is being dragged out
to a much greater length than was intended, I
will pass over the next three or four days, during
which I must have become very feeble both in
brain and body. I was stupid and dull, and my
brain never fuUy cleared for a moment ; but from
what I can learn I must have travelled a long dis-
tance without knowing it. The weather must

t
c

I
a

n
t
t
a

LOST.

Ill

have been mild or I would have been frozen sliflf;
and somehow I must have been looked after all
that time, just as they say Providence looks after
a chap when he's drunk. But one thing I will
never forget as long as I live. 1 had been travelling
down hill I thought, all one night, full of strange
fancies. At last I imagined a party of Mounted
Police was approaching up the trail, and I was
glad to see them even though it was in a dream.
As I rode straight towards the phantoms, expect-
ing I suppose that the dream would dissolve as
soon as I got close, I saw one of them open his
mouth to speak. I heard a human voice speaking
to me as in a mist ; then I felt my body fall with a
crash to the ground- — and I remember no more

^^ ^P ^^ ^^ tT 'Tr TV

They say it was weeks and months before the
doctors knew that I should live : a watch was kept
by me in hospital night and day for iorty five days,
and on the forty sixth day I awoke in my right
mind, and found my old chum himself sitting by
the bedside. And you bet I feel mean after all
that to think of the life I led before I was frozen ;
and that I thank the Great Grod who showed him-

112

LOST.

self to me in my delirium, lor making me a better
lad, even at the expense of the most splendid
physique that ever man had.

I am now at home with mother ; and I wish
you as good a nurso if ever you should happen to
get stove-up reader.

I hope it will not be considered an imperti-
nence on the part of McNeill's chum to add a few
words to this strange story. '

I was one of the party sent out after the misis-
ing man, and was given charge of the party as a
special favour on account of being McMeill's chum.
He is a universal favourite, a man intended by
nature to be more respected in the world than
is usually the case with a hair-brained buck-police-
man. He has both talent and originality ; and, it
not cursed witL a roving disi)osition and a love for
Vv'hiskey, might have risen to eminence.

We found him riding slowly down a main
trail w4th his arms crossed upon his breast and his
head down. His buffalo overcoat was spread under
the saddle to ease and warm the horse at the ex-

itter
idid

Irish
1 to

erti-
few

liss-

is i\

am.

hail

iice-

., ii
! for

lain
his

ider
ex-

r I

LOST.

IVS

pense of the rider, and it was his red serg-e jacket
that first attracted our attention at a distance of
perhaps two miles. As he came near he regarded
us with a fixed stare, but show^ed no sign of recog-
nition. When he got within a horse's length I
called him by name : His whole body seemed to
shrink and recoil at the sound, and then he fell
with a crash from the saddle insensible. We carried
him to the nearest Police Post, he having travelled
nearly 150 miles during the seven days he was lost.
and tended him with great care all the way. It
was a long time before he recovered his faculties,
and many months before he w^as fit to travel. In
the meanwhile my time had expired, and not wish-
ing to re-engage I delayed my return to the Eastern
Provinces until my chum was fit to travel with me,
he having been invalided pending his claim for a
pension. On our arrival at Montreal he went home,
and has since been sometimes better sometimes
w^orse, but shows some sign of a permanent re-
covery. His lungs w^ere injured by the frost, but I
have no fear that he is really suffering as he says
from Consumption; and his fine brain seems in
some respects deteriorated. I think that he will be
tempted by the coming summer when he sees the

114

LOST.

ice melt and the sun shine out over the trees, and
recover in time some of his old zest for life, and be

himself again.

This narrative la Intended to represent some of the phenomena at-
tending prolonged exposure to cold Instances liave been comparatively
frequent of the recovery of persons frozen who have been for days pro-
tected by a covering of snow ; but hitherto the 'Author has not been able
to find In tho Medical Records on the subject any instance of delirium
from frost ; unless that of one of the Artie explorers who found cold affect-
ed his men like drunkonnoaa can be accepted as a precedent. The minor
detail of the following story is from personal experience, as also the phen-
omena of exalted delirium ; but for the main outline of the theme tho
Author is indebted to an unfortunate member of the Mounted Police,
who while on duty in Alberta was for seven days lost in winter, and
during that period had neither food nor shelter, nor any association with
men. His recovery was due to a fine constitution, and he is now fit for
the ordinary occupations of life, although sadly disfigured, and deprived
of th. . keen zest of life, and ambition, and capability which formerly
charaoterisr "*. him. In another instance in the records ot the Mounted
Police, a man was, although only delirious forltwo hours at most, slightly
impaired as regards the brain, and suffered for some time from injuries
to two vital organs. No two cases of this nature would be alike, depend-
ing as they do so much upon the temperament of the individual, and the
surrounding circumstances. Phenomena of this nature are fortunately
BO rare that the Medical Faculty have even In Canada few facilities for
observation, There appears to be an interesting field of study here for
future development.

ERIC.

CHAPTER I.

TWO pair of eyes may look out upon the world
and scan in their wonderful unresting way the
same scene ; and one pair wnll report a desert, the
other a garden ; one pair will tell of a land unfruit-
ful, a people given over to rapine and murder, a cli-
mate of arctic cold or torrid sun-glare ; while the
other will go to the great commanding Brain say-
ing the land floweth with milk and honey, the
streams wash sands of gold, the soil is a nesting
place for diamonds, a wheatfield of ungathered in-
crease, and the w41d llowers and the birds say that
it is the paradise of legend and of faith — a terres-
trial heaven. And sad to say most eyes speak evil
of the world, and tell the poor blind masters of
blind bodies that this is a monotonous and unin-
teresting earth, not half w^hat they were led to ex-
pect when they immigrated ; and what's worse,
that they intend to be as miserable as they please
under the circumstances right or wrong, and on
general principles.

Young Eric must have been very perverse to

116

ERIC.

see things no-one else did, to say things no-one
understood, to love tiger lilies and all kinds of
rubbish, and such nonsense as sunsets, and the
light on the snow when the great white fire shone
from behind the storm clouds. Then the lad put
on such airs as though he owned the earth ; and,
as the withered old Scotch settlers said, went
gadding in his ain daft way all over the plains,
fooling around with the Mounted Police, who
are no better than they should be, and spending
all his life in the saddle, round the settlement,
about the ranches, aye and airing himself in the
Aillages, when he ought to be at the plough tail
like the rest of them. And why couldn't he
dress like any other man, instead of imitating
the white people, wearing a sombrero and loDg
boots, and putting on no end of -^tyle, with his
rings, and chains, and swan neckeu .spurs. And
then he was always sporting his book learning,
and rhyming, and having his moods and his tant-
rums till there was no standing him. All the
young ir ^n hated him like poison, and all the
young women did also — aye, and had a sneaking
admiration for him too ; but there was no tangi-
ble evidence of his being mad as some folks said,
except that he knew '^ouble as much as any in the

EKIO.

117

seftlement, unless it was the Missionaries, -who
had taught him. Like enough the Missionaries
were to be l)lained Ibr more than half his queer
carryings on, but it is to be feared that the younu"
man was j-ast remedy, an incurable genius — and
bless you, what could be more pitiful than a half-
breed with genius ?

And Eric didn't take the slightest notice, but
Just went on being a genius with no hesitation, as
though it were the most natural thing in the whole
world ; and inhabited the earth in his own queer
way, exactly us every other man didn't ; and, sad
to say, was the happiest man in the Territories.

How shall the look of his eyes be described ?
those great dark eyes that looked without fear or re-
proach abroad as the mountains look up to the hea-
vens : those eyes that spoke all his thoughts like a
lake rellecting the clouds ; that would be as
clear or as troubled as the weather, that were
a very mirror of the world around him. How
strong and square were the jaws, how boldly
carved the strong sensitive nose, how sensitive
the lips, how capable the forehead ! And his body
was built as statues were in the days of the old
Greeks, every muscle a history of action. It seems

118

ERIC.

fc /

an impertinence to ask how such a man was come
by : and indeed there was little in this instance
known. His mother was an Arthabasca squaw,
now very old, but once noble ; his father was var-
iously reputed to have been a Scotch Hudson's Bay
Factor, a Shetlander, and a Swede, who had gone
up to the Peace River trapping, and had married
the Arthabasca squaw aforesaid. But Eric had
come down to the South when a child, and the
woman, a widow ; had been trained by the Mis-
sionaries, who had been as fathers and more than
fathers to him ; and learned English and Cree in
his new surroundings, and an inveterate love of
the prairie. When his mind and body had barely
risen to a full growth he had been taken up into the
mountains by a party exploring for gold, and al-
though his nominal duty had been to tend the
horses, Eric had shown the instinct that prompts
old miners who are drawn to treasure as by a
magnet, and had won far greater gain than any
other of the party. But this did not spoil him,
but rather placed the lad on a level from which he
could see the true worth of money, and not as a
searcher after small and hard earned silver, over-
value it. Eric's mother was a thrifty woman, and
her cows and her ponies prospered and became fat,

ERIC.

119

raising her above need ; and being brought up
more among the bronchos than among boys, and
loving them far more than mere hiimans, the young
half-breed learned such riding as few men ever
attain ; and as they said vvrho hiied him on the
ranches, Eric could ride anything with hair on it-
But with all his gifts he was often moody and
fretful ; never unless among the most alluring
flowers and woodland was he content ; and he had
not recognized the real meaning of the consuming-
unrest that would never let him enjoy the goods
so ireely given to him, but longed with an unreas-
oning longing for something, he knew not what.
Often under the influence of this feeling, readily
mistaken for a craving for excitement, Eric com-
mitted excesses entirely unworthy of himself or
any other man ; and then, bothered with unap-
peased remorse, would sink into so sombre a con-
dition that even his old mother could scarcely
elicit a smile.

There is always one great question about such
a man : whether he will find scope for his endow-
ments and master some great art, or drift on
idly, bearing the rich freight of genius without
either helm or sail until a storm arise. This man
knew of no world to be famous in, he had no gifted

}■

120

ERIC.

sculptor to emulate, or soaring inspiration in stone,
or painting, or verse, or tongue to tell his thoughts,
but like the inarticulate speech of a horse or dog,
his gifted life found none to understand, and then
the storm came and it was too late.

There was one woman upon whom he could look
U) he did upon nature ; and in his quiet straight-
forward way he loved her. She was a Scotch
half-breed, an honest girl with a clean heart and a
clear head ; and she read his eves as her book of
late, and waited on patiently till he should speak.
*Somehow he never did; and she would often sit
down after he had left her, pondering in her sim-
ple heart w^hy he should speak so much with his
eyes, and yet his lips were silent ; just, she said, as
if he were afraid to speak. It was quite beyond
her little ken that men who will face a bullet or a
cinnamon bear, or anything else with an air of
certainty and decision about it, are scared to face a
real pure woman, as though more than an ordin
ary life depended on it — as there generally does.

The trouble came so easily, so naturally, that
nobody would have boded much ill therefrom ; it
was only that while Eric was away down south
during one of his moods, two lively young fillies

St
Cl

tl
tl
tl

af-
P
T
h(
re
^v
tl:

fii
tl
in
di
tl
w
fr

ERIC.

121

strayed into the widow's band of horses. The
crowd objected to the intrusion at first ; but really
the strang*er.s were so lively and agreeable that
they were unsuspiciously taicen into confidence on
the strength of their good Icioks — a thing often
they say disastrous among much wiser creatures
than horses

And it happened that these same horses were
described by Stokeson the great trader and rancher
as Having been stolen from the range ; and the
Police had been directed to look out for the thief.
The rancher's brand was recognised on two of the
horses in the widow's band ; and, Eric having
returned in such a manner as excited suspicion, he
was arrested for horse stealing, and thrown into
the guard room at the Barracks.

Moreover the lively young fillies gave no
further account of themselves than tho brands on
their quarters, and the widow's horses said noth-
ing to exculpate their young master ; so that in
due course Eric stood before the assize a felon, and
the Magistrate " made an example of him." So
was the young life wrecked, and ine priceless
freight destroyed in the great deep. And then the

122

ERIC.

w idow died of sorrow, and the woman he loved
was mute.

" Six years hard labour " it was like a winter
coming to freeze the young life out of the Spring.

Six years hard labour — well my bonnie lad'U
be forsaking is mad reckless ways the now, there
are no bray* tiger lilies in the lock-up— and its
just a lesson to the other lads not to be tearing
about after things that they can't ken, but just
stick to the good old honest plough and leave they
things to the lasses as don't know no better, for
what were good for their fathers is good enough
for they, and ye ken there was never no guid come
of knowing too much.

Perhaps the old fellows were right — wha
knows ?

Gaol might have served well enough for some
besotted wretch whose life was one craving for
drink, or a worthless rake who had squandered
honour and fortune ; it might hare saved the
country from a whiskey sneak, or a dirty ruffian,
or an immature lad ruined by evil thought ; but
humanity in the Fort, that had chaffed the half-
breed for his line clothee, sorrowed for the best

ERIC.

123

rider in the settlement, the bold lad whom they
had come to respect almost as much as a white
man, but who had been fool enough to steal horses,
and ass enough to be caught. Sterne, who lay in
the next cell, wondered at such a likely looking
young chap giving himself up without fighting ;
and, on that worst count in the indictment, doubt-
ed that perhaps after all he was not to be trusted
when the carpenter's brace and bit had severed the
two short sections of logs that barred him in. And
Sterne sat whistling to hide the noise of the tool ;
and pondered over the little piece of determined
inflexible steel that was boring its way to the out-
side world, only to be dragged back at the moment
it had reached the far side, to begin the escape all
over again with just as much energy, just as much
courage. The half-breed must surely be a fairly
good guide; he had been all his life wandering
about the country, and if he had stolen horses
before he would hardly object to gaining his free-
dom by doing so again. Sterne was not a man to
think without dtanite purpose, not a man to grasp
detail and not the whole. He was a man of re-
source, possessed of that rarest gift— executive abili-
ty. But why was such a man a prisoner ? Drink.

He had been an officer in the Imperial service^

324

ERIC.

and had fouj^ht in Egypt and South Africa; he
had been married when but a boy, and was now
a widower wath tw^o daughters at school in Edin-
borough, and a young son earning a living some-
where in the United States On leaving the Ser-
vice he had come with some little capital to Man-
itoba, and spent all the money at the outset pros-
pecting i.e., drinking. Perhaps, however, he had
done a little farming, which would more readily
account for his being ruined : for like all or nearly
all English emigrants of good birth, he was an ex-
cellent shot and a line rider, but utterly unfitted for
farming. When nearly destitute, Sterne had real-
ized the necessity ot getting to some place where
there was no liquor, and w^here employment was
to be had to keep him alive ; and took the only
apparent means of gaining these two ends by en-
listing in the Mounted Police. A fioldier by na-
ture and education, he would have readily attained
a good rank in the service, had the curse of drink
been really removed out of sight ; but it is a not-
able fact that prohibition is the strongest incentive
to disobedience, and whiskey at $5.00 a bottle is
not any more wholesome than the same at 40 cents
elsewhere, and as a matter of fact is given to

ERIC.

125

lOW

iin-
me-
er-
an-
os-
lad
lily
irly
ex-
for
eal-
lere
vas
qIv
en-
la-
led
ink

lOt-

ive

is
nts

freezing solid on winter nights, if it gets a chance
— which is not often.

So when Corporal Sterne had been invited by
letter to visit Capt. Brown, an old comrade, for the
purpose of enjoying three days fishing, and obtain-
ed a * pass ' for that purpose ; the upshot was that
he returned to barracks under the influence of
liquor, a day late, and when called to ' attention '
on the parade ground, grossly insulted the Com-
manding Ofhcer. He was reduced to the ranks,
given seven days imprisonment, and deprived of
all prospect of further promotion for some years la
come. Feeling thoroughly disgusted and asham-
ed, Sterne, at the expiration of his sentence desert-
ed, with a view to obtaining some better scoi^e for
his energies in another country ; but was captur ?d
before reaching the frontier, and given nine months
imprisonment with hard labour.

It w^as thas that at the time that Eric was
imprisoned, Lawrence Sterne was slowly and steal-
thily cutting out the way to freedom wuth a brace
and bit through the log wall of his cell. More
prisoners v/ere brought in shortly afterwards, and
it became necessary owing to the crowded state of
the Guardhouse to place another man in the same

126

ERIC.

cell with Sterne ; but the Sergeant Major kindly
oll'ered him his choice among several as to who
should be his companion. Sterne had now no
hesitation in deciding that Eric should share his
plan of escape, and named the young half-breed,
who was accordingly quartered with him until
the whole batch should be shipped to the more
commodious prisons at Regina and Stony Mountain.
That night the two men of such opposite nature
and origin sat amicably together on the floor of
the cell, the one working steadily with the brace
and bit, while the other masked the noise with a
^ong.

The last hole was bored, and a good strong
blow administered to the loose logs at a time when
some men coming in ofl" ' pass ' alter " Lights Out,"
were making a noise in the Cxuard Eoom. The
prisoners crawled out through the aperture and
quietly replaced the logs without being discover-
ed; and once outside, keeping well away from the
lantern carried by the picquet on his rounds, they
crawled from cover to cover, now along a fence,
anon under the shadow of a building, until, un-
discovered, they reached the open country, and set
off On the main trail southward at a jood swing-
ing pcce, that, kept up through the long hours

ERIC.

127

that followed, brought them early next morning"
to a ' stopping place ' at least thirty miles on their
way to the frontier.

Both men were well known to the keeper of
the place, who gave them water to wash off' the
dust of the trail ; r breakfast to make them feel
strong" again ; beds for a short rest ; and enough
whiskey to make them feel cheerful for the re-
mainder of the day. It was near noon when they
sat at the table in the rough kitchen that occu-
pied the ground lloor, taking a final drink of whis-
key, and packing up some provisions for their
future requirements. The country had been scann-
ed carefully all round a minute or so before, and
there had been no travellers in sight ; but suddenly
the sharp tramp of horses fell on their ears ; and,
before they had time to pass the only door, two
Government revolvers were pointing in their dir-
ection, while Sergeant Irving uttered the conven-
tional formula of arrest : "Thumbs up !"

"Well I'll be hanged ! "

" Yoa piebiters — why the

couldn't you have lit out w^hile you w^ere

about it — Why the blazes did you stay here ? Why
half the Troop's been on your tracks."

■«..,,.

128

ERIC.

" Oh well it all comes of rnnuing around loose
doesn't it old chap Come Eric it's no use sulking
about it anyway. When did you find out we had
skipped Irving?" , .

Why when they unlocked the cells this morn-
ing. There lay your blankets that old Calker had
taken 'check roll ' of three times during the night
— and he says that he'll be eternally jiggered if
he ever takes stock of a prisoner's blankets again
without seeing the whole scalp. How did you
come by the tools anyhow Sterne ? I must say
you did pretty well for a coyote." . - ;:; ,

" Eric old man " said Sterne " you needn't be
standing there I'ke a wet day thinking profane
swears — that's downright wicked. Come on you
fellows and have a drink before we report for duty
to old " Serious Offence " (the Officer Command-
ing.) So the Sergeant and Constable Evans, gen-
orali^ known as the Shavetail, so far neglected
their duty as to have a couple of drinks before
proceeding to more serious business ; and more
over, when Sterne proposed to show the crowd a
new trick with cards while their host was harness-
ing up his team, Sergeant Irving, who was too
good a follow to make a good gaoler, consented. -

ERIC.

120

The four stood together over the table in the
middle of the room ; Sterne in the progress of the
trick requested Irving to select a card from a pile
on the table, and at the same moment administer-
ed a sharp kick to Eric, which, with a quiet
glance, placed him on the alert ; Eric standing to
the left of the Shavetail whipped out the latter's
revolver from the open holster at his side, and pre-
sented it at the owner's head; as Irving picked up
the card he received a stunning blow behind the
ear, and turned to receive a second between thi;
eyes that laid him on the floor stunned ; the Shave-
tail turning towards Eric, the latter jammed the
revolver against his forehead and backed him slow-
ly against the wall. A sharp whistle from Sterne
brought the keeper of the place on the scene ; and
Sterne, quietly winking to him, drew the revolver
from Irving's holster as he knelt on his chest ; and,
presenting it at the host's head, bade him ou pain
of death to procure some ropes. The latter, real-
ising that Sterne had used compulsion to save him
from getting into trouble afterwards, procured
lopes with which the unfortunate policemen were
firmly bound.

130

ERIC.

" Sorry to cause you any annoyance old man,"
said Sterne, as he bound Irving hand and foot,
" but discipline must be maintained in all military
affairs. Beastly mean I know — but then you see
it feels still meaner to be locked up during the
first flush of youth, particularly to an orphan like
me. Tell old " Serious Offence," with my compli-
ments, to go to blazes. So long, old man ; ^ur
good host will turn you loose when I am far
away, and he can put up the drinks at the expense
of my back pay if he likes. Farewell !"

And Sergeant Irving and the Shavetail had the
satisfaction of hearing the retreating footfalls of
their horses, the voices laughing as the outlaws
rode away, and the condolences of the host as he
cut them loose and set up the drinks.

ERIC.

131

CHAPTER II.

There was no wind ; and the sun blazed down
upon the prairie, casting deep shadows under the
poplars ; and, flashing along the little lakes beside
the trail, showed as in a mirror the rippled -wakes
of convoys of young ducks under escort ot the
stately old birds, who sailed about teaching their
families how to bridle and courtsey, to dive, and
to oil their plumage properly to keep out the wet.
There stood a solitary sandhill crane on the rank
borders of a mere, a very sad bird with an aggrieved
but subdued look, as though he were contemplat-
ing the grave of a rich aunt, whose legacies had
gone astray. The rabbits were out paying their
calls just like humans, and thankfully leaving a
card when the victim was not at home. The
gophers upon the little hflls close by w^ere perched
on their lookout stations trembling at imaginary
dangers, and darting down to the lower regions
now and anon to see that the house was really
safe, with no tramps, or fires, or children, up to mis-
chief in their absence. Safe under cover was a

132

ERIC.

silver fox, very much concerned lest his hundred
dollar coat should find its way to a market ; and
his wife and family were in the vicinity safe at
home.

The position of the fox afforded a view for some
miles down the main trail, which was bordered
here and there with rose bushes, it being a long
grass country, and much broken with gopher holes
and stones. From his cool shelter he observed a
spot in the far distance resolve into two horsemen.
The horses were tortured with flies, galled with
the saddles, hot, dirty, and uncomfortable, convinc-
ed that the whole affair was a put up job for their
annoyance ; and the riders felt not a whit move
cheerful, for they were tired, thirsty, and as surly
as bears — if bears are surly, which is doubtful.
Altogether the outfit looked and felt so quarrelsome
and unhappy that the fox actually turned away
with a smile, as he sought some cooler spot, and
left Sterne and Eric to pursue their glad w^ay to
freedom.

Their long ride brought them after several
days to a frontier town in Montana where they
wisely handed the property they had borrowed
from the Canadian Government to the United

ERIC.

183

States Authorities, thus escaping all difficulties
about extradition. Both men readilv obtained
employment at a rather wild construction camp on
the Northern Pacific Railway, then being cons-
tructed ; and Eric saw the steam horse and the
railway carriages for the first time. They were by
this time fast friends, and kept together as much
as possible to the surprise of the crowd, who
could not understand a man like Sterne living and
chumming with a copper coloured half-breed.
While they were smoking together one evening
they talked of the future ; and Eric turned the
whole discussion on his friend's aftairs. Sterne
said he didn't care a hang either way, but intend-
ed in future to give up civilized life for that of the
frontier, and enjoy life while it lasted ; nor could
the other turn him from his purpose. Sterne said
he would not disgrace his daughters in England ;
who, with some provision he had left for them,
were far more likely to live well, than with his
evil influence and vile habits constantly before
them.

" No Eric," he said, " I'm pretty bad I knovr,
but I'm not so far gone as that. Let the girls go

134

ERIC.

out into life and learn to stand alone — if they can-
not stand firm on the lessons that their poor mother
taught them what good could I do. Oh Eric, if it
were not for this great curse that is on all our
white race, this thirst, this craving, I might have
been — I might have — Oh Hell! what am I gett-
ing off ! What are you going to do with yourself
old man?"

" I am going back."

"Going back! What, are you losing your
wits man ?

" Yes, I think I am ; there seems something
coming down like the darkness over me, seme-
thing that I can't fight off at all. You ar«^ my bro-
ther here — I know I am only a breed, not white
like you, but we have got herded together some-
how, and you're my elder brother — Don't laugh at
me. T am different from the rest : I came from the
far North, no-one knows where, and I was kept
apart among the horses, and haven't so much sense
perhaps. Well I couldn't farm, for I hate work
like all the other Indians I suppose ; but could do
nothing but look after the horses. You know

ERIC.

135

there was something I had that no-one else had ;
and I think that this trouble when they aaid I
was a thief took away that thing I had. You se<>
I am not fit to work with you white men , i can't
own a store or be a soldier, so I will go back,
I want to go to my girl, or I think I shall be what
they call mad."

And from that time the half breed saved every
dollar that he earned by his work that was not
needed for his food or tobacco ; but neither did
he speak again of his plans or of himself in the
slightest way to his chum. But while the half-
breed laid by money, the white man drank, played
cards, and shared largely in the mischief of the
camp, making boon companions of the worst ruffi-
ans, and vying with them in his excesses. After
some time Eric bought a horse from his savings,
a young broncho ; and proceeded to break him to
the saddle, telling Sterne that this was to take him
across to Canada ; and Sterne, moved by the devo-
tion of the other, vowed that he would ride mile
for mile back with him if it cost him his life.
Although the half-breed laughed at the empty
promises, from that time forward some gleams of

136

ERIC.

light came to him, and he was visited at night
by dreams, But still over his whole life there
seemed to be a shadow, some loss of self control,
dark moods, and signs of madness.

Sterne had at this time a run of luck, and his
gains over a certain rather noted gambler roused
that dirty rufhan to a sneaking revenge. The man
waylaid Sterne one night after play was over ; and
Eric, roaming about in one of his bad moods, came
by chance upon him, and, puzzled by his actions,
remained silently watching in the rear. Then
Sterne passed that way returning homeward ; and
Eric, seeing the purpose of murder, cried out as
the desperado fired, causing him to miss ; and
then, as the trigger clicked for a second shot and
Sterne was unprepared, Eric committed murder in
his friend's defence, and the man fell dead before
him. _

Here came a crisis in their affairs ; and gather-
ing what money they had, Eric taking his own
horse, and the other stealing one, they escaped
from the camp before the murder was discovered,
and the vigilantes at large ; and made with all
speed for the Canadian boundary.

ERIC.

137

'e
1.

is
d
11
d

s,
n
d
is
d
d
n
e

1,
1

So these two rode on together northward,
keeping almost unbroken silence, travelling by an
unfrequented route, making their marches during
the cool nights, and often suffering much from
hunger. Once or twice Sterne proposed that they
she aid seek the main trail, and take to the road
I iding up mail stages and travellers for a living,
an enterprise then almost unknown in Canada.
But to these suggestions his friend, little claim as
civilization had upon him, paid no attention what-
ever. The Autumn was very hot, and the smoke
of prairie fires was to be seen in all parts of the
horizon. Towards the end of their journey a strong-
wind sprang up from the northward bringing
down a great fire directly towards them on both
sides of the trail. Although Sterne showed signs
of alarm, and wanted to seek safety in-flight, Eric
rode on straight at the fire ; and, on Sterne continu-
ing to protest, told him that he was a coward.
Sterne, nettled by the other's taunts, rode abreast ;
and it was only after the horses had passed with a
slight singing over the barrier, and had eased their
minds with a tearing gallop afterwards, that Eric
condescended to inform his companion that he
must be a tenderfoot to be rattled at a prairie fire

138

ERIC.

in short grass. From that time Eric possessed a
certain influence over the white man, who rode
with him into the settlement where had been his
home without showing further signs of anxiety. '

When at last they reached the SaeVatchewan ;
a secure camp was made in some bush by the
river side ; and at the close of the day Eric went
down to the bank to wait hidden among the trees
by a path, until the woman he loved should pass.
She came in the cool of the evening for water, and
passed silently by. Once Menie had been used to
run lightly down the bank, and her voice in the
old days to ring merrily through the woodlands ;
but now she walked, and in silence. Eric strode
out into the path when she had gone; and,
taking the sash from his waist, made of it the rude
figure of a heart, and returned to his shelter.
Menie came slowly up the path, and the shape
lay before her. Then she left the pails, and ran
and lifted up the »ash, and raised it high above
her head, and cried aloud for joy. So Eric knew
that she loved him.

The water was brought to the house verv late,
disgracefully late, that evening.

essed a
10 rode
)een hi&
xiety.

hewan ;

by the
c went
he trees
,d pass,
ter, and
used to

in the
dlands ;
c strode
? ; and,
he rude
shelter.
e shape
md ran
. above
c knew

3rv iate,

ERIC. 130

When the stars were out Eric came back to
the bivouac, where sat JSterne smoking by the fire.

"Well lad— what news?"

" She loves me."

" Why of course she does if she has any taste.
But how about the live stock ?"

" Stolen."

" Naturally, but who stole them ?"

•' Menie says titokeson did."

" Yes ? And he charged you with the theft
of his two horses, and got you into all this trouble
—Oh most virtuous Stokeson how I long to wring
thy gentle neck ! "

" I am going for my cattle. Sterne, will you
help me ?"

'' Aye, that I will."

Late as the hour was the two men were
presently in the saddle, and pursuing a half per-
ceptable trail in the direction of Stokeson's house.

In all the settlement this man was most

[ 1 ft

140

ERIC.

sincer 'ly hated. Rich in lands and mortgages,
esteemed by the authorities, of unexceptionable
decency aud credit, a regular attendant at church,
]\Ir. Stokeson was reviled as a usurer, a sneak, and
a sycophant ; was reputed to shamefully rob the
Government in his large contracts; and to deal
with a heavy hand with the merchants by under-
selling, and with the farmers by payments for
crops in trade instead of cash, and by mortgages.
This amiable gentleman was slandered concerning
undue percentages, bribes, and secret drunken-
ness, and all the most dreadf il and unheard of
inic,uities; and even the very respectable ladies
of the missions agreed that he certainly was no
better than he should be.

When this victim of the vulgar mob of un-
believers was refused credit for his good citizen-
ship in ridding the com^ lunity of a horse thief; and
on tho unfortunate death of the criminal's mother,
for taking good care, with the sanction of authori-
ty, of the orphan's heritage ; but was called bad
names, and his magnanimous conduct termed mur-
der and robbery ; no wonder that the poor gen-
tleman's feelings received a severe shock — no

ERIC.

141

wonder he became disgusted with the ingratitudo
of the people.

As he sat this night in his study, the house-
hold long ago retired, and brooded over his vir-
tues and sins of other people , a knock was heard
at the door of the room, and there stood the orphan
before him. Although the outlaw carried no arms,
his visit was certainly formidable at that time of
night ; and in great agitation the merchant reach-
ed for a gun, saying in a trembling voice "' Go
away — er — Go away !"

Eric begged him to be calm; and quietly
stated that before leaving the country he had
come to thank him for taking care of his property ;
and would now receive it back from him, to give
it to the girl who was to have been his wife, and
who was so poor.

The merchant couldn't think of handing over
to an outlaw property held by him in trust for the
Government.

At this Eric whistled softly, and a revolver
was placed in his hand from behind, while a
masked man took his place at his side, and both

I t

142

ERIC.

levelled on Mr. Stokeson's irreproachable waist-
coat. After being quieted by a hint, the gentle-
man was then ordered to taka pen and paper, and
write at dictation ; and, shortly afterwards, thanks
to Sterne's slight acquaintance wuth the forms of
conveyancing, the two outlaws left the house
bearing with them a deed duly completed, resign-
ing all claim to Eric's property in cattle, land,
and chattels, and an ample security both for resti-
tution and subsequent good conduct.

Thus the ungrateful and malignant youth
robbed his benefactor, against whom all the un-
godly evil minded public sat in judgment, simply
because it was jealous and hated his honest gains.
Even if he tried to gain redress for his wrongs
they would all turn against him and side with
the robbers, and then he would never get his
long desired seat in the Council. They were all a
pack of thieves anyhow, and deserved to be cheat-
ed for siding against law and justice ; aye and the
virtuous Mr. Stokeson would see that they got
their deserts too — all of them.

On the following night the two men sat by
their fire in the woods, the bright flames lighting

ERIC.

143

up their arms and the pleasant colours of their
western dress as they talked.

" Sterne, I must tell you what I did today.
You know the old lawyer Eccleson who used to
be HO kind to me — I took Stokeson's deed to him,
and told him how we pfot it. It was perfectly
safe with him, and he laughed all the time, ard
said that it was quite binding, and he would i.»-
gister it. Then I got him to make out a paper by
which I give Menie Mother's farm, and all the
stock, and the house. I had just made a letter to
Menie to say good-bye when the police caught on
to the racket, and I had to skip out. I suppose
they must be scouring the whole country by this
time, but I set them off on the wrong scent, and
they will never catch on to this cache, so near the
barracks.

" Do you know, Sterne, that since we came
home my wits are keener than they ever were
before, and I seem to have got back that thing I
had before the trouble came— What is it — you
must know."

"My lad, its the greatest thing in the world-

144

ERIC.

the thing that makes Statesmen, Artists, Engineers,.
Poets, Sculptors: that makes them remembered
when the cities and even countries they lived in
are forgotten — Genius."

"And have 1 this great gift ? This is what
makes the hulls of the herd, the chiefs, the — Oh
Sterne this is not lost — this gift is me, and I shall
be immortal — Genius cannot die with the body —
no — no — no !

"Sterne, I am ^oing away tonight, and we
shall never run in harness together again. Will
you be angry at what I am going to say."

"No, why r

"Because you are a proud Englishman. You
came all this way to help me ; and now we must
part, and I want to help you. Don't think that
because I am a half-breed I am blind. You
English have brought us Laws, and comfort, and
Religion, and everything that makes us better than
the poor 'nitchies' who you have ruined. If you
hadn't brought disease and death they would have
worshipped you as gods ; but I doubt our people
and even the Indians see things hidden from you

neers^
ibered
ed ill

what
5— Oh

shall
Ddy—

d we
Will

You
must
: that
You
t, and
r than
If you
[ have
people
n you

/ i ,1 • f.'' l^' -^> f

wm^^

ERIC.

145

ll,>..n\

'1 =

;

■C

with all your wisdom. Your civilization has made
your senses numb so that you don't see, or smell,
or hear, or feel, half as strongly as we do.

" Bodies are houses in which men live ; and
wise men will keep them strong and good — What
do you think of a man who pulls down the walls
of his house, and sets it on fire, or makes it even
dirty and uncomfortable — A lunatic ? But that
is what you do with drink. What will happen
when the house is in ruins, and you have to face
the blizzards, and the hot sun, and the rain, with-
out shelter ?

" And then a man without honour is a tree
without leaves, a useless stump cut down for the
camp fire. Why have you stripped off" the leaves,
and the blossom, and even the fruit of your fine
tree ? What is the use of being a white man if you
steal? Sterne, you must return that horse you
stole in Montana — No man ever gained by theft.

" I do not know how I dare talk like this to
you — perhajis it is because I see ahead a time when
I shall stop doing wrong if the Great Grod will.
It is very bitter to look back and see one's trail all
mire and muskeg with even stains of blood. Oh
how I would warn you !

]

146

ERIC.

" This advice is but the idle running of a
stream ; but what is water to those who thirst,
Sterne ? Your Great Chief, Christ, gives us water ;
and if we drink it we shall live forever. This is
the Great Medicine for every man's want.

" But the future is as dark as these woods for
lis, because we have done wrong. I think you
had better go to Manitoba as we said, and give
yourself up to a Magistrate, which will get you off'
with a fine for desertion ; and you will be able to
face the world again. 7 shall never be able to
come ba^k. The lawyer said my only show is to
appeal to a higher court. Take these to Menie for
me, or leave them where I said — I can't break it
to her myself. The letter is to tell her to marry
an honest man. Be a brother to her when you are
free — oh how I wish you might be more than a
brother ^^ her !

"Gi Sterne, you must beware — you have
wrecke ' ^ our body, deserted your children, cast
away your honour — you have done wrong : and to
do wrong is to dare Judgment."

" I almost think the day is breaking Sterne —
a light shines in upon the woods. Good-bye."

g
ri

ERIC.

147

! (

The woodlands opened their arms, and the
great river spread out wide into a lake, calm, deep,
and still. And as the trees looked down upon the
mere ; and, framed in the shadow of the night, be-
gan to see their pictures far below, a man strode
down into the waters, and cast his breast upon the
deep. His arms washed back the sparkling waters ;
the ripples followed in his wake, and murmured
back upon tlie shore ; and above, and lingering
still among the trees, the white mists hovered
gently over all. Prophesy was in the air, and
wakened w4th the voices of the birds to say new
life was come. The moments were shadows of
coming glory ; the mists an incense ; the river a
path of silver, then of gold — And ere the great
light burst upon the world, the man had carried
an appeal far past his kind, beyond the clouded
gates of the morning, beyond the majesty of the
rising sun, on — on — beyond Time, beyond night —
even to the tribunal of the Last Day, to the pre-
sence of the Most High God.

The Death of Wakuzza.

FROM THE "CATHOLIC EECORD."

In the year 1795, a Hudson Bay Co'a Factor, named MoAIpine, was sent
with a party of Athabasca Indians to explore the remotest parts of the
valley of the Mackenzie River ; and, when several hundred miles north
ot any known habitation of man, a snow shoe track was discovered. As-
tonished at what appeared supernatural, the party examined the marks
with great care, and pronounced them to be the tracks of a woman of the
Dog ribbed tribe— the bitter enemies of the Athabascas. The track was
followed for some days along the banks of the Red Deer River, and ulti-
mately they discovered a hut in a little grove of spruce trees. A squaw
was fonnd therein, a Dogrib woman, and of marvellous beauty. Her
story was as follows : Some years before she had, while on a hunting ex-
pedition, been taken prisoner by a party of Athabascas, her husband and
two babies being murdered. She became the slave, and ultimately the
wife of her captor ; and Uvea long on the banks of the Lesser Slave Lake.
Finally in the spring time, she escaped with a canoe, and wandered many
hundred miles in search of her people ; but finding that there was no
hope of being restored to them, she had built a ehanty in the woods, and
lived by snaring animals for her fcod and dress. Her heroic endurance,
and splendid courage, alone enabled her to o3capo the perils to which 8ht>
had been expcised ; and now, when recaptured by the enemies of her
people, she was found surrounded by all the comforts known to the In-
dians. After telling her sad story, the woman threw herself upon the
white Chief's generosity, and was brutally repulsed. The Indians then
wrestled for her, and the victor claimed her as his slave. What followed
is told in her own words, forming; the subject of the following verses :

Shadows of night ! Terrors of death about me !
A slave to foes, the arch foes of my nation !
I, the poor hart that lapp'd the springs of Freedom
When I escaped the thraldom of my captors,

THE DEATH OF WAKUZZA.

149

When I escaped the bondage of my masters,
"When that I fled from their detested lodges —
Why did I live to be again their victim ?

Long, a?d at peace I dweiu amid these forests ;
And the Good Spirit all my wants provided — •
Gave me the rabbits captured by my snaring,
And the soft furs to warm my hut in winter ;
Nearer the regions of eternal winter
Than any came, or ever dared before me.

Oh ye damp Swamps — weep your sad fevers for me !
And rest my woes, River, on thy bosom —
Mountains and Winds echo my wail of sorrow !
Far from my home — far from the joyous prairie ;
Shades of my fathers — Chieftains of my people —
Ere the dark tent of night shall hide my slumber —
Ere that 1 sink forever in the darkness —
Hear the lament, the anguish of Wakuzza !

From thy cold breasts, Earth, I suck oblivion,

Borne to the earth by my dark fate's pursuance.

Ere I shall pass forever into silence —

Ere by my death I save the last possession,

And the great gift and medicine of mine honour —

Leap up for once my dying fires to splendour —

End thou in blazing prophesy my Spirit !

Shall the lone widow cry in vain for vengeance
Over her husband's blooU, and slaughtered children ?
W^idowed from home, ana all that makes lite welcome,
Widowed of all good things, but of the falchion
That must needs lap my full breasts of their life-blood !

From cold and hunger ever was I guarded,

I dwelt at peace with Nature, and she loved me.

When did the sun or stars or tempests harm me '?

'ii

! ti

150 THE DEATH OF WAKUZZA.

What trees or floods were waiting for to slr.y me ?
Who e'er, but coward Man, made war on Woman t

Shall yon d' 'k Mov tal ;s list, and unavengiug,
Still roll loii f 'ht ■* C13 oown the hidden canyons,.
When all the l'l.^int^ ihall cry aloud for vengeance.
For that a woi' n Tj b'ood was cast upon them ?
Nay, all the Eatih shfc' rm her to avenge me ;.
Nor the red lap of murder rest her children !

And as I die, as ye shall see me perish.

Ye too shall die, and pass into the Silence ;

Ncr death, nor penance ever shall avail ye.

Beware — ye base relentless Athabasoas !

I see your bones are white beneath the sunlight —

I see your Nation rotting from the daytime —

And such a frightful Death as yet you know not

Shall flap his wings in triumph o'er your women —

So all the dead are foul upon the prairie ;

And all your Tribe rot down into oblivion !

And thou White Chief — because there is no pity

In thy cold heart, thou, like you pallid snowdrift,

Shalt find no rest from tempests of afiliction ;

And cold relentless blizzards drift four lifetime.

Until you, yearning to lie down and slumber.

Shall plead in vain ; for the wild wind shall mock you.

And never shall you know the warmth of pity

To melt away your sorrows in the Springtime !

Ye laugh because ye see I am defenceless —

Because I cannot e'en outstrip your arrows,

Or garrison the fortress of my virtue

Against your lusts ! And yet your blinded fury —

The very keenness of your bad desires

Left me a road — a broad road to escape you !

Behold, Chief — the slave you scorn despise you ;

THE DEATH OF WAKUZZA. 151

Behold my suitors— I, the wrestler's guerdon
Have blood to seal and ratify our nuptuals 1

(Stabs herself.)

Now shall my shadow haunt ye, until Vengeance
Shall thunder down the judgments of the Highest,
As avalanches on yon riven Mountains—
So shall your bad deeds make your souls accursed
And the Great Spirit blast you to Destruction !

BUCK STANTON

'ANVERS, how would this shirt fit you old
man ? "

" Don't ask me Tom, I've given up buckskin
years ago."

" Come on — try it as a special favour to me —
I would like to see you in a man's dress."

So for once he took off his black clerical coat
as we sat smoking by the log fire, and put on the
shirt of buckskin. The soft rich colour was flushed
in the fire-light, the fringes fell gracefully over his
shoulders, and though the wavy hair was turned
grey, and the bronzed skin was now pale, and the
worn face looked stern, I saw the light of the
prairies come back into his grey eyes, and my heart
vv^ent out to the fair brave face and the priest in
the man's dress.

" And what on earth made you a Mission-
ary ? "

" Whv the G-race of God to be sure."

" But how ? Do you always lock up your
heart like one of these Jesuits d'Anvers ? "

P
k

]'•
o.

hi
ai
tl]
th
b(
tlj
ol
to
kr
ba
on
nc
dr

BUCK STANTON.

153

*' I'll tell you how I became a parson. I hope
you won't laugh at me for being sentimental.

" It is some years sinoe I was out for a winter
trapping around the foot hills of the Rockies and
Selkirks; and just when the winter let up after a
poor season, I struck gold, and it was so rich I
kept on washing all summer ; and late in the fall
1 took my pile of 'dust' and the peltry from the
winter's work, down to Fort Calgary, which was
only a Hudson's Bay Post at the time. Well it was
just after the "round up" on the ranches, and a lot
of 'cow punchers' were up at the Fort painting
things red. You know that the Company used to
have rum and old brandy that beat f»i creation ;
and I was in the store drinking with the crov/d
the first night until I had had considerably more
than was good for me. Some of the 'boys' were
beginning to get pretty noisy, but nothing out of
the way happened until one of the fellows, a very
old hand, "set 'em up" with extra ceremony, and
to my horror one of the crowd refused to drink. I
knew at once that there would be a scene, and
backed round to where Buck Stanton was sitting
on a tub with his arms folded, perfectly sober, and
not the least bit sulky, but refusing to touch a
drop of liquor because he "wanted to give his

154

BUCK STANTON.

whole pile to the 'old woman' at home, and wasn't
bumming around for free drinks." Drunk as I
was at the time, there was something about that
chap that made mo feel ashamed of myself, he seem-
ed such a fine fellow sitting there — and I deter-
mined to take his part. Buck was a very hand-
some man, with clear blue eyes, and wonderful
long silky hair worn down his back, as those fel-
lows do wear it, they say to make their sight
better.

" Well, the man who wanted to treat felt in-
sulted, and he declared it was to be a matter of
drink or fight — and it en^d as I had feared in
shooting, about the only case I ever heard of on
this side of the line. The aggressor must have
been too drunk to take aim, and Buck's bullet
went clear through the other's brain. That sober-
ed me, and I came to Buck's defence as the whole
mob set on him ; and after a few minutes I got
him safely out of a side door, and we made for
the river with the whole crowd after us.
The sudden change to the fresh air must have
made them feel the effects of the liquor more,
for they were too drunk to follow very rapidly,
and we gained the river bank some way ahead of

BUCK STANTON.

155

them. At the point on the bank to which Buck
led we found a little canoe only large enongh for
one.

'* I remember most vividly how his blue eyes
looked down into mine, and he said hurriedly
' Stranger, I'm winged, can't paddle worth a damn
anyway — get in quick and take this letter to my
Mother — and God bless you, stranger. Shake ! '

" I remember shaking hands with him, taking
a heavy letter which I found afterwards in my
shirt, shoving off the canoe, pushing out across the
stream, dodging a shower of bullets.

" And then I stood on the other bank free —
and there was Buck Stanton in the dusk daring
the crowd to come on — and then he fell !

" Didn't it seem shameful for me to be stand-
ing there safe, a coward, while that brave man
lay dead ? Fancy a man who faced certain death
rather than that his widowed mother should be
without the t vings of a year's hard work on the
ranches. Didn t it seem beastly mean of me to be
drinking my brains away when I could be the
means of bringing purer and more perfect life to
dozens of those fine fellows, who stained their

156

BUCK STANTON.

hands with blood only because they had never
had teachers to tell them of better things, and to
show them by example that manliness and Chris-
tianity are one Gospel.

" I may not have been wearing a man's clothes
these last few years old fellow, but that is the
reason I became a Missionary."

And as he finished and sat by the glowing
pine logs that lit up the cabin of the Mission, the
door from the cold winter outside opened, and a
man stood in the shanty with his fur cap in his
hand ; and the fire-light streamed over him, and
flooded with glory the wavy hair that fell, spark-
ling with fresh fallen snow, over his shoulders.
And the fire-light shone on bold blue eyes ; and
the parson looked up from his reverie, and stood
before his visitor silent. Then he found voice to
speak, striding forward :

" Are you come from the dead ? Speak — Buck
Stanton — Speak !"

" No lad, they aint found out how to plug this
chicken yet — Did you give my letter to the Old
Woman ? You did ? Say, you're a man stran-
ger—Shake !"

"LIGHTS OUT!"

FROM THE TORONTO " WEEK."

The sentry challenged at the open gate,

Who pass'd him by, because the hour was late —

" Halt ! Who goes there ?"— " A friend."—*'
well."

" A friend, old chap !" — a friend's farewell,
And I had pass'd the gate.

And then the long last notes were shed,

The echoing call's last notes were dead —
And sounded sadly as I stood without
Those last sad notes of all : " Lights out !"

All's

" Lights out

Farewell, companions ! We have side by side
vVatch'd history's lengthen'd shadows past us glid
And worn the scarlet, laughed at pain,
And buried comrades lowly lain,

And let the long years glide ;
And toil and hardship have we borne,
And followed where the fliig had gone —
But all the echoes answ'ring round about
Have bidden you to sleep : " Lights out !"

" Lights out

And never more for me the helmet'^ flash,
The trumpet's summons — Oh the crumbling ash
Of life is hope's fruition : Fall
The wither 'd friendships, and they all

Are sleeping ! Fast away
The fabrics of our lives decay,
And change unseen and melt away —
Aye, perish like the accents of a call,
Like those last notes of all : " Lights out !"

" Lights out

THE WILDERI^ESS.

THE LAURENTIDES.

FR.OM THE " CATHOLIC REVIEW, TORONTO.

Of olol men dream \1, and dream'd, and still do dream^
Of wonder lances and strange and vast ex{ anr-es

Amid unbalanced splendours and void planes,
In awful heights of space and lonely silence,

Who peopled witb imaginary life
The wide horizons of their ghostly vision ;

Whose senses, opon'd in huge solitude,
The human hearing taste and sight transcending,

Became the lenses of angelic sense
Unlimited. Far mightier spectacles

Than those of dreams has Nature; larger realms,
Had men the gift to see them in their fulness ;

But lust is as a film upon their eyes —
Were men not moles, whose habitudes of darkness

Make dim the needless vision of the soul.

Behold the mighty Laurontides, Could Slumber,

Within the proscenea of our dreams,
Build such a scene as this ? Could even Blindnef s
Sit unastounded ? Mark these utmost bounds —

23. The barren wastes, that chill cold Labrador,

The voiceless terrors of the Polar seas,
The thunder riven mountains of the West,
And, to the South, transcontinental fields
Of sunlit prairie, and the mighty lakes,

Oft. Whose stormy capes and sad-hued battlements

Defy the ceaseless menace of the waves.

ream

IS,

-ij

»»

85.

40.

45.

THE LAURENTIDES. 161

Laurentia ! Superb Laurentia !
The rude Norse gods, or hoary Jove, or Vulcan,

Could not have breathed thy native atmosphere —
Child of primeval violence gigantic —

Life's very father — ol^ at History's birth,

Untutored by the wisdom of decline
Of thesi^^ast bland, creations — whom the sunlight
Found a^^d, and the swarming seas in wondev
Beheld unpeopled. Where the forest herbage

Upon the savage rocks could find no home—
Laurentia 1 In thy rude leagues there dwelleth

(ireat Desolation throned upon the heights, .

Whose guarded boundaries of massy ice-fields,

And rivers turbulent, and forest wiids, • ,

Forbid the access of our gentle age j ; '.

And, better fit for Scandinavian heroes,

Cyclopian dwellings, and titanic war,
Seem haunted by the ghosts of vanish'd ages,. ' ,•■;

Whose warfares rent the silver-veined hills, /v

And in the rudest wastes wrought worse destruction. "'■

Whence came this eldest of the Earth's formations-

Of her fecund womb by eruption born ?
Like molten glass from the red cruciV»le,
60. Shot prematurely to the clouded air

In weird, pre solar gloom ? Nay, it was w-tsted

From the primaeval hills in glitt'ring s^and,
And pour'd by long-forgotten rivers downward

Into a steaming, cyf lone-stricken sea,
66. To lie for ages on the Ocean's bosom.

Uplifted lust from the abysmal deep,
And menacing the sultry firmanent.

The moun ain sides were delicately 'graved
And lasliion'd by the patient sculptor Water,
60. Whos ' sensitive and watchful fingers wrought,

Arm'd with tli' unyielding chisel of the ice,
With glacier, avalanche, and boist'rous torrent ;

,.r

162

THE LAUKENTIDES.

Who, on the architecture of the world,
Carved deep the mountain's haughty lineaments,
Qa, And made mosaics in the ample plains,

And bas-reliefs of sculptured history
To tell Mankind the story of the world.

While other lands were plunged beneath the sea,
And isles submerged rose to the air of heaven,
70, And restless Change inhabited the world,

Kneading the clay that should be moulded Man
In afier ages ; while broad waters swarm'd
With life innumerable both small and great ;
And rivers, lakes, and fields brought forth their kind,
75. And Nature bore all to their destined graves,

And stamped their forms as seals upon the rocks —
Seals to the bond whereby all creatures die —
Laurentia in dreamless slumber lay ;
And Change, before her uninvaded shores,
to. Beat on the shingled precient of her sleep.

And, like a wave, recoiled. Vast Laurentides,
In all hy first barbaric state sequestrate

From lesser, trivial, and more changeful times,
Eude, with uncultured, unembarass'd greatness —
86 No garden for a petty mind's contentment,

With measured littleness iu order ranged —
But like the sombre, half- voiced forest.

Peopled with startled echo, awesome shapes ;
Where wand'ring shafts of sunlight gild the leaves,
90. And wand'ring thoughts illuminate the mind ;

Where every * ree should teach Mankind of greatness :
To rear life's . races on a broad-based column
Of virtuous years, to cast a wide protection
And hospitality o'er gentler beings,
96, To live in goodly neighbourhood with all men,
And lift a brave face to the changeful sky.

Yet has age softened these austere cjld \vild8.

lao

125,

180.

THE LAURENTIDES.

163

100.

106.

uo.

That are not void of Earth's most gentle tenants,
Whose breasts, in these inhospitable wilds,

Would else be childless : and no barren consort

Of Power is the All Mother who has nutured
The furry peoples of the northern wastes,

Made all the ciysta! waters bving forth silver,
And beat the cold air with unnumber'd wiugs.

Bright humming-birds flash in the southern sun-light
Of that strange land whose snows surround the Pole ;
The Moose, the antler'd Deer, the genial Bear
Rmge unprovoked wilds unexplored by Man ;
The Beaver's architecture dams the streaDis ;
And great fish in innumerable lakes
Plash their cold silver where the mirror'd sky

Is framed in high impending rock ; where woodlands
Unmask the boyish unrestrain'd cascades,
Whose leaping lights flash back the laughing sun.

ijg, Laurentia I Superb Laurentia !

Thy mountains in the garments of the cloud.
The rivers pouring down o'er crystal leagues
Their glassy waters to the solemn sea.
Thine isle-gemm'd lakes, thine old, old solitudes,

190. Thy woodland courses where impetuous fires
Race madly o'er the desolated plain.
Thy water ways, where dwarf d voyageurs pursue
The tenour of their uncompanioned way,
Thy sad-hued silent woodlands, where the snow

jg8. Lurks all the summer long, and sheets the moss,

And weighs the tree boughs down for half the year —
Oh ! All thy mountains, plains, lakes, seas, and snows
Are fraught with mighty teachings unto Man —
It is a land of solitude and toil

llAk Where Man with nature and himself may dwell,
And learn the mystery of life and death,
And read the story of the distant past.

164

185.

140

THE LAURENTIDES.

And mighty promise of groat things to be ;
It is a stately temple where are said
By wind, and flutt'ring leaf, and npphng stream,
And all the eloquence of utter silence.
By congregation of all living things
The ceaseless Crede : " I ^o indeed believe ;
It is a shrine where all the dread, ^md Laws
Wield the huge Forces that command tho WorM-
It is a Book o'er which Mankind may pore
And read the symbols and the signs of Ciod.

FICHE 3 NOT REQUIRED