Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England The Trapper's Son, by W.H.G. Kingston. ________________________________________________________________________ A very short book, set in North America some time in the nineteenth century, at a time when Indian tribes were still hunting over the land--Crees, Dacotahs, Peigans. An old trapper and his son are preparing for the winter, when their horses are found dead, killed either by wolves or by Indians. So they have to cache most of the skins they were planning to take to a nearby fort, and set off on their journey there. Michael Moggs, the trapper, had fathered the boy, Laurence, with an Indian woman, who had brought Laurence up to the point where Michael comes to collect him. The boy had never been taught the principles of Christianity, and his father never knew them either. So most of the book deals with the conversion of the boy and his father to true religion, by people they meet at the fort. ________________________________________________________________________ THE TRAPPER'S SON, BY W.H.G. KINGSTON. CHAPTER ONE. THE TRAPPER'S CAMP--BEAVERS CAUGHT--THE HORSES KILLED BY WOLVES--TRAPS TO CATCH THE WOLVES. In the far western wilds of North America, over which the untutored red-skinned savage roams at liberty, engaged throughout life in war or the chase, by the side of a broad stream which made its way towards a distant lake, an old man and a boy reclined at length beneath a wigwam, roughly formed of sheets of birch-bark placed against several poles stuck in the ground in a circular form, and fastened together at the top. The sun was just rising above a wood, composed of maple, birch, poplar, and willow, fringing the opposite bank of the river; while rocky hills of no great elevation formed the sides of the valley, through which the stream made its way. Snow rested on the surrounding heights, and the ground was crisp with frost. The foliage which still clung to the deciduous trees exhibited the most gorgeous colours, the brightest red, pink, yellow, and purple tints contrasting with the sombre hues of the pines covering the lower slopes of the hills. "It's time to look to the traps, Laurence," said the old man, arousing his young companion, who was still asleep by the side of the smouldering embers of their fire. The boy sat up, and passed his hand across his eyes. There was a weary expression in his intelligent and not unpleasing countenance. "Yes, father, I am ready," he answered. "But I did not think the night was over; it seems but just now I lay down to sleep." "You have had some hard work lately, and are tired; but the season will soon be over, and we will bend our steps to Fort Elton, where you can remain till the winter cold has passed away. If I myself were to spend but a few days shut up within the narrow limits of such a place, I should soon tire of idleness, and wish to be off again among the forests and streams, where I have passed so many years." "Oh, do not leave me among strangers, father," exclaimed the boy, starting to his feet. "I am rested now, and am ready." They set out, proceeding along the side of the stream, stopping every now and then to search beneath the overhanging bushes, or in the hollows of the bank, where their traps had been concealed. From the first the old trapper drew forth an animal about three feet in length, of a deep chestnut colour, with fine smooth glossy hair, and a broad flat tail nearly a foot long, covered with scales. Its hind feet were webbed, its small fore-paws armed with claws, and it had large, hard, sharp teeth in its somewhat blunted head. Hanging up the beaver, for such it was, to a tree, they continued the examination of their snares. "Who would have thought creatures so easily caught could make such a work as this?" observed the old man, as they were passing over a narrow causeway which formed a dam across a smaller stream falling into the main river, and had created a back water or shallow lake of some size. The dam was composed of innumerable small branches and trunks of trees, laid horizontally across the stream, mixed with mud and stones. Several willows and small poplars were sprouting up out of it. "What! have the beavers made this?" asked Laurence. "Ay, every bit of it, boy; each stem and branch has been cut down by the creatures, with their paws and teeth. No human builders could have formed the work more skilfully. And observe how they thus have made a pond, ever full of water, above the level of the doorways to their houses, when the main stream is lowered by the heats of summer. See, too, how cleverly they build their houses, with dome roofs so hard and strong that even the cunning wolverine cannot manage to break through them, while they place the doorway so deep down that the ice in winter can never block it up inside. How warm and cozy, too, they are without the aid of fires or blankets." "How comes it, then, that they have not the sense to keep out of our traps, father?" inquired Laurence. "If you had ever been to the big cities, away to the east, you would not ask that question, boy," answered the old trapper. "You would there have seen thousands of men who seem wonderfully clever, and yet who get caught over and over again by cunning rogues who know their weak points; just as we bait our traps with bark-stone, [see Note] for which the foolish beaver has such a fancy, so the knaves bait their snares with promises of boundless wealth, to be gained without labour or trouble. To my mind, nothing is to be gained without working for it, and pretty hard work too, if the thing is worth having." This conversation passed between the old man and his son as they proceeded along the bank of the pond where some of their traps had been set. Some had failed to catch their prey, but after the search was ended, they returned to their camp with a dozen skins as the result of their labour. One of the animals which had been skinned having been preserved for their morning meal, it was soon roasting, supported on two forked sticks, before the freshly made-up fire. This, with some maize flour, and a draught of water from the stream, formed their repast. "Now, Laurence, go and bring in the horses, while I prepare the skins and do up our bales, and we will away towards the fort," said the old man. Laurence set off in search of their horses, which had been left feeding during the night in a meadow at some distance from the camp. The well-trained steeds, long accustomed to carry them and their traps and furs, were not likely to have strayed away from the ground. Laurence went on, expecting every moment to find them, but after proceeding some way, they were nowhere visible. Near at hand was a rocky height which overlooked the meadow. He climbed to the top; still he could not see the horses. Becoming somewhat anxious at their disappearance, he made his way across the meadow, hoping to find that they had discovered a richer pasturage farther on. As he looked round, he saw, to his dismay, two horses lying motionless on the ground. He hurried towards them. They were dead, and fearfully torn and mangled. "The wolves have done this, the savage brutes. We will be revenged on them," he exclaimed as he surveyed the dead steeds. "Father and I must have slept very soundly during the night not to have been awoke by their howling. It will be a sore grief to the old man, and I would that he had found it out himself, rather than I should have to tell him. However, it must be done." Saying this, he set off on his return to the camp. "The brutes shall pay dearly for it," exclaimed the old trapper, when Laurence brought him the intelligence of what had happened. "Whether Injuns or wolves wrong him, Michael Moggs is not the man to let them go unpunished;" and his eyes lighted up with a fierce expression which made the young boy instinctively shrink back from him. "We have three strong traps which will catch the biggest wolf on the prairies; and if they fail, I'll lie in wait till I can shoot the savage brutes down with my rifle. We shall have to tramp it on foot, boy, with the furs on our backs. That's bad for you, but we can leave the traps hidden away _en cache_; and as the snow will soon cover the ground, the cunning Injuns are not likely to find them. It's not the first adventure of the sort I have met with; and though I am sorry for your sake, and for the loss of our poor horses, I am not going to be cast down." Some time was spent in scraping the skins, and in repacking the most valuable of those already obtained in a compass which would enable the old man and his son to carry them. Not wishing to leave such valuable property in the hut, which might be visited during their absence by some wandering Indian, they then strapped the bales on to their backs, the old man carrying his rifle and the steel traps, and set out towards the meadow where their horses had been killed. Having planted the traps round the carcases of the slaughtered animals, and concealed them carefully, so that they could not be seen by the savage wolves, they returned to their hut. "The brutes will pay another visit to the poor horses, unless they fall in with other prey in the meantime, and that they are not likely to find about here," observed Moggs, as he sat down and struck a light to rekindle the fire. Laurence had collected a supply of dried branches, of which there was an abundance in the surrounding woods. "We must keep the fire burning during the night, or the savage creatures may chance to pay us a visit; and if they find us napping, they may treat us as they have our horses," continued the old man. "To-morrow morning, we shall have our revenge, and I shall be vexed indeed if we do not find two or three of the brutes in the traps." The day was spent, as many before had been passed when they were not travelling or setting their snares, in scraping furs, greasing their traps, and cleaning the old man's highly-prized rifle. Their conversation related wholly to the occupation in which they were engaged; of other matters young Laurence knew nothing. He was a true child of the desert. His early days had been spent in the wigwam of an Indian squaw, who had taught him the legends and faith of her people. Beyond that period his recollections were very faint. He had remained with her until Michael Moggs, who called himself his father, came for him and took him away. He had almost forgotten his native tongue; but from that time, by constantly associating with the old trapper, he soon again learned to speak it. Of the Christian faith he knew nothing, for Moggs and himself were utterly ignorant of its truths; while they had imbibed many of the superstitions of the savage Indians, the only human beings with whom they had for long years associated. Laurence believed firmly in the Great Spirit who governs the destinies of the Red men of the desert--in the happy hunting-grounds, the future abode of brave warriors who die fighting on the battle-field--in the existence of demons, who wander through the forests in search of victims--and in the occult powers of wizards and medicine men. He had been taught that the only objects in life worthy of the occupation of men were war and the chase--that he should look with contempt on those who, he had heard, spent their time in the peaceful business of agriculture and commerce; that revenge and hatred of foes were the noblest sentiments to be cultivated in the human breast; and that no act was more worthy than to kill a foe, or a feeling more delightful than to witness his suffering under torture. Yet the heart of young Laurence was not hardened, nor altogether debased. Occasionally yearnings for a different life to that he led rose in his bosom. Whence they came he could not tell. Still he could not help thinking that there might be a brighter and better state of existence in those far-off lands away beyond where he saw the glorious sun rise each morning, to run its course through the sky, and to sink again behind the snow-capped range of the Rocky Mountains, to the base of which he and his father had occasionally wandered. Whenever he had ventured even to hint the tenor of his thoughts to the old trapper, the scornful rebuke he had received kept him for many a day afterwards silent. As evening approached, the old man made a wide circuit round the camp to ascertain that no lurking foes lay hid in the neighbourhood. Having satisfied himself on that score, a large supply of fuel was piled up on the fire, when, after a frugal supper, he and the boy lay down to rest. Although Laurence slept soundly, Michael awoke constantly to put more wood on the fire, and not unfrequently to take a survey around the wigwam, knowing well that their lives might depend on his vigilance. No sooner did the first faint streaks of dawn appear in the sky than he aroused the boy. A hurried meal was eaten, and then they strapped on their packs and several bundles of furs, which, with their traps, Moggs intended to conceal till he could return for them. The remaining articles, and a few of the least valuable of their furs, were then thrown on the fire, and the wigwam being pulled down on the top of it, the whole mass of combustible material soon burst up into a flame, leaving in a short time no other trace of their abode on the spot than a pile of blackened cinders. They then made their way by a wide circuit into a neighbouring wood, beyond which a rocky hill afforded, in the old trapper's opinion, a secure place for concealing their goods. The old man stepped cautiously along, avoiding even brushing against any of the branches on either side, Laurence following in his footsteps. A small cave or hollow, which he had before observed, was soon found. In this the articles were deposited, and the mouth was closed up with stones brought from the hill-side, they again being concealed by a pile of broken branches and leaves, which, to the eye of a passer-by, might appear to have been blown there by the wind. "It is the best place we can find," exclaimed Moggs. "But if a strange Injun was to come this way before the snow covers the ground, our traps would soon be carried off. Most of the Crees, however, know that they are mine, and would think it wiser to leave them alone. We will hope for the best; and now, Laurence, let us go and see what the wolves have been about." Saying this, he and the boy commenced their retreat from the wood in the same cautious way by which they had approached it. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Note. The bark-stone of which the old trapper spoke is the Castoreum, a substance secreted in two glandular sacs near the root of the beaver's tail, which gives out an extremely powerful odour, and so strangely attracts beavers that the animals, when they scent it at a distance, will sniff about and squeal with eagerness as they make their way towards it. The trapper, therefore, carries a supply in a bottle, and when he arrives at a spot frequented by the animals, he sets his traps, baiting them with some of the substance. This is done with a small twig of wood, the end of which he chews, and, dipping it in the Castoreum, places it just above water, close to the trap, which is beneath the surface, and in such a position that the beaver must pass over it to get at the bait. CHAPTER TWO. PURSUIT AND CAPTURE OF A WHITE WOLF--LAURENCE'S DREAM--JOURNEY TO THE FORT OVER THE SNOW--FRIENDLY RECEPTION AT THE FORT--LAURENCE FALLS SICK. The old trapper and his son crept cautiously among the rocks and shrubs towards the spot where the traps had been set around their slaughtered steeds. Moggs cocked his rifle as his keen eye fell on a large white wolf, which, caught by the leg in one of the traps, was making desperate efforts to free itself, and appeared every instant on the point of succeeding. As they drew near, the ferocious animal, with its mouth wide open, its teeth broken in its attempts to gnaw the iron trap, and its head covered with blood, sprang forward to reach them, but the trap held it fast. "Keep behind me, Laurence," said Michael. "If the creature gets loose, it will need a steady aim to bring it to the ground." Not for a moment did the wolf turn round to fly, but again and again it sprang forward as far as the chain would allow it. Although old Michael knew nothing of the humanity which would avoid allowing any of God's creatures to suffer unnecessary pain, he was preparing to put an end to its agonies, when the creature, by a frantic effort, freeing itself, sprang towards him. Laurence uttered a cry of terror; for he expected the next moment to see its savage jaws fixed in his father's throat; but the old man, standing calm and unmoved, fired, and the animal fell dead at his feet. "Did ye think, Laurence, that I could not manage a single wolf," he said, half turning round with a reproachful look towards the boy, who had not yet recovered from his alarm. "This is a prize worth having, though. It has not often been my luck to kill a white wolf, and we may barter this skin with the Crees for six of the best mustangs they have got. While I skin the varmint, see what the other traps have been about." Laurence went forward to examine them. "Here is a foot in one of them," he exclaimed. "The creature must have gnawed it off, and got away. The other trap has been pulled up. I can see the tracks it has left, as the animal dragged it away." "We will be after it, then," cried Moggs. "If it is another white wolf we shall be well repaid indeed for the loss of our steeds, though we have to carry our packs till we can reach the fort. Come, Laurence, help me to finish off this work." The skin was added to the already heavy load which old Moggs carried, and the traps hid in a spot which, with his experienced eye, he could without difficulty find. "Now Laurence," he exclaimed, "we will be after the runaway." The keen sight of the old man easily distinguished the marks left on the ground by the heavy trap as the animal trailed it behind him. The creature, after going some way along the valley, had taken to the higher ground, where its traces were still more easily distinguished upon the crust of the snow which lay there. The white wolf had got some distance ahead, when at length, to the delight of old Moggs, he discovered it with the trap at its heels. It seemed to know that its pursuers were close behind. Off it scampered at a rapid trot, now over the rugged and broken surface of rocks, now descending into ravines, now going north, now south, making numerous zigzag courses in its efforts to escape and deceive the hunters. Still old Moggs pursued, regardless of fatigue, though Laurence had great difficulty in keeping up with him, and often felt as if he must drop. His father encouraged him to continue the chase, promising soon to overtake the creature. At length, however, Laurence could go no further, and sank down on a hill, over which they had just climbed, and were about to descend to a valley below them. "Rest there till I come back, then, boy," exclaimed the hardy old trapper, a slight tone of contempt mixed with his expression of pity. "The wolf I must have, even though he leads me a score of miles further. Here, take the tinder-box and axe, and make a fire; by the time I come back we shall need some food, after our chase." Having given Laurence the articles he mentioned, with a handful of pemmican from his wallet, he hastened down the hill, in the direction the wolf had taken along the valley. Young Laurence was too much accustomed to those wilds to feel any alarm at being left alone; and as soon as he had somewhat rested, he set to work to cut a supply of dried branches from the surrounding shrubs, with which he quickly formed a blazing fire. The pemmican, or pounded buffalo meat, further restored his strength, and he began to think that he would follow in the direction his father had taken, to save him from having to ascend the hill. When he began to move, however, he felt so weary that he again sank down by the side of the fire, where in a short time he fell asleep. Wild dreams troubled his slumbers, and long-forgotten scenes came back to his mind. He was playing in a garden among flowers in front of a neat and pretty dwelling, with the waters of a tranquil lake shining far below. He heard the gentle voice of one he trusted, whose fair sweet face ever smiled on him as he gambolled near her. The voice was hastily calling him, when suddenly he was lifted up and carried away far from her shrieks and cries. The rattle of musketry echoed in his ears, then he was borne down a rapid stream, the waters hissing and foaming around. Now numberless Indians, in war-paint and feathers, danced frantically before his eyes, and huge fires blazed up, and again shrieks echoed in his ears. Then a monstrous animal, with glaring eyeballs, burst into their midst, putting the Indians to flight, and scattering their fires far and wide, yelling and roaring savagely. He started up, when what was his horror to see the fierce white wolf his father had been pursuing rushing towards him with the chain and trap still trailing at his heels. Spell-bound, he felt unable to rise. In another moment the enraged wolf would be upon him, when a rifle shot rang through the air, and the wolf dropped dead close to where he lay. "Art safe, Laurence, art unhurt, boy?" exclaimed the old trapper, who came, breathless, hurrying up the side of the hill. "The brute doubled cunningly on me, and thinking, from the way he was leading, that he would pass near where I left you, I took a short cut, in hopes of being before him. I was nearly too late, and twice before I had fired, shouting to you to be on your guard. It's not often my rifle has failed to kill even at that distance." Laurence relieved his father's anxiety by showing him that he was unhurt; and greatly to the old trapper's satisfaction, on examining the wolf, three bullet holes were found in the skin, showing that his favourite rifle had not missed, although the first shots had failed to kill. The prized skin having been secured, as it was too heavy to carry, in addition to their previous loads, it was hidden, as the traps had been, in a hollow in the rocks. "Little chance of its escaping from Indians or wolverines, though I am loath to abandon it," observed the old man, as he placed the last of a large pile of stones in front of the cave. "But the snow will be down, may be this very night, and then it will be safe." They now proceeded down the valley, and continued on till they reached the edge of a small wood, where they encamped for the night. For several days they journeyed on towards the south and east, not meeting, as they passed over those desert wilds, a single human being. "Once, when I first knew this region, many thousand warriors, with their squaws and children, were masters here," observed old Moggs. "But they are all gone; the white man's gunpowder, and his still more deadly fire-water, have carried off the greater number. Famine visited them when they themselves had slaughtered most of the creatures which gave them food, without having learned other means for obtaining support. Before that time, neither white nor red trappers had to go more than a few days' journey from the forts to obtain as many skins as they needed." "I wish those times would come back again," said the boy. "For my legs feel as if they would soon refuse to carry me further." "Cheer up, lad, we will camp soon, and in a few days more we shall be at the fort, when you shall have the rest I promised you." "But you will not quit me then, father, will you?" asked Laurence. "Well, well, I must buy fresh horses to bring in the skins and traps, and to prepare for the next season," answered Michael. "I have no wish to leave you, lad; so don't let that trouble you just now." The first fall of snow for that winter had now come down, and thickly covered the ground. For several days it compelled the trapper and his son to keep within the shelter of their wigwam. Once more they set out. After travelling severe days, young Laurence, though he had partially recovered, again felt ready to give way. Still he trudged with his load by his father's side. The cold had greatly increased; but though he had hitherto been indifferent to it, he felt that he would rather lie down and die than proceed further. The old man took his arm, and did his utmost to encourage him. They at length reached a wood of birch and firs. "Oh, father, let us camp here, for I can move on no longer," cried Laurence, in a piteous tone. "Cheer up, cheer up, boy," said the old trapper, repeating the expression he had frequently of late uttered. "A few steps farther, and we shall see the fort." The poor lad struggled on. The sun was sinking low in the sky, when, just as they doubled the wood, its beams fell on the stockaded sides of a fort, situated on slightly elevated ground out of the prairie. "There's our resting place at last," exclaimed the old man, pointing with his hand towards the fort. "Keep up your courage, and we shall reach it before dark. The peltries we bring will ensure us a welcome; and though I trust not to the white men who live in cities, the chief factor there calls me his friend, and has a heart which I doubt not will feel compassion for your youth. He will treat you kindly for my sake, though most of the traders such as he care little for the old trapper who has spent his whole life in toiling for them." Michael continuing to support the tottering steps of his son, they at last reached the gates of the fort, which were opened to give them admittance, their approach having been observed from the look-out towers on the walls. The stockade surrounded an area of considerable size, within which were the residences of the factor and clerks, several large storehouses, and huts for the accommodation of the garrison and hunters, and casual visitors. Altogether, to Michael's eyes, it appeared a place of great importance. A number of voyageurs and half-breeds, in their picturesque costumes, were strolling about; multitudes of children were playing at the doors of the huts; and women were seen going to and from the stores, or occupied in their daily avocations. Laurence felt somewhat awe-struck on finding himself among so many strangers, and kept close to his father. At their entrance they had been saluted by a pack of savage-looking sleigh-dogs, which came out barking at the new-comers, but were quickly driven back to their quarters by their masters. "Don't mind them, Laurence," said Michael. "As soon as they find that we are treated as friends, they will cease their yelping, and come humbly to our feet to seek our favour." Michael inquired for Mr Ramsay, the chief factor. "There he comes from his house," answered the man to whom he had addressed himself. "What! old friend! I am right glad to see you again," exclaimed Mr Ramsay, advancing, and with frank cordiality shaking the old trapper by the hand. "I was afraid, from your long absence, that you would never find your way back to the fort. And who is this lad? He seems very young for the life of a trapper." Michael then introduced Laurence, and narrated how they had lost their horses and been compelled to tramp the whole distance on foot, not having met any Indians from whom they could purchase fresh steeds, or obtain assistance in carrying their bales. "He looks worn out and ill," said the kind-hearted factor. "Come in to my house, and we will have him seen to. A comfortable bed and a quiet night's rest will, I hope, restore him; and you, friend, will, I suspect, be glad to get that heavy pack off your shoulders." "The boy has not been much accustomed to beds or houses, and the change may, as you say, do him good," observed Michael. "But my old sinews are too tough to feel the weight of this pack, heavy as it is, I'll allow. However, for the boy's sake, I'll accept your hospitality; and, if you'll look after him till he is recovered, the best peltries I have shall be at your service without any other payment." "Nay, nay, friend; I come frae the Hielands, and have not so far forgotten the customs of the old country as to receive payment for entertaining a guest, and as such your son is welcome. However, come in, and get rid of your packs; and to-morrow, when you have rested, we will examine their contents and calculate their value." Poor Laurence tottered on, but scarcely had he reached the entrance of the house than he sank to the ground. His pack was quickly taken off, and kindly hands lifted him to a room, where he was undressed and put to bed--a luxury he had not, as his father had said, for many years enjoyed. Restoratives were applied; but kind Mrs Ramsay and those of her household who watched him, as they observed his pale cheeks and slowly-drawn breath, feared that nature was too far exhausted by the fatigue he had undergone to recover. The old man's alarm and grief, when he heard of the dangerous state of his son, was excessive. Kind Mrs Ramsay did her best to console him, and her young daughter, a fair-haired, blue-eyed little girl, Jeanie, climbed up on his knee, and stroked his rough hair, as he hung down his head, utterly overcome. "We will pray to our merciful Father in heaven to take care of the young boy, and to make him strong and well again," she whispered. "You know that God hears our prayers; and oh, how good and kind He is, to let us speak to Him, and to do what we ask Him in the name of His dear Son Jesus Christ." The old man gazed earnestly at the child for a few seconds, and, a look of anguish passing over his countenance, he shook his head; and then turning away from her, he put her gently down, as if he was afraid of being thus again addressed, and answered, "Thank you, thank you, little damsel; I hope my boy will get well. It will go pretty nigh to finish me if he does not," he murmured to himself. "I ought to have known that his strength was not equal to the task I put upon it. If he dies, men will say, and justly, that I am his murderer." The old man partook but sparingly of the abundant repast spread before him, and declining the luxury of a bed, rolled himself up in a blanket, and took his post in the hall, near the door of the room where Laurence had been placed, that he might hear from those who were attending on his boy how it went with him. At every footstep which passed he started up and made the same inquiry, and then with a groan lay down again, his desire to keep on the watch in vain struggling with his fatigue. CHAPTER THREE. ANXIETY OF THE TRAPPER ABOUT HIS SON--JEANIE TELLS LAURENCE ABOUT THE BIBLE AND GOD'S LOVE TO MAN--LAURENCE OUT OF DANGER--THE TRAPPER LEAVES LAURENCE WITH HIS FRIENDS--JEANIE TRIES TO TEACH LAURENCE TO READ-- HISTORY OF MRS. RAMSAY. The following morning, the old trapper was sitting on the floor, where he had passed the night, with his head bent down on his knees, when Mrs Ramsay came out of his son's room. "Is he better? Will he live?" he asked in a low, husky voice, gazing up anxiously at her countenance. "The issues of life and death are in God's hands," she answered. "Your young son is very ill; but our merciful Father in heaven can restore him if He thinks fit; we can but watch over him, and minister to his wants as may seem best to us. Lift up your heart in prayer to that Great Being through Him who died for us, sinning children as we are that we might be reconciled to our loving Parent, and He will assuredly hear your petition, and grant it if He thinks fit." The old man groaned as she ceased speaking, and again dropping his head on his breast made no reply to her, though he muttered to himself, "She tells me to pray. The Great Spirit would strike me dead in his anger were I to dare to speak to Him." The kind lady, seeing he did not speak, passed on. Old Michael could with difficulty be persuaded to eat anything, or to quit his post during the day. Little Jeanie was at length sent to him with some food, to try if he would receive it at her hands. "Here," she said, placing her hand on his arm. "You must take some of this, or you will become weak and ill. God, you know, gives us food to support our bodies, just as He sends His holy spirit to strengthen our souls. It is very wrong not to eat when we require food, and so it is when we refuse to receive the aid of the Holy Spirit, which we so much need every moment of our lives." "Who told you that, little damsel?" asked the old man, looking up in the child's sweet face. "Mamma, of course," she answered. "And Mr Martin, the missionary, who came here some time ago, says she is right, and told me never to forget what she says to me. I try not to do so; but when I am playing about, and sometimes when I feel inclined to be naughty, I am apt not to remember as I ought; and then I ask God to help me and to forgive me, through Jesus Christ, and all those things come back again to my memory." "You naughty!" said the old man, gazing still more intently at the young fair countenance. "I don't think you ever could be naughty." "Oh yes, yes, I am, though," answered the child. "I feel sometimes vexed and put out, and so do all sorts of naughty things; besides, you know that God says, `there is none that doeth good, no, not one;' and even if I did not think I was naughty, I know that I must be in His sight, for He is so pure and holy that even to Him the heavens, so bright to us, are not pure." The old man apparently did not understand what the child was saying to him, but the sound of her soft voice soothed his troubled heart. She little knew how dark and hard that heart had become. "What is it you want, little damsel?" he asked, in a tone as if he had been lost in thought while she was speaking. "I came to bring you this food," she said. "I shall be so glad to see you eat some." The old man, without further remonstrance, almost mechanically, it seemed, consumed the food she offered him. For several days Laurence hung between life and death, but the constant and watchful care of his new friends was blessed with success; and once more he opened his eyes, and was able to understand and reply to what was said to him. As soon as he was considered out of danger, old Michael regained his usual manner. Though he expressed his gratitude to his hosts in his rough, blunt way, he uttered no expression which showed that he believed that aught of thanks were due to the Giver of all good for his son's recovery. With his ordinary firm tread he stalked into the room where Laurence lay. "I am glad to see thee coming round, boy," he said. "Food and quiet is all that is now required to fit thee for work again. Dost not long to be once more wandering through the forest, or trapping by the side of the broad stream? I am already weary, as I knew I should, of this dull life, and must away to look after our traps and such of our peltries as may have escaped the claws of the cunning wolverines." "Stay for me but a few days, and I shall be ready to go with you, father," said the boy, trying to raise himself up. "Nay, nay, boy; but you're not yet strong enough for travelling. The snow lies thickly on the ground, and the winter's wind whistles keenly through the forest and across the plain. Stay a while with your good friends here, and I'll come back for thee, and then we will hie away to lead the free life we have enjoyed so long." Old Michael spoke in a more subdued tone than usual. "You speak truth, father, when you say our friends are kind; if it were not for you I should not wish to leave them. Sometimes, when Mrs Ramsay and her little daughter have been tending me, my thoughts have been carried back to the days when I was a young child, or else to some pleasant dreams which have visited me in my sleep." "Speak not again of those times, Laurence," exclaimed the old trapper in an angry tone. "They are mere foolish fancies of the brain. You are still weak and ill, but you will soon recover," he added in a more gentle voice. "And when I come for you, promise me that you will be ready to go forth once more to be my companion in the free wilds." "Yes, father, yes; I promise, whenever you come and summon me away, I will go with you." "Farewell, then, boy," said the old trapper, taking his son's hand. "We will look forward to the time when we may enjoy our free roving life together again." On the entrance of Mrs Ramsay and Jeanie, who came with some nourishing food for Laurence, the old trapper silently left the room. When, a short time afterwards, Mrs Ramsay inquired for him, she found that he had quitted the fort, leaving behind him his bales of peltries, with the exception of the white wolf-skin. "He has taken it to trade with the Indians," observed the factor. "He knows that they value it more than we do." "I am so sorry that your father has gone away, Laurence," said Jeanie, as she sat by the bedside of the young invalid, trying to console him for the grief he showed when he heard of the old trapper's departure. "But remember you are among friends, and we will do all we can to make you happy. Still, it is a great thing to know that your father loves you. I should be miserable if I could suppose that my father and mother did not love me. But do you know, Laurence, I have often thought how much more wretched I should feel if I did not know that our Heavenly Father loves me also even more than they do. Mamma has often told me that His love is so great that we cannot understand it. It always makes me feel so happy when I think of it, and that He is always watching over us, and that His eye is ever upon us." "Do you speak of the Great Spirit, little girl?" said Laurence, raising himself on his elbow, and gazing inquiringly at her. "I have heard that He is the Friend of brave warriors and those who obey Him, and that He is more powerful than any human being; but still I cannot fancy that He cares for young boys and girls, and women and slaves, or cowards who are afraid to fight." "Oh, yes, yes; He cares for everybody," exclaimed Jeanie. "He loves all the creatures He has made, to whom He has given souls which will live for ever and ever. He wants them all to live with Him in the glorious heaven He has prepared for all who accept the gracious offer of mercy which He makes to us. You know that we are by nature rebels and disobedient children; and consequently Satan, the great rebel chief, has power to do evil, and to tempt us to sin, and to rebel against God, as he tempted our first parents; but God sent His Son Jesus Christ into the world, to suffer the punishment which, for our disobedience and sin, we ought to suffer, and to tell us that, if we trust Him and believe that He has so suffered for our sins, and thus taken them away, and will love and obey Him, and follow the laws which He established, we shall be received back again into favour, and when our souls quit this world, that they will go and dwell with Him in that glorious and happy land where He will reign for ever and ever." Laurence continued his fixed gaze at the young girl as she spoke. "These are very wonderful words you speak. They are so wonderful that I cannot understand them," said Laurence very slowly. "What I speak of is indeed very wonderful, for even the angels in heaven wonder at it; but if you seek the aid of the Holy Spirit, He will make it clear to your mind, for He it is who alone can teach us what Christ is, and what He has done for us. My mamma often told me about these things, and I did not understand them; but when I prayed that the Holy Spirit would help me to know the love of Jesus, and all He has done for me, then what appeared so dark and mysterious became as clear as the noonday; and, oh, I am sure that there is no joy so great as that of knowing that Jesus Christ loves us." "I don't think I shall ever understand that," said the boy, sinking back on his couch. "My father has never told me anything about those things and I am sure He is very, very wise, for the Indians say so; and every one owns that he is the best white trapper between the Rocky Mountains and the Red River. When he comes back, I'll talk to him, and learn what he thinks of the matter." "Oh, but God tells us that He has `hid these things from the wise and prudent, and revealed them unto babes,'" observed Jeanie. "Your father is all you say, I am sure; but does he read the Bible, the book which God has given to us, to tell us about Jesus, and to let us know His will?" "I never heard of such a book," answered the boy. "But then I know nothing about books; I could not understand its meaning if I had one." "What! cannot you read?" asked the little girl, in a tone of astonishment. "No, of course not," answered Laurence. "The only books I have seen are those in the hands of the white traders, when they have been taking notes of the peltries they have bought from us or our Indian friends. Then I have observed that they make marks with the end of a stick in their books, and that is all I know about the matter." "Oh, then, I must show you some books, and you must learn to read. It is a sad thing not to be able to read the Bible." "I have no wish to learn, though you are very kind to offer to teach me," answered the boy, in a somewhat weary tone. "When I am well enough, I should like to be following my father, or chasing the buffalo with the brave hunters of the prairie. Still, I should be sorry to go away from you and those who have been so kind to me." "But it will be a long time before you are able to sit on horseback, or to endure the wild camp-life of a hunter, and until that time comes you must let me teach you." "My head would ache if I were to try to learn anything so strange as reading," said Laurence, closing his eyes. "Even now I cannot bear to think. But you are very kind, very kind," he added, as if he felt the little girl would consider him ungrateful for refusing her offer. Mrs Ramsay, who had just then come in unperceived, had heard the last part of the conversation, and understanding better than her daughter did the boy's still weak state, saw that it was not the time to press the point, and that it would be better just then to allow Laurence to fall asleep, as she judged from his heavy eyes he was inclined to do. She, therefore, smoothing his pillow, and bestowing a smile on him, led Jeanie from the room. Mrs Ramsay had gone through many trials. She had been brought up among all the refinements of civilised society in Scotland, and had been early brought by her pious parents to know and love the Lord Jesus. She had married Mr Ramsay, then employed in the service of the Hudson's Bay Company, dining a short visit he paid to his native land; but she had been little aware of the dangers and hardships she would be called on to endure in the wild region to which he was to take her. He had been so accustomed to them from his earliest days that, when describing the life he had led, he unconsciously made light of what might otherwise naturally have appalled her. For his sake she forbore from complaining of the perils and privations to which she had been exposed; and she had ever, by trusting to the aid and protection of God, borne up under them all. Two of her children had been taken from her, and Jeanie alone had been left. Famine, and the small-pox and measles, which has proved so fatal to the inhabitants of those northern wilds, had on several occasions visited the fort, which had also been exposed to the attacks of treacherous and hostile natives; while for years together she had not enjoyed the society of any of her own sex of like cultivated mind and taste. Yet she did not repine; she devoted herself to her husband and child, and to imparting instruction to the native women and children who inhabited the fort. She went further, and endeavoured to spread the blessings of religion and civilisation among the surrounding Indian population. By her influence her husband had been induced to take an interest in the welfare of the Indians, and no longer merely to value them according to the supply of peltries they could bring to trade with at the fort. He endeavoured also to instruct them in the art of agriculture, and already a number of cultivated fields were to be seen in
{'title': "The Trapper's Son by William Henry Giles Kingston", 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}