Away in the Wilderness | Page 5

Heywood; well, what you have seen is very much like what you will see as long as you choose to travel hereaway. You come to a small clearing in the forest, with five or six log houses in it, a stockade round it, and a flagstaff in the middle of it; five, ten, or fifteen men, and a gentleman in charge. That's a Hudson's Bay Company's trading-post. All round it lie the wild woods. Go through the woods for two or three hundred miles and you'll come to another such post, or fort, as we sometimes call 'em. That's how it is all the country over. Although there are many of them, the country is so uncommon big that they may be said to be few and far between. Some are bigger and some are less. There's scarcely a settlement in the country worthy o' the name of a village except Red River."
"Ah! Red River," exclaimed Heywood, "I've heard much of that settlement--hold steady--I'm drawing your nose just now--have you been there, Jasper?"
"That have I, lad, and a fine place it is, extendin' fifty miles or more along the river, with fine fields, and handsome houses, and churches, and missionaries and schools, and what not; but the rest of Rupert's Land is just what you have seen; no roads, no houses, no cultivated fields--nothing but lakes, and rivers, and woods, and plains without end, and a few Indians here and there, with plenty of wild beasts everywhere. These trading-posts are scattered here and there, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and from Canada to the Frozen Sea, standin' solitary-like in the midst of the wilderness, as if they had dropped down from the clouds by mistake and didn't know exactly what to do with themselves."
"How long have de Company lived?" inquired Arrowhead, turning suddenly to Jasper.
The stout hunter felt a little put out. "Ahem! I don't exactly know; but it must have been a long time, no doubt."
"Oh, I can tell you that," cried Heywood.
"You?" said Jasper in surprise.
"Ay; the Company was started nearly two hundred years ago by Prince Rupert, who was the first Governor, and that's the reason the country came to be called Rupert's Land. You know its common name is `the Hudson's Bay Territory,' because it surrounds Hudson's Bay."
"Why, where did you learn that?" said Jasper, "I thought I knowed a-most everything about the Company; but I must confess I never knew that about Prince Rupert before."
"I learned it from books," said the artist.
"Books!" exclaimed Jasper, "I never learned nothin' from books--more's the pity. I git along well enough in the trappin' and shootin' way without 'em; but I'm sorry I never learned to read. Ah! I've a great opinion of books--so I have."
The worthy hunter shook his head solemnly as he said this in a low voice, more to himself than to his companions, and he continued to mutter and shake his head for some minutes, while he knocked the ashes out of his pipe. Having refilled and relighted it, he drew his blanket over his shoulder, laid his head upon a tuft of grass, and continued to smoke until he fell asleep, and allowed the pipe to fall from his lips.
The Indian followed his example, with this difference, that he laid aside his pipe, and drew the blanket over his head and under his feet, and wrapped it round him in such a way that he resembled a man sewed up in a sack.
Heywood was thus compelled to shut his sketch-book; so he also wrapped himself in his blanket, and was soon sound asleep.
The camp-fire gradually sank low. Once or twice the end of a log fell, sending up a bright flame and a shower of sparks, which, for a few seconds, lighted up the scene again and revealed the three slumbering figures. But at last the fire died out altogether, and left the encampment in such thick darkness that the sharpest eye would have failed to detect the presence of man in that distant part of the lone wilderness.
CHAPTER FOUR.
MOSQUITOES--CAMP-FIRE TALK.
There is a certain fly in the American forests which is worthy of notice, because it exercises a great influence over the happiness of man in those regions. This fly is found in many other parts of the world, but it swarms in immense numbers in America, particularly in the swampy districts of that continent, and in the hot months of summer. It is called a mosquito--pronounced moskeeto--and it is, perhaps, the most tormenting, the most persevering, savage, vicious little monster on the face of the earth. Other flies go to sleep at night; the mosquito never does. Darkness puts down other flies--it seems to encourage the mosquito. Day and night it persecutes man and beast, and the only time of the twenty-four