Snowflakes and Sunbeams | Page 6

on which were the letters H. B. C.
The fort stood, as we have said, on the banks of the Assiniboine River,
on the opposite side of which the land was somewhat wooded, though
not heavily, with oak, maple, poplar, aspens, and willows; while at the
back of the fort the great prairie rolled out like a green sea to the
horizon, and far beyond that again to the base of the Rocky mountains.

The plains at this time, however, were a sheet of unbroken snow, and
the river a mass of solid ice.
It was noon on the day following that on which our friend Charley had
threatened rebellion, when a tall elderly man might have been seen
standing at the back gate of Fort Garry, gazing wistfully out into the
prairie in the direction of the lower part of the settlement. He was
watching a small speck which moved rapidly over the snow in the
direction of the fort.
"It's very like our friend Frank Kennedy," said he to himself (at least
we presume so, for there was no one else within earshot to whom he
could have said it, except the door-post, which every one knows is
proverbially a deaf subject). "No man in the settlement drives so
furiously. I shouldn't wonder if he ran against the corner of the new
fence now. Ha! just so--there he goes!"
And truly the reckless driver did "go" just at that moment. He came up
to the corner of the new fence, where the road took a rather abrupt turn,
in a style that insured a capsize. In another second the spirited horse
turned sharp round, the sleigh turned sharp over, and the occupant was
pitched out at full length, while a black object, that might have been
mistaken for his hat, rose from his side like a rocket, and, flying over
him, landed on the snow several yards beyond. A faint shout was heard
to float on the breeze as this catastrophe occurred, and the driver was
seen to jump up and readjust himself in the cariole; while the other
black object proved itself not to be a hat, by getting hastily up on a pair
of legs, and scrambling back to the seat from which it had been so
unceremoniously ejected.
In a few minutes more the cheerful tinkling of the merry sleigh-bells
was heard, and Frank Kennedy, accompanied by his hopeful son
Charles, dashed up to the gate, and pulled up with a jerk.
"Ha! Grant, my fine fellow, how are you?" exclaimed Mr. Kennedy,
senior, as he disengaged himself from the heavy folds of the buffalo
robe and shook the snow from his greatcoat. "Why on earth, man, don't
you put up a sign-post and a board to warn travellers that you've been

running out new fences and changing the road, eh?"
"Why, my good friend," said Mr. Grant, smiling, "the fence and the
road are of themselves pretty conclusive proof to most men that the
road is changed; and, besides, we don't often have people driving round
corners at full gallop; but--"
"Hollo! Charley, you rascal," interrupted Mr. Kennedy--"here, take the
mare to the stable, and don't drive her too fast. Mind, now, no going off
upon the wrong road for the sake of a drive, you understand."
"All right, father," exclaimed the boy, while a bright smile lit up his
features and displayed two rows of white teeth: "I'll be particularly
careful," and he sprang into the light vehicle, seized the reins, and with
a sharp crack of the whip dashed down the road at a hard gallop.
"He's a fine fellow that son of yours," said Mr. Grant, "and will make a
first-rate fur-trader."
"Pur-trader!" exclaimed Mr. Kennedy. "Just look at him! I'll be shot if
he isn't thrashing the mare as if she were made of leather." The old
man's ire was rising rapidly as he heard the whip crack every now and
then, and saw the mare bound madly over the snow. "And see!" he
continued, "I declare he has taken the wrong turn after all."
"True," said Mr. Grant: "he'll never reach the stable by that road; he's
much more likely to visit the White-horse Plains. But come, friend, it's
of no use fretting, Charley will soon tire of his ride; so come with me to
my room and have a pipe before dinner."
Old Mr. Kennedy gave a short groan of despair, shook his fist at the
form of his retreating son, and accompanied his friend to the house.
It must not be supposed that Frank Kennedy was very deeply offended
with his son, although he did shower on him a considerable amount of
abuse. On the contrary, he loved him very much. But it was the old
man's nature to