Wrecked but not Ruined | Page 2

a reply the indignant cook went in quest of hot
water, leaving the traders to discuss the salt goose and the news.

"That's bad news," said Bob Smart. "What do you propose to do in the
circumstances?"
"Something definite must be done," replied Redding, "but I don't yet
see my way as to what."
Having finished the goose between them, and turned its skeleton over
with an inquisitive glance to make sure that nothing eatable had
escaped, the two friends finished their frugal meal with a cup of tea and
a fried cake of the simplest elements--flour and water--after which they
drew their chairs to the fireplace,--a large open chimney well filled
with blazing logs,--lighted their pipes, and entered on a discussion of
the McLeods and their present position.
When their pipes were emptied, Redding arose, and, turning his back to
the fire, said:--
"Well, Bob Smart, this is the outcome of our cogitations. I am almost
certain that these McLeods have taken up their quarters within the
boundary of our Company's reserve lands, and if so, they must be
routed out of their nest at once. Delay in such matters is often fatal. The
law of use and wont, Bob, is soon established; but I have a strong
objection to act in uncertainty. I will therefore drive up to the hut of
Jonas Bellew, with whom I shall leave horse and sleigh, as the track
ends at Boulder Creek, and proceed on snow-shoes to the new
settlement in Partridge Bay, where the surveyor lives, who has the
plans of our reserve lands. I shall examine these plans, and if I find that
our property has been invaded, then--"
"Death and confusion to the McLeods," interrupted Bob. "Well,
perhaps that is the best thing to do; but the spring is well advanced. The
thermometer stood high this morning. If a thaw should set in, you will
find the walking in snow-shoes bad."
"`If' is a word to which you attach too much importance, Bob. We have
not at present to do with what may be, but with what is."
"True, nevertheless a prudent man has regard to probabilities," replied

Bob, with an air of much wisdom, as he relighted his pipe.
"Just so," returned Redding, "and as there is every probability that I
shall be absent a good many days, I leave you in charge of this
establishment, with strict injunctions to keep aloof from the McLeods,
and at the same time to keep an eye on them. Francois Le Rue will
accompany me. I shall start immediately, therefore be pleased to go and
tell Le Rue to get himself and the sleigh ready while I put on my
travelling gear."
Obedient to the order, Smart left the room while his superior clothed
himself in a leathern coat and leggings, fur cap, moccasins, and
mittens.
In half an hour Redding and his man stepped into a sleigh, which was
barely large enough to hold them. They packed themselves up to the
armpits in bearskin rugs, and then Redding gave his rough little nag a
touch of the whip, which caused him to start forward with a jerk that
set all the bells on his harness ringing merrily. Another minute and they
dashed out at the gate, swept round the base of the beetling cliff that
frowned above the outpost, and entered the sombre shadow of the
forest.
CHAPTER TWO.
THE RECLUSE OF BOULDER CREEK.
The road along which the travellers proceeded was desolate and dreary
in the extreme.
Already darkened by clouds and snow-drift, it was rendered still more
gloomy by overhanging and snow-laden branches of stunted pines. It
was just broad enough to permit the passage of a single vehicle, being a
mere woodman's track, which had been extended beyond the ordinary
limits of such tracks, for his personal convenience, by Jonas Bellew, a
trapper who dwelt at that part of the coast already mentioned as
Boulder Creek. The track followed the windings of a streamlet which
was at that time covered with snow, and only distinguishable by the

absence of bushes along its course. It turned now to the right, now to
the left, as rocks, or mounds, or cliffs presented obstacles. In some
places it dived precipitately into a hollow that necessitated careful
driving; in others it ran straight up to the brow of a hill at an angle that
obliged the travellers not only to get out and walk, but also to aid their
panting pony by putting their shoulders to the back of the sleigh. Here
and there a level patch occurred over which they trotted briskly, and
then down they went again by a steep incline into the bed of an
ice-buried stream, to find a similarly steep ascent on the other side.
Occasionally, coming to a