Part 20 (2/2)
John shouldered his rifle, made a sign to Strawberry Plant, who rose, and looking kindly at Mrs. Campbell and the girls, without speaking, followed John out of the hut. Malachi certainly was not very polite, for he walked off, in company with John and the squaw, without taking the trouble to say ”Good-by.” It must, however, be observed that he was in conversation with Martin, who accompanied them on the way.
The winter had now become very severe. The thermometer was twenty degrees below the freezing point, and the cold was so intense, that every precaution was taken against it. More than once Percival, whose business it was to bring in the firewood, was frost bitten, but as Mrs.
Campbell was very watchful, the remedy of cold snow was always successfully applied. The howling of the wolves continued every night, but they were now used to it, and the only effect was, when one came more than usually close to the house, to make Oscar raise his head, growl, listen awhile, and then lie down to sleep again. Oscar became very fond of the girls, and was their invariable companion whenever they left the house. Alfred, Martin and Henry went out almost daily on hunting excursions; indeed, as there were no crops in the barn, they had little else to do. Mr. Campbell remained at home with his wife and nieces; occasionally, but not very often, Percival accompanied the hunters; of Malachi and John, they saw but little; John returned about every ten days, but although he adhered to his promise, his anxiety to go back to Malachi was so very apparent, and he was so restless, that Mrs. Campbell rather wished him to be away, than remain at home so much against his will.
Thus pa.s.sed away the time till the year closed in; confined as they were by the severity of the weather, and having little or nothing to do, the winter appeared longer and more tedious than it would have done had they been settled longer, and had the crops to occupy their attention; for it is in the winter that the Canadian farmer gets through all his thras.h.i.+ng and other work connected with the farm, preparatory for the coming spring. This being their first winter, they had, of course, no crops gathered in, and were, therefore, in want of employment. Mrs. Campbell and her nieces worked and read, and employed themselves in every way that they could, but constantly shut up within doors, they could not help feeling the monotony and _ennui_ of their situation. The young men found occupation and amus.e.m.e.nt in the chase; they brought a variety of animals and skins, and the evenings were generally devoted to a narration of what occurred in the day during their hunting excursions, but even these histories of the chase were at last heard with indifference. It was the same theme only with variations, over and over again, and there was no longer much excitement in listening.
”I wonder when John will come back again,” observed Emma to her sister, as they were sitting at work.
”Why he only left two days ago, so we must not expect him for some time.”
”I know that; I wonder if Oscar would kill a wolf; I should like to take him out and try.”
”I thought you had had enough of wolves already, Emma,” replied Mary.
”Yes, well; that old Malachi will never bring us any more news about the Indians,” continued Emma, yawning.
”Why, I do not think that any news about them is likely to be pleasant news, Emma, and therefore, why should you wish it?”
”Why, my dear Mary, because I want _some_ news; I want something to excite me, I feel so dull. It's nothing but st.i.tch, st.i.tch, all day, and I am tired of always doing the same thing. What a horrid thing a Canadian winter Is, and not one-half over yet.”
”It is very dull and monotonous, my dear Emma, I admit, and if we had more variety of employment, we should find it more agreeable, but we ought to feel grateful that we have a good house over our heads, and more security than we antic.i.p.ated.”
”Almost too much security, Mary; I begin to feel that I could welcome an Indian even in his war-paint, just by way of a little change.”
”I think you would soon repent of your wish, if it were gratified.”
”Very likely, but I can not help wis.h.i.+ng it now. When will they come home? What o'clock is it? I wonder what they'll bring: the old story I suppose, a buck; I'm sick of venison.”
”Indeed, Emma, you are wrong to feel such discontent and weariness.”
”Perhaps I am, but I have not walked a hundred yards for nearly one hundred days, and that will give one the blues, as they call them, and I do nothing but yawn, yawn, yawn, for want of air and exercise. Uncle won't let us move out on account of that horrid wolf. I wonder how Captain Sinclair is getting on at the fort, and whether he is as dull as we are.”
To do Emma justice, it was seldom that she indulged herself in such lamentations, but the tedium was more than her high flow of spirits could well bear. Mrs. Campbell made a point of arranging the household, which gave her occupation, and Mary from natural disposition did not feel the confinement as much as Emma did; whenever, therefore, she did show symptoms of restlessness or was tempted to utter a complaint, they reasoned with and soothed, but never reproached her.
The day after this conversation, Emma, to amuse herself, took a rifle and went out with Percival. She fired several shots at a mark, and by degrees acquired some dexterity; gradually she became fond of the exercise, and not a day pa.s.sed that she and Percival did not practice for an hour or two, until at last Emma could fire with great precision.
Practice and a knowledge of the perfect use of your weapon gives confidence, and this Emma did at last acquire. She challenged Alfred and Henry to fire at the bull's eye with her, and whether by their gallantry or her superior dexterity, she was declared victor. Mr. and Mrs.
Campbell smiled when Emma came in and narrated her success, and felt glad that she had found something which afforded her amus.e.m.e.nt.
It happened that one evening the hunters were very late; it was a clear moonlight night, but at eight o'clock they had not made their appearance; Percival had opened the door to go out for some firewood which had been piled within the palisades, and as it was later than the usual hour for locking the palisade gates, Mr. Campbell had directed him so to do. Emma, attracted by the beauty of the night, was at the door of the house, when the howl of a wolf was heard close to them; the dogs accustomed to it merely sprang on their feet, but did not leave the kitchen fire; Emma went out, and looked through the palisades to see if she could perceive the animal, and little Trim, the terrier, followed her. Now Trim was so small, that he could creep between the palisades, and as soon as he was close to them, perceiving the wolf, the courageous little animal squeezed through them and flew toward it, barking as loud as he could. Emma immediately ran in, took down her rifle and went out again, as she knew that poor Trim would soon be devoured. The supposition was correct: the wolf, instead of retreating, closed with the little dog and seized it. Emma, who could now plainly perceive the animal, which was about forty yards from her, took aim and fired, just as poor Trim gave a loud yelp. Her aim was good, and the wolf and dog lay side by side. Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, and Mary, hearing the report of the rifle, ran out, and found Percival and Emma at the palisades behind the house.
”I have killed him, aunt,” said Emma, ”but I fear he has killed poor little Trim; do let us go out and see.”
”No, no, my dear Emma, that must not be; your cousins will be home soon, and then we shall know how the case stands; but the risk is too great.”
”Here they come,” said Percival, ”as fast as they can run.”
<script>