Part 10 (1/2)

”But what does your brother do?” I said eagerly. ”Is he an auctioneer's porter?”

”Love and bless your heart, Mr Gordon, sir, no,” he cried. ”I don't believe there's such a thing over there. He went out in the woods, and got a bit o' land give him, and built hisself a log-house, and made a garden, and got cows, and shoots in the woods.”

”Here, hold hard, Ding,” cried Esau, excitedly; ”that'll do. Goes shooting in the woods?”

”Yes, and gets a deer sometimes, and one winter he killed a bear and two wolves, my lad.”

”That's the place,” cried Esau. ”Hooroar! Come on, Master Gordon, let's go there.”

Dingle laughed.

”Hark at him, sir. What a one he is! Why, you don't know even where it is.”

”I don't care where it is,” cried Esau. ”You say you can go there, and get some land, and live in the woods, and make your own house, and shoot bears and wolves--that's just the thing I should like to do.”

”Why, you said you wanted to jyne the Ryle Artilleree.”

”Yes, but I didn't know of this place then. Where is it? How do you go? You'll come too, won't you?”

”I don't know,” I said, slowly, for my imagination was also fired by the idea of living in such a land of liberty as that. In fact, as I spoke, bright pictures of green forests and foaming rivers and boats began to form in my mind. ”Yes,” I cried, ”I think I should like to go.”

”Hooroar! Where is it, Ding?”

”Oh, my brother's in Bri'ish Columbia, but it's a long, long way.”

”Oh, we don't mind that,” cried Esau. ”How do you get there?”

”Him and his wife and their boy went eight or nine year ago. Sailed in a s.h.i.+p from the docks, and it took 'em five months.”

”Oh!” said Esau, in a disappointed tone. ”Five months! Why, I didn't think there was anywhere so far off as that.”

”Ah! but there is, and in one letter he told me that a man he knew was once a year going, but he went in a waggon instead of a s.h.i.+p.”

”Get out! He's gammoning us,” cried Esau. ”You can't drive a waggon over the sea.”

”Who said you could, Clevershakes?” said Dingle--then turning to me, ”He went over to Canady by s.h.i.+p, and then all acrost the prayerees in a waggon--lots o' waggons all together, because o' the Injins.”

”Fire-injins?” said Esau, eagerly. ”No. Dunno though,” said Dingle, grinning; ”they did fire at 'em a deal.”

”Red Injins!” cried Esau. ”Oh, I say, I think I'd rather go that way, because there'd be some fighting.”

”What, ain't you had fightin' enough, boy? Want to get at it again?

What yer thinking about, Mr Gordon?”

I started, for my thoughts were far away. ”I was thinking about your brother,” I said, hastily.

”Ah! but such a life wouldn't do for you, my lad. There's no clean hands out there--leastwise I dessay they're clean sometimes. What I mean is, it's always hard, rough work, and no setting on a stuffed seat and writing on bloo paper. Why, what do you think my brother had for chairs in his house?”

”Boxes,” I said.