“Perhaps it is the influence of a strong mind over a weaker,” suggested his wife.
“It may be so. Yet Prince is an utterly uneducated man. True, he shoots a hair’s-breadth better than Massan; but he is not a better canoe-man, neither is he more courageous, and he is certainly less powerful: nevertheless Massan looks up to him and speaks of him as if he were greatly his superior. The secret of his power must lie in that steady, never-wavering inflexibility of purpose, that characterises our good bowman in everything he does.”
“Papa,” said Edith, who had been holding a long conversation with Chimo on the wonders of the scene around them—if we may call that a conversation where the one party does all the talking and the other all the listening—“papa, where shall we all sleep to-night?”
The thought seemed to have struck her for the first time, and she looked up eagerly for an answer, while Chimo gave a deep sigh of indifference, and went to sleep, or pretended to do so, where he was.
“In the woods, Eda. How do you think you will like it?”
“Oh, I’m sure I shall like it very much,” replied the little one. “I’ve often wished to live in the woods altogether like the Indians, and do nothing but wander about and pull berries.”
“Ah, Jessie,” said Stanley, “what an idle little baggage your daughter is! I fear she’s a true chip of the old block!”
“Which do you consider the old block,” retorted Mrs Stanley—“you or me?”
“Never mind, wife; we’ll leave that an open question.—But tell me, Eda, don’t you think that wandering about and pulling berries would be a very useless sort of life?”
“No,” replied Edith, gravely. “Mamma often tells me that God wants me to be happy, and I’m quite sure that wandering about all day in the beautiful woods would make me happy.”
“But, my darling,” said Stanley, smiling at the simplicity of this plausible argument in favour of an idle life, “don’t you know that we ought to try to make others happy too, as well as ourselves?”
“Oh yes,” replied Eda, with a bright smile, “I know that, papa; and I would try to make everybody happy by going with them and showing them where the finest flowers and berries were to be found; and so we would all be happy together, and that’s what God wants, is it not?”
Mr Stanley glanced towards his wife with an arch smile. “There, Jessie, what think you of that?”
“Nay, husband, what think you?”
“I think,” he replied in an undertone, “that your sagacious teaching against idleness, and in favour of diligence and attention to duty, and so forth, has not taken very deep root yet.”
“And I think,” said Mrs Stanley, “that however wise you men may be in some things, you are all most incomprehensibly stupid in regard to the development of young minds.”
“Take care now, Jessie; you’re verging upon metaphysics. But you have only given me your opinion of men as yet; you have still to say what you think of Eda’s acknowledged predilection for idleness.”
“Well,” replied Mrs Stanley, “I think that my sagacious teaching, as you are pleased to call it, has taken pretty firm root already, and that Eda’s speech is one of the first bright, beautiful blossoms, from which we may look for much fruit hereafter; for to make one’s self and one’s fellow-creatures happy, because such is the will of God, seems to me a simple and comprehensive way of stating the whole duty of man.”
Stanley’s eyes opened a little at this definition. “Hum! multum in parvo; it may be so,” he said; and casting down his eyes, he was soon lost in a profound reverie, while the canoe continued to progress forward by little impulsive bounds, under the rapid stroke of the paddles. Eda rested her fair cheek on the shaggy brow of Chimo, and accompanied him to the land of nod, until the sun began to sink behind the icebergs on the seaward horizon, where a dark line indicated an approaching breeze.
Massan cast an uneasy glance at this from time to time. At length he called to his friend in the bow, “Hello, Prince! will it come stiff; think ye?”
“No,” replied Prince, rising and shading his eyes with his hand; “it’ll be only a puff; but that’s enough to drive the ice down on us, an’ shut up the open water.”
“It’s my ’pinion,” said Massan, “that we should hold away for the p’int yonder, an’ camp there.”
Dick Prince nodded assent, and resumed his paddle.
As he did so the report of a gun came sharply over the water.
“Ha!” exclaimed Stanley, looking out ahead; “what’s that?”
“Only Mr Frank,” said Massan; “he’s dowsed two birds. I see’d them splash into the water.”
“That’s right,” said Stanley; “we shall have something fresh for the kettle to-night. And, by the way, we’ll need all we can kill, for we haven’t much provision to depend on, and part of it must be reserved in case of accidents, so that if Frank does not do his duty, we shall have to live on birch bark, Massan.”
“That would be rayther tough. I’m afeerd,” replied the steersman, laughing. “I’ve tried the tail o’ a deer-skin coat afore now, an’ it wasn’t much to boast of; but I niver tried a birch-bark steak. I doubt it would need a power o’ chewin?”
By this time the two large canoes had drawn gradually nearer to the leading one. As they approached, Frank ordered his men to cease paddling.
“Well, Frank, what success?” said Stanley, as they came up.
“There’s our supper,” cried Frank, tossing a large duck into the canoe; “and there’s a bite for the men,” he added, sending a huge gray goose into the midst of them. “I saw a herd of reindeer on the other side of the point; but the ice closed up the passage, and prevented me from getting within range. It will stop our further progress for to-night too; so I waited to advise you to camp here.”
“There it comes!” cried Dick Prince. “Jump out on the ice, lads, and unload as fast as you can.”
As Dick spoke he sprang on to a field of ice which was attached to the shore, and drawing the canoe alongside, began hastily to remove the cargo. His example was instantly followed by the men, who sprang over the gunwales like cats; and in less than five minutes the cargoes were scattered over the ice. Meanwhile, the breeze which Massan had observed continued to freshen, and the seaward ice bore rapidly down on the shore, gradually narrowing and filling up the lanes of water among which the travellers had been hitherto wending their way. Dick Prince’s sudden action was caused by his observing a large, solid field, which bore down on them with considerable rapidity. His warning was just in time, for the goods were scarcely landed and the three canoes lifted out of the water, when the ice closed in with a crash that would have ground the frail barks to pieces, and the passage was closed up. So completely was every trace of water obliterated, that it seemed as though there never had been any there before.
Chapter Seven.
Shows how the party made themselves at home in the bush—Talk round the camp fire—A flash of temper—Turning in
The spot where they were thus suddenly arrested in their progress was a small bay, formed by a low point which jutted from the mainland, and shut out the prospect in advance. There was little or no wood on the point, except a few stunted willows, which being green and small would not, as La Roche the cook remarked, “make a fire big enough to roast the wing of a mosquito.” There was no help for it, however. The spot on which Massan had resolved to encamp for the night was three miles on the other side of the point, and as the way was now solid ice instead of water, there was no possibility of getting there until a change of wind should drive the ice off the shore. Moreover, it was now getting dark, and it behoved them to make their preparations with as much speed as possible. Accordingly, Massan and Prince shouldered one canoe, François and Gaspard