The Young Fur Traders. Robert Michael Ballantyne

chose to listen.

      Suddenly Pierre vanished into the smoke and flames altogether, whence in another moment he issued, bearing in his hand the large tin kettle, which he deposited triumphantly at the feet of his comrades.

      “Now, then,” cried Pierre.

      It was unnecessary to have said even that much by way of invitation. Voyageurs do not require to have their food pressed upon them after a hard day’s work. Indeed, it was as much as they could do to refrain from laying violent hands on the kettle long before their worthy cook considered its contents sufficiently done.

      Charley sat in company with Mr Park—a chief factor, on his way to Norway House. Gibault, one of the men who acted as their servant, had placed a kettle of hot tea before them, which, with several slices of buffalo tongue, a lump of pemmican, and some hard biscuit and butter, formed their evening meal. Indeed, we may add that these viands, during a great part of the voyage, constituted their every meal. In fact, they had no variety in their fare, except a wild duck or two now and then, and a goose when they chanced to shoot one.

      Charley sipped a pannikin of tea as he reclined on his blanket, and being somewhat fatigued in consequence of his exertions and excitement during the day, said nothing. Mr Park for the same reasons, besides being naturally taciturn, was equally mute; so they both enjoyed in silence the spectacle of the men eating their supper. And it was a sight worth seeing.

      Their food consisted of robbiboo, a compound of flour, pemmican, and water, boiled to the consistency of very thick soup. Though not a species of food that would satisfy the fastidious taste of an epicure, robbiboo is, nevertheless, very wholesome, exceedingly nutritious, and withal palatable. Pemmican, its principal component, is made of buffalo flesh, which fully equals (some think greatly excels) beef. The recipe for making it is as follows:– First kill your buffalo—a matter of considerable difficulty, by the way, as doing so requires you to travel to the buffalo-grounds, to arm yourself with a gun, and mount a horse, on which you have to gallop, perhaps, several miles over rough ground and among badger-holes, at the imminent risk of breaking your neck. Then you have to run up alongside of a buffalo and put a ball through his heart, which, apart from the murderous nature of the action, is a difficult thing to do. But we will suppose that you have killed your buffalo. Then you must skin him; then cut him up, and slice the flesh into layers, which must be dried in the sun. At this stage of the process you have produced a substance which in the fur countries goes by the name of dried meat, and is largely used as an article of food. As its name implies, it is very dry, and it is also very tough, and very undesirable if one can manage to procure anything better. But to proceed. Having thus prepared dried meat, lay a quantity of it on a flat stone, and take another stone, with which pound it into shreds. You must then take the animal’s hide, while it is yet new, and make bags of it about two feet and a half long by a foot and a half broad. Into this put the pounded meat loosely. Melt the fat of your buffalo over a fire, and when quite liquid pour it into the bag until full; mix the contents well together; sew the whole up before it cools, and you have a bag of pemmican of about ninety pounds weight. This forms the chief food of the voyageur, in consequence of its being the largest possible quantity of sustenance compressed into the smallest possible space, and in an extremely convenient, portable shape. It will keep fresh for years, and has been much used, in consequence, by the heroes of arctic discovery, in their perilous journeys along the shores of the frozen sea.

      The voyageurs used no plates. Men who travel in these countries become independent of many things that are supposed to be necessary here. They sat in a circle round the kettle, each man armed with a large wooden or pewter spoon, with which he ladled the robbiboo down his capacious throat, in a style that not only caused Charley to laugh, but afterwards threw him into a deep reverie on the powers of appetite in general, and the strength of voyageur stomachs in particular.

      At first the keen edge of appetite induced the men to eat in silence; but as the contents of the kettle began to get low, their tongues loosened, and at last, when the kettles were emptied and the pipes filled, fresh logs thrown on the fires, and their limbs stretched out around them, the babel of English, French, and Indian that arose was quite overwhelming. The middle-aged men told long stories of what they had done; the young men boasted of what they meant to do; while the more aged smiled, nodded, smoked their pipes, put in a word or two as occasion offered, and listened. While they conversed the quick ears of one of the men of Charley’s camp detected some unusual sound.

      “Hist!” said he, turning his head aside slightly, in a listening attitude, while his comrades suddenly ceased their noisy laugh.

      “Do ducks travel in canoes hereabouts?” said the man, after a moment’s silence; “for, if not, there’s some one about to pay us a visit. I would wager my best gun that I hear the stroke of paddles.”

      “If your ears had been sharper, François, you might have heard them some time ago,” said the guide, shaking the ashes out of his pipe and refilling it for the third time.

      “Ah, Louis, I do not pretend to such sharp ears as you possess, nor to such sharp wit either. But who do you think can be en route so late?”

      “That my wit does not enable me to divine,” said Louis; “but if you have any faith in the sharpness of your eyes, I would recommend you to go to the beach and see, as the best and shortest way of finding out.”

      By this time the men had risen, and were peering out into the gloom in the direction whence the sound came, while one or two sauntered down to the margin of the lake to meet the newcomers.

      “Who can it be, I wonder?” said Charley, who had left the tent, and was now standing beside the guide.

      “Difficult to say, monsieur. Perhaps Injins, though I thought there were none here just now. But I’m not surprised that we’ve attracted something to us. Livin’ creeturs always come nat’rally to the light, and there’s plenty fire on the point to-night.”

      “Rather more than enough,” replied Charley, abruptly, as a slight motion of wind sent the flames curling round his head and singed off his eyelashes. “Why, Louis, it’s my firm belief that if I ever get to the end of this journey, I’ll not have a hair left on my head.”