Upon Catharine, in particular, these things made a deep impression, and there as she sat in the green shade, soothed by the lulling sound of the flowing waters, and the soft murmuring of the many-coloured insects that hovered among the fragrant leaves which thatched her sylvan bower, her young heart was raised in humble and holy aspirations to the great Creator of all things living. A peaceful calm diffused itself over her mind, as with hands meekly folded across her breast, the young girl prayed with the guileless fervour of a trusting and faithful heart.
The sun was just sinking in a flood of glory behind the dark pine-woods at the head of the lake, when Hector and Louis, who had been carefully providing fish for the morrow, (which was the Sabbath,) came loaded with their finny prey carefully strung upon a willow wand, and found Catharine sleeping in her bower. Louis was loth to break her tranquil slumbers, but her careful brother reminded him of the danger to which she was exposed, sleeping in the dew by the water side; "Moreover," he added, "we have some distance to go, and we have left the precious axe and the birch-bark vessel in the valley."
These things were too valuable to be lost, and so they roused the sleeper, and slowly recommenced their toilsome way, following the same path that they had made in the morning. Fortunately, Hector had taken the precaution to bend down the flexile branches of the dogwood and break the tops of the young trees that they had pa.s.sed between on their route to the lake, and by this clue they were enabled with tolerable certainty to retrace their way, nothing doubting of arriving in time at the wigwam of boughs by the rock in the valley.
Their progress was, however, slow, burdened with the care of the lame girl, and heavily laden with the fish. The purple shades of twilight soon clouded the scene, deepened by the heavy ma.s.ses of foliage, which cast a greater degree of obscurity upon their narrow path; for they had now left the oak-flat and entered the gorge of the valley. The utter loneliness of the path, the grotesque shadows of the trees, that stretched in long array across the steep banks on either side, taking, now this, now that wild and fanciful shape, awakened strange feelings of dread in the mind of these poor forlorn wanderers; like most persons bred up in solitude, their imaginations were strongly tinctured with superst.i.tious fears. Here then, in the lonely wilderness, far from their beloved parents and social hearth, with no visible arm to protect them from danger, none to encourage or to cheer them, can it be matter of surprise if they started with terror-blanched cheeks at every fitful breeze that rustled the leaves or waved the branches above them? The gay and lively Louis, blithe as any wild bird in the bright sunlight, was the most easily oppressed by this strange superst.i.tious fear, when the shades of evening were closing round, and he would start with ill-disguised terror at every sound or shape that met his ear or eye, though the next minute he was the first to laugh at his own weakness. In Hector, the feeling was of a graver, more solemn cast, recalling to his mind all the wild and wondrous tales with which his father was wont to entertain the children, as they crouched round the huge log-fire of an evening. It is strange the charm these marvellous tales possess for the youthful mind, no matter how improbable, or how often told; year after year they will be listened to with the same ardour, with an interest that appears to grow with repet.i.tion. And still, as they slowly wandered along, Hector would repeat to his breathless auditors those Highland legends that were as familiar to their ears as household words, and still they listened with fear and wonder, and deep awe, till at each pause he made, the deep-drawn breath and half-repressed shudder might be heard. And now the little party paused irresolutely, fearing to proceed,--they had omitted to notice some land-mark in their progress; the moon had not long been up, and her light was as yet indistinct; so they sat them down on a little gra.s.sy spot on the bank, and rested till the moon should lighten their path.
Louis was confident they were not far from "the bigstone," but careful Hector had his doubts, and Catharine was weary. The children had already conceived a sort of home feeling for the valley and the ma.s.s of stone that had sheltered them for so many nights, and soon the dark ma.s.s came in sight, as the broad full light of the now risen moon fell upon its rugged sides; they were nearer to it than they had imagined. "Forward for "the big stone" and the wigwam," cried Louis.
"Hush!" said Catharine, "look there," raising her hand with a warning gesture.
"Where? what?"
"The wolf! the wolf!" gasped out the terrified girl. There indeed, upon the summit of the block, in the att.i.tude of a sentinel or watcher, stood the gaunt-figured animal, and as she spoke, a long wild cry, the sound of which seemed as if it came midway between the earth and the tops of the tall pines on the lofty ridge above them, struck terror into their hearts, as with speechless horror they gazed upon the dark outline of the terrible beast. There it stood, with its head raised, its neck stretched outward, and ears erect, as if to catch the echo that gave back those dismal sounds; another minute and he was gone, and the crushing of branches and the rush of many feet on the high bank above, was followed by the prolonged cry of some poor fugitive animal,--a doe, or fawn, perhaps,--in the very climax of mortal agony; and then the lonely recesses of the forest took up that fearful death-cry, the far-off sh.o.r.es of the lake and the distant islands prolonged it, and the terrified children clung together in fear and trembling.
A few minutes over, and all was still. The chase had turned across the hills to some distant ravine; the wolves were all gone--not even the watcher was left, and the little valley lay once more in silence, with all its dewy roses and sweet blossoms glittering in the moonlight; but though around them all was peace and loveliness, it was long ere confidence was restored to the hearts of the panic-stricken and trembling children. They beheld a savage enemy in every ma.s.s of leafy shade, and every rustling bough struck fresh terrors into their excited minds. They might have exclaimed with the patriarch Jacob, "How dreadful is this place!"
With hand clasped in hand, they sat them down among the thick covert of the bushes, for now they feared to move forward, lest the wolves should return; sleep was long a stranger to their watchful eyes, each fearing to be the only one left awake, and long and painful was their vigil. Yet nature, overtasked, at length gave way, and sleep came down upon their eyelids; deep, unbroken sleep, which lasted till the broad sunlight breaking through the leafy curtains of their forest-bed, and the sound of waving boughs and twittering birds, once more wakened them to life and light; recalling them from happy dreams of home and friends, to an aching sense of loneliness and desolation. This day they did not wander far from the valley, but took the precaution, as evening drew on, to light a large fire, the blaze of which they thought would keep away any beast of prey. They had no want of food, as the fish they had caught the day before proved an ample supply. The huckle-berries were ripening too, and soon afforded them a never-failing source of food; there were also an abundance of bilberries, the sweet rich berries of which proved a great treat, besides being very nourishing.
CHAPTER III.
"Oh for a lodge in the vast wilderness, The boundless contiguity of shade!"
A fortnight had now pa.s.sed, and Catharine still suffered so much from pain and fever, that they were unable to continue their wanderings; all that Hector and his cousin could do, was to carry her to the bower by the lake, where she reclined whilst they caught fish. The painful longing to regain their lost home had lost nothing of its intensity; and often would the poor sufferer start from her bed of leaves and boughs, to wring her hands and weep, and call in piteous tones upon that dear father and mother, who would have given worlds had they been at their command, to have heard but one accent of her beloved voice, to have felt one loving pressure from that fevered hand. Hope, the consoler, hovered over the path of the young wanderers, long after she had ceased to whisper comfort to the desolate hearts of the mournful parents.
Of all that suffered by this sad calamity, no one was more to be pitied than Louis Perron: deeply did the poor boy lament the thoughtless folly which had involved his cousin Catharine in so terrible a misfortune. "If Kate had not been with me," he would say, "we should not have been lost; for Hector is so cautious and so careful, he would not have left the cattle-path; but we were so heedless, we thought only of flowers and insects, of birds, and such trifles, and paid no heed to our way."
Louis Perron, such is life. The young press gaily onward, gathering the flowers, and following the gay b.u.t.terflies that attract them in the form of pleasure and amus.e.m.e.nt; they forget the grave counsels of the thoughtful, till they find the path they have followed is beset with briers and thorns; and a thousand painful difficulties that were unseen, unexpected, overwhelm and bring them to a sad sense of their own folly; and perhaps the punishment of their errors does not fall upon themselves alone, but upon the innocent, who have unknowingly been made partic.i.p.ators in their fault.
By the kindest and tenderest attention to all her comforts, Louis endeavoured to alleviate his cousin"s sufferings, and soften her regrets; nay, he would often speak cheerfully and even gaily to her, when his own heart was heavy, and his eyes ready to overflow with tears.
"If it were not for our dear parents and the dear children at home,"
he would say, "we might spend our time most happily upon these charming plains; it is much more delightful here than in the dark thick woods; see how brightly the sunbeams come down and gladden the ground, and cover the earth with fruit and flowers. It is pleasant to be able to fish and hunt, and trap the game. Yes, if they were all here, we would build us a nice log-house, and clear up these bushes on the flat near the lake. This "Elfin Knowe," as you call it, Kate, would be a nice spot to build upon. See these glorious old oaks; not one should be cut down, and we would have a boat and a canoe, and voyage across to yonder islands. Would it not be charming, ma belle?" and Catharine, smiling at the picture drawn so eloquently, would enter into the spirit of the project, and say,--
"Ah! Louis, that would be pleasant."
"If we had but my father"s rifle now," said Hector, "and old Wolfe."
"Yes, and Fanchette, dear little Fanchette, that trees the partridges and black squirrels," said Louis.
"I saw a doe and a half-grown fawn beside her this very morning, at break of day," said Hector. "The fawn was so little fearful, that if I had had a stick in my hand, I could have killed it.--I came within ten yards of the spot where it stood. I know it would be easy to catch one by making a dead-fall." _[A sort of trap in which game is taken in the woods, or on the banks of creeks.]_
"If we had but a dear fawn to frolic about us, like Mignon, dear innocent Mignon," cried Catharine, "I should never feel lonely then."
"And we should never want for meat, if we could catch a fine fawn from time to time, ma belle."
"Hec., what are you thinking of?"
"I was thinking, Louis, that If we were doomed to remain here all our lives, we must build a house for ourselves; we could not live in the open air without shelter as we have done. The summer will soon pa.s.s, and the rainy season will come, and the bitter frosts and snows of winter will have to be provided against."
"But, Hector, do you really think there is no chance of finding our way back to Cold Springs? We know it must be behind this lake," said Louis.
"True, but whether east, west, or south, we cannot tell; and whichever way we take now is but a chance, and if once we leave the lake and get involved in the mazes of that dark forest, we should perish, for we know there is neither water nor berries, nor game to be had as there is here, and we might be soon starved to death. G.o.d was good who led us beside this fine lake, and upon these fruitful plains."
"It is a good thing that I had my axe when we started from home," said Hector. "We should not have been so well off without it; we shall find the use of it if we have to build a house. We must look out for some spot where there is a spring of good water, and--"
"No horrible wolves," interrupted Catharine: "though I love this pretty ravine, and the banks and braes about us, I do not think I shall like to stay here. I heard the wolves only last night, when you and Louis were asleep."
"We must not forget to keep watch-fires."
"What shall we do for clothes?" said Catharine, glancing at her home-spun frock of wool and cotton plaid.
"A weighty consideration, indeed," sighed Hector; "clothes must be provided before ours are worn out, and the winter comes on."
"We must save all the skins of the wood-chucks and squirrels," suggested Louis; "and fawns when we catch them."
"Yes, and fawns when we get them," added Hector; "but it is time enough to think of all these things; we must not give up all hope of home."
"I give up all hope? I shall hope on while I have life," said Catharine.
"My dear, dear father, he will never forget his lost children; he will try and find us, alive or dead; he will never give up the search."
Poor child, how long did this hope burn like a living torch in thy guileless breast. How often, as they roamed those hills and valleys, were thine eyes sent into the gloomy recesses of the dark ravines and thick bushes, with the hope that they would meet the advancing form and outstretched arms of thy earthly parents: all in vain--yet the arms of thy heavenly Father were extended over thee, to guide, to guard, and to sustain thee.
How often were Catharine"s hands filled with wild-flowers, to carry home, as she fondly said, to sick Louise, or her mother. Poor Catharine, how often did your bouquets fade; how often did the sad exile water them with her tears,--for hers was the hope that keeps alive despair.
When they roused them in the morning to recommence their fruitless wanderings, they would say to each other: "Perhaps we shall see our father, he may find us here to-day;" but evening came, and still he came not, and they were no nearer to their father"s home than they had been the day previous.
"If we could but find our way back to the "Cold Creek," we might, by following its course, return to Cold Springs," said Hector.
"I doubt much the fact of the "Cold Creek" having any connexion with our Spring," said Louis; "I think it has its rise in the "Beaver-meadow,"
and following its course would only entangle us among those wolfish balsam and cedar swamps, or lead us yet further astray into the thick recesses of the pine forest. For my part, I believe we are already fifty miles from Cold Springs."
It is one of the bewildering mistakes that all persons who lose their way in the pathless woods fall into, they have no idea of distance, or the points of the compa.s.s, unless they can see the sun rise and set, which is not possible to do when surrounded by the dense growth of forest-trees; they rather measure distance by the time they have been wandering, than by any other token.
The children knew that they had been a long time absent from home, wandering hither and thither, and they fancied their journey had been as long as it had been weary. They had indeed the comfort of seeing the sun in his course from east to west, but they knew not in what direction the home they had lost lay; it was this that troubled them in their choice of the course they should take each day, and at last determined them to lose no more time so fruitlessly, where the peril was so great, but seek for some pleasant spot where they might pa.s.s their time in safety, and provide for their present and future wants.
"The world was all before them, where to choose Their place of rest, and Providence their guide."
Catharine declared her ancle was so much stronger than it had been since the accident, and her health so much amended, that the day after the conversation just recorded, the little party bade farewell to the valley of the "big stone," and ascending the steep sides of the hills, bent their steps eastward, keeping the lake to their left hand; Hector led the way, loaded with their household utensils, which consisted only of the axe, which he would trust to no one but himself, the tin-pot, and the birch-basket. Louis had his cousin to a.s.sist up the steep banks, likewise some fish to carry, which had been caught early in the morning.
The wanderers thought at first to explore the ground near the lake sh.o.r.e, but soon abandoned this resolution, on finding the under-growth of trees and bushes become so thick, that they made little progress, and the fatigue of travelling was greatly increased by having continually to put aside the bushes or bend them down.
Hector advised trying the higher ground: and after following a deer-path through a small ravine that crossed the hills, they found themselves on a fine extent of table-land, richly, but not too densely wooded with white and black oaks, diversified with here and there a solitary pine, which reared its straight and pillar-like trunk in stately grandeur above its leafy companions: a meet eyrie for the bald-eagle, that kept watch from its dark crest over the silent waters of the lake, spread below like a silver zone studded with emeralds.
In their progress, they pa.s.sed the head of many small ravines, which divided the hilly sh.o.r.es of the lake into deep furrows; these furrows had once been channels, by which the waters of some upper lake (the site of which is now dry land) had at a former period poured down into the valley, filling the basin of what now is called the Rice Lake. These waters with resistless course had ploughed their way between the hills, bearing in their course those blocks of granite and limestone which are so widely scattered both on the hill-tops and the plains, or form a rocky pavement at the bottom of the narrow denies. What a sight of sublime desolation must that outpouring of the waters have presented, when those steep banks were riven by the sweeping torrents that were loosened from their former bounds. The pleased eye rests upon these tranquil sh.o.r.es, now covered with oaks and pines, or waving with a flood of golden grain, or varied by neat dwellings and fruitful gardens; and the gazer on that peaceful scene scarcely pictures to himself what it must have been when no living eye was there to mark the rushing floods, when they scooped to themselves the deep bed in which they now repose.
Those lovely islands that sit like stately crowns upon the waters, were doubtless the wreck that remained of the valley; elevated spots, whose rocky basis withstood the force of the rushing waters, that carried away the lighter portions of the soil. The southern sh.o.r.e, seen from the lake, seems to lie in regular ridges running from south to north; some few are parallel with the lake-sh.o.r.e, possibly where some surmountable impediment turned the current the subsiding waters; but they all find an outlet through their connexion with ravines communicating with the lake.