"You will come back, Laurence, when you have found your father?" said Jeanie, as, with tears in her eyes, she wished him good-bye.
"If G.o.d spares me, and I have the means to do so, I will come back, whether I find him or not; I promise you that," answered Laurence.
"That object alone would have induced me to quit the fort. I have no longer any wish to roam or lead the wild life of a trapper; and when I return, my great desire will be to go on with the study of that blessed Book which you first taught me to read and love."
"I taught you to read it, but G.o.d"s Holy Spirit could alone have taught you to love it," answered Jeanie.
Laurence and Peter, followed by the prayers of many in the fort, set out on their expedition. The appearance of the country was now completely changed from the stern aspect it had worn but a few weeks before. Trees and shrubs were clothed with a livery of green of varied hues, the gra.s.s was springing up in rich luxuriance, and flowers exhibited their gem-like tints in the valleys and woods; full streams flowed with rapid currents, sparkling along; numberless birds flew through the air, swarmed on the lakes, or perched on the boughs of the forest-trees.
Laurence led the way towards the spot where he and his father had concealed their traps before they set out to visit the fort, believing that old Michael would to a certainty have visited them, and hoping to find some traces beyond showing the direction he had afterwards taken.
Peter agreed with him that this was the best course to pursue. The journey would take them many days. Although so long a time had elapsed, from habit Laurence recollected the various landmarks, and was able to direct his course with great accuracy.
They arrived at length at the spot where the white wolf-skin had been concealed. It was gone; and from the tracks near it, which an Indian alone would have observed, Peter was of opinion that Michael must have removed it. On they went, therefore, over hill and dale, camping at night by the side of a fire, the warm weather enabling them to dispense with any shelter, towards the next spot where the wolf traps had been concealed. These also had been taken, and Peter found the tree to which the old man had tied his horse while he fastened them on their backs.
They soon reached the wood within which Laurence had a.s.sisted to hide the beaver traps. They also had been removed.
"Now I know that my father intended to begin trapping as soon as the spring commenced," observed Laurence. "See, he took his way onward through the wood towards the north, instead of returning by the road he came."
Laurence and Peter"s keen eyes easily distinguished the twigs which the horses had broken as the old trapper led them through the wood.
Probably he intended to spend the remainder of the winter in a wigwam by himself, as he often had done, or else in the lodges of some friendly Crees.
Laurence and Peter now went confidently on, expecting before long to meet with further traces of the old trapper. The borders of all the neighbouring lakes and streams were visited, but no signs of his having trapped there were discovered. Many leagues were pa.s.sed over, till at last an Indian village was reached. It consisted not of neat cottages, but of birch-bark wigwams of a sugar-loaf form, on the banks of a stream, a few patches of Indian corn and some small tobacco plantations being the only signs of cultivation around; fish sported in the river; and the wild animals of the forest afforded the inhabitants the chief means of subsistence. They welcomed the travellers. Peter was of their tribe. They gave them tidings of old Michael. He had been seen to pa.s.s just before the snow had begun to melt in the warmer valleys.
Peter did not fail to tell his red-skinned brothers of the wonderful tidings the white-face missionary at the fort had brought.
"The great G.o.d of the white-faces loves us as much as He does them," he exclaimed. "He wishes us to go and dwell with Him in a far better land than the happy hunting-grounds we have hitherto heard of. He says that we are wicked, and deserve punishment; but He has allowed another, His own well-beloved Son, to be punished instead of us; and all He wants us to do is to believe that His dutiful and well-beloved Son was so punished, and to follow the example which He set while He was on earth."
"These are wise things you tell us," cried several of the Crees; "but how do you know that it is so?"
"Because it is all written in a book which He has given to us. He sends His Holy Spirit to all who seek for His aid to understand that book."
Laurence a.s.sured the Crees that he had thought us they then did a short time ago, but that now he knew that all Peter said was true. So earnestly did Peter plead the cause of the gospel, that many of the Crees promised to visit the fort, to hear from the missionary himself further on the subject.
Several of the inhabitants offered to accompany Laurence and his friends to a.s.sist them in their search, and to spread the strange tidings they had heard among others of their tribe whom they might fall in with.
For several days they journeyed on, lakes and streams being visited as before. At last they found a broken trap. Laurence, on examining it, decided that it belonged to his father. Still he must have gone further to the west. Laurence began to fear that he might have wandered into a part of the country frequented by Blackfeet and Peigans, among the most savage tribes of the Sioux.
"He is friendly with many of the Sioux, among whom, indeed, I was brought up," observed Laurence, "and fears none of them. Still, I know how treacherous many of them are; and he may, I fear, have fallen into their power. This will account for his not returning to the fort."
"He may, however, have escaped them, and be still trapping about here, as it is a rich country for the beaver," observed Peter. "We may then hope ere long to find him."
The party now advanced more cautiously than before. They had certain proof that old Michael was in the neighbourhood; for Laurence discovered, by the side of a beaver pond, another of his father"s traps.
Why it was deserted he could not tell. Peter was of opinion that he had hurried away from the spot, probably on account of the appearance of enemies, and had been unable to return. This increased Laurence"s anxiety. They now advanced according to Indian custom, concealing themselves behind every bush and rock, and climbing each height or tall tree whence they could obtain a view of the surrounding country.
It was towards evening, and they were looking out for a sheltered place for their camp. Peter had gone to the summit of a hill and gazed around for the purpose mentioned, when he came hurrying down.
"There are Blackfeet at the further end of the valley," he said, "and by their movements they are evidently watching for some one. If it is your father, we have no time to lose. We outnumber them, and may hope easily to come off victorious."
"Oh, let us not delay a moment, or we may be too late to save him,"
exclaimed Laurence; and they and their allies pushed on as before in the direction where Peter had seen the Blackfeet. By carefully keeping among the thick underwood and trees they hoped to take their enemies by surprise.
"Remember, my friends," said Laurence, "that though we conquer them, we are to endeavour to spare their lives, and by no means to injure them."
With stealthy steps Laurence and his friends advanced towards the Blackfeet, of whom they now discovered there were but five, while his party numbered eight. They were so eager in tracking whatever they were in pursuit of that, notwithstanding their usual wariness, they did not discover the approach of Laurence and the Crees. Presently the Blackfeet were seen to draw their bows, and several arrows winged their flight through the air. At the same time Laurence caught sight of the figure of a man, who sprang up from where he had been seated near a fire to seek shelter behind a rock, firing his rifle as he did so. Laurence recognised his father, and to his horror saw that two arrows had pierced his body. The moment he fired, one of the Blackfeet fell to the ground.
The old man stood as if uninjured, calmly reloading his weapon; while the Indians, with their bows ready drawn to shoot should he reappear, sprang towards the thick trunks of some neighbouring trees to escape his fire. They were thus separated from each other, and brought nearer to where Laurence and his party lay concealed. Peter now made a sign to his companions, and in a few bounds they were up to the Blackfeet, who, thus taken unawares, were pinioned and brought to the ground before they could turn round and shoot their arrows or draw their hatchets from their belts.
Laurence, leaving his companions to guard their prisoners, who, expecting instant death, had a.s.sumed that stoic indifference of which Indians boast, hastened to the a.s.sistance of his father. He shouted as he ran, "Father, father, I am coming to you."
The old man, who had sunk on one knee, with rifle ready prepared to fight to the last, fortunately recognised his voice. "What have become of the Blackfeet, boy?" were his first words. "I saw the Crees spring from under cover to attack them. Have they killed the treacherous vermin?"
"No, father," answered Laurence. "Our friends made them prisoners. We will spare their lives, and pray G.o.d to soften their hearts."
"What is that you say?" asked Michael. "The Crees will surely kill them, and take their scalps, unless they wish to carry them to their lodges, that their wives and children may torture them as they deserve.
But I feel faint, Laurence; their arrows have made some ugly wounds in my flesh; help me to get them out."
Laurence saw with grief that his father was indeed badly hurt; and as he supported him, he shouted to Peter to come to his a.s.sistance. Peter, having helped to secure their prisoners, soon appeared. The old trapper, notwithstanding his hardihood, had fainted from pain and loss of blood. Peter"s first care was to extricate the arrows, which, though they had inflicted severe injuries, had mercifully not reached any vital part. He and Laurence then, having bound up his wounds, carried him to his little wigwam, which stood close by. Within it were a large supply of skins, several traps, and articles for camp use, to obtain which probably the treacherous Blackfeet had attacked old Michael. In the meadow hard by his horses were also found. Laurence sat by his side, supporting his head, and moistening his parched lips. He soon sufficiently recovered to speak.
"I was about to return, Laurence," he said, "but I wished to bring a good amount of skins to pay for your charges, should you wish to remain longer at the fort, and learn the ways of the white man; or if not, to fit you out, that you might come back and trap with me. We might have had some pleasant days again together, boy; but had you and our friends not appeared the moment you did, the Blackfeet would have put an end to all my plans."
"Father," said Laurence, "I never wished to desert you; but it would have been a sore trial to me to leave the fort; and if G.o.d in His mercy spares your life, I pray that you may return there with me, and that we may employ our time in a better way than in trapping beaver."
"No, no! G.o.d cannot have mercy on such a one as I am," groaned Michael; "and it"s hard to say whether I shall ever get back to the fort."
"Oh, but G.o.d is a G.o.d of love and mercy," cried Laurence. "He delights in showing mercy and forgiveness. You must hear what Mr Martin, the missionary, will tell you about Him; then I am sure you will wish to stop and hear more, and to serve and love Him."
Peter now came back with the old trapper"s horses to the camp, near to which his friends had dragged their prisoners. He had had much difficulty in persuading the Crees not to put to death the Blackfeet.
He had still a harder task to perform.
"Friends," he said, "according to Indian custom you might kill them; but I have learned a new law, which is just and true--given me by an all-powerful, kind, and merciful Master, who commands His servants to forgive their enemies, and to do good to those who injure them. Our prisoners were doing a wicked thing, and have been severely punished, for one of their number lies dead. I would that he were alive again, that he might hear what I have to say. I must pray you, therefore, to let these men go. We will take their arms, that they may do us no further injury; but we will give them food, that they may return to their friends, to tell them about the love of our great Father; that He desires all His children to serve Him, and to be at peace with each other."
Peter then, in a simple way, suited to the comprehension of his hearers, unfolded to them the gospel plan of salvation. The Blackfeet listened with astonished ears, and could scarcely believe the fact that they were allowed to go free and uninjured. Peter then invited them to the fort, and promised to receive them as friends, and to tell them more of the wonderful things of which he had spoken. The coals of fire which he heaped on their heads appeared really to have softened their hearts.
Having, with the a.s.sistance of the Crees, buried their companion, by Peter"s desire their arms were unbound, and they were set at liberty.
Uttering expressions of grat.i.tude such as rarely fall from an Indian"s lips, they took their departure, promising ere long to pay him a visit at the fort.
A night"s rest sufficiently restored old Michael to enable him to commence his journey on one of the horses to the fort, while the other carried his peltries and traps. Laurence walked all the way at the head of his steed, endeavouring by his conversation to keep up the spirits of his father, and never failing, at every opportunity, to introduce the subject nearest his heart. The old man listened to what he said; but he seldom made any answer. He offered, however, no opposition to his remarks. Frequently Laurence feared that he would sink from the effects of his wounds; but his life was mercifully preserved, and at length the fort was reached.
There was sincere rejoicing as Laurence was seen leading his father"s horse up to the gate. The old trapper was carried into Mr Ramsay"s house, and there received that watchful care he so greatly needed. He gradually recovered his strength. One of his first visitors was Mr Martin. His object, as may be supposed, was not to talk of temporal affairs, but to unfold to him, as he perceived that his mind was capable of comprehending it, G.o.d"s merciful plan of salvation.
The old man"s heart, unlike that of his young son, appeared so hardened and seared, from having long rejected Divine truth, that some people might have given up the attempt in despair; but Mr Martin had too much knowledge of the human heart, and too firm a faith of the all-powerful influence of G.o.d the Holy Spirit, to relax his efforts. From no idle curiosity, he endeavoured to draw from Michael some account of his early life. He was, he found, an Englishman, and that he had been for some time married and settled in Canada, when he had joined the rebellion which broke out many years ago against the authority of the British Government. Having acted as a leader in some of the more desperate enterprises in which a few of the misguided inhabitants engaged at that time, a price was set on his head. He escaped, however, to the wilds of the Far West, where, both from inclination and necessity, he had taken to the pursuit of a trapper. He quickly learned the language both of the Crees and Sioux, and other tribes among whom he wandered. He gained their confidence and friendship;--he believed, indeed, that he could lead them to any purpose he might entertain, and all sorts of wild plans pa.s.sed through his mind. One enterprise he was, unfortunately, able to carry out. One of his daughters had married a gentleman of some property who had been a firm adherent of the Government, and Moggs had, in consequence, conceived a bitter hatred against him, which time in no way had lessened. Several years pa.s.sed by, when he heard that his daughter had a son, then about four years of age; and he formed the barbarous idea of carrying off the child. He had little difficulty in obtaining the a.s.sistance of a band of Indians; and, disguising himself as one of them, he led an attack on the place, and succeeded too well in his nefarious project. As the country was in a disturbed state at the time, the attack was supposed to have been instigated by American sympathisers, and the real culprit was not suspected. Making good his retreat, he did not stop till he had got many hundred miles away from the borders of Canada; and believing that he might still be traced, he placed the child under charge of an old squaw belonging to a tribe of Sioux, with whom he had formed a friendship. Strangely inconsistent as it would seem, an affection for the boy grew up in his hard heart; and in time, oppressed with the solitary life he had doomed himself to lead, he determined to make him his companion in his trapping expeditions.
"Has no remorse ever visited you?" asked Mr Martin, when the old man had finished his narrative.
"Yes, sometimes my thoughts have been terrible," groaned Michael.
"Then pray G.o.d that it may be a repentance to salvation not to be repented of. With regard, however, to your temporal affairs, my friend, I can a.s.sure you that, through the clemency of the Queen of England, all the rebels in Canada at the time you speak of have been forgiven."
"Ah, sir," exclaimed Michael Moggs, "the Queen may have forgiven some, but she cannot have forgiven me. You must, I am sure, be mistaken."
"But, my friend, if I can show you her proclamation, in which she declares that she overlooks and pardons all those rebellious subjects who rose against her authority, and allows those who have fled the country to return under her rule, would you then believe me?"