Title: The making of a man
Author: Flatt, W. D.
Language: English
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*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The making of a man" ***


[Illustration: “ROBERT GRABBED THE SAVAGE BY THE THROAT IN A VICE-LIKE
GRIP.”

                                                       _See page 76._]



  THE MAKING OF
  A MAN

  BY
  W. D. FLATT

  TORONTO
  WILLIAM BRIGGS
  1918



  Copyright, Canada, 1918
  by W. D. FLATT.



NOTE


  THIS BOOK IS NOT SOLD FOR THE USUAL COMMERCIAL RETURNS. THE PROFITS
  WILL BE DEVOTED TO PATRIOTIC PURPOSES



  TO

  The Twenty-eight Boys in My Sunday School Class
  at Port Nelson, Ontario, whose joys and
  sorrows I try somewhat to share--this
  story of real men and
  women is dedicated

Your battle of Life, boys, has just begun. If you have the courage
to be fair, honest, strong and clean now, and if you follow along
the paths your conscience indicates, you will have the strength of
character which produces heroes, in your years of manhood



CONTENTS


                                           PAGE
  FOREWORD                                    9


  CHAPTER I.

  LEAVING HOME                               13


  CHAPTER II.

  THE VOYAGE                                 21


  CHAPTER III.

  NEW EXPERIENCES IN A NEW LAND              44


  CHAPTER IV.

  AN APPLICATION OF PRINCIPLES               57


  CHAPTER V.

  STIRRING ADVENTURE IN THE NORTH            72


  CHAPTER VI.

  NEW DUTIES LEAD TO LARGER TESTS            77


  CHAPTER VII.

  SANDY’S VISIT HOME                         97


  CHAPTER VIII.

  HOPES REALIZED AND THE JOURNEY ENDED      106


  HOW “KID” MADE GOOD                       133

  AN APPEAL TO PLAY THE GAME FAIRLY         149



ILLUSTRATIONS


                                                             PAGE

  “Robert Grabbed the Savage by the Throat”        _Frontispiece_

  Hearing the Story of Opportunity                             14

  Saying Good-Bye to the Home-Folk                             19

  “He Leaped from the Deck”                                    32

  “For the First Time Saw Polar Bears”                         38

  “The First Man to Grasp the Hand of the Captain”             40

  Starting Out from Fort Churchill                             44

  “With a Farewell Wave of the Hand”                           46

  “Companionship in the Temple of God’s Great Solitude”        50

  “The Animals Rushed to One Side”                             53

  The Party Leaving Fort Garry                                 63

  Starting a Fifteen-Hundred-Mile Journey                      77

  “Wolf After Wolf Fell from the Blows”                        88

  “You’re a Coward”                                            91

  “For a Moment He Hesitated”                                 100

  “No Letter from Sandy”                                      103

  “One Morning a Youth Started Out”                           106

  “He Cooked His Supper Over the Fire”                        109

  “With a Prayer of Thankfulness”                             117

  “Thus Were Robert’s Early Hopes and Plans Realized”         128

  A Scene in the Lumber Woods Thirty Years Ago                143

  Dressing a Pine Monarch for Shipment                        143

  Some of Canada’s Big Men                                    149

  “Men of To-Morrow”                                          151

  Boys and Girls of the Burlington Public School              153



FOREWORD


The story within these covers has been written from impressions
received in boyhood days, ideas which time could not erase and which
the passing of the years has developed and strengthened. It is perhaps
only fair to state frankly that the story is largely founded on fact,
though, for purposes which will be obvious, the characters have been
treated from a general rather than a particular sense.

The aim has been to follow a young man’s life from his home in the
Orkney Islands, one hundred years ago, through his experiences in what
was then an untravelled country in the Canadian West, and to show how,
in his humble, commonplace way, he took hold of the opportunities which
presented themselves, small though they might seem to us to be, and
built up a character and a place for himself in the community which
stood the test of time.

Hundreds of our Canadian pioneers did just this in the simple, honest,
straightforward lives they led in the early days of this country,
and it is on the foundations they laid in those days that Canada’s
greatness now has been reared.

All honor to the stalwart Canadian pioneer. Both the young and the old
of to-day may well renew in memory the struggles and sacrifices by
which Canada’s foundation was well and truly laid. It is one of the
greatest legacies which the past has bequeathed to us. It is one of the
treasures that we should fondly cling to.

May we never forget the heroic daring, the finer qualities of
self-denial, of loyalty to duty, stronger than the love of life, of
the temper which dreads dishonor more than it fears death and the
patriotism which makes love of home and country a passion.

Never were the fortunes of a vast heritage, such as Canada possessed,
entrusted to stouter hearts than those of the pioneers. They were
the resolute, grim, silent heroes of the majestic Canadian forest
solitudes. They were intense in doing good and were possessed of great,
chivalrous souls.

Those rugged sons and daughters of the Motherland crossed the sea and
marched into the Canadian forest solitude without beat of drum. They
built their log cabins amidst the towering forest giants, the giants
which reached heavenward.

The fire of love for right and liberty which shone so brightly in the
pioneers’ everyday life still burns fiercely in the hearts of Canada’s
sons. The heroic deeds of valor, of service and sacrifice on the
battlefields of Flanders by our boys have thrilled the heart of the
world and welded forever an unbroken chain between that of the early
pioneer fathers and mothers, and that of their sons and daughters of
to-day, for the cause of liberty, freedom and righteousness, for the
love of home and country, for the love of the Motherland, for the love
of peace and goodwill to men.

If the story herein told marks the path of duty more plainly for
others; if it assists the youth in steering his life ship clear of the
danger shoals discovered on my life’s voyage; if it inspires a more
sturdy character, or if it influences one young man or young woman
helpfully, I shall be well repaid.

                                                             W. D. Flatt



THE MAKING OF A MAN



CHAPTER I.

_LEAVING HOME._


Close to the bleak coast of the Orkney Islands, not far from where Lord
Kitchener found his final resting-place and where the waves seemed to
dash ceaselessly upon the rocky coast with an echo of the wonderful
leader’s message, “Your King and Country need you,” there resided, in a
cottage home, a family of seven, father and mother, four brothers and a
sister. Luxuries were things unknown in the home, since the securing of
a mere living was in itself a considerable problem, and so, while the
children had been reared in habits of industry and thriftiness, they
early appreciated that under these circumstances the future did not
present an especially rosy aspect.

[Illustration: ROBERT AND WILL HEARING THE STORY OF OPPORTUNITY IN A
NEW LAND.]

The situation appealed particularly to the eldest sons, Robert and
William, who were sixteen and eighteen years of age, stalwart youths
who, if no other gifts had been given them, were endowed with splendid
constitutions, capable of great endurance. There was little or no work
to be had at their island home and consequently little opportunity
for advancement. Their father realized that the sons should be given
an opportunity to hew out a destiny greater than their immediate
condition would permit, but the mother, like all good mothers, found it
exceedingly hard to countenance the thought of her boys leaving home.
Even so early as this, a hundred years ago, stories of the wonderful
opportunities of the new colony across the seas, Canada, had found
their way to the little Islands, and it was perhaps only natural that
the thoughts of the youths should turn toward this country of untried
hopes. Since money was not plentiful in the home there was no means
at hand to provide for the securing of a passage, but ultimately the
opportunity was presented in an unexpected way. As we now know so well,
early Canadian development, particularly in the West, was largely in
the hands of the Hudson’s Bay Company, which had been, even for some
years previous to this, carrying on a large fur trade under special
Government permission. Since young men were exceedingly scarce in
Canada, when the Company desired new employees they naturally turned to
the Old Land. In this case an experienced employee on such a search,
knowing something of the characteristics of the Orkney men, visited
the Islands, and his requirements became known to the two brothers.
Only specially fitted young men of fine physique and those who had been
trained in their homes to a knowledge of discipline and duty, which, of
course, meant a knowledge of what hard work implied, were considered.
The applicants must necessarily possess reputation without reproach,
and a character which stood out upon their faces. What the Company
wanted were young men of the highest type, who could be absolutely
depended on to do their whole duty amid the most trying circumstances.
The necessity for this can be understood when it is known that the work
of these employees demanded dealing with the Indians as well as with
the white men, and possibly the protection of the rights of the Company
against a whole Indian tribe. Robert and William, although they were
somewhat younger than the men usually chosen, measured so fully up
to the required standard that they made a splendid impression on the
Company’s employee, and were consequently placed under contract.

Aside from the novelty and excitement of experiences to be expected
in a new land, the immediate financial terms of the position were not
great. An iron-clad contract providing for payment of ten pounds per
year for the first four years was signed by the lads. This, it will be
noted, was the equivalent of about fifty dollars each per year, which
was surely a low salary for picked young men. When it was considered
that the duties to be expected of the men were not only arduous
but dangerous, and would require isolation from civilization for a
considerable period, the wages offered could not be said to be large.
However, the outlook for a future in a country which was known in those
days as a mighty wilderness, with rivers and lakes so large that the
early explorers had been able to trace only a slight portion, and famed
for its game and fur-bearing animals, possessed a wonderful attraction.
Again, since money had been so little known at home the sum seemed
very large to them, much larger than it would have done to lads under
different circumstances. Some idea of their characters may be gleaned
from the fact that they requested a special clause in the contract
providing for one half of their earnings to be paid direct to their
parents, and with the contract once signed it was realized by all who
knew them that it would be thoroughly lived up to. They were prepared
to give their best in the hope of making a favorable impression upon
the Company’s Chief Factor, who had charge of the concern’s business in
Canada. To them the word of encouragement meant considerably more than
did their wages.

Farewells in those days were just as painful as they are now.
Naturally, as the time for departure drew near, the bustle of
preparation was the main factor in evidence in that Orkney Island
home. Mother and sister worked early and late knitting socks, making
warm underclothing and a supply of woolen shirts, together with every
necessary outfit. Nowadays, lads in similar circumstances would have
used trunks for their equipment, but such things were not known
at all familiarly and, besides, could not have been afforded. The
equipment was packed in two boxes which had been made by the two lads
themselves and which, for strength and workmanship, were of a kind not
seen to-day. Nails, too, were not known in that day, and their place
was taken by wooden pegs. Nowadays, too, articles of other than home
manufacture would have found a large place in the boxes. How this was
obviated then is explained in a special case. The father of the home
had been accustomed to making the footwear for the family. He made
special inquiry from the Company’s agent as to what would be best for
his sons in their long and trying journeys in the wilderness, and after
a good deal of labor intermingled with love, provided a supply to last
a considerable time. One gift, however, was purchased. Out of the very
small store of money which was kept for emergencies the mother took a
little and, unknown to the others, sent the sister, Jeanette, to the
little village to purchase two small Bibles. In them, written with her
own hand and accompanied by an earnest prayer commending them to God’s
tender love and care, were their names.

[Illustration: SAYING GOOD-BYE TO THE HOME-FOLK.]

Finally the day arrived for the departure. As could be anticipated,
the family all went to the dock for the last farewell, and even the
faithful collie which Robert had raised from a pup was there and
appeared to understand in his own way that his master and chum was
leaving, probably never to return. Robert patted the dog, who wagged
his tail and looked up at his master with affection in his eyes.
Outside the family, many of their school chums, both boys and girls,
were present, and the tears in their eyes readily indicated their
feelings. The young people had been, as it were, one big family, and
the hearts of the others were touched when they realized that two of
their chums were leaving them. This again gave evidence of the standing
of the young men in the community. Their sterling deeds and kindly
words had made a host of friends for them. They had no enemies and, of
course, the preacher, the school teacher, and other people of standing
in the community were present to sympathize and to be near the two
young men who were so loved and respected. As the moments passed before
the vessel’s cables were drawn in all had said their farewell but the
mother. She sobbed bitterly and clung to her sons, and apparently could
not console herself for allowing them to leave the fireside of their
home. The boys in turn caressed their mother, moistening her cheeks
with their tears, and spoke many cheery words, assuring her they would
write to her often and would do their best to return some day when the
bright future they anticipated had been realized. The mother’s last
words were: “Remember your Bibles, boys. I wish you would read them
often and get to know the good things in them well. Don’t forget that
God will be with you just as well across the sea as He would here. It
doesn’t matter where you are, in the wilderness or by the lakes, He
will stay with you night and day just the same, and if you love and
serve Him truly there will not be any doubt about the future for all of
us.” After a moment, when she was again able to control herself, she
went on: “If it should happen that I do not see you again at our home
here, my lads, I will be waiting for you in a better place up yonder.”

The happenings on the dock had had an interested watcher. The captain
of the vessel, a bluff old tar who had witnessed many similar partings,
was naturally interested in the crowd which had gathered on the dock
to say farewell to the two stalwart youths. As the mother clung to the
boys past the moment of departure, he hadn’t the heart at once to give
the order to cast loose, and when finally the order came it was not
in the gruff voice which usually prevailed, and as the vessel slowly
drew away from the dock he doffed his cap to the mother and, in a voice
still showing his feeling, called out:

“Don’t worry, mother. Your boys will be safe on my ship.”



CHAPTER II.

_THE VOYAGE._


Trans-Atlantic voyages in those days were not made with the same
comfort nor by any means in the same time that are occupied now. The
young men who have been coming to Canada in recent years board a ship
in Liverpool on Friday and land at Montreal on Friday or Saturday.
Nothing of the kind, however, was expected by the travellers on the
Hudson’s Bay Company’s vessel. Even now we know how uncertain and even
hazardous a voyage into the great northern inland sea--for in those
days the most direct passage to the Company’s Western posts was by
way of Hudson Bay--can be at certain seasons of the year. In those
days, when the trip was made on a small sailing vessel, they started
out with the anticipation of a voyage which might occupy six months,
or even a year, and with this was the chance that the ship might be
caught in the endless fields of ice which occupied the straits for
so long a season and never reach its destination. The vessel was one
of the Company’s regular ships, which was scheduled to make one trip
each year and carry the annual mail, which arrived at the Western
headquarters of the Company during the year. Her cargo was comprised of
supplies for the various camps and trading-posts, and these materials
were distributed from Fort Churchill and Port Nelson, on the Hudson Bay
coast, to the inland stations which had been established from these
bases. Ammunition, guns, traps, various kinds of food, heavy blankets
and clothing constituted the greater part of the cargo, but along with
these was carried a substantial supply of the trinkets which greatly
pleased the Indians in those days and which were used for trading
purposes. On their return journey the ships were loaded with furs which
had been caught in the interior during the winter and forwarded to the
Company’s stations, from which they had been in turn packed to the
Hudson Bay ports.

In addition to the regular crew the ship’s company comprised a score
or more picked young men from the Orkneys and other sections of
northern Scotland. Favors were not very much known among these men of
the sea, and usually the Company’s young men were left pretty much to
themselves. The captain’s attention, however, had been specially drawn
by the mother’s affectionate farewell to Robert and Will and, as might
be expected, his heart had been warmed toward the youths. By reason of
this, though it was not understood by the young men, they were given a
favored spot for their sleeping quarters and were placed rather nearer
amidships than usual. To anyone who crossed in the early days on one
of these small sailing vessels it will be at once apparent how much
comfort this, as compared with other locations, would mean to the two
lads.

Do you remember how you felt the first night you were away from home
when darkness set in? If so you will realize something of what the two
lads of our story felt that night, and their feelings were intensified
by the realization that they were on the mighty deep, this thought
being impressed by the lapping of the water on the ship’s bows and the
realization that the farewell of the afternoon was to be possibly the
last one. It is under such conditions that temptation to forget one’s
home principles easily finds a place, and the first test was to come
at this time to Robert and William. As can be appreciated, the crew of
the vessel were largely old salts, who had known only a hard-and-fast
life, with all the temptations which come to seafaring men. Since the
sleeping quarters of the young men adjoined those of the crew, the type
of language which came to the ears of the Company’s young employees
when the crew were preparing for sleep can be imagined. For a time
the two listened and contained themselves as best they could, and
finally Robert spoke. “This is not what we have been taught at home,”
he said. “We will kneel together and say our prayers.” And in the
midst of this company of rough, inconsiderate men, they offered up a
prayer, simple, uncultured, and yet one which meant so much, to the God
they had learned to love and trust. The other youths who accompanied
them were silent. Most of them had been reared in good homes, but they
did not exhibit the courage of Robert and William. While the heroic
stand of the two lads--and just how heroic the act was will not be
appreciated immediately by many of my readers--did not seem to have
much effect on the crew, and some of them had kept on with their oaths
and curses, reflecting on the lads themselves, one member, and a leader
among the others, had been strongly impressed. As he noted the manly
way in which the two lads knelt, adhering to their principles, in the
middle of the rough, uncouth crew, in spite of himself his mind turned
back to his youthful days, to the old home fireside where he had knelt
with mother, father, sisters and brothers; and when he saw the two
lads open the Bibles their mother had given them that afternoon he
was reminded of the Bible his mother had presented to him forty or
fifty years ago. He heard, also, his mother’s last words running in
his ears and, as can be imagined, it was some time before he went to
sleep. Sandy did not sleep well that night, either. Memories of home
and of earlier days and better things persisted, and when he woke a
kindlier feeling than usual possessed his heart. He appreciated more
than he had done before what it had meant to the two lads to take the
stand they had done then, and perhaps because of this, when the ship’s
company was called to breakfast, Robert was placed at the head of the
table. He was the youngest of the company and could scarcely see why
he was given this honor. As could be expected, many of the men fell
to immediately, but Robert, again remembering his home principles and
feeling that his position gave him some authority, rose and lifting his
hand in a commanding way, said: “Men, if you will bow your heads I will
ask a blessing.” It might seem that this action would have been likely
to stir up trouble, but perhaps by reason of Robert’s steady eye, his
earnestness, and his commanding appearance, as well as by his manly act
the night before, his wish was obeyed.

Ordinarily, ocean travellers expect to rest and enjoy themselves.
The Hudson’s Bay Company, however, provided no such easy means of
entertainment for their apprentices, and a distinct programme of
instruction and work to be done on the ship had been laid out for
them. To provide for this, along with the captain and the other ship’s
officers, a man who had seen many years in the Company’s service was
included, whose duties were to take charge of the young men on their
voyage and make them familiar with the services they would be called
on to render in the new field. Thus on the first morning, immediately
after breakfast, this instructional work was begun. At first the small
things were taken up, and each of the young men was put at a different
task. The making of harness for dogs, for instance, was given to one,
the repairing of snowshoes to another, the filling of cartridges,
cleaning of guns, the handling of traps was taken up by other young
men. Some of them were given instruction in the difficult art of doing
up a pack and how to carry that pack properly. Others were given
hints as to proper cooking in the wilds. Then others were instructed
as to how to meet emergencies and as to how energy, resourcefulness
and courage could be utilized under the varying conditions of the new
service. It was necessary also that each one should have at least
some understanding of the Indian dialect. Sketches were shown of
the different Indian tribes, bringing out their characteristics so
that these should be familiar when they were met with in the forest
solitudes. Interesting as this work was, it required not only close but
incessant application. However, the young men had been well selected.
They were the type of youths who said, “We can, We will!” They were
told plainly and bluntly that no weakling could live in the forest
solitude, and that it was their duty to be prepared for emergencies
of all kinds. As the voyage progressed they were given further
instruction in woodcraft and trapping of animals, and how to meet and
dispose of the larger animals, such as the grizzly, the silver tip,
the mountain lion, the wolf, and others which they would meet in the
wilderness.

With the practical side of this instruction came a romance side. At
times the Company’s officer very kindly accompanied his instruction
with stories of his experiences in the regions unknown to the young
men. While he was strict with them, he was patient, and naturally the
most of them grew very fond of him. They saw through his stories that
in the new life there was to be conflict among ever-changing conditions
and that with this adventure came victory--victory not only in things
which pertained to the Company’s welfare, but also which extended
to the making of their own characters. The lads longed to try their
fortune where nature was supreme, where the feet of white men had
seldom if ever trod, where the conflict of nature was unceasing.

At first, outside of the learning of these new duties, the voyage
passed uneventfully. Half of the anticipated time of passage had gone
by. The winds had largely been favorable. It is true that rough seas
had been encountered, but these had been expected, and bore with them
the usual quota of trial in seasickness, which after a time lost its
effect. All on board were well, and as the announcement was made that
more than half the distance had been covered and that Hudson Bay might
be reached in two or three months, an atmosphere of cheerfulness was
everywhere evident.

But with the passage of time had come somewhat changed conditions,
particularly among members of the crew. After a little time Sandy was
influenced to hunt up his Bible, deep among the worn-out clothing in
his seaman’s chest, and when he brought it forth to the light it was
seen that the blue ribbon which had been tied around the precious book
by his own mother, forty-five years before, still retained its place.
The Bible had not been opened. The mother’s message inside had not been
read. Tenderly and with tears in his eyes in spite of the hardness
which had come with his years of rough living, Sandy loosened the
knot and opened the book. Inside he found a one-pound note, with the
message, “Sandy, my boy, take this. It is all I have. As you go through
life do not forget that you should always do God’s will and help
others. If you can only help boys to be men, Sandy, I will be proud of
you.” The note was signed “Your affectionate, loving mother.”

The influence of the two lads had been made apparent in other ways.
Sandy now said his prayers at nights, and a few of the crew followed
his example. Some of the men held aloof, but there was no more
carousing at bedtime. Men who had not learned to bow the knee to their
heavenly Father in each others’ presence at least had learned to
respect those who did.

No member of the crew dared to speak badly of Robert and Will in
Sandy’s presence. They knew it would mean a fight to a finish. The
two lads had no truer friend on board than Sandy. The members of the
crew well understood this, and for this reason, if not for their own
sake, were always respectful to the two young men; and in addition to
this they admired them for their pluck and courage. They realized that
almost any lad could fall in and drift with the crowd, but that it
required backbone and unusual courage to stand alone for what was right
when they were surrounded by men such as made up the ship’s crew.

For many years Sandy had been associated with men of a lower type,
and he consequently understood that they as well as himself respected
the young man who, possessing backbone and nerve, fought at all times
for the principles he believed to be right. These men were rough and
uncouth and had forgotten a good deal of their early training, but at
heart they still had considerable of inherent goodness. In consequence,
they learned to love Robert and Will because the lads played the game
of life fairly and squarely and under well-defined and well-recognized
rules. The young men carried the matter of right straight into the
enemy’s camp and had won the first round of the game, as we have seen,
the first night they were on board the ship. As a baseball writer would
put it, “Robert had put the first ball straight over home plate and had
registered a strike.” Following this he kept on with his good pitching.
Sandy, in his turn, played the game also like a man and tried to instil
the same spirit into his friends of the crew.

As days passed it was noticed that the air became more chill. The
thermometer showed a much lower temperature. To the seamen this was
indicative of a peril which did not evidence itself to the young men
who were making their first voyage. What this was will perhaps be
guessed when it is known that the lookouts were doubled and that the
captain and mate spent considerably more of their time on the bridge.
Then one day, just as the sun was setting, the lookout sang out:

“Berg two points to sta’board, sir.”

And in a few minutes the golden glow of the sinking ball of fire could
be seen reflected on the peak of a huge iceberg a little to the right.
As can be imagined, the young men revelled in this unusual sight, and
when the vessel passed within a mile of the berg it gave the appearance
of a frozen mountain of diamonds. After some inquiries Robert and Will
learned the reason for the care on the part of the ship’s officers.
It appeared to them that the danger was over so soon as the berg was
passed, but when they were told that the danger was not so great from
the visible ice mountains as from those which lay closer to the sea
and which were not so much in evidence, they understood the situation
better.

Other dangers added their quota to the excitement. Heretofore
exceedingly good weather had been enjoyed on the voyage, but now it
seemed that the gods of the storm had settled their efforts on the
destruction of the little craft. For several days a hurricane of
wind, snow and sleet prevailed. Sails were blown to bits. Ice fields
were numerous, thus causing a great deal of anxiety to the officers
and crew. Attempts were made to escape the larger bergs, but, time
after time, in spite of all efforts, it did appear that some of these
numerous ice mountains would carry the ship downwards into the deep.
When lulls in the gale appeared the ship was hove to and new sails
were bent on to take the place of those destroyed. Every man on board
was doing his full duty and with a determination to keep the good ship
afloat.

On the eighth day of the storm, when its fury seemed to be increasing
a shout was suddenly heard, even above the roar of the sea: “Man
overboard!” came from half a dozen throats. Looking quickly over the
side, Robert noted a man in the grip of the cold, angry sea, and a
moment later identified him as his friend Sandy, whom a huge wave had
carried some distance from the vessel. Robert’s early training and
native courage at once came to the fore. Waiting only to throw off
his coat and boots, he leaped from the deck into the foaming sea and
started with strong strokes for the drowning man. Fortunate it was
that Robert had practised the art of swimming from boyhood and that
over and over he had swam through the mountainous waves which at times
surrounded his island home. Many and many a time, for the pure love of
it, he and his brothers had made their way through the howling surf
of the rocky coast and had gloried in thus defeating the strength of
nature. All this stood him in good stead now. While Sandy was able
to keep afloat, he was a much older man, and in the maelstrom which
surrounded him it was impossible for him to make headway. All on board
watched the struggle of the young hero. Some suggested that a boat
should be launched, but the captain knew that this was impossible. A
boat would not have lived a minute in such a sea. The captain followed
the best plan he knew, however, and ordered the lowering of the main
sails, so that the ship’s way was checked until only steerage-way
remained. As the vessel tossed it was difficult to follow the two
imperilled men. Now and then their heads could be seen above the
storm-lashed sea. It was evident that Robert was making headway and
that Sandy had seen Robert and was doing his best to reach his rescuer,
though he disappeared and rose again at intervals. Then a huge wave
picked him up and carried him speedily toward the goal he was striving
for.

[Illustration: “HE LEAPED FROM THE DECK INTO THE FOAMING SEA.”]

As Sandy struggled his mind was not idle. A thousand and one thoughts
ran through his mind. He wanted to live at that moment more than he had
ever done before. He wanted to visit once more the home of his boyhood
days, to take back the little Bible to his dear old mother, to kneel
at her side and thank her for the Book that had helped to win him back
to his God. He wanted, too, to thank the young man who had brought him
back to a realization of his position and who, he knew now, was braving
unusual peril for his sake. Sandy wanted to do something worth while
in whatever remained to him of life. He prayed during these moments of
agony, during this time of suspense between life and death. His heart
cried out to God and, as is always the case, he was heard. As his power
and strength seemed to be waning, and when he was about ready to give
up, a strong arm grasped him in a vicelike grip. Robert had caught him
under the arms and was swimming with his heavy burden toward the ship.
When it was seen that the rescuer’s goal had been reached a cheer
went up heartily from those on board. This, in turn, was drowned by
the roaring and hissing of the waves. Robert was now making a supreme
effort. Again and again he disappeared with his burden, and again and
again mighty waves seemed to be trying to wrench his charge from his
grasp. He realized that the life of his friend depended on him, and set
himself to additional effort.

In the meantime Will had been watching the scene with a readiness
second only to his brother. He, like Robert, had played and fought with
the waves that dashed on the Orkney shores, and he, too, had gained
from these struggles a courage which was only waiting to be tried. In
the moments of waiting until it seemed his efforts would be necessary
he also had removed his outer clothing and stood among the old tars of
the crew ready to give himself when the time came. As was only natural,
swimmers there were in numbers among these rough men, but not another
was ready to tackle the job that the lads were ready to meet. Will
watched his brother as closely as the drenching seas permitted, and
when it seemed that his strength was failing he, without hesitation,
plunged headlong into the sea and struck out with lengthy strokes which
were the admiration of the crew. He knew Robert’s powers better than
any of the others, but he realized that even a giant’s endurance could
not last in such conditions, and he planned to relieve his brother
of the burden which he knew must be so overwhelming to him. After a
few moments he reached the side of the two struggling men and with
some difficulty persuaded Robert to relinquish his hold on Sandy and
finally, after continued struggling through the waves, which seemed
reluctant to give up their prey, they reached the ship and were helped
aboard.

At first it appeared surprising that while the two lads seemed to
regain their usual strength immediately and were able to walk to their
sleeping quarters, Sandy was almost altogether overcome, and it was
necessary that efforts to revive him should be made. To those who
thought about it, however, it showed that the victory won by the two
lads proved at once that they had led clean lives and were possessed
of the kind of courage which through all the history of the world has
overcome the greatest obstacles. The first act of the brothers when
they returned to the sleeping quarters was to get down on their knees
and thank their Heavenly Father for the strength He had given them to
save the life of a friend.

After another day the storm seemed to wreak its fury. The sun shone
once more and prospects seemed much more favorable. How the lads were
greeted after their heroic experience can well be appreciated. They
had made a warm place in the hearts of the crew before, but now they
had proved themselves heroes, and while not much of the feeling was
expressed in words, they felt the goodwill of both captain and crew in
a good many ways. In a few days, too, Sandy was about again quite as
well as ever. Words would fail to tell his appreciation of what his
friends had done for him.

Two weeks more of changeable weather was experienced, with wind enough
to keep the ship well on her course, and then, all in a moment as it
seemed, on one bright day endless fields of ice loomed up ahead. The
captain, with glass in hand, stood on the bridge looking for an opening
to the east, and after sailing along the apparently impenetrable
barrier for several hours a narrow sheet of open water was finally
encountered. The ship’s course was set for the open space, but when
the spot which had formerly been clear was reached disappointment
was manifest, for there was no open channel in evidence, but only
grinding, crushing, pushing ice. They had come to the edge of the
northern ice fields which, opening and closing at intervals, made it
perilous for any ship built as they were at that time to attempt a
passage. Nowadays a Canadian Government ice-crusher would have forced
a way without difficulty over the ice-pack. Then, with a vessel built
for ocean travelling and with little experience in ice, this was not
possible. The captain, though, had had years of experience in Hudson
Bay conditions and had sailed in the northern waters in the sealing and
whaling trade years before. He knew that the ship must be kept clear of
the dangerous field or it would be in constant peril of being crushed
or pinched by the mass of ice which, pushed by the millions of tons of
ice and the forces of wind and wave and tide behind, moved together
with titanic force. So he was contented to follow a course in the open
sea for a week in order to avoid these difficulties.

Following a southern course, at the end of several days the end of the
ice field was reached and blue water was in evidence ahead. Suddenly a
sight of much interest appeared to the young men when a whale was seen
blowing off the port bow. The next morning, which was Sunday, brought
joy to the hearts of all and an appreciation that the end of the voyage
was approaching, with the lookout’s announcement that land was sighted.
Some surprise was caused again when Sandy suggested a special service
of thanksgiving. For weeks he had been doing his best to bring his
friends of the crew to a realization of the responsibilities of life.
In the sleeping quarters, when the men were off duty, he had talked to
them as never before, and many who had sailed with him for years were
impressed with the fervor of his prayers and could not help but be
convinced of the staunch stand he had taken to serve his Maker as best
he knew.

There was reason for rejoicing. The sight of land confirmed the result
of the captain’s observations, and when it was known that after a week
or ten days of clear sailing they would reach the end of the voyage,
feelings of thankfulness and cheer were much in evidence. Smaller
icebergs and less extensive ice fields were now encountered, and here
the youthful employees of the Hudson’s Bay Company saw for the first
time polar bears with their cubs, walrus, seal, and other animals of
the kind which made their home in Hudson Bay waters.

Anyone who has occasion to cross the Atlantic now knows, or finds out
before the passage is complete, that it is the custom to organize
a ship’s concert. Even at this early date the custom had been
established, and now that the end of the passage appeared to be in
sight such entertainment was arranged for. In this everyone took part.

[Illustration: “FOR THE FIRST TIME SAW POLAR BEARS.”]

The arrival of the vessel meant a good deal to other than those on
board, a fact which was not thoroughly appreciated during the passage
by the young men who were travelling to the new land for the first
time. On the voyage of this one vessel the Company’s employees in
the far Canadian West depended almost wholly for their supplies and
for a great deal of their food. With the centre of the Company’s
interests at Fort Churchill, the officers and employees of the concern
naturally gathered at that point, and recently food there had been
running somewhat low. As can be expected also, there were many who
were looking forward with great expectations to letters from their
loved ones at home. The Factor and those in charge knew, if the vessel
had had an ordinary voyage, what time she might be expected, and as
the anticipated date approached a sharp lookout was kept each day
for signs of the white sails. Several days passed unavailingly, but
finally patience was rewarded and a cheer went up from the employees
of the Company gathered at the Fort as the ship came in sight. For the
last few days, also, the inhabitants of the Fort had been added to by
numbers of Indians who from year to year came to see the Company’s
vessel arrive. It was the great event of the year for the people of
that land. Many of the Indians had trapped faithfully for the Company
during the winter; the result of their work had been placed to their
credit in the Company’s books, and in return for this they were anxious
to secure useful articles which were comprised in the ship’s cargo.
When the vessel drew into the dock there was a shout of rejoicing and,
as can be imagined, it was a varied crowd of humanity which pressed
toward her. The Indians, however, as they had been taught from year
to year, kept a respectful distance, and the Factor was the first man
to grasp the hand of the captain when the men reached shore. After the
captain and officers, the first to land were the score or more youths
who had been so carefully selected to further the Company’s trade.
One of the features most looked for in the vessel’s arrival was the
mail which she brought. In these days, when letters and newspapers are
delivered to us three or four times a day we cannot appreciate what it
meant to these men, shut off in the wilderness, to receive news from
home which came only once a year. And it was not all rejoicing which
followed the opening of the mail pouches. For some men their quota of
letters brought sadness. A mother or a father, sister or a brother,
or possibly a child, had passed away since they had received news the
year before. As these sorrowful items were made known moist cheeks were
seen even among these weathered and grizzled heroes who had accepted
the call of the wilderness in the vast region where white men were
practically unknown outside the employees of the Hudson’s Bay Company.

[Illustration: “THE FACTOR WAS THE FIRST MAN TO GRASP THE HAND OF THE
CAPTAIN.”]

MacTavish, the Factor, looked the lads over carefully, wondering what
kind of material the Company’s officer had chosen for him. He was a
man not given to smiles, and through long association with the Indians
and the half-civilized people of the wilds he had come to cultivate
a stern and hard mien which did not by any means represent his true
feelings. However, when the stalwart lads from the Orkneys, with Robert
in the lead, marched past, each with his strong box containing all his
earthly goods on his shoulder, a smile was seen to break through the
sternness of his face. Never had the Company landed better looking lads
at Fort Churchill, and MacTavish felt that if the young men measured
up to their appearance he would be exceedingly well satisfied. The
interest manifested in this smile was deepened when the captain, who
had been talking to him, pointed out Robert and Will as they passed and
told him of the heroic episode on the voyage. Around the Factor and the
captain were also grouped some of the Company’s older trappers, who had
been in conflict with the frozen wilds for many a year. They too saw in
the newcomers the makings of men who were to do things, men who would
meet obstacles and who would overcome them.

For more reasons than one the coming of the ship was a season of
rejoicing to the Company’s employees. This first day the crew had
been given leave on shore, which was long needed after their cramping
experiences on shipboard, and had been allowed to stretch their legs
and enjoy themselves as they saw fit. The evening, too, brought its
enjoyment, for a banquet had been spread in which a part of the ship’s
cargo had a large place. Naturally the Company’s officers resident at
the Fort, with their subordinates, were interested in food from the Old
Land brought over by the vessel, and in their turn the members of the
crew were very well satisfied to dine on brook trout, venison, bear
steak, and other dishes prepared from the food available in the wilds.

While the banquet was in progress an incident occurred which the young
men long remembered. As became their new station, Robert and William,
with their companions from the Old Land, had been seated with the
Company’s officers. At an unexpected moment their friend Sandy, who
had been with the crew, was seen edging his way, first through the red
men with their squaws on the outside of the gathering and then through
the Company’s employees, until he approached his young friends. It
had suddenly occurred to Sandy that this would probably be the last
opportunity he would have to exchange a kindly word with his rescuers,
and before he was through, even if he had not felt so before, Robert
felt well repaid for any effort he had made in the old sailor’s behalf
during the night of the storm at sea.

The following morning the scene around the vessel was one of great
energy and apparent confusion. All hands were busy removing the ship’s
cargo, which was transferred to a large warehouse at the Fort. For
the crew this would have been an enormous task, but since the horde of
Indians who had gathered from the hundreds of miles around the Fort for
this event of the year found the work somewhat of a novelty, only two
days were occupied. Then began the work of loading the vessel with its
return cargo. Furs, tied carefully in great bundles, were stored away
in the holds, and after the holds were full huge piles, which, in their
rolled-up state, resembled cord-wood, were securely fastened by lashing
to the deck. This was the great outlet for the Company’s product,
and annually tens of thousands of the finest skins were shipped to
its sorting and distributing house in London. Two days more sufficed
for this part of the work and finally, while those on shore waved a
hearty farewell, the ship started on its return journey. Not the least
important part of its cargo were letters from Robert and Will to the
loved ones at home, giving vivid descriptions of the voyage which had
been the means of landing them in their new home.



CHAPTER III.

_NEW EXPERIENCES IN A NEW LAND._


While, as we have seen, MacTavish’s impression of the young men
coming into his employ had been pleasing, he was anxious to become
more closely acquainted personally with each of them. MacTavish was a
judge of men. It was his business to place the lads where they would
accomplish the best results in the Company’s work; in consequence, each
was brought into his quarters and interviewed separately. In making
provision for the allocation of the men the hard way of the wilds was
followed, and no provision was given for relationships or friendships.
It is not to be wondered at then that when the allotment of the lads
to territory was made Robert and Will found that their ways were to
separate. Indeed, had they thought to make inquiries they would have
learned that their ultimate locations lay over a thousand miles apart.

[Illustration: STARTING OUT FROM FORT CHURCHILL.]

Fort Garry, now Winnipeg, was at that time one of the Company’s rapidly
growing posts. The Factor here, Andrew Donald, had written MacTavish,
in a letter which had been sent in care of Pete, one of the faithful
Indian guides, outlining the growth of the Company’s trade in that
Section and asking for assistance. He saw possibilities of materially
enlarging the Company’s trade in his territory, and stated that he
wanted young men with youth, endurance and enthusiasm, who would be
obedient but who would be possessed of indomitable will and unconquered
spirit. When considering Donald’s letter MacTavish finally sent for
Robert and instructed him that he had been selected for duty at Fort
Garry and that he was to leave the following day for the journey of
over a thousand miles through the wilderness. Will had been assigned
to a post in a region further west. It was natural that keen feelings
should stir in the hearts of these sturdy lads when the final time
for separation arrived. They had hoped that the situation might be
otherwise, but not a word of complaint was heard from either of them.

Duty was their watchword. Discipline and obedience had been faithfully
instilled into them by their mother in their earlier days. They knew
they were starting out to fulfil their contract. They knew, further,
that the Company’s employees were men who did not even flinch when
their duty was pointed out to them, and in consequence they obeyed
without a whimper. A simple clasp of the hand was the only evidence
of their feeling at parting, but this did not by any means give any
indication of the regret and longing which burned within. Taking a few
steps, Robert turned and cast a lingering glance toward his brother.
Then, with a farewell wave of the hand, with faces beaming with love
and confidence in the future, they parted to be swallowed up by the
vast and unknown regions of the Canadian West. From henceforth the
wilderness world was to be their home.

Imagine, you lads of sixteen and seventeen, the feelings of this young
man, starting out on a new adventure into unknown country. You lads
who are homesick when you spend a week away from home on the farm will
appreciate the indomitable spirit that Robert must have possessed at
this point in the journey. Put yourself in his place and imagine how
you would have felt.

[Illustration: “WITH A FAREWELL WAVE OF THE HAND ... THEY PARTED.”]

After a time Robert discovered he had one comforting feature. We have
spoken of the Indian guide, Pete, who had been sent from Fort Garry
by Factor Donald. Pete had proved himself one of the most trustworthy
Indians in the Company employ, and MacTavish had impressed on him
especially the character of the youth who was to be with him, and had
admonished him not only to see that good care was taken of the young
man, but also that he be taught such things as Pete was capable of
teaching him. Unknown to Robert, also, Pete was given a note to Donald
telling something of the impression he had made on MacTavish and giving
an account of his conduct during the voyage. MacTavish had sized
the boy up well and knew, as was true, that such a story would never
come from the lad himself. Something of the result of the lad’s manly
bearing and his influence on various members of the crew during the
voyage had been transmitted to MacTavish by the ship’s captain, and
this also was included in the note carried by the Indian guide.

Robert soon came to appreciate the strength and the knowledge of
the country and its conditions evidenced by his companion. He was
exceedingly thankful again for the fact that during the voyage he had
picked up enough of the Indian language to be able to converse, though
with some little difficulty, with his companion.

Something of the journey the two had undertaken may be appreciated when
it is known that they anticipated travelling at least thirty days on
foot. While later Robert was to experience the delights of travelling
by dog-sled, this was impossible at this season since the winter had
not set in as yet. Again, it was a custom of the Company to start
their new men out on foot, believing that from the incidents of such a
journey they would gain experience such as would be invaluable to them
afterward. For instance, it was expected that Pete would teach Robert
some of the arts of woodcraft--how to make provision for spending
the night on the trail and how to secure a supply of food when such
was required. Then, again, Robert encountered another experience
which, while it was new, brought to him thoughts of home. To aid in
transportation the Company followed the custom of placing canoes at
different points on the trail, which eased very much and frequently
materially shortened the journey. While Robert was at home on the
water, his first experiences with a canoe were rather amusing, and in
his first attempts to use his great strength he would frequently have
come to disaster had it not been for Pete’s readiness with the paddle.
It was not long, however, until he became familiar with the frail
birchbark craft, and was able to make the canoe glide through the water
in a way even to bring admiration to the eyes of Pete, who naturally
was a thoroughly experienced canoeman. So quickly did Robert adapt
himself to the conditions met with that Pete began to be proud of his
companion and was well satisfied as to their reception at Fort Garry.
Robert was so anxious to learn that not only did he keep Pete busy by
day, but kept the guide and himself awake sometimes far into the night
talking of methods of trapping and of experiences so different to what
the lad had been accustomed to in the Old Land. Never so late did they
stay awake, however, but that daylight found them awake and ready to
proceed on their journey.

Robert had been a one hundred per cent. boy. He was now making himself
into a one hundred per cent. youth. By incessant application he had
learned to master himself. His early training at home had given him to
realize the importance of little things. All this helped to make him
a willing pupil in Pete’s hands, and instead of feeling himself, as a
good many lads would have done in his place, superior to the Indian, he
realized very shortly how much better equipped the red man was than he
to meet most of the experiences they were about to enter upon. He was
superior to the Indian in many ways, however. He had accepted God as
his guide. His forces, both physical and mental, were now being fused
into a product of genuine manhood. When he had played in the games at
home he had played to win, but he had never forgotten that manliness
comes first and that the mere matter of winning occupies a secondary
place. He had learned the importance of concentration, and while he
perhaps did not realize the significance of it, he had discovered
possibilities within himself. His ordeals had been faced bravely and
manfully and with an unflinching spirit. Character stood out boldly on
his face. He had begun to understand that life was a test of patience
and endurance and that he must be continually in action to develop the
best that was in himself. He had asserted himself as a boy. He was now
asserting himself as a youth. He had come to realize that nothing
worth while could thrive in a cold heart, and that if his heart was to
be properly warm it must beat to the impulses that were right, noble
and true. He had learned to start off being properly thankful every
day; that grumbling, growling and criticising do not help either to
make up character or to help one along. He had learned that sacrifice
would help to lift him a long distance on life’s journey, and from a
religious aspect he realized that he was constructing a house within
himself that he had to live in; that it was his duty to his God to make
that home worthy and beautiful.

Pete began to appreciate some of these things after a very short
association with his companion. He had seen the Bibles of some of the
white men, but had never before seen one who so faithfully followed
every day the practice of spending a little time with the Great
Book. After a time Robert told Pete how the gift had come to him
from his mother, and before many nights Pete of his accord knelt at
Robert’s side when the young man began his devotions and said his own
evening prayer. Companionship in the temple of God’s great solitude,
accompanied by genuineness of character inevitably leads to friendship,
and so these two rapidly grew closer together.

[Illustration: “COMPANIONSHIP IN THE TEMPLE OF GOD’S GREAT SOLITUDE ...
LEADS TO FRIENDSHIP.”]

The forest was a never-ending wonder to Robert since, of course, he
had never known anything of it in his island home. The seemingly
endless rivers were another source of awe. He was a lover of nature,
and each day presented to him paintings of God’s great canvas ever
fresh and ever new. There seemed a friendliness about the birds, the
wild flowers, the trees and the rippling streams which made him wish
sometimes that the sun would always shine, so that he might always have
the beauty of nature before his eyes. After a time he learned that
night in the forest also has its charm. Even the darkest night gave
forth the softer tones of shadow and glow. Then the camp-fire threw out
wonderful shadow effects on the trees and appeared to spread living
pictures all around him. With these bits came also practical things.
Wild life was much in evidence. Deer and moose frequently crossed the
path and at night the lonesome cry of the wolves was sometimes heard.

When the forest wilds were passed the prairie again was a revelation
to Robert. Of course there were no houses in those days, and to him
it seemed just a mighty world placed there by the Creator, ready and
waiting for man to sow with seeds of golden grain. Here again something
that Robert had not even dreamed of made its appearance, since herds of
buffalo were frequently to be seen roaming at will over the prairie.
Then occasionally bands of Indians came into view, some of these
hunting the buffalo for their winter’s food. As time passed Pete made
Robert acquainted with the various tribes that were sighted, with their
history, and with the dangerous spirit of some of these.

After they were well on their journey Robert’s feet suffered from the
effects of the long-continued tramping. He was a sturdy youth, very
different from the wiry and hardened Indian, who had spent all his life
on these paths of forest and prairie. Pete, however, knew well how to
deal with such difficulties, and it was not long before the lad was
able to get through the day’s tramp without difficulty. At first, too,
the heavy pack caused him considerable discomfort. As the days passed,
however, his muscles hardened and the pack grew lighter.

[Illustration: “THE ANIMALS RUSHED TO ONE SIDE LEAVING ROBERT IN
SAFETY.”]

Pete had intended to travel by water, using the Company’s canoes
for most of the journey after leaving the forest, but the nights
rapidly grew colder. That year the frost set in earlier than usual,
and consequently they were obliged to change their course and tramp
over more of the prairie. This brought to Robert an experience he
never forgot. One morning, as they tramped along, the prairie seemed
suddenly to be almost black with buffalo, and after a little Pete
explained that several Indian bands must have started a drive and that
the herds were travelling before them. It was impossible, without
making a long detour, to avoid passing near the beasts, and as they
paused, suddenly something seemed to frighten a section of the herd
and it began to rush toward them. On the animals came, relentless and
irresistible. The two travellers shouted and waved their arms, but
all to no avail. Apparently nothing could stop the mighty rush. When
the animals were almost upon them Pete advanced a little to protect
his companion, but notwithstanding his efforts to divert the rush of
the herd and his cat-like jump out of the path of the leaders, he was
borne down beneath them. His efforts, however, seemed to turn the herd
at an angle and they rushed to one side, leaving Robert in safety.
So soon as he could the lad hastened to Pete’s side and found that,
while his Indian friend was badly bruised and had suffered a broken
leg, he was not dangerously injured. Under such conditions and three
hundred miles from Fort Garry, their objective, the young man faced an
unanticipated difficulty. However, he measured up to the situation.
First, attention was given to the injured leg, and here he put into
play one of the things he had learned from the Company’s officer
during the voyage, and thanks to this was able to set the bones of the
leg fairly well, if roughly and at considerable pain to his patient.
Pete, with his characteristic Indian stoicism, bore the pain without a
murmur. Following Pete’s suggestions, their packs of food and utensils
were carefully gone over and everything not actually necessary was
discarded. Finally, strapping the pack a little lower than usual,
Robert provided for the additional burden, and picking the Indian
up, placed him on his back and shoulders. At first the additional
weight seemed unbearable, but at Pete’s suggestion the lad adopted the
Indian lope, which the guide had taught him during the long journey.
This made the burden easier, since at each step it eased it up from
the shoulder so that it did not seem like dead weight, and was also
easier on Pete. The burden was heavy, but nothing within reason was
too great for Robert when he had made up his mind. His will-power and
unusual strength made it possible to accomplish tasks that would look
impossible to a faint-hearted youth. Pete was surprised at the ease
with which Robert carried him, and when he was borne, by the pain in
his leg to a partial unconsciousness, he was carried back to the days
when he was a little papoose and his Indian mother carried him through
the forest paths on her back.

Never since he had been a papoose, sixty or more years before, had Pete
been similarly treated. His had been a life of self-protection and of
service given to others. Now, when it was necessary for someone else
to look after him the change was very marked, but it was none the less
appreciated for this reason, and here again Robert’s early training
came into play. His patient was given every attention he knew how to
give. When he was forced to lay his burden down at night, prairie
hay was gathered and worked up to provide a soft pillow as well as a
restful support for the broken leg. Again Robert got a chance to put
into play some of the knowledge of camp cookery he had learned on the
voyage over. While their rations were not varied, these were added to
one evening by a dish of prairie chicken which Robert was able to get
after a good deal of difficulty with the muzzle-loader he carried.

As can be imagined, the difficulties Robert faced were by no means
small ones. Time after time as he packed the injured Indian on his
back over the prairie trails he was wearied almost beyond endurance.
Time after time he was tempted to set his burden down and to give up
the struggle. An ordinary lad would have given up the job before he
started, but determination had been built into Robert’s heart and
soul in his early days at home, and this found its way out on this
long-to-be-remembered journey. Pete, too, had his troubles. While he
was conscious that the leg was healing, it was a terrible thing for
him to be so dependent on the efforts of the one whom he had been
sent to help. However, day after day the two persisted, continuing on
their way by means of great determination, courage, and the finest of
physical strength, and toward the evening of the tenth day Pete, who
had been eagerly watching the landmarks, joyfully cried out that Fort
Garry was in sight. It was with considerable satisfaction and relief
that Robert was able to walk up to the Company’s quarters and to lay
his human burden safely down.



CHAPTER IV.

_AN APPLICATION OF PRINCIPLES._


The arrival of a party in such an unusual fashion created considerable
interest at Fort Garry. Donald, the Factor, had been expecting the
young man and his guide for some time. Robert was somewhat disappointed
when, in a gruff, grating, unsympathetic voice, the man he had come
so far to assist inquired the cause of the trouble. However, he told
the story of the accident in a straightforward, confident way, and
suggested that the Company’s doctor should be sent for.

When Pete’s leg was given adequate examination it was found that while
the setting was by no means perfect it was good enough to assure that
the Indian guide would have the use of his leg again. Robert was not
displeased when he was given a bunk close by his Indian friend, who by
this time could scarcely satisfactorily evidence his thankfulness and
regard.

It will be remembered that Factor MacTavish at Fort Churchill had given
Pete a note for Factor Donald. Perhaps it was fortunate that this had
come, since Donald in his first impression was rather disappointed
that one who was so apparently a lad had been sent him to fill the
important place he anticipated using the new employee for. It is true
that Robert tipped the scales at one hundred and fifty pounds, but his
face more or less betrayed his youthfulness. Donald knew how necessary
firmness and experience were in dealing with the trappers, and he
judged at first that this lad would be of too mild a type to force
respect with those with whom he was to come in contact.

More than at first appears lay behind the situation at Fort Garry.
Instead of the Company’s business with the trappers increasing, it
had decreased the past season. Donald knew that something was wrong,
but as yet had not been able to place the responsibility. The real
reason was that he was a cold, domineering man, with little thought
for the feelings of others, who believed that he was taking the best
course when he treated the Indians like dogs. The matter was one which
troubled him continually and naturally kept him in an unpleasant frame
of mind.

It was into an atmosphere of this kind that Robert entered when he was
called for his first interview with the Factor. He felt the situation
was none too propitious but, as had been his custom, he advanced
quickly to Donald with a pleasant smile and grasped the Factor’s hand
with a grip which, in spite of his coldness, went to the older man’s
heart. Then as the interview proceeded and question after question
was put to him, he followed his superior carefully, gazing steadfastly
into the other’s eyes. This latter point in itself was much in the
lad’s favor. These soul windows of Robert’s were piercing deeper into
the Factor’s heart than any glance had ever done before. After a
little time Robert realized this and became quite at his ease, while
the Factor began to show plainly that he was scarcely a match for the
lad before him. It is only fair, too, to say that when the interview
was over Donald sent the lad away with a good deal more respect and
confidence in his new assistant than he had had previously.

There were more reasons for this than lay on the surface. As we have
learned, Robert was a lad whose body and mind and soul were clean. He
had read Donald’s mind and soul through his eyes and knew at once that
he could not have much in common with the older man, so long at least
as the Factor maintained that domineering spirit which usually belongs
to a lower class nature. Robert was only a youth, it is true, but
instinct and his training had taught him the principles of right and
wrong, the equality and brotherhood of man, and the supremacy of God.
The Factor was all for number one, which, put in other words, means
that he was exceedingly selfish. Robert, while he believed in standing
up for his own rights, thought continually, as we have already
learned, of others’ privileges and was ready to respect them. He had
realized during his comparatively brief connection with the Company
that if he were to progress it could only come through using a spirit
of goodwill, a spirit which would treat the Indians justly and would
love them.

The following morning, as directed, Robert called again on the Factor
for further instructions. Evidently the older man had recovered some
of his assurance during the night, for he began again in the same
domineering tones, directing the lad as to his relations to the
Company and the Indians. Robert let him do most of the talking and
listened respectfully. When he thought Donald had finished, however, he
addressed the Factor pleasantly but firmly, something as follows:

“I realize, sir, that I am under a contract and that you doubtless hold
a copy of the contract, which has come from the Company’s headquarters.
If this has not come to you I have a copy with me, calling for the
best services I can give for a term of years, and will be glad to have
you read it. I want to do my full duty, to use my strength and my
opportunities for the term of that contract in the best interests of
the Hudson’s Bay Company.”

When Donald replied that he had a copy of the contract, Robert spoke
again:

“I wish, then, that you would give me instruction as to my duties.
If you will not think me bold I should like to make a suggestion. Of
course I do not pretend to know anything about the Company’s business,
though I have seen something of the territory surrounding the Fort and
of the Indians. I believe that if you would give me Pete as a guide and
would turn over some entirely new territory to me and let me deal with
one hundred Indians, or whatever number you think is necessary to get
results from such a territory, I would be willing to stake my future
with the Company on the results. I believe the work will speak for
itself.”

Donald saw immediately that he had been treating Robert in the wrong
way. He realized now that he was dealing really with a man, and a man
in whom there was wisdom and courage as well as physical strength.
Maturity of mind was also apparent. It was evident that Robert’s
words were not spoken in any ordinary way. There was a depth and
earnestness to them that the Factor in his more confined nature could
not understand. He realized that new territory must be opened up if the
yearly output of furs from the Fort Garry district was to be increased,
and the suggestion appealed immediately. Even with this, however, he
was somewhat reluctant to start such a lad in new territory and to give
him control over it. He promised Robert that he would consider the
matter.

One difficulty which lay in the way of carrying out this suggested
plan was the accident which had befallen Pete. The Indian was shortly
able to hobble around on crutches, however, and was apparently making
good progress toward complete recovery. Robert was surprised and
also delighted a morning or two later when he was again summoned to
the office and informed by the Factor that his suggestion had been
adopted, that a new territory would be given to him, and that with
the assistance of Pete and one hundred and fifty Indians he would be
allowed to try his hand. It was not thought advisable, however, that
the season’s operations should be begun for at least a month or six
weeks’ time, since the Indians, who usually came to the Fort to be
outfitted for the season’s trapping, had not yet begun to come in in
sufficient numbers. This turned out fortunately for all concerned,
for the intervening time was spent to good advantage. Pete, as well
as being a good guide, was a good judge of Indians, and since he was
at once taken into Robert’s confidence he played his part well in
selecting the Indians who were to make up Robert’s party. And this was
not by any means an easy matter. While the Indians of the district
were, perhaps, as reliable as any in the Canadian North-West, they were
Indians, which meant that they were only half reliable, and since
they had been handled by previous employees somewhat along the lines
suggested by Factor Donald, the results of their labors had not been
very satisfactory. Pete made his selections carefully, however, aiming
to get men of a good type physically, who could at the same time be
expected to respond to just and fair treatment.

[Illustration: THE PARTY TO COVER THE NEW TERRITORY LEAVING FORT GARRY.]

With the choosing of the men and the making of the necessary
preparations the six weeks passed rapidly, and one morning the party to
cover the new territory was drawn up outside the fort. With Robert and
Pete and the Indians were half a dozen dog-sleds with their snapping
teams of huskies. On the sleighs were piled the season’s supplies. When
these had been exhausted the sleighs would be used to carry back the
furs. Pete had seen to it that some of the Indians were familiar with
the new territory, and these naturally were given a leading place in
the party.

This was a big moment in Robert’s life. It was really the
starting-point of his experiences in his new life. From this time
onward he was to carry the burden of the responsibility of his party,
and this was fully realized. Robert was pleased when Factor Donald
condescended to come out and bid him good-bye, to wish the party good
luck and a safe return.

The trip of three or four days to the new territory again gave Robert
some new experiences. He learned for the first time what it meant to
travel through snow with a dog-team, and learned to admire the ease
with which the Indians got over the snow-laden trail. Here again Pete
was a comfort and aid to him, not only with timely suggestions and
advice, but also in the handling of the Indians, who even in this early
part of the season showed an unacquaintance with discipline which
did not bode strongly for the success of the expedition. When the
allotted ground was reached the men were distributed according to a
method Robert and Pete had planned so as to most adequately cover the
territory. Numbers were prepared which were drawn in turn by each of
the Indians, and as the location of the ground corresponding with the
number was reached the one who held it dropped from the party when his
limits had been defined. Robert and Pete located their camp as near as
convenient to the centre of the district with a view to visiting each
trapper as often as possible during the winter, to keep tab on the work
and to give necessary encouragement or discipline.

Then the real labor of the season began. At first the Indians were
inclined to take matters easy. Like others, they misjudged Robert by
reason of his youthful appearance and believed that it would not be
difficult to take advantage of him. They soon found, however, that
underneath his kindliness lay a characteristic determination such as
they had not found very often, a characteristic which enabled him to
see that each man did his duty so far as he could. Pete, again, had his
part in this. He knew the hearts of the red men. He had helped some
of them when they had been in trouble, and he knew that, contrary to
the belief of many white men, if his brethren were treated kindly and
justly they could be counted on to do their part.

It wasn’t an easy task, this one which Robert had set for himself and
Pete. Those of us who know something of camping will appreciate some of
the difficulties. Leaving their own camp, with the thermometer a score
of degrees below zero, they made their way, sometimes with a dog-team,
sometimes on snowshoes when the snow was too deep for the dogs, from
camp to camp, waiting until the Indians returned from their circle of
traps. Here encouragement was given, there admonishment. Here a man
had to be dealt with severely, there a word of praise cheered another
on to further efforts. Many and many a day the two travelled forty to
fifty miles on foot. Many and many a night they slept without other
protection than a clump of bushes or a snow-bank. Never a night went
by, however, but that Robert got on his knees for at least a little
time before going off to sleep to say a word for the God he served.
When circumstances permitted a fire he spent a few minutes with his
Bible, though reading was difficult with the varying light of the
crackling branches. This had far-reaching effects, for after one or two
rounds of his men their respect for Robert became so great that almost
without exception the trapper with whom they spent the night listened
attentively and bowed with the lad and Pete when the time came for the
evening devotions. It had its effect in another way, too, when the red
men appreciated what influence this sort of thing had on Robert’s life,
and that it had a great deal to do with making him the courageous, just
and kindly youth he was. They realized that he was a man whom they
could safely follow and appreciated that he could be counted on to
repay in full their best efforts. Thus it was perhaps not surprising
that new life was kindled in the men. They were being treated as they
never had been before, and the ingathering of furs was most encouraging.

Robert was delighted with the splendid skins which came to view on his
rounds. Particularly pleased were the Indians when they were able to
show him a black or a grey fox, skins which, in those days, though not
so much as now, were highly prized.

For five months this strenuous life continued. Then, as the trapping
season began to draw to a close, each Indian left his camp, tied up
his furs with his blanket, and met at a previously decided point for
the return journey to Fort Garry. Robert and Pete had gained some idea
during their winter’s travelling of how the work was going, but the
success of the party became more in evidence as the red men gathered
together. The success of Robert’s policy was at once noticeable. Not
one of the Indians but had had a successful season. The hardships
had been borne cheerfully, largely because of the fact that unusual
encouragement had been given, and it was a happy band which made their
way back to Fort Garry. How successful this policy had been was only
demonstrated when the trappers from the other districts had brought in
their returns and when the final checking showed that this band had
more than doubled the efforts of any similar band in other districts.
As can be imagined, Factor Donald was exceedingly well pleased, and he
made his pleasure practical by inviting Robert and Pete to dine with
him in the Company’s offices. In addition to this he had a special
dinner spread for the Indian band in their own camp in the Company’s
quarters. This experience had taught Donald a lesson. It was being
forced into his understanding that these Indians had worked with an
energy and with a spirit which had not previously been seen among the
Company’s trappers, because they had been handled with a spirit of
kindly interest and had been treated as brothers rather than as slaves.

After the success of his first winter it was not surprising that the
following year Robert was given charge as a sort of Sub-Factor of all
the trappers sent out from the Fort, and while they were gathered at
the Company’s quarters he talked to them night after night before the
various expeditions started, throwing into them the same spirit he
had been able to give to his band the previous winter. The men who
had been out with him did good missionary work also. They told of his
treatment of them, how interested he had seemed to be in their work,
of his cheerfulness under difficulties, and how he had worked just as
hard, if not harder, than any of them. Lastly, they did not forget to
tell of the prayers and the Bible reading, which had seemed to have its
own effect. This year, too, new territory was again opened up. More
Indians were employed, and, as a result of Robert’s efforts, the season
was very much more successful than any had been previously. All this
was, as may be expected, very pleasing to the Company’s officers at
headquarters. Fort Garry, from a condition of backwardness, had jumped
in two years’ time to one of the most profitable posts in Canada.
Donald, of course, was given credit for the improved conditions. As a
matter of fact, the greater part of this was due to Robert and Pete.
However, efforts of this kind cannot long remain unnoted, and from
various sources other than Donald something of the lad’s part in these
successful operations found their way to headquarters, and after a
little time he was placed in a position of further responsibility and
with an increased wage. As he had anticipated, back in his Orkney home,
his efforts had not been in vain. Thus far efficiency, reliability and
faithfulness to duty had been his watchword. Coupled with this was the
continued thought of helpfulness to others. While his promotion was
naturally very pleasing, he was not ready to accept this as entirely
the result of his own efforts, and in consequence made a strong plea
with the Company’s Factor on behalf of his friend Pete. At first Donald
demurred, but the young man had made his methods and his policy so
successful that his plea finally carried, and ultimately a letter was
written the head office, not only recommending an increase in Pete’s
salary but also that all the trappers be given a larger allowance for
the furs they brought in. Robert waited for the year which necessarily
passed before a reply could be received, and then the long-looked-for
letter came which agreed to the increase, largely by reason of the
splendid returns which had been made by the Fort Garry trappers.

The increased pay worked wonders. Those who had seen the Indians at
work previously thought that they had done about all that could be
expected of them in the first year under Robert’s supervision. The red
men realized, however, that in addition to the kind treatment they had
been receiving their efforts had been duly rewarded in a financial way,
and they worked in consequence as Indians had never been known to work
before. Pete, too, was naturally very much delighted at the reward
which had finally come to him for his faithful service. However, it had
another effect. Although Pete was still hearty and able, he was getting
along toward the age of seventy, and the severe hardships he had
undergone, as well as the accident he had suffered when guiding Robert
to Fort Garry, had begun to tell on him. With the Company’s allowance
he had sufficient to retire from such active duties as had been keeping
him engaged for so many years and to take life easier. Thus, after a
time, Robert was forced to part with his first and best friend of the
wilderness. Pete did not forget the principles of right living Robert
had taught him by precept and example, however, and became something of
a missionary among his Indian brothers.

Robert spent two more seasons very successfully in the Fort Garry
district, and then realized one day that the old contract under which
he had enlisted in the Company’s service was no more binding. And with
the realization that he could be free if he wished naturally came
new thoughts and a new outlook. Robert felt that he had a good deal
to be thankful for. During the four years of his experience with the
Company he had not been ill for a single day. He had had many narrow
escapes, through which he seemed to be guided by an unseen hand. The
life, too, seemed to exert something of a fascination over him, and
he had grown to regard the Indians very highly for the good qualities
which were apparent when they were properly treated. Other thoughts,
however, came to him at times, since he still forwarded half of his pay
to his parents in Scotland, it was only natural that he should think
of them at times, and sometimes touches of home-sickness came to him,
feelings which those of us who have experienced will appreciate took
more spirit and character to bear than other kinds of illness. While
his mind wandered off and across the sea his thoughts turned, as a real
man’s ideas will, to other things, and at times he dreamed dreams of a
real home such as he might expect to have some time in the future where
he would have a helpmeet who would be sympathetic and whose burdens he
might have a chance of sharing.



CHAPTER V.

_STIRRING ADVENTURE IN THE NORTH._


Nowadays two brothers in the Canadian West who had any esteem for one
another could communicate in several ways and would probably write each
other very frequently. It was natural that at times Robert’s thoughts
should turn to his brother Will, but aside from occasional stories
which came to him through the Indians and other employees of the
Company, no definite word had been received. Once or twice, it is true,
he had written to his brother, but in those days and in a country so
vast there was no certainty of mail delivery, and it appears probable
that the letters were never delivered. The same conditions prevailed in
regard to other youths who had made up the original party from Scotland.

In his fifth year in the new land, at a time when such an arrangement
would be convenient, Robert secured leave of absence with the idea of
travelling north to visit his brother. He journeyed by foot and by
dog-sled to one of the northernmost forts, fully twelve hundred miles
from Fort Garry, finding occasional news of his brother as he passed
from fort to fort on his journey. When he arrived at his brother’s
headquarters, however, he was told by the Factor that Will had been
sent on a prospecting tour into new territory. Robert was anxious to
follow his brother, and would have done so had he not been assured by
the Factor that it would be a practical impossibility to reach him,
since Will had already been away two months and was expected to be away
fully six months more. While Robert was sadly disappointed his trip
had not wholly been in vain, for he learned from the Factor’s lips, as
he had not been able in any other way, how successful his brother also
had been, how his services had been appreciated by the Company, and how
through heroism, faithful service and obedience he too had been given
due promotion.

On his way back to Fort Garry Robert ran into an experience which again
showed his mettle. Following along the trail late one afternoon he was
held up by a band of about two hundred Indians who, for some reason,
had started on the war-path. The moment the white man was seen he was
surrounded. At first he thought he would have no difficulty with these
men, presuming that he could handle them as easily as he had done his
own Indians in the Fort Garry district. In a moment or two, however, he
saw that these natives had no respect for the white man. He knew from
their faces and from the glare of their eyes that they meant anything
but friendliness toward him. It was useless to try to escape. He laid
down his pack and stood erect, facing the leader with a fearless and
undismayed look, and as the painted red man approached Robert stepped
forward with outstretched hand and smiled. The chief was nonplussed. He
had expected a craven attitude, and was so surprised that he clasped
Robert’s hand and was forced to return the straight look in the eye
which the young man gave him. His surprise was more manifest when
Robert addressed him in a language very similar to his own, explaining
where he was going and why he was on the trail at that time. After
a moment or two of conversation Robert was able to gather enough
information to learn the name of the chief and know the nature of the
band. It was part of a roving tribe which had made itself a terror in
the northern districts and which had accounted for the fate of many a
trapper. Robert knew well what he might expect if he was not able to
get the situation in hand. His faith did not leave him, however. He
sent up a prayer to his Heavenly Father for aid which he well knew was
needed, and felt God was nearer him than ever before. For a moment,
perhaps, he felt physical fear, but then he got himself together and
knew that with God’s help he was master of the situation.

Robert did his best to convince the chief that his errand was peaceful
and that he should be allowed to proceed without being disturbed.
After a moment or two the chief left him, apparently to consult with
some of the other savages. To keep hold of himself under the strain
Robert untied the pack which was lying at his feet, ate some of the
pemmican which largely made up his supply of food, and stepped toward a
fire which was burning to one side, hoping to get the attention of the
members of the band. Perhaps by reason of the novelty of the situation,
or possibly because they were forced to respect the manner in which
he carried himself, they listened while he told the fierce-looking
warriors of the Great Spirit on high who had come down to be in the
midst of them and who was close by his side. For a minute or two he
went on with his story, trying as strongly as he knew how to change
the hearts of the savages, and while he could see that an impression
had been made on a few, most of them were still sullen and apparently
anxious to carry out their earlier intentions.

While he had been talking to them he had been watching them carefully,
as he had learned before he had to do with Indians, and finally he
noticed one giant warrior gradually making his way to the rear of the
band. Suspecting treachery, he suddenly shouted at the Indians in a
voice like thunder telling them that the Great Spirit was by his side
and that if they dared to injure him they would suffer. Then with a
sudden turn he faced the red man who was at his back and who was ready
with upraised knife to spring on him. As the Indian leaped Robert
caught his wrist with one hand and with the other grabbed the savage
by the throat in a vicelike grip and held him right over the blazing
fire until he writhed with agony. It wasn’t easy for him to do this.
While outwardly he was stern his heart was tender, and he felt toward
the Indian as a father to a child. He realized, however, that if his
life was to be saved a stern example must be set. After inflicting pain
over the fire for a moment or two, while the rest of the tribe stood
off, in awe that a white man could so control one of their mightiest
warriors, he threw the savage on the ground to one side, from which the
Indian leaped quickly to his feet, and without looking around ran off
down the trail. Apparently he had been forced to believe Robert’s story
that the Great Spirit was in league with him. With the disappearance of
one of the number in this fashion the remainder of the band vanished
quickly, and in a moment or two Robert fell on his knees and thanked
his Heavenly Father for the help that had been given him in this time
of stress.

[Illustration: THE BEGINNING OF A FIFTEEN-HUNDRED-MILE JOURNEY WITH A
TROUBLESOME PRISONER.]



CHAPTER VI.

_NEW DUTIES LEAD TO LARGER TESTS._


With Robert’s return to Fort Garry a new incident, one which was
to lead him into unexpected and far-reaching new paths, developed.
When he returned to Factor Donald he was informed that a dangerous
criminal had been captured and brought to the fort, and that it was
to be someone’s duty to deliver the offender to Little York, on the
shore of Lake Ontario. It is perhaps easy to understand why Donald had
selected Robert as the probable guide. He knew that the young man could
be depended on in every way. He knew that the journey would be a long
and trying one, and knowing something of the prisoner, understood just
what would be demanded of the leader of the expedition. Had he known
that his choice would mean the loss of his most helpful assistant he
would probably have risked placing the prisoner in the charge of some
other employee. However, he was responsible for the safe delivery of
the criminal to the authorities at Little York, and he intended that,
so far as possible, his duties in this regard should be fulfilled.
The journey under these conditions, as could be anticipated, did not
appeal to Robert. He had liked his work of the past winters, and he was
anxious to go ahead with his Indians to carry forward the Company’s
interests. When Donald told him, however, what would be expected of
him and that he would be serving the Company just as directly in this
way as in the other he made no protest, and while the outlook for the
long trip with a companion who could not be congenial was anything
but pleasant, he felt that he must be true to his duty, must obey the
orders given by his superior, and agreed to assume the responsibility.

When he got a chance to look at the prisoner a little time later he
appreciated more of what the situation meant. The criminal was over six
feet and built accordingly. Apparently he had roamed in the wilds until
the effects of civilization had been lost on him, and he was now more
like an animal than a human being. However, Robert had undertaken to do
the job and he intended to carry it through. Preparations were made for
the long journey of more than fifteen hundred miles, and good-byes were
said to the few trappers and Company employees who were not already in
the forests for the winter season. A surprise came to Robert when he
was invited to take dinner with Factor Donald the last night before his
departure. While he knew that this man had appreciated his work he had
never been able to get under the Factor’s cold attitude. This last
night, however, proved that the young man’s character had won a place,
for Donald spoke to him as he had never done before and said good-bye
to him almost tenderly.

By this time Robert had become an expert dog driver, and he was not
displeased when he was given a team of the finest huskies owned by
the Company. His prisoner, with hands and feet securely fastened, was
placed on the sled with the provisions and necessary supplies. The
man had refused to walk, saying he would rather freeze first, so that
there was nothing to do but transport him in this fashion. Everything
went well the first day. The dogs, being fresh, travelled well, and the
prisoner, although he had not been informed of the party’s destination,
did not cause particular trouble. He was sullen and refused to talk,
but, pinioned as he was and tied to the sled, was not in a position
while the party was travelling to be the occasion of much disturbance.

The first night in camp with such a prisoner was not a particularly
pleasing incident. Robert had made up his mind during the day,
however, to try the same tactics on his prisoner as he had tried with
the Indians the first winter of his experiences in the North-West.
He prepared as good a meal as was possible under the circumstances,
partially loosening him so that he could eat without difficulty,
served him first, and gave him every consideration that was possible.
The man’s nature, however, was very evident. He remained sullen and
vicious, and when he did speak punctured his sentences with oaths,
which told something of his thoughts and the kind of a life he had been
living. Apparently, too, he had misread his man, thinking that because
his guide was youthful in appearance that he could be browbeaten and
made afraid.

After supper Robert made his prisoner as comfortable as possible. While
the chains were still left upon his ankles, they were loosened so that
he could take short steps and yet could not walk at all rapidly. Then
Robert heaped up the fire and, following a decision made earlier in
the day, thought it would not be safe for him to go to sleep, but sat
by the fire and after a little time assumed the attitude of sleep.
At the same time he watched the prisoner from the corner of his eye.
After a little time he saw the man glance at him carefully and slyly,
and then noted that he was working himself into an upright position. A
moment later the chains on the man’s ankles rattled and like a flash
the villain was on his feet and moving toward the fire. It was well for
Robert that he had been watching, for it was evident from the man’s
eyes that he intended to give no mercy. When the man was almost on
him Robert jumped up with his gun in his hand and faced the surprised
villain.

“Get back!” he cried. “I have tried to treat you decently, but I see
you do not appreciate it. You won’t have another chance either at me or
to escape while you are in my charge. It will be a grind and a fight
from here on.”

Following this policy Robert watched his prisoner continually. During
the day he loosened his bonds sufficiently to let him get the necessary
exercise, but took good care that he had a weapon at hand conveniently
while he was doing so. At night he chained him more closely so that he
could not rise alone. In this condition he was placed by the fire so
that he would not freeze. For the first night or two Robert had gone
without sleep and intended to do so, knowing that his prisoner must be
carefully watched, so long as he could.

With the hardships of the trail, however, he soon learned that he must
have the requisite sleep to make him fit for travel the next day. He
was careful, however, to keep some of the dogs between the prisoner
and himself. By this time the huskies had begun to respond to his kind
treatment and he knew that he was not likely to be disturbed.

Robert thought he had learned something about snow and cold in the
North-West, but as the days passed by and he began to journey along the
north shore of Lake Superior he found an unusual situation. For several
days the sun seemed scarcely to show its face and snow fell day after
day without let-up. The cold, too, increased in severity, and with
all this the travelling was becoming very hard, and as they came into
heavier wooded sections another danger appeared. Occasionally during
the day Robert had seen skulking wolves following the party at a little
distance, and as these increased he knew that the packs were hovering
about in considerable numbers. At night, while they were resting,
the young man had little fear, for it was easy to build huge fires,
which he knew would keep the animals at bay. Again, he was little
troubled for himself or his dogs, but he was disturbed for his helpless
prisoner, whom he intended to deliver, according to instructions, at
Little York.

With this came another trouble. While the dogs had been going
splendidly, the continual travelling in the deep snow had been very
trying, and with the added weight of the prisoner this condition was
accentuated. Finally the dogs refused to go further. Robert did his
best with the splendid old leader, who in his turn tried to pull the
team through the huge drifts, but his efforts were without avail. The
idea occurred to him of reasoning with the prisoner, but he concluded
that such attempts were useless, since the villain continued to return
only oaths for his kindness and had apparently made up his mind to
make his escape if the opportunity ever offered itself. There was
apparently little of the human in this man. He would not respond to
kindness in any form.

Robert prepared camp for the night, hoping that a rest would fit the
dogs for another day’s travel, and this time the animals were given
special care. As he measured out their food his thoughts flew back to
his old collie dog in his Orkney home, and he remembered how anxious
that animal had been to serve him. He realized that not only did the
success of his expedition, but also that his own life depended on
the dogs and that it was almost more than could be expected that the
animals could cope with conditions such as they had met with the last
few days for very much longer.

Another morning came, still without the sun. The sky was heavy and
black and snow continued to fall. Around the little band every twig,
every branch, was carrying its burden of white crystals. The cedars,
balsam and spruce, as well as the larger pines, were dressed in robes
of white purity, and the less sturdy of these were bending low under
the weight of their mantle. Another day of struggle brought them
somewhat nearer their goal, but again the dogs became excited, and
when the expedition stopped for the night Robert noticed that the
wolves were nearer than they had been before. The next morning when
the time came to start out it was found that two of the dogs were
unable to go further. They had done their best and more could not be
expected from them. Robert then had to perform a painful duty, for it
was necessary to put these faithful brutes out of their misery. To
somewhat counterbalance the loss of this pulling power everything that
could possibly be gotten along without was taken from the pack and left
behind. They travelled slowly, but kept moving on and on through the
deep, newly-fallen snow.

In this northern region at this season of the year the days were
exceedingly short, and since it was impossible to travel after dark the
hours of struggle were comparatively brief. After another day or two
Robert was convinced of the necessity of still further care in regard
to rations, and the prisoner was informed that his allowance would be
cut in two. His only answer to this came in curses, surely an evidence
that there was little of tenderness in his make-up. At nights the dogs
were buried deep in the snow, asleep. The prisoner could sleep well,
but while the sternness of the struggle made some sleep necessary for
Robert, the difficult situation bothered him a good deal and made his
sleep anything but regular. He was worried, for instance, over the
outlook, wondering whether it was at all probable that the duty he had
undertaken would be fulfilled. He was worried by the constant aloofness
and sullenness on the part of his prisoner, and he was worried again
by apprehensions as to his powers of dealing single-handed with the
wolf pack, which he knew was daily becoming bolder.

One afternoon, as he stood by the huge fire of burning logs which
he had gotten together to keep the wolves away during the hours of
darkness and which it was necessary for him to replenish from time to
time, his thoughts drifted away from the troublesome ones which usually
impressed him and involuntarily, it seemed, he began to plan for the
future. Then, in a moment, as he stood looking into the flickering
flames, an attractive face, of a type which he thought would be ideal
as a companion in life, as a loving helpmate who would make life worth
while, appeared to him. Perhaps it was not surprising that thoughts of
this kind gave him new determination, and he decided at the moment that
if he was given the strength to reach Little York with his prisoner he
would resign from the Company’s employ, would build a cabin for himself
and look for a sweetheart, one whom he could love and help through
life’s journey and who would love him and help him in return.

His dream met a sudden interruption. The wolves had been more
troublesome than usual that night, and occasionally, as he had seen
their eyes gleaming in the circle outside the camp-fire, Robert had
made good use of his shotgun. Suddenly, with howls from the pack, one
animal larger than the rest made a dash straight for him and in his
own way called to the others to follow. Fortunately, Robert’s gun was
ready, and the first wolf fell in his track. Here again came into play
the stamina and the self-control which had been bred into Robert in the
island home and which had been developed during his years in Canada.
An ordinary man, or one less experienced, would have flunked under the
situation, but Robert kept cool and made certain that whenever he was
able to fire the shot would have the expected effect. Finally, when two
or three animals closed in and he could not handle his muzzle-loader
quickly enough to be of further service he used a huge, burning brand
and, swinging it around his head in fiery circles, drove the band back
from the little camp. After this he built up the fire freshly, and the
new blaze served to keep the animals away until day dawned.

The next day the struggle was resumed, and in spite of the
difficulties, in spite of the cold, in spite of the protest on the part
of the dogs and the prisoner, mile after mile was gained on the long
journey. The day had been quiet so far as storm was concerned, but in
mid-afternoon the sky suddenly turned black until the heavens seemed
dropping to earth. Then, as the little party passed out of a patch of
woods, howls were heard as though coming from everywhere, and Robert
realized that the pack of the night before had been largely reinforced
and that he would have to meet another testing period. This time he
knew that the situation would be more trying, and with a view to
getting what help he could he threw the harness from the dogs, knowing
that they would defend themselves bravely. He looked to the prisoner
to see what aid could be expected from him, but again the character
of the man showed itself in his face, since abject fear was stamped
thereon. He was desperately afraid. Robert knew, however, that if it
came to the worst this human brute would be of some service, and in his
sense of justice he knew that the man should be given a chance at least
to fight for his life. Besides, he had undertaken the duty of landing
the prisoner alive at his destination, and he readily understood that
unless every possible effort were made in the present crisis it was
probable that his duty would not be fulfilled. The prisoner was rather
surprised, and for once a spark of gratefulness came to his eyes when
the chains binding his arms and hands were removed and the axe placed
beside him. Robert placed his back to a tree where he could watch the
prisoner and at the same time keep the wolves from surrounding him.

He was ready just in time, for the hungry animals, with hanging tongues
and fiery eyes, seemed to be rushing in from every direction. Crack!
went the young man’s gun, and as quickly as he could load and fire a
wolf fell. No bullets were wasted. Every one told. Don, the old leader
of the dogs, took his share in the fight also, challenging the leaders
of the pack and taking a place directly in front of the young man. On
and on the animals came, pushing one another forward, climbing over the
bodies of those which fell at the shots from the gun. After a minute or
two of fighting old Don went down. Robert was in process of loading. He
jammed the charge to the bottom of the barrel, drew out the ramrod and
fired into the middle of the pack; then seeing that his leader must be
saved and that time could not be wasted to re-load, he dropped his gun,
grabbed his axe and waded into the pack, swinging the weapon right and
left. The prisoner for once was proving himself useful. This time he
was fighting for his own life. He knew what the outcome would be unless
he bore his share of the responsibility, and he showed that he knew
well how to swing an axe. Wolf after wolf fell from the blows of the
heavy weapon. In one instant, when he had felled a wolf at one side,
another sprang for his throat. Robert had been trying to watch the man
out of the corner of his eye (for he knew he could not trust him) while
he had been struggling with the wolf pack, and had his opinion as to
the strength and ability of the prisoner in a country of this kind
confirmed. With seemingly more than human strength the huge fellow
tore the wolf from his throat and threw him back among the others, at
the same time administering a blow of the axe with the other hand to
another which had pressed in on him from the right.

[Illustration: “WOLF AFTER WOLF FELL FROM THE BLOWS.”]

For minutes the struggle continued. Don and the other dogs fought
valiantly, but the numbers were overwhelming, and looking around him
Robert saw that the members of his team were helpless, most of them
lying dead. At the moment he did not realize the situation, but had one
been looking on the impression gained would have been decidedly grim.
The clothing of both the fighting men had been badly torn. Gashes had
been made in various places on their bodies. Their hands were wounded
and bloody. Robert, however, was as full of fight as ever. Finally
there came a headlong rush of the wolves, which with difficulty was
beaten back, and then a lull. Half the pack had been disposed of and
the remainder apparently had not the courage to continue the struggle.
With tails between their legs they one by one withdrew to the shades of
the forest.

When this danger was over Robert was sure from the glint in the
prisoner’s eyes that he was face to face with a new one. While the man
could only move slowly on his feet, he took up a threatening attitude.
Robert had been prepared to thank him for the part he had taken in
the struggle, and even in the face of this threat held his temper
accordingly. Advancing toward the prisoner, but keeping out of reach,
he asked him calmly to submit to having the irons placed on his wrists
again. The answer came back quickly and viciously in the negative. With
an oath the villain said:

“I have been fighting for my life. I will fight you now for my freedom.
It is up to you and me to settle our accounts.”

Decision came to the young man like a flash. Before the fellow could
move he grabbed the handle of the axe with a grip of steel and at the
same time dealt the man a crack on the chin which laid him for the
moment helpless. While the giant was unconscious the irons were again
fastened on his wrists, and while he was returning to consciousness a
fire was kindled in a section of the wood removed from the scene of
struggle, to which he was dragged and made as comfortable as possible
on a blanket. When he came to Robert was eyeing him steadily, and when
he saw that his man could understand him he said, firmly:

[Illustration: “YOU’RE A COWARD, AND YOU’RE GOING TO BE TREATED LIKE A
COWARD.”]

“I am sorry I had to punish you, but you know yourself that it was
necessary. If you will behave yourself the rest of the way I will treat
you kindly; but you will be watched, and if you try any tricks like
that last one on me you will get your deserts just as you did that
time. You may think you are a strong man, but you are not a brave one.
You’re a coward, and you are going to be treated like a coward.”

The night was spent at this point in the woods, and Robert rose early
to try to size up the situation. During the night two of his dogs
returned to him. One, while somewhat injured, was able, after a supply
of food was given him, to do part of his share of the work with the
sled. Before leaving the place Robert could not resist the temptation
of going to have a last look at the old leader, Don, who had fought so
bravely for his master in the struggle of the day before. With these
thoughts naturally came a remembrance of his old dog back in the Orkney
home, and this led to thoughts of his mother and father and brothers
and sister.

When the start was made Robert saw that he was face to face with
assuming most of the burden of drawing the sled. The two dogs were of
some little help, but without Don to lead them they needed continual
attention. Again Robert made an appeal to the prisoner, suggesting
that if he would behave himself and would travel ahead of the sled the
chains on his feet would be removed. The only response, given as usual
in foul words, was that not one step would be travelled. Robert saw
then that the prisoner expected and hoped that he would collapse and
that thus freedom would come to him. The fellow’s calculations were
wrong, however. He did not know the endurance of the lad, nor did he
realize that there was a heart within this young body which did not
know defeat. After he had cut down still further the load of supplies,
Robert strapped the prisoner still more securely and then, putting the
dogs ahead of him where he could use the whip when necessary, he got
himself into the harness and started on again.

Then, as so frequently happens when men struggle against difficulties
and when the crisis seems to be past, nature seemed to smile and
give her aid. The sun came out again and played with its rays on the
mantle of snow. With the moderating weather and the heat of the sun
the snow packed better, and this made the drawing of the sled much
easier. During the day, also, two or three deer crossed the trail and
a fortunate shot brought a very welcome food supply. Just in time,
too, for the provisions were almost exhausted. This incident impressed
Robert, as had not occurred to him before, with the generous provision
God had made for man in the forest solitudes. He understood, as he had
not done previously, that a food supply was generally ready and that it
only required man’s own efforts to secure what he needed.

With the more favorable weather, too, and with an instinctive feeling
that he was approaching civilization, Robert began to appreciate
something of the bits of nature in this new district. As another day or
two passed they began to travel through almost unbroken forest, rough
and rocky sections where the trail, though better than it had been
before, showed occasional signs of travel. Animal life, too, began to
be more frequent, and although it was winter time almost every foot of
the trail showed traces of animals, small and large, going about as
instinct directed.

For several days the sled with its heavy burden was drawn along the
trail. As the days went by Robert anxiously consulted the map which had
been given him by Factor Donald, and while it was difficult to follow
this with any accuracy, he knew by certain signs that he could not now
be far distant from Little York. One day two Indians were encountered.
Robert had no wish to meet strangers, and particularly Indians, until
his prisoner was safely landed at the destination. Therefore, when he
saw that they were not members of any tribe he was familiar with and
realized that in all probability their language would be different from
that to which he was accustomed, he tramped past them without stopping.
He saw how carefully they eyed the prisoner, but finally they passed by
without commenting.

After another day the prisoner was surprised when Robert did not make
the usual halt for camp in the evening. The moon was full, and after
such supper as could be prepared the young man kept on through the
night with only a short rest as the light became dim during the early
morning. On the following day plainly-blazed trails leading through
the yet unbroken forest of pine and oak monarchs such as he had not
previously seen were met with, and here Robert stopped, resting, to
look up at these huge giants of the forest towering to the skies. That
afternoon a log cabin was seen. Robert realized how a lone pioneer
had blazed his way into the forest solitude, how he had hewn out a
home for himself and his loved ones in the heart of the forest, and
at the moment there returned to him his dream by the camp-fire in the
north-western district, and he wondered and renewed his determination
to go into the forest shortly and to build such a cabin for his future
home. He would have liked to have visited the cabin, from whose chimney
a welcoming smoke appeared, but with him duty was always first and the
landing of his prisoner safely was uppermost in his mind. After a few
minutes’ rest he started onward with quickened pace, and since the
trail seemed to furnish a downward slope the way from this on seemed
easier.

The following morning Robert noticed further signs of habitation. He
passed here and there strips of clearing, and about noon came out of
the forest. After the several days travelling through the unbroken
sweeps of woodland it was like entering a new world, and coming over
the crest of the hill Little York lay below and in full sight. His goal
was reached. As his eye swept over the hamlet below him, the largest
centre he had seen since leaving his Orkney home, he saw the bright
coats of the soldiers standing out against the snow as they paraded
on guard along the fort to the west, and he noted also the windmill
standing at the edge of the lake to the east. Beyond a stretch of water
to the south lay a barely-wooded sandbar.

Naturally, some little attention was attracted and comment was made
as the strange party passed through the streets which, to Robert’s
eyes seemed unusually busy. Several tried to halt him to inquire his
business, but as always duty came first, and only stopping to inquire
the way to the jail, he passed on without hesitating. His charge was
soon landed in custody and his responsibility for the prisoner turned
over to the jailer.

Only when his responsibility was removed did Robert realize what a
burden it had been. His task had been a most trying one, but he had
certainly done his part manfully in dealing with the prisoner. While
his patience had been tried in every way, he had been as kind as reason
could demand. His great desire had been to kindle a spark of love in
the prisoner’s soul and if possible to raise him from the bestial
spirit which seemed to possess him. While he had failed in this he knew
that he had done his duty, and as he stepped from the jail with his
responsibilities in this incident and to the Company ended he felt as
though a huge burden had been removed from his shoulders. After finding
comfortable quarters he made his way to the Company’s representatives,
deposited his papers and received the salary due him. Then, without
further consideration, for it will be remembered he had made up his
mind in the matter, he wrote a letter of resignation and in it thanked
the Company for its kindness. At the same time a letter was sent
forward to his mother and the loved ones at home telling something
of the experiences of the last few weeks. Thoughts of them brought
remembrances of his old friend Sandy, and, while he had no idea of the
sailor’s whereabouts at this time, another letter was addressed in care
of the captain of the old ship, in the hope that it would finally reach
the sailor friend. This done he went to his room and for hours slept
the sleep of one who has won and who has an easy conscience by reason
of having gained a victory by doing his full duty.



CHAPTER VII.

_SANDY’S VISIT HOME._


Up to this time we have been following Robert and his brother almost
completely. It will do no harm, however, to leave them for a little
time and to hark back to another home in the Old Land.

Robert’s influence on Sandy, strengthened by the heroic rescue, was a
lasting one. Many times during the return journey the old sailor longed
for the companionship and the sturdy manhood association of the lad
he had learned to regard so highly. With these thoughts and with his
changed life there naturally came into his heart feelings and longings
he had not known for years, and with these came a renewed love for his
home and parents and a longing to see his dear old mother again, an
experience which he could not remember since he had left home in the
first place. When the ship docked on her return journey, therefore,
Sandy was not long in breaking his long-continued connections and in
starting for the old home. He was wise enough to realize, however,
that his mother would scarcely like to see him as he was, and out of
the savings of his pay a new outfit of clothing was bought, and with a
clean shave and his hair trimmed he took the quickest way he knew of
getting home. On the way his misgivings were many. He had not written
home for over thirty years, and since his mother did not know of his
whereabouts it had been impossible for her to write to him. Had he
known how his mother had longed for a letter and how his father had
tried to cheer her when no news of their boy was forthcoming, he would
not have been so indifferent; but, like a good many boys, when he got
away from home these things did not trouble him much, particularly when
he was busy in new experiences which took up the greater part of his
time. His home lay well up in the Highlands, and, on the stage journey,
over and over again his thoughts went back to the day his mother said
good-bye to him, and he wondered with a good many doubts whether she
would still be alive. On the way, too, he remembered that this was the
first journey of any length he had made on land since he had left home,
and this remembrance was emphasized when he missed the rolling of the
sea and was made very uncomfortable by the bumping of the stage over
the hilly roads. He missed, too, his old friends among the crew, with
whom he had associated for so many years, and who in spite of their
roughness had become like brothers to him.

Wishing his visit to be a surprise he left the stage a little distance
from the village, and walking toward home along the neatly-kept road
he was surprised at first to meet many people whom he did not know.
Some of the younger folk, it is true, appeared to have something
familiar in their faces, but for a time he forgot he had been away for
thirty years and that no one would be likely to remember him. Finally
he came to the turn in the old, familiar road and began to climb step
by step up the old hill leading to the old, familiar cottage. He
remembered as well as if it were yesterday the fun he and the other
boys had with their sleds on this hill, and with this came in a flash
vivid remembrances of the homespun clothing and the warm mitts his
mother had made for him. He remembered again, too, the kisses which had
been given him as a little chap when he came back from his sleigh-rides
to be cuddled up in front of the big fireplace. As he came up over the
brow of the hill his step involuntarily quickened and his longings
increased. For the moment he forgot all about his forebodings, and it
seemed that he couldn’t quickly enough get to the old home to clasp his
dear old mother in his arms and to look into his father’s eyes.

Now he was able to look down into the little valley on the other side
of the hill where the cottage stood. Yes, it was still there. The same
old thatch roof came into view, though more moss had gathered on one
side than had been there. A few minutes later he came to the gate
between the low walls and looked up the path leading to the door of his
boyhood home. Then his fears came upon him again with a rush. The old
gate had fallen down, the hinges falling away from the decayed posts.
Along the path where his mother had in his boyhood days carefully
looked after the flowers, weeds were flourishing. The climbing rose
over the porch, which he remembered so well, no longer bloomed. He
waited for a moment, half expecting that his old dog would run out as
he used to in former days to bark him a welcome, but the place was
quiet with the quietness of a deserted spot. The door of the old home
was open. For a moment he hesitated, with his heart in his mouth.
Then with a hesitation which he could not understand, he walked in
and looked in vain for the smiling face which had been framed in the
doorway and for the outstretched arms which formerly had gathered him
into them. Half-dazed, he looked through the broken window in the back
of the room, as though he expected to see the familiar form of his
father in the garden, but no one was there. The silence and loneliness
was complete.

[Illustration: “FOR A MOMENT HE HESITATED, WITH HIS HEART IN HIS
MOUTH.”]

Then Sandy spent one of the bitterest moments of his life. Great tears
ran down his cheeks, and with bitterness he reproached himself for
having forgotten one of the most precious gifts this earth gives a man,
a loving, patient mother and a kind, careful father. Then, kneeling
for a moment in front of the old fireplace where, as he remembered now
but had forgotten so long, his mother had taught him in the old days to
say his prayers each evening, he made a resolution that with God’s help
he would not disappoint his parents again, but that he would be true to
his mother’s prayer as she had told it to him in the note enclosed in
the old Bible, and would live so that he would be ready to meet them in
a better land when his time came.

After a little time, Sandy realized that his regrets could do no good
now, and putting them so far as possible behind him he left the silent,
cheerless home and made his way again to the little village. Stepping
into the little postoffice, his heart was gladdened at once by the
sight of the postmaster who, though up in years, was still young in
heart and spirit, and here at least was one person who remembered him,
for he was recognized at once and was invited to stay over-night.
Then, when the postmaster’s duties for the day were done, the old
veteran, who had known the history of every family in the village and
throughout the surrounding districts, whose duty it was to keep a
record of the births, marriages and deaths, told Sandy something of the
experiences of the past years. The old man thought that it would not do
the wandering son any harm to suffer a little, since he did not then
appreciate the extent of Sandy’s repentance. Many and many a time he
had been touched when he had seen the sadness and disappointment on the
face of Sandy’s old mother when he had been forced to tell her, “No,
there is no letter to-day.” Often he had been asked to go over the mail
again, just to see if he hadn’t possibly missed a line from the boy,
Sandy. Had he known Sandy’s address, he himself would have tried many
a time to get in touch with the wandering son, but, of course, he had
been just as helpless as the mother.

Far into the night the old man talked to the sailor, telling him
purposely how week after week during the thirty years of his absence
the old mother had come, hoping against hope for word of her son, and
he said, “It hurt me to have to send her back every time with a heavy
heart. She was a good mother though, my boy. Never in all those thirty
years did she speak an unkind word of you. Her thought was always that
Sandy was a good boy and will be a good man, that he would write if he
could.” Then the old man went on, even more pathetically: “The last
time your mother walked to the office, Sandy, I knew she would never
return. She knew this also. The way she lingered, the way she longed
for a letter, all told plainly that it would be her last call, and
after she had gone up the road a little piece she turned and came back
again to ask me if a letter came that it might be sent on to the old
home. Your mother lived for you from week to week, Sandy,” he said,
“and her life clung to the hope of a letter. At last her strength was
not great enough to be told again, ‘There is no letter from Sandy.’”

[Illustration: “NO LETTER FROM SANDY.”]

The old man went on further, though he saw that the tears were now
running unrestrainedly down Sandy’s cheeks. “The love your mother had
for you has made a better man of you,” he said. “I do not believe she
could have walked home that last day if I hadn’t told her that possibly
for some reason we didn’t know you were up in heaven waiting for her.
She looked at me so earnestly then and her tears flowed freely, as they
did often, and finally she said:

“‘I hadn’t thought of that. Sandy must be in heaven or he would write
me.’

“After that she left the office with a lighter step and with even a
smile upon the face that before had been cast down.” After a little,
when Sandy managed to get hold of himself again, he was told how his
mother had been laid away in the old village churchyard five years
before. Also that his father had followed her in the next year, and
then the old man said:

“There is no one, Sandy, to put up a stone even, to mark where they are
laid. You know how poor we all are here. Some of us would have done it
if we could, but we had our own loved ones to look after.”

While it added a good deal to his pain, Sandy felt that it was only
his duty to visit the little churchyard the next day, and there he
was shown the graves of the parents who had loved him so long and
faithfully. Glad he was then that he had brought with him the pay he
had received from his last voyage. A stone such as he knew his old
mother would have been proud of was ordered, flowers were placed on the
graves, and every mark of respect arranged for. Even so, Sandy felt in
his heart that this did not begin to atone for his neglect for the long
years gone by, and for many months he stayed in the village, talking
with those who had known his father and mother, keeping the flowers
fresh on the graves in the churchyard, and trying to feel himself back
in the old home. After a time Sandy went back to his seafaring life.
When his old shipmates saw him they exclaimed at the wrinkles in his
face and wondered what had happened during his absence to make him
look so much older. At first he said nothing, but in the midst of the
voyage, when the long roll of the sea or the roar of the wind brought
back memories of his experiences with the heroic lad Robert, he told to
some of his mates the story of the pain which had come to him during
those months in the old home in Scotland.

Sandy lived like a real man for the rest of his life. He was strong
and true and clean. He read his Bible and as best he knew he tried to
follow the path laid out for him, so that some day he would be sure of
meeting his father and mother, when the great call came, in the place
where he knew they had gone already.



CHAPTER VIII.

_HOPES REALIZED AND THE JOURNEY ENDED._


A young man with an intense love for nature, who had heard and answered
the call of the wilderness, who knew the silent places, the forest
giants, who associated with the birds and the rippling streams and
revelled in it all, could not be content even in the little town which
York was in those days. If Robert had lived to-day he would not have
been content to spend his life in the heart of a city. He would have
been an engineer or a surveyor or something which would have taken him
out into the mountain solitudes or into the forest. He would have loved
to struggle with the elements, to have studied nature’s moods and to
have watched her ever-changing pictures.

[Illustration: “ONE MORNING A YOUTH STARTED OUT ALONG THE MISSISSAGA
TRAIL.”]

Early one morning a youth, now grown to twenty-one years and more
stalwart and sturdy than when we first met him, started out with a
good-sized pack on his back along what was known as the Mississaga
trail. In his pack was his all, a tent and an outfit to allow him to
live in the forest. This was arranged so that he could make his home
where night overtook him, pack up again by daylight and start on
again. He wasn’t on a trapping expedition this time, however. When the
lad had left his Orkney home four years before he had had a definite
purpose in mind which had stayed with him steadfastly during the
intervening time. The main thing he had come to Canada for was that
some day he might have a home of his own and be in a position to help
those whom he had left behind. His mind was filled with pictures of the
log cabin he had passed on his way to Little York, and he was setting
out now to search for a suitable location so that the picture might be
materialized. The Mississaga trail ran westerly along the lake shore
from Little York in about the same place where the Toronto to Hamilton
highway now provides passage for thousands of motors. How different
the scene was then, however. Nowadays we sweep along on this concrete
pavement as luxuriously as in Pullman cars, at twenty to thirty miles
an hour. Robert passed over the trail, which was not by any means so
straight as the highway, and up and down the hills, which at that
time no one ever dreamed would be smoothed up by engineers a hundred
years later, slowly though steadily, all the while on the lookout for
a location for his home-to-be. His ideal included several things.
First of all he wanted his cabin on a height so that he could have
a commanding view of the water such as had been so great a delight
in his boyhood days in the far-away Orkney home. He wanted a place,
too, where he could have nature’s hills and valleys--glens with the
wooded giants which he had learned to look upon for protection and
to furnish the fuel which he knew was so necessary in the Canadian
climate. Robert’s eyes were brighter than they had been during his
journey from Fort Garry a little time before. He had nothing now to
worry him. His responsibilities were light. His mind was full of plans
and hopes of the finest type for the future, and as, during the hours
which passed he formulated further plans, his face lighted up again and
again with the joys of anticipation. Again, his notice was attracted by
the splendid forest trees all along the trail. He thought of the value
these magnificent trees would show if they could only be taken across
the sea. Little did he imagine, however, that years afterward his own
son would be engaged in just such a business, having these knights
of the forest cut, dressed and transported to his father’s old home.
Perhaps reasons which Robert did not appreciate and which he could not
understand were driving him through the forest trails. The ordinary
young man would have wanted to stay in the town where such life and
liveliness as were known in the new country were evident. Robert had
liked life in Little York, some of which appealed to him very strongly.
For instance, he had not seen a white woman since he had left his
Orkney home until he walked around the streets of the village the day
after his arrival. It had been a pleasant experience to associate
with good men and women who talked his own language and who liked
to converse about matters he was familiar with across the sea, but
underneath his longing for the comforts and pleasures these conditions
offered there lay a spirit and a longing which drove him unwittingly
out on the trail.

[Illustration: “HE COOKED HIS SUPPER OVER THE FIRE.”]

As he passed along he occasionally met Indians. These seemed better
men physically than those he had known in the West, but their dialect
was entirely different and they were not able to understand him when
he tried to speak to them. He wanted to know the conditions of the
country, whether there were settlers ahead of him, where the type of
location he had in mind was likely to be met with; and when he kindled
a fire, after pitching his tiny tent, and stood looking into the coals,
after his plain and humble supper had been prepared and eaten, when the
thoughts of his ideal cabin and his prospective home occurred to him,
he seemed to see dancing in the shadows a girlish figure beckoning him
on. With this came pictures again of the interior of the cabin, with
a warm fireplace where he could sit during the long winter nights and
where happiness would be supreme, where the maiden would be the queen
of the home and where he would be the king. So engaged was he with
these thoughts that he did not notice the fire was dying down until
the howling of wolves was heard around him, and with this the snarling
of the wild cats. Quickly the fire was kindled anew, and with his feet
toward the blaze he lay down to enjoy pleasant dreams.

In the morning, as he passed along the trail, he began to come into
pleasing sections, and here and there he cleared away the snow between
the trees and chopped into the freezing earth to examine its quality.
He was in no hurry, because when he had located and erected his cabin
he wanted to be finally satisfied. However, he knew from the size
of the timber and the abundance of the forest growth that the land
where he was standing would, if cleared, grow splendid, golden grain.
Occasionally, too, he saw another cabin, which told him that pioneers
were selecting locations in the district. As the trail approached the
lake he saw log cabins on the other side of a clearing, and looking
over the tops of the trees from a hill he noted a sweep of sand across
a narrow section of the lake, with a good-sized bay beyond it. He
was gazing for the first time at what we now know as Burlington Bay.
He liked the situation, perhaps for one reason because it was more
like his Orkney home than any part of the country he had travelled
previously. He decided that somewhere in the district would be the
ideal spot for his home and for a time, because he wanted to be careful
and satisfied about it, he scouted through the district. As he went a
little further west he discovered a section of rolling land, of hill
and dale, very much like his island home in the Orkneys. Climbing
one of the higher hills he found a commanding view of the bay and
also found a spot where a cabin could be built amid the beauties of
the forest. Amid the silence the ripple of water came to his ears,
and walking a little distance down the hill he came to a spring of
pure water rising out of the earth as cold and clear as crystal, so
that even the winter’s frost could not prevent it flowing freely. He
was satisfied. He knew in a moment that his search was over. He had
discovered his idea for the future, for the home of the queen of his
dreams.

Next morning Robert lost no time in beginning to carry out the
practical part of his dream, and here again was put in practice some
of the training he had received in the wilderness in the Hudson’s Bay
Company’s employ. He selected a score or more of the forest giants in
the vicinity and went to work to fell them. During his short stay in
Little York he had made himself familiar with the principles used in
building these useful log homes and consequently knew exactly what to
do. For two or three weeks he was engaged in squaring the logs and
cutting them to the proper lengths, and finally, after having made
arrangements with a few of the nearest settlers, he was able to get his
home together. Robert had a bigger outlook than the ordinary settler
of that day. For instance, his cabin was built twenty by thirty feet,
which was considerably larger than those which were usually erected. He
made it one and a half stories in height and provided for a living-room
with two comfortable bedrooms on the first floor. Needless to say,
he did not forget the fireplace in one end of the living-room, and
as this was constructed he saw pictures of the splendid fires that
would be found there in the future and which would cast a cheerful
glow throughout the cabin. Again, other settlers had been satisfied to
build their homes from the timber most convenient. Robert had chosen
for his walls oak logs and the roof was covered with shingles of split
oak. Through all this he thought of the queen of the home he had not
yet met, who in the future was to occupy this cabin home with him. Day
after day he continued to work. Every crack was carefully chinked. The
log floor was hewn as smooth as hard muscle and skill could make it. He
remembered that someone else would have to keep this floor clean in the
days to come, and he wanted it as smooth as possible so that this duty
would be light.

The home itself finished, his attention was turned to the preparation
of furniture, for in those days the pioneer had no opportunity of
sending an order to the departmental store for everything he wanted.

In all this, of course, Robert was thinking primarily of the queen of
the home-to-be, but provision was made as well for a welcome for the
chance stranger, for he intended that hospitality of a true kind would
be one of the features of the new home.

With these labors the winter had passed and summer was rapidly
approaching. The sun was growing warmer each day and the generous
mantle of snow was slowly but surely disappearing. Glancing
occasionally down toward the bay through the little clearing which came
as a result of his efforts during the winter, Robert noted that the ice
was breaking up. A few weeks later the ground seemed to be alive with
spring flowers all around his cabin, and the young man’s heart was full
of joy and gladness in the results of the successful working-out of the
early part of his plans. The birds, too, were plentiful and continually
told their story of gladness in their own way.

In spite of his happiness, however, he had a continual feeling that
something was lacking. At times he was lonesome. He wished to share his
good fortune and he felt that he would not only be happier but that he
could do better work if he had someone to work for--someone to share
his happiness. When the evening came and his work was done he would
sit in his cabin with his face in his hands and gaze into the glowing
ashes of the fire that had been used for the preparation of his evening
meal. He longed to hear the light step on the floor behind him. He
longed for someone in the cabin to call him by his name. At first his
struggles with the trees had been new and had kept him busy. He had
found it exciting to chop away into the heart of one of the giants,
to watch it tremble and then start faster on its downward journey,
this to end in a final crash. But this had become commonplace. The
camp-fires, the old tenting-places, the rippling streams, the forest
with the birds and flowers, were all right in their place; but now he
had become a real man there was a place in his heart for something
bigger and stronger than any of these. Sometimes he felt that he had
been very foolish in completing his cabin without making some provision
for the one who was to share it with him, but again he felt that all
in good time the lack would be provided for. Finally, as he sat in
the cabin thinking his usual thoughts on a Saturday evening, his mind
turned toward conditions in his old Orkney home, and he realized fully
the real home that had been. He saw, as he never had before, that the
light of that home had been mother. It was mother who kept the family
waters calm. It was she who had lighted the spirit of love which had
illumined that old home. In the midst of these dream fancies he was
brought from his thoughts of the loved ones across the sea with a start
when it seemed that suddenly a maiden’s voice called to him, clear
and sweet, saying: “Robert, how is it that you are here alone? I have
been dreaming too, and I have heard a call that was borne to me in the
whispering of the wind, in the branches in the trees, by the song of
the birds as they fluttered through the forest. These have been singing
songs of love to me, songs full of hope and cheer to which my soul
responds. Let me light up your life. Let me have a share in your heart.”

Robert was at a loss to understand the vision, but he felt that it
was real. Naturally his last few years of life in the heart of nature
had made him a believer in the spirit world, and while he could not
understand nor explain the circumstances of the message which had come
to him, he felt that there must be a reason for it. He felt, too, that
it was an evidence that some of his longings were to be answered and,
as can be anticipated, he went to sleep that evening very happily.

This feeling persisted when he arose the next morning, Sunday, and as
the sun rose clear and warm and threw a golden gleam of light through
the forest he knelt in a fervent prayer of thankfulness. When he sat
down to his morning meal he did not forget also to give thanks for
his food, for he realized that he owed all to his Heavenly Father for
guiding him to this verdant spot and for helping him up to this time,
and with his prayers his hope was kindled anew.

That morning, for some reason which he could hardly define, Robert
felt an impulse to follow some unaccustomed paths through the forest.
He had made visits to his neighbors along the trail back to Little
York, but had been so busy that he had not followed the paths in any
other direction. This time impulse moved him to travel north-west,
and after he had covered about five miles he met a newly-blazed trail
leading away from the main pathway. Perhaps it was curiosity, perhaps
it was impulse which led him to follow this, but after a little time
his heart suddenly jumped in his throat, and he felt himself quivering
with more hesitancy than he had felt even when he was face to face
with the Indians in the far North-West, when he heard a girl’s voice
clearly and sweetly singing a morning hymn his mother had sung back in
the old Orkney home, evidencing a love for the Great Father on high.
As he listened he knew that the voice was approaching, and peering
through the trees he finally caught a glimpse of the first woman he
had seen in the district. It was not surprising that to this youth,
who had scarcely seen a white woman, much less spoken to one since
he left the old land, the voice should seem like that of an angel from
heaven or as sweet as the birds that sang among the blossoms in the
trees. Naturally the last thing Robert wished to do was to alarm the
maiden, so he walked slowly in her direction, looking through the trees
as though he had not seen her. In a moment, however, the young woman
caught sight of him and stood motionless, waiting for him to approach.

[Illustration: “WITH A PRAYER OF THANKFULNESS IN HIS HEART ROBERT
GREETED HER.”]

In these days, when we live under the restrictions of social usage,
the matter of the first meeting of a youth and a maiden is usually a
somewhat formal one. Usually, too, anything but serious matters are
discussed on such an occasion. Conditions were different with these
two. Here was a youth who had scarcely spoken to a woman of his own
class during the years since he had left his father’s home, a boy. Now
a man who had established his character and had made considerable of a
name for himself in a new land, he was having his first words with a
maiden, who likewise had had little to do with men of her own age and
who latterly, outside of the members of her own family, had not known
what it was to mingle with young men. With a prayer of thankfulness in
his heart Robert greeted her, and while he knew all in a moment that
this was the maiden of his dreams, he was practical enough to note the
beauties of face and figure and also to see that the young woman of
the forest was dressed in a becoming, if simple, new gown.

In her turn also the young woman was experiencing feelings which had
heretofore been unknown. She too had had dreams. She too felt that
in this young man whom she had by chance met so appropriately that
Sabbath morning lay the realization of her visions, and, as happiness
such as she had not before known came to her, it suddenly seemed that
all the songsters under the skies had gathered in the trees about and
were now singing their sweetest songs for them. The girl’s cheeks were
fair and perfect as a rose. Her sparkling blue eyes seemed to Robert
as brilliant as stars in the heavens. She was indeed for him the
forest queen. For a moment they looked into one another’s eyes with an
understanding which surely was suggested in realms above the earth, and
then naturally, if somewhat shyly, she invited him to her home, noting
that it was just a mile further along the trail. “Father and mother
would welcome you courteously, as all the people in the district do.”

Robert had always been very much at home in the forest. How he
walked had not bothered him very much, but as now he stepped along
the path with her whom he knew to be the queen of his heart he felt
very awkward. But, as they passed along the trail and talked of the
flowers, the birds, the trees and the beauties of nature, the mutual
sympathy which was soon very evident shortly remedied any feelings of
diffidence either of them had, and both felt that the other was surely
a kindred spirit. Arriving in a little time at the cabin door, the
maiden invited Robert to enter, explaining a little diffidently, “This
is a stranger, mother, whom I met on our trail.” The mother’s hand was
at once extended and in her eyes shone a welcome which Robert knew
to be sincere. After a moment, when the mother inquired his name, he
suggested somewhat casually, “If you would please me, madam, just call
me Robert.” Accepting the suggestion as it was meant, the father, in a
matter of fact way, in his turn remarked, “Well, Robert, where did you
come from? Are you settled down around here?”

A few moments sufficed to make Robert feel heartily at home. Very soon
he found out that the father was the son of a United Empire Loyalist
who had left his home in the United States when the rebellion against
British rule occurred thirty years before and made his way up into
another section of Canada. The son, when he had married and when his
family was beginning to grow up, had started out to find a fortune
in this new district adjacent to Burlington Bay. Robert learned also
that within a few miles of him in another new district there were a
number of other loyalist families. He had heard stories at home of the
sacrifices made by these splendid people and was very well satisfied
that he had been directed to cast in his lot among them.

One of the many things Robert had been taught at home was that to be
a good conversationalist one must be a good listener, and although he
had done very little talking since he had come to Canada he remembered
his parents’ advice, particularly at this time when he was anxious to
make a good impression in the home, and for a time he sat listening
attentively and showing a deep interest in the conversation. The
father in turn was greatly impressed with the young man. He liked his
open countenance and his modest and unassuming manner and, with so
attentive a listener, he was moved to tell a good deal about the early
experiences of his father’s family in the United States and of the
journey north from New Jersey. Had he known of the adventures through
which the youth had passed during the last few years, how his endurance
and pluck had been tested to the uttermost, he would have considered
his experiences hardly worth telling about.

In the meantime the young woman, with several others of the good-sized
family of boys and girls of the home, had been busy preparing dinner,
and shortly this was announced. What a dinner it was! To us who are
used to several courses, cooked under most convenient conditions, it
might not have seemed so appetizing, but to Robert, who for several
years past had been doing the most of his cooking himself and had lived
most plainly, it surely seemed a banquet, and truly it was wholesome
and abundant. To the young man, who had been living largely on dried
meat and flap-jacks, a boiled dinner of cabbage, potatoes and meat,
tastefully seasoned, cooked to a finish, with an inviting-looking
pudding and a well-filled plate of cookies, all served on a spotless
tablecloth, was surely a treat. Then it all seemed so much like his
mother’s cooking that it was with difficulty that the tears were kept
from running down his cheeks. It was but natural, too, that the mother
of the home reminded him in many ways of his own dear mother.

The afternoon passed all too quickly, and when he felt that he must go
Robert said good-bye with a heart so full of love with the world that
it appeared to be brighter to him. The grass was greener, the birds
sang more sweetly, and even the path under his feet seemed softer than
when he passed that way before. The maiden of the home came to the
door with him, after he had said good-bye to the others and after the
mother had given him an invitation to visit them often, and had given
him a firm but gentle grip of the hand which sent a thrill to his
very soul. When their eyes met as they had done that morning a look
of understanding and appreciation passed between the two which told
Robert more than words could have done.

Robert’s head was held a little higher than was usual when he walked
to his cabin that evening. Here was the answer to his hopes and his
prayers of the last few weeks. His helpmate was now within reach, and
what a helpmate his newly-found love was! On Monday morning he entered
on his conflict with the forest with a new spirit. He had worked hard
before, but now he worked with a definite object in view. Land must
be cleared to grow food and to provide for the support of his bride,
and as his sturdy muscles drove the ringing axe into the trunks of the
trees, with every blow the words seemed to ring through his heart, “It
is for her.” Again at times he would pause for a moment and listen, and
then there seemed to come to him, faintly ringing through the forest,
the notes of the hymn he had heard so sweetly sung the Sunday previous.
He appreciated, too, the fact that something more than his own sense
had been guiding him along the trail that Sunday morning, and often
during the week he was on his knees in thankfulness for the blessings
that had been given him.

You chaps who have been through something of the same circumstances
will appreciate how hard it was for Robert to stay away from the
newly-discovered cabin even for a week. Every evening when his day’s
work was done, even though he was tired enough to drop, he felt an
almost unbearable impulse to walk the few miles which separated his
cabin from the other home. He felt, however, that the good impression
he had made the previous Sunday should be preserved, and he tried to
work all the harder so that the temptation would not be so strong. It
was not surprising that he woke early the following Sunday, and it was
not surprising also that after his few regular duties were done he
was particular to spend some little time looking after his personal
appearance. Clothes were not a matter of much import those days and his
appearance was something which had not heretofore bothered Robert very
much. Now, however, with his new experience was coming a new feeling
that he must be worthy of his new-found love in every way, and also he
was anxious to appear as well as possible in her eyes. The weather was
threatening that morning, but the young man could not have been held
away from the other home by iron bars. As soon as he dared he started
off through the forest, and again the birds sang sweetly to him and the
flowers looked specially beautiful, as they had done on the previous
Sunday. Arriving at the cabin he found the door open and knocked with
some little diffidence, stepping to one side and waiting for an answer.
In a moment he was welcomed with a pleasant smile by the one he wanted
most to see. She, too, had been spending some little time over her
dress. Her rosy-golden hair was neatly coiled around her shapely head.
Robert had learned her name on his previous visit, when her mother
had addressed her simply as “Mary,” and in consequence he greeted her
naturally and simply with a “Good-morning, Mary,” and in reply she
called him just as naturally by his name.

This time, as was to be expected, Mary’s father and mother were anxious
to learn something more about the young man who had happened so
curiously into their home, and the opportunity he had wished for but
had not had previously to tell them something of his experiences was
thus afforded. As simply as he could without emphasizing unduly his own
deeds, he told them how he had left his home in the Orkneys with his
brother, under contract with the Hudson’s Bay Company, and something
of his experiences since that time. Lest they should feel that he was
boasting, he hesitated to tell them about the adventuresome happenings
of the last two years. Rather he dwelt upon the people at home and
talked of his mother and father and of the conditions there.

While he talked Robert’s eyes followed Mary about the home while she,
as a good housewife would, looked after varied duties. While perhaps
he did not realize it he was interested in seeing what kind of a home
was provided, and it was exceedingly satisfactory to him to see that
everything was tidy and in its place. Evidently peace and love ruled
supreme, and this was the kind of a home, where the parents of the
children lived happily, where a man finds rest and where he learns to
love and cherish the one who shares his daily duties. To Robert it
seemed that Mary was the jewel of the home. He saw that she relieved
her mother so far as she could with the household duties, and he noted
also that she had been well trained to look after these as they should
be done. With the realization of all these things the joy in his heart
increased. Occasionally glances passing between them gave him further
satisfaction because he felt that the feeling of kindred sympathy which
had been evident on the day of their first meeting had continued, that
they were both beginning to know what love meant. When they spoke to
one another they continued to use the names Robert and Mary just as
naturally as though they had known one another since childhood.

As the weeks passed these pleasant visits continued. After a little
time, when Robert felt that he had made his position in the home known,
he felt that he could make his visits more frequent, and after a little
time, also, it became the custom for Mary to accompany him part of the
way home when his visit was over in the early evening. Of course Robert
came back when it was time for Mary to be in the cabin, and after
lingering for a few moments to get a last glimpse of his sweetheart,
walked away sturdily to his own cabin, dreaming of love and future
happiness.

One of the pleasant incidents of the summer days was a visit Mary paid
with her father and mother to Robert’s cabin. They were surprised at
its size, since it was even larger than their own home provided for
the good-sized family it housed. Then, while Robert drew the father
to the top of the hill to show him the outlook and also to give him
an idea of the work he was undertaking, Mary and her mother, as they
believed Robert would wish, examined the interior of the cabin. Again
they were surprised when they saw all that had been done to make the
place a real home. The neatness of the cabin, considering that it was
looked after by a man, was unusual. They appreciated, too, the careful
work the young man had done in putting together the furniture which was
placed around the three rooms, and saw that he had made every provision
he knew how for the partner who was to occupy the home with him. They
all appreciated that this, too, was to be a real home, and the father
and mother, understanding how sturdy was the character of the young man
who had prepared it, had had little hesitation in granting his request
when, a short time previously, he had come to ask them for their
daughter as his bride.

Between Mary and Robert themselves the utmost sympathy prevailed. It
was hardly necessary to discuss the matter of an acknowledgment, for
as they associated with one another during Robert’s visits and walked
together when occasion permitted, the kindredness of thought and
feeling was so apparent that each knew their future was bound up in the
other. It was a case where God had seemed to direct, where surely a
guiding hand, stronger than man’s, had been in evidence.

The wedding day was set for October 16th in the year 1819, and again
nature seemed to be decked for the occasion. The forest foliage, while
in a dull season, still showed bright hues. What wild flowers still
bloomed in the fall of the year were used to decorate the table, and
enough of these remained to provide garlands for the bride to wear. The
wedding dinner was provided almost altogether by the newly-cleared land
and by the animals which God provided in the district.

Simplicity prevailed everywhere in those days. There was no thought
of a wedding journey. After the ceremony Robert led his bride slowly
from her home to the new one. Over the trail they went quietly,
thinking thoughts of the happy future; over the trail upon which they
had first met less than six months before; and, as they passed, the
spirit of love seemed everywhere, and in the peacefulness of the day
there seemed to lie a promise of a peaceful and happy life for the
newly-wedded couple. When they arrived at the door of the new home
it was opened by the hand of him who was now husband. The cabin was
entered, Mary tripping over the doorstep like a queen, and as Robert
welcomed her, as he had never been able to do before, he realized that
the cabin had now become a real home.


LOVE AND HOME.

  No palace, house or cot can make a home;
  Home must be made by love, and love alone.
  Love can build sanctuaries in deserts bare,
  Raise homes of peace and hope and loving care;
  Sweet homes of freedom, where the worn may rest,
  Safe as a babe upon its mother’s breast.

  Love is the mainspring; love, and love alone,
  Supplies the sweets of life, the joyful tone
  Which joys in living each and every day;
  Love is the light which lightens all the way.
  Until at last, when earthly love is o’er--
  And then, behold, ’tis love for evermore!

[Illustration: “THUS WERE ROBERT’S EARLY HOPES AND PLANS REALIZED.”]

Thus were Robert’s early hopes and plans materialized. With that day
came the fruition of most of his dreams, and as the days and weeks and
years passed by and the fine spots in his character, the foundations of
which had been so well and truly laid, developed further it was seen
that they provided for a real happiness. Mary, too, had her part in
providing the peacefulness and comfort of a happy home. She was a
true helpmate, and with the years there came to him the blessings that
come in a home. Sons and daughters were given to them, fourteen in all,
and while these brought added cares and responsibilities, they brought
added joys. With the course of time Robert extended his holdings. After
the first few years his land had been practically all cleared, and as
his sons were born to him he was anxious that provision should be made
for their future. He worked hard and introduced the boys also to a life
of similar industry, though he and his wife were careful to give them
such education as was possible in the neighborhood. Population also
grew rapidly in the district, and when Robert’s sturdy principles of
character made themselves known among the neighbors various honors such
as come to a similar type of man were given to him. He was a man of
whom the district was proud, a man who accepted such responsibilities
as were given him seriously, a man who was sure to see that things were
done when they were undertaken. Robert did not escape difficulties.
Even in those days business transactions were not altogether free
from vexatious happenings, but he pursued the policy of honesty and
straightforwardness which had been so carefully drilled into him by his
father and mother, and by reason of this was always on the right side.
People knew that his word could be depended on, that it was as good as
his bond, that when he said a thing he meant it and that it was right.

Mary, in her turn, occupied a place relative to her husband in the
community. She was a leader among the women, often going to the homes
of her neighbors to provide what comfort and help was necessary in
times of trouble and stress. She was always ready to give advice and
help. Many and many a bride came to her for help in her difficulties.
Many and many a young man was given good advice when making plans for
his future.

Thus was happiness provided for and love ruled alone. For twenty-seven
years the two journeyed along life’s pathway happily and truly, and
then, while Robert was yet a stalwart man and apparently in good health
and strength, he was one day suddenly taken ill and received his call
up the long, long trail which has no ending here on earth. It was a
blow to him when he realized that the end had come, particularly when
it came so suddenly and unexpectedly. It was hard for him to leave his
helpmate in life. It was hard, too, to have to say good-bye to the home
which had been so much to him. He felt, too, that he had a good deal
in life yet to do, but as the end came near he seemed to appreciate
that the One who called had more work for him to do somewhere else in a
better place, and through his tears he answered briefly, “God’s will
be done.” And as he journeyed on up the trail he did not go blindly,
for the pathway was lighted up by the love which had been born in his
soul as a youth and which by the faithful following of duty had been
developed into a flaming torch which was to light him continually along
the pathway.

One of the sturdy hero’s hopes had not been materialized. It had been
a deeply-impressed wish in his heart that some time the opportunity
should be provided to return to his father and mother in the old Orkney
home. In this he had been disappointed. His parents naturally had
preceded him in death, and his life had been such a busy one that the
considerable journey back to the old home had never been provided for.
However, his wish did find realization in another way, for he found his
father and mother waiting patiently for him when he reached that land
“fairer than day” from which the call had come for him.

For forty years Mary, as Robert’s widow, carried on his
responsibilities, and with her family of fourteen these were by no
means light. Never once did she flinch, however. As Robert had prayed
with her during his lifetime, so she was now given strength to pray,
and as she prayed she knew that her prayers were answered. She did
her best to bring her children up as their father would have had
them reared. When the time came she led them to the church in the
neighborhood, and Sunday after Sunday, as she walked along the roadway
to the church service, holding her children by the hand, she sang the
same song which Robert had heard when he had first met her, back on the
trail years before. When she had lived her life as God intended she,
too, was called on high and was again placed at Robert’s side to live
together as they had done on earth, but in the happiness that is only
known in that great land beyond.



HOW “KID” MADE GOOD

A STORY OF THE CANADIAN LUMBER WOODS


“What are you doing here, Kid?”

This was the greeting that came to a lad of fifteen who, late one
afternoon in the month of October, about thirty years ago, walked into
one of the lumber camps which were then located along the French River
in Northern Ontario. He was a light-haired boy with blue eyes showing a
natural honesty beneath them, and with a bearing that would command the
admiration of any real man.

The greeting came somewhat forcibly to the boy, particularly when it
was given by Scott, the foreman of the camp, who was known throughout
the district as a man who demanded the best from his men, though he
treated them well in return, and the lad to whom he spoke was surely
in touch with new experiences. To a boy who scarcely knew what hard
work really meant, who through force of circumstances was forced to
come up against work which was ordinarily tackled by physical giants,
this meant new as well as trying experiences. It was a well-known fact
that anyone who looked for employment in a lumber camp must become
one of the crew and must abide by the well-defined though unwritten
rule of those days of passing through the rather rough, but usually
good-natured treatment, such as all green, first-year hands, were
subjected to. This policy was followed in the belief, as prevails in a
good many other institutions and industries, that the sooner a green
hand got his bumps the quicker he would become a full-fledged hand.
Charlie, the young man our story is concerned with, had found his way
to what was known as Camp No. 2. Here Scott, the foreman, had seen many
years’ experience in the lumber camps and in driving logs on the most
difficult water. Furthermore, Scott had gotten his early training under
one of the hardest bosses that ever wore shoe leather--a man firm as
steel and cold as an iceberg. Naturally he had absorbed a good deal of
these qualities, but with all this he had a kindly spot in his heart,
under a rough exterior, for the green hand who seemed to have in him
the right sort of stuff, particularly if the new man were willing.

Probably Charlie would have chosen some other vocation had his
circumstances been otherwise, but at that time and in that part of
the country nothing else seemed open to him. Only a few weeks before,
through the death of his father, the family’s resources had been swept
away, and when the mother and the smaller children had been left
without support it seemed to the oldest son that it was his duty to
get into something at once which would provide for them.

Charlie looked Scott in the eyes after his first query and replied that
he was looking for a job. The answer to this was not assuring.

“Kids are no good in the forest,” said the foreman. “And the best men
have to hustle to hold their jobs in Camp No. 2. But you look tired,
kid. I’ll feed you and give you a bunk for the night.”

For the moment Charlie was left alone and had a chance to look about
him. Naturally he was interested in the approach of the crew, who,
although they had just completed a hard day’s work, seemed to be full
of life and good spirits and pushed one another about, as it seemed to
him, rather roughly. One man who had been near when the foreman spoke
to the lad had heard Scott greet him as “Kid,” and apparently, as was
customary in lumber camps, a nickname like this was bound to stick. As
the crew came to the Camp House two shrill blasts given by the cook on
his long tin horn gave a warning to get ready for supper, and this man
spoke up rather roughly:

“Get that turkey off your back, Kid, and roll up your sleeves for hash.”

Five minutes later one short blast on the horn announced supper ready,
and a stream of rough, though good-natured, men bolted out of the
sleeping-camp and hurried to the door of the cook-camp. Every member
of the crew carried his appetite with him. They took their seats in an
orderly way, for the cook was always king in the cook-camp, and they
well knew that anyone who acted in a disorderly way would be ejected,
even if the services of the carving-knife were required. Scott, the
foreman, had told the cook to put on an extra plate, so Kid was seated,
and did justice to the wholesome meal, which, his first in the camp,
was somewhat of a revelation since it supplied food in plenty, cooked
to a finish and placed steaming hot on the table. After his long tramp
during the day, with only a snack since breakfast, the meal was very
welcome.

Supper over, Kid went back to the sleeping-camp with the crew, and here
the strains of violins, mouth-organs and concertinas were soon blending
with voices which seemed like the roar of lions. Each of the crew
seemed to have his own tune and sung whatever was nearest in his heart.
Suddenly a voice rose above the noise and din, calling:

“Sourdough, don’t hog the whole camp. Give the Kid a chance.”

Charlie was bewildered. Nothing of this nature had ever been presented
to him before. He thought that he had seen rough-and-tumble play in his
games at school, but the antics of the fun-loving lumbermen surpassed
anything he knew. The black coffee, the pea soup, the pork and beans,
and the bread “like mother makes,” seemed to have added new fuel to the
relentless energy in these forest giants. In addition to singing, they
played jokes on one another and wrestled and danced. Old boots were
flying through the air and suddenly one of these, which landed directly
on Kid’s nose, caused the blood to flow freely.

One of the crew, a swarthy giant who, with matted hair and whiskers,
bore a good deal of resemblance to a grizzly bear and who, by the way,
probably by reason of dissimilitude, had been christened “Babe,” jumped
up in the seat which ran around the edge of the lower bunks. Clenching
his fist, he followed the direction from which the boot had been flung,
and a warning was given that if further pranks were tried on the Kid
he would smash the face of the joker so that his best girl would never
recognize him again. All this was quite typical. There were many rough
men in Camp No. 2 ready to act as protector to a lad like Kid. They
liked the cleanness and manliness of his face, which also showed a
stamping of determination indicating that he was brave enough to try to
take care of himself when he had to.

After a moment Babe’s eye rested on one of the crew who was in the
habit of meting out rough treatment to green hands, and who had been
familiarly christened “Jumbo.” At times Babe was quite ready to do
his share of the hazing process also, but he realized that beside him
was a lonely lad who had wandered into the camp without knowing what
experiences he would meet, and under these conditions he was glad to
become the boy’s champion and ready to fight to the death, if needs be,
for him. Jumbo, in his turn, did not particularly welcome being called
to account before the crew by Babe or any other member of the camp,
and in a moment he edged his way over to the side of the lad, and in a
provoking tone remarked:

“Did you run away from your home, Kid, or did your dad kick you out?”

Babe, who had boys of his own, was a good judge of boy character, and
looking down in Charlie’s face he realized that there was something
more in the situation than lay on the surface. Jumbo’s insulting remark
had cut like a dagger, and the boy’s face bore a look of pain which
at first could not be understood. Babe noted this, and acting on his
instinct for protection, dropped his fist like a sledge-hammer in
Jumbo’s face and sent him rolling back among the crew.

In an instant the music and singing ceased. It was the lull before the
storm. Jumbo gathered himself up and was getting ready to renew the
attack when, like a flash, the door opened and in it stood a splendid
specimen of manhood. It was Scott, the foreman, who instinctively
seemed to have the faculty of arriving in scenes of this kind at the
psychological moment. With one leap he was by Kid’s side, and seeing
the blood on the lad’s face, he demanded the name of the man who
had dealt the blow. Jumbo was no coward, and furthermore he had not
intended to injure the lad quite so badly. He faced Scott readily,
admitting that he had flung the boot, but protesting strongly against
any intention of injury. Scott settled the matter characteristically
and definitely by informing the crew that if any of them had not had
enough to quiet their nerves for the night he was quite ready to
accommodate them outside the camp, adding that men who threw boots
about should be taught a lesson. His challenge was not accepted.

In a few moments the lights were ordered out, the crew threw themselves
into the bunks and in a few seconds were dead to the world, and would
remain so until their call would come at four the next morning.

Something in the lad’s face and in the manliness with which he accepted
the situation strongly appealed to the foreman, and linking his arm in
Kid’s he led him out of the door and over to his own sleeping quarters.
A little later the boy told the foreman why he was looking for work.

“Well, Kid,” came the reply, roughly if kindly, “this is no charity
camp, but I know the heart of the boss. We’ll give you a fair chance to
earn what you can for the support of your mother and the kids. I’ll put
you to work to-morrow, and you can roll in with me in my bunk to-night.”

Scott threw off his outer clothing quickly and was in his bunk in a
moment. Kid undressed a little more slowly, and when the foreman looked
up in a moment he saw why the lad was waiting. He was kneeling beside
his bunk. As he looked at the boy saying his prayers he was forced to
acknowledge that in some ways the other was braver than he, since he
was not afraid to do his duty as he had been taught. In that moment Kid
had won the foreman’s heart.

Long before daylight Scott was up to waken the crew. Kid was sleeping
soundly, and since the foreman knew of the long tramp he had had the
day before he let him sleep till the breakfast call. After breakfast,
in firm but kindly tones, he told Kid he was going to put him on trial,
that if he were of the right stuff he would make good.

“Put me at any work you think I can do, sir,” the boy said in return.
“Any money I get from your company I want to earn honestly. I couldn’t
accept charity from you or your boss while I have hands to work.”

In the woods Kid was glad to be put in the hands of Babe, who was
one of the sub-foremen. At first he was naturally very awkward, but
proved himself to be a willing hand, and although his hands were
soon blistered, every muscle in his body ached, and he felt at times
that his back would surely break, he applied himself faithfully and
without a grumble. Naturally, as the days went by these conditions were
remedied, and in a short time Babe was satisfied that the boy was going
to make good. When, at the end of the first month, Scott inquired as to
how he liked the work, his answer was: “Fine, sir. This is man’s work,
and that is what I wanted to do.” At the time experienced men were
receiving twenty-five dollars per month. It is not to be wondered at,
therefore, that when Scott gave Kid a time-cheque for twenty dollars
for his first month’s work he was delighted. He was glad to think that
he was now doing a man’s work and receiving a man’s pay. Of course, the
cheque went home to his mother with a letter full of good cheer.

It wasn’t long until Kid, the youngest member of the crew, became a
favorite in the camp. He was gifted with a beautiful voice, which was
heard when he was at leisure in the forest solitude and at night when
he sat in the camp and sang songs of home and mother. At times, too,
he was brave enough to sing songs he had learned in church and Sunday
school, and these were sung in such a way that, when they brought back
early memories to the hardened members of the crew, tears came to the
eyes of some of these swarthy men who, too, thought of their mothers
and of Sunday-school days. By this time, too, the story of why Kid had
been forced to work in the lumber camp had become well known. For a
time Jumbo, who had been so drastically treated on the boy’s account
on that eventful first night, held aloof; but when he heard the story
and realized how the lad must have been stung by his thoughtless remark
that night, he walked up to him, offering his hand and saying heartily:

“Kid, if you’re ever in trouble and want a friend, call on your Uncle
Jumbo.”

In December, the following month, Kid’s time-cheque mounted to
twenty-five dollars, and when he was being paid Scott informed him that
he had earned every cent of it by working with a willing, cheerful
spirit and by doing his level best, and that in this way he had been
valuable even outside his regular work as an inspiration to the older
members of the camp. This cheque reached his mother just before
Christmas, in time to purchase a good many needed things and also to
provide for a real Christmas, with a Christmas-tree and all the other
accompaniments, for the little ones. In his turn Kid was delighted at
Christmas to get a parcel of warm socks and mittens and a letter
full of thanksgiving, in which the mother expressed her gratefulness
to the men in Camp No. 2 for receiving her boy so kindly, and making
special mention of the firm’s thoughtfulness.

[Illustration: A SCENE FAMILIAR IN THE LUMBER WOODS THIRTY YEARS AGO.]

[Illustration: DRESSING A PINE MONARCH FOR SHIPMENT OVERSEAS.]

As spring approached even greater efforts were put forth in Camp No. 2.
Scott, the man who never tired in doing his best for his employer, was
like a mighty, silent force, appearing everywhere, apparently looking
after everything grimly and resolutely. He had made up his mind to see
all the logs at the river bank before spring set in, and the fairness
of his treatment made every man resolve that he would do his part.
Every night in camp stories were told of the number of logs cut and
placed upon skids that day, and of the record loads hauled by one span
of horses to the river. Each night the scaler handed in a report of the
work accomplished that day to Scott, who, after going over these, lay
down and slept the sleep which comes with the consciousness of a day’s
work well done.

Learning that there was a shortage of teamsters. Kid, who knew a little
about horses, offered himself for this work, and accordingly was
assigned to team supplies for the camp along the tote road from the
railroad, about sixty miles away. In sending him out Scott cautioned
him of the danger from the wolves, particularly at night, and told
him that if he were caught out on the road after nightfall he was to
stop and build a fire at the first howl. Failing time for this he was
to unhitch his team, climb on their backs, and make the camp the best
way he could. He was instructed, however, to provide against being out
after night by leaving the Halfway house, thirty miles from camp, at
daybreak.

Naturally, Kid planned to follow these instructions carefully, and
on his first trip left the Halfway house even before daylight, but
unfortunately, because of a heavy fall of snow during the day, was not
able to keep to the anticipated schedule. When about six miles from
camp darkness set in and he found himself alone in the forest.

Suddenly the howl of a wolf was heard. Following instructions he
stopped the team and tried to gather birchbark and bits of wood to
build his fire. It was cold, forty below, and doubtless the lad was
cold and numb from the cold and frost when the wolves surrounded him.
Probably, also, the team became frightened at the wolves, had upset
the sleigh and got away. Since there was no witness to the tragedy no
one knew definitely. At the time of the lad’s probable arrival Scott
ran outside the camp with a lantern and peered down the tote road. As
time went by he became alarmed at the failure of the lad to arrive
and suddenly, when he heard the dashing of hoofs and saw the team
running madly as if chased, he understood that something unusual had
happened. With two men and a fresh team he started back over the tote
road, and in a little time found their fears realized. Coming to the
upturned sleigh, they saw shadowy forms sneaking away into the forest,
and a little further on, underneath a tree beside the road, which the
boy had evidently tried to climb, were torn boots and some bits of
tattered clothing. Probably the lad had climbed the tree, but in his
numb condition was unable to hang on and had fallen, becoming a prey to
those ferocious brutes. While the lumber-jacks were in some respects
hard men and had seen accidents and somewhat similar things before,
their regard for the boy who had proved himself a real man made tears
flow from their eyes, which froze into icicles as they trickled down
their bearded faces. There before them, written on the snow around
their feet, was the sad tale of how the heroic lad had met his end in
the forest, doing his duty. Scott appreciated what this side of the
tragedy would mean to the lad’s mother, fully realizing that she would
appreciate how the lad had lived up to his duty, and would understand
that God’s angels had been there to claim the spirit of her boy and
take it up to a better home than earth affords.

When Scott and his men returned to camp with the story naturally a
gloom was cast over the crew. Next day, when the boss of the camp
came in, he noted on the way the signs of the tragedy, and on making
inquiries was told the sorrowful story. When told of the good qualities
of the lad he was deeply touched, and leaving the camp the following
day, he resolved to go himself to break the news to the Kid’s mother,
carrying with him a collection of over a hundred dollars which had
been made up by the members of the crew as a remembrance, to which he
himself added a substantial amount. He drove directly to the lad’s
home, and on his arrival introduced himself and handed over the purse
intended for the mother. Then came a hard task for him. He talked for
some time, but had difficulty in getting further with his story than
the fact that the money was a gift from the crew of Camp No. 2. Beads
of perspiration gathered on his brow. His face was strained, and the
matter troubled him so much that he had almost made up his mind to
leave without telling his story when the mother, noting the look of
pain on his face, pleaded to know all about Charlie. The boss tried
to speak, but could not utter the word which he felt would blast her
hopes. Then, as she knelt before him and pleaded with him to tell her
the truth, saying that she would be brave, and no further information
came, she left the room a moment, later appearing with hat and shawl,
and said, “Now, please take me to Charlie.” Finally, and almost in a
whisper, the boss said: “No, you cannot go to Charlie. His soul is in
heaven.”

After an agonized cry, the mother bravely got hold of herself and said:
“Charlie’s soul in heaven. Thank God. I can go to him there. I shall be
brave and bear the cross, for I know that Charlie will be company there
for his father. They were such chums here on earth.”

While Charlie’s face was absent from the camp, his influence was still
present. Scott, for instance, knelt and said his prayers every night
before he climbed into his bunk, just as Kid had done that first night
in camp, and as he prayed for himself Scott tried to remember the
mother and kiddies who had suffered from the loss of their son and
brother. Many of the men in the camp, too, had been influenced in a
similar way, and Camp No. 2 was a different place than it had been six
months previously.

When the winter’s work was completed and the men and teams were leaving
their quarters, many a man turned to cast a last look at the camp where
various joys had been known, where gloom had been shared by all and
where trial and difficulty had been overcome. The procession of men,
who through their experiences together that winter had become a sort of
family, a brotherhood, wended their way along the tote road. Looking
at them none could deny that these lumber-jacks were a noble breed of
men. The sons and grandsons of pioneers, men of the north, conquerors
of the forest, bound together by a chain of chivalrous deeds, of
hardships and difficulties, they were doing their part in the building
up of the future of a nation.

Scott was in the sleigh with the leading team. When they came opposite
the spot where Kid had fought his last battle against the cruel forest
conditions, a halt was ordered. The crew gathered around the spot and
Jumbo, surprisingly, spoke first, saying: “So here’s where the Kid
fought his last fight. I hope he saw that I wanted to be his friend.
I’d have liked to take a whack at these brutes myself, or to have taken
his place. I guess he would have been worth more in the world than I’ll
be.”

The procession passed on its way sorrowfully. Possibly never again
would the spot be visited by one who knew the story, but in the years
following the men who had been in Camp No. 2 that winter told at their
firesides tales of a lad who had fought his battle and won, of the
cheerful-faced boy who was man enough to face the world and the hard
things in it to support his mother, of the young man who tackled a
man’s work and did it without a murmur, and who, above all these other
things, loved God and was not afraid to acknowledge Him in his home and
in the difficult conditions of the lumber camp.

[Illustration: SOME OF CANADA’S BIG MEN, GOOD MEN ARE HERE IN EMBRYO.
YOUR DUTY, BOYS, IS TO GET READY NOW FOR THE BIG OPPORTUNITIES TO
COME.]



AN APPEAL TO PLAY THE GAME FAIRLY


Perhaps a word here from the experience of an older man than most of
those who will read this book will be helpful.

In going through the current magazines and trade journals ordinarily
read by young men and women, I am impressed by the fact that they
seem to be largely devoted to pastime or for showing methods of
accumulating wealth, and in most of these the latter seems to be termed
success. After having seen a good deal of life in its various aspects
I know full well that there is no success worth mentioning in the
terms of dollars. While it is necessary that we work hard, and keep
everlastingly at it; while it is essential that we be thrifty and look
after what we earn carefully to produce the right kind of character, it
is a fact to which those who have grown out of youth will testify if
they are serious, that the dollars a man has do not leave any lasting
record for him.

Character is all that lives. The kind words we speak, the helpful
things we do, the service we give to others willingly, the sacrifices
we make cheerfully and gladly for the good of mankind, are the things
which really count, and these things it has been surely proved are the
things which go to make up real character.

Suppose that you who are reading this are old enough to be face to face
with the realities of life. Heretofore you have been living at the home
fireside, able to depend on your father and mother for help in your
difficulties of whatever kind. It is as though your personal craft has
been sailing on a calm mill-pond. Now you have come out of the mouth of
the River of Youth and find yourself face to face with the great Ocean
of Life. New responsibility will come to you. Difficulties that you did
not appreciate will crop up frequently and you will not be able to turn
to father and mother for help. If you are made of the right stuff you
will not want to do so, but will want to sail your own course, and it
is in doing so, and in getting through the storms on your own resources
that will build up your character. It will be necessary to use courage,
grit and determination in the battle of life. These are the things
which will carry you through. But you will find that life and good
fellowship when properly used will radiate themselves widely and make
their influence largely felt. Let your words always be truthful. This
is a bigger factor in success than most young people imagine, and if
thankfulness for kindnesses received is apparent this will smooth the
way a good deal.

[Illustration: “MEN OF TO-MORROW” AMID NATURE’S WONDROUS STATUARY.]

With everything else you must remember to play the game of life fairly.
While it is only right to stand up for one’s own rights and to hold
to this principle firmly it is not at all necessary to try to shift
responsibility to the other fellow. There is far too much of this in
the world. The man who carries himself honestly, straightforwardly,
and is willing to accept the responsibility for the mistakes he is
occasionally certain to make is much more likely to be awarded praise
for the good things he does than the chap who is continually trying to
get out of difficulty by shoving the matter to someone else’s shoulders.

Keep in mind the fact that the real things of life are the ones to
be worked for, and by attempting to work up to an ideal much better
progress will be made. If God gives you powers to construct, to create,
to organize and to develop, be mightily thankful and do your utmost to
develop these powers. Any man can be mightily useful in the world if
he will seriously take hold of the talents--be they one or twenty--God
gives him and uses them as best he knows how.

And remember that it is largely the little things which make up the big
ones. What you do every day, what you read, your thoughts, your words,
your deeds, go to make up yourself, and as you speak and think and read
and do now so will you be hereafter.

If you are to win in the battle of life there must be no compromise
with your better self. One is either useful to the world or is
detrimental. There is no neutral point. You will be either somebody
or nobody, and remember that so long as you are perfectly sincere and
live according to your own knowledge and as your conscience tells you,
you will be somebody, and it doesn’t make very much difference what
the world thinks of you. The men who have proved themselves strongest,
the men of genius, the inventors, the philosophers, the preachers, the
scientists, have in hundreds of cases been men whom the people of their
day laughed at. They did the best they could according to their light,
cared little for what the people around them thought, and while they
were probably laughed at in their day, time showed their value to the
world and to their fellow men. Thus it may be with you.

[Illustration: BOYS AND GIRLS OF THE BURLINGTON PUBLIC SCHOOL.

Canada cannot be a strong nation unless her youth become strong in
character.]

If you are looking for an opening for your life’s career, you cannot
do better than pick a spot right here in Canada. Probably the place
to start is right where you are. A lot of people make mistakes in
running around looking for opportunities when, in all probability, the
opportunity is standing around the corner waiting for the door to be
opened to make a bolt in. It is the wise young man or woman who can
see an opportunity and grab it from where he stands, and in a good
many cases these opportunities consist simply in doing honestly,
sincerely and with all the heart that can be put into it the things
which lie right at hand. It may be pitching hay on the farm, chucking
coal into the fire-box of a locomotive or delivering parcels from a
grocery store. If these things are done with the right spirit and
done as well as one knows how to do them, bigger opportunities are as
certain to crop up all in good time as the sun is to rise to-morrow
morning. Those of us who look back from added years see that the hard
and trying work in what seemed to be limited opportunities was really
a preparation for the bigger things to follow, and if the one who is
doing what seems to be the little things doesn’t do them in the best
way he knows how he will not be ready to take hold of the bigger things
when they come along.

This country of ours, Canada, is to-day, in resources, an undeveloped
opportunity, the greatest under God’s heaven. With its wealth of land,
forest and mine, with its unknown and undreamed-of resources in the
sections man has not yet trod, it presents a wealth of opportunity such
as our fathers never dreamed of. The young man or woman who believes
in the syllable “can” and will develop his or her will-power to say “I
can,” and “I will,” and follows this up with the doing will not lack a
place in this country.

With all the struggle and striving for success do not forget that
life’s choicest gift is Love. Every chivalrous act results from love.
Faith, Hope and Charity are all the outgrowth of love. Nature as we see
it around us in the fields and forests is a picture of love, and is a
sort of mirror reflecting God’s thoughts.

Robert and Mary, the hero and heroine of the preceding story, went
their way and left an impress of their lives on their country and
on the hearts of the people of their time by playing fairly and by
working with God’s blessing. To fill a similar place in life it will be
necessary for you to work with the same end in view and under the same
auspices.

Will you do it?



TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:


  Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

  Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

  Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

  Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.



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