Ungava. Robert Michael Ballantyne

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      Ungava

      Introduction

      The following story is intended to illustrate one of the many phases of the fur-trader’s life in those wild regions of North America which surround Hudson’s Bay.

      Most of its major incidents are facts—fiction being employed chiefly for the purpose of weaving these facts into a readable form.

      If this volume should chance to fall into the hands of any of those who acted a part in the first settlement of Ungava, we trust that they will forgive the liberty that has been taken with their persons and adventures, remembering that transpositions, modifications, and transformations are necessary in constructing a tale out of the “raw material.”

      We take this opportunity of expressing to the Leader of the adventurous band our grateful acknowledgements for his kindness in placing at our disposal the groundwork on which this story has been reared.

      R.M. Ballantyne.

      Chapter One.

      The forest, and the leaders of the folorn-hope—A good shot—A consultation—An ice-floe, and a narrow chance of escape in a small way

      “Hallo! where are you!” shouted a voice that rang through the glades of the forest like the blast of a silver trumpet, testifying to lungs of leather and a throat of brass.

      The ringing tones died away, and naught was heard save the rustling of the leafy canopy overhead, as the young man, whose shout had thus rudely disturbed the surrounding echoes, leaned on the muzzle of a long rifle, and stood motionless as a statue, his right foot resting on the trunk of a fallen tree, and his head bent slightly to one side, as if listening for a reply. But no reply came. A squirrel ran down the trunk of a neighbouring pine, and paused, with tail and ears erect, and its little black eyes glittering as if with surprise at the temerity of him who so recklessly dared to intrude upon and desecrate with his powerful voice the deep solitudes of the wilderness. They stood so long thus that it seemed as though the little animal and the man had been petrified by the unwonted sound. If so, the spell was quickly broken. The loud report of a fowling-piece was heard at a short distance. The squirrel incontinently disappeared from the spot on which it stood, and almost instantaneously reappeared on the topmost branch of a high tree; while the young man gave a smile of satisfaction, threw the rifle over his shoulder, and, turning round, strode rapidly away in the direction whence the shot proceeded.

      A few minutes’ walk brought him to the banks of a little brook, by the side of which, on the projecting root of a tree, sat a man, with a dead goose at his feet and a fowling-piece by his side. He was dressed in the garb of a hunter; and, from the number of gray hairs that shone like threads of silver among the black curls on his temples, he was evidently past the meridian of life—although, from the upright bearing of his tall, muscular frame, and the quick glance of his fearless black eye, it was equally evident that the vigour of his youth was not yet abated.

      “Why, Stanley,” exclaimed the young man as he approached, “I’ve been shouting till my throat is cracked, for at least half an hour. I verily began to think that you had forsaken me altogether.”

      “In which case, Frank,” replied the other, “I should have treated you as you deserve, for your empty game-bag proves you an unworthy comrade in the chase.”

      “So, so, friend, do not boast,” replied the youth with a smile; “if I mistake not, that goose was winging its way to the far north not ten minutes agone. Had I come up half an hour sooner, I suspect we should have met on equal terms; but the fact is that I have not seen hair or feather, save a tree-squirrel, since I left you in the morning.”

      “Well, to say truth, I was equally unfortunate until I met this luckless goose, and fired the shot that brought him down and brought you up. But I’ve had enough o’ this now, and shall back to the fort again. What say you? Will you go in my canoe or walk?”

      The young man was silent for a few seconds; then, without replying to his companion’s question, he said,—“By-the-bye, is it not to-night that you mean to make another attempt to induce the men to volunteer for the expedition!”

      “It is,” replied Stanley, with a alight frown. “And what if they still persist in refusing to go?”

      “I’ll try once more to shame them out of their cowardice. But if they won’t agree, I’ll compel them to go by means of more powerful arguments than words.”

      “’Tis not cowardice; you do the men injustice,” said Frank, shaking his head.

      “Well, well, I believe I do, lad; you’re right,” replied Stanley, while a smile smoothed out the firm lines that had gathered round his lips for a few seconds. “No doubt they care as little for the anticipated dangers of the expedition as any men living, and they hesitate to go simply because they know that the life before them will be a lonely one at such an out-o’-the-way place as Ungava. But we can’t help that, Frank; the interests of the Company must be attended to, and so go they must, willing or not willing. But I’m annoyed at this unexpected difficulty, for there’s a mighty difference between men who volunteer to go and men who go merely because they must and can’t help it.”

      The young man slowly rubbed the stock of his rifle with the sleeve of his coat, and looked as if he understood and sympathised with his friend’s chagrin.

      “If Prince were only here just now,” said he, looking up, “there would be no difficulty in the matter. These fellows only want a bold, hearty comrade to step forward and show them the way, and they will follow to the North Pole if need be. They look upon our willingness to go as a mere matter of course, though I don’t see why we should be expected to like banishment more than themselves. But if Prince were—”

      “Well, well, Prince is not here, so we must do the best we can without him,” said Stanley.

      As he spoke, the trumpet note of a goose was heard in the distance.

      “There he goes!—down with you!” exclaimed Frank, darting suddenly behind the stump of the tree, while his companion crouched beside him, and both began to shout at the top of their voices in imitation of the goose. The bird was foolish enough to accept the invitation immediately, although, had it been other than a goose, it would have easily recognised the sound as a wretched counterfeit of the goose language. It flew directly towards them, as geese always do in spring when thus enticed, but passed at such a distance that the elder sportsman was induced to lower his piece.

      “Ah! he’s too far off. You’d better give him a shot with the rifle, Frank; but you’re sure to miss.”

      “To hit, you mean,” cried his companion, flushing with momentary indignation at this disparaging remark. At the same moment he took a rapid aim and fired. For a few yards the goose continued its forward flight as if unhurt; then it wavered once or twice, and fell heavily to the ground.

      “Bravo, boy!” cried Stanley. “There, don’t look nettled; I only jested with you, knowing your weakness on the score of rifle-shooting. Now, pick up your bird, and throw it into the canoe, for I must away.”

      Frank finished reloading his piece as his friend spoke, and went to pick up the goose; while the other walked down to the edge of the rivulet, and disengaged a light birch-bark canoe from the long grass and sedges that almost hid it from view.

      “Make haste, Frank!” he shouted; “there’s the ice coming up with the flood-tide, and bearing down on the creek here.”

      At a short distance from the spot where the sportsmen stood, the streamlet already alluded to mingled its waters with a broad river, which, a few miles farther down, СКАЧАТЬ