The Settlers in Canada

After a short silence, Mrs. Campbell observed, "I have often reflected since I have been here upon what might have been our position had we decided upon remaining in England. We might at this moment have been in the greatest distress, even wanting a meal; and I have, therefore, often thanked God that He left us the means of coming here and providing for ourselves as we have done, and as I have no doubt shall, with His blessing, continue to do. How much better off are we at this moment than many thousands of our countrymen who remain in England! How many are starving! How many are driven into crime from want! while we have a good roof over our heads, sufficient clothing and more than sufficient food. We have, therefore, great reason to thank God for the mercies He has vouchsafed to us; He has heard our prayer, 'Give us this day our daily bread.'" "Yes," continued Mr. Campbell, "'Give us this day our daily bread,' is all that we are taught to ask for; and it comprehends all; and yet how heartlessly is this pronounced by many of those who do repeat their daily prayers. So is the blessing asked at meals, which is by too many considered as a mere matter of form. They forget, that He who gives can also take away; and in their presumption, suppose their own ability and exertion to have been the sole means of procuring themselves a daily supply of food; thanking themselves rather than the Giver of all good. How many thousands are there who have been supplied with more than they require from their cradle down to their grave, without any grateful feeling toward Heaven; considering the butcher and baker as their providers, and the debt canceled as soon as the bills are paid. How different must be the feeling of the poor cottager, who is uncertain whether his labor may procure him and his family a meal for the morrow, who often suffers privation and hunger, and, what is more painful, witnesses the sufferings of those he loves. How earnest must be his prayer when he cries, 'Give us this day our daily bread.'"

This conversation had a very strong effect upon the party, and when they retired to rest, which they did shortly after, they laid their heads upon their pillows not only with resignation, but with thankfulness for the mercies which had been vouchsafed to them, and felt that in the wilderness they were under the eye of a watchful and gracious Providence.

CHAPTER XVII

On the Monday morning Alfred and Martin went to the cow-house, and slaughtered the bullock which they had obtained from the commandant of the fort. When it was skinned it was cut up, and carried to the storehouse, where it was hung up for their winter consumption.

As the party were sitting down to dinner, they were greeted by Captain Sinclair and a young lieutenant of the garrison. It hardly need be said that the whole family were delighted to see them. They had come overland on their snow-shoes, and brought some partridges, or grouse, as they are sometimes called, which they had shot on their way. Captain Sinclair had obtained leave from the commandant to come over and see how the Campbells were getting on. He had no news of any importance, as they had had no recent communications with Quebec or Montreal; all was well at the fort, and Colonel Forster had sent his compliments, and begged, if he could be useful, that they would let him know. Captain Sinclair and his friend sat down to dinner, and talked more than they ate, asking questions about every thing.

"By the by, Mr. Campbell, where have you built your pig-sties?"

"Inside the palisade, next to the fowl-house."

"That is well," replied Captain Sinclair, "for otherwise you may be troubled by the wolves, who are very partial to pork or mutton."

"We have been troubled with them," replied Emma; "at least with their howlings at night, which make me tremble as I lie awake in bed."

"Never mind their howling, Miss Emma; we have plenty of them round the fort, I can assure you; unless attacked, they will not attack you, at least, I never knew an instance, although I must confess that I have heard of them."

"You will, of course, sleep here to-night?"

"Yes: we will, if you have a bear or buffalo skin to spare," replied Captain Sinclair.

"We will manage it, I have no doubt," said Mr. Campbell.

"And if you could manage, Captain Sinclair," said Emma, somewhat archly, "as you say that they are not dangerous animals, to bring us a few skins to-night, it would make the matter easy."

"Emma, how can you talk such nonsense?" cried Mary Percival. "Why should you ask a guest to undertake such a service? Why have you not proposed it to Alfred or Henry, or even Martin?"

"We will both try, if you please," replied Alfred.

"I must put my veto on any such attempts, Alfred," said Mr. Campbell. "We have sufficient danger to meet without running into it voluntarily, and we have no occasion for wolves' skins just now. I shall, however, venture to ask your assistance to-morrow morning. We wish to haul up the fishing-punt before the ice sets in on the lake, and we are not sufficiently strong-handed."

During the day Captain Sinclair took Alfred aside to know if the old hunter had obtained any information relative to the Indians. Alfred replied that they expected him every day, but as yet had not received any communication from him. Captain Sinclair stated that they were equally ignorant at the fort as to what had been finally arranged, and that Colonel Forster was in hopes that the hunter would by this time have obtained some intelligence.

"I should not be surprised if Malachi Bone were to come here to-morrow morning," replied Alfred. "He has been away a long while, and, I am sure, is as anxious to have John with him as John is impatient to go."

"Well, I hope he will; I shall be glad to have something to tell the Colonel, as I made the request upon that ground. I believe, however, that he was very willing that I should find an excuse for coming here, as he is more anxious about your family than I could have supposed. How well your cousin Mary is looking."

"Yes; and so is Emma, I think. She has grown half a head since she left England. By the by, you have to congratulate me on my obtaining my rank as lieutenant."

"I do indeed, my dear fellow," replied Captain Sinclair. "They will be pleased to hear it at the fort. When will you come over?"

"As soon as I can manage to trot a little faster on these snow-shoes. If, however, the old hunter does not come to-morrow, I will go to the fort as soon as he brings us any news."

The accession to their party made them all very lively, and the evening passed away very agreeably. At night, Captain Sinclair and Mr. Gwynne were ushered into the large bedroom, where all the younger male portion of the family slept, and which, as we before stated, had two spare bed-places.

The next morning, Captain Sinclair would have accompanied the Miss Percivals on their milking expedition, but as his services were required to haul up the fishing punt, he was obliged to go down, with all the rest of the men, to assist; Percival and John were the only ones left at home with Mrs. Campbell. John, after a time, having, as usual, rubbed down his rifle, threw it on his shoulder, and, calling the dogs which lay about, sallied forth for a walk, followed by the whole pack except old Sancho, who invariably accompanied the girls to the cow-house.

Mary and Emma tripped over the new-beaten snow-path to the cow-house, merry and cheerful, with their pails in their hands, Emma laughing at Captain Sinclair's disappointment at not being permitted to accompany them. They had just arrived at the cow-house, when old Sancho barked furiously, and sprang to the side of the building behind them, and in a moment afterward rolled down the snowheap which he had sprung over, holding on and held fast by a large black wolf. The struggle was not very long, and during the time that it lasted the girls were so panic-struck, that they remained like statues within two yards of the animals. Gradually the old dog was overpowered by the repeated snapping bites of the wolf, yet he fought nobly to the last, when he dropped under the feet of the wolf, his tongue hanging out, and bleeding profusely and lifeless. As soon as his adversary was overpowered, the enraged animal, with his feet upon the body of the dog, bristling his hair and showing his powerful teeth, was evidently about to attack the young women. Emma threw her arm around Mary's waist, advancing her body so as to save her sister. Mary attempted the same, and then they remained waiting in horror for the expected spring of the animal, when of a sudden the other dogs came rushing forward, cheered on by John, and flew upon the animal. Their united strength soon tore him down to the ground, and John coming up, as the wolf defended himself against his new assailants, put the muzzle of his rifle to the animal's head, and shot it dead.

The two sisters had held up during the whole of this alarming struggle; but as soon as they perceived the wolf was dead and that they were safe, Mary could stand no longer, and sank down on her knees, supporting her sister, who had become insensible.

If John showed gallantry in shooting the wolf, he certainly showed very little toward his cousins. He looked at Mary, nodded his head toward the wolf's body, and saying "He's dead," shouldered his rifle, turned round and walked back to the house.

On his return he found that the party had just come back from hauling up the punt, and were waiting the return of the Miss Percivals to go to breakfast.

"Was that you who fired just now, John?" said Martin.

"Yes," replied John.

"What did you fire at?" said Alfred.

"A wolf," replied John.

"A wolf! where?" said Mr. Campbell.

"At the cow-lodge," replied John.

"The cow-lodge!" said his father.

"Yes; killed Sancho!"

"Killed Sancho! why, Sancho was with your cousins!"

"Yes," replied John.

"Then, where did you leave them?"

"With the wolf," replied John, wiping his rifle very coolly.

"Merciful Heaven!" cried Mr. Campbell, as Mrs. Campbell turned pale; and Alfred, Captain Sinclair, Martin, and Henry, seizing their rifles, darted out from the house, and ran with all speed in the direction of the cow-house.

"My poor girls!" exclaimed Mrs. Campbell.

"Wolf's dead, father," said John.

"Dead! Why didn't you say so, you naughty boy!" cried Mrs. Campbell.

"I wasn't asked," replied John.

In the meantime the other party had gained the cow-house; and, to their horror, beheld the wolf and dog dead, and the two young women lying on the snow, close to the two animals; for Mary had fainted away shortly after John had walked off. They rushed toward the bodies of the two girls, and soon discovered that they were not hurt. In a short time they were recovered, and were supported by the young men to the house.

As soon as they arrived, Mrs. Campbell took them into their room, that they might rally their spirits, and in a quarter of an hour returned to the party outside, who eagerly inquired how they were.

"They are much more composed," replied Mrs. Campbell; "and Emma has begun to laugh again; but her laugh is rather hysterical and forced; they will come out at dinner-time. It appears they are indebted to John for their preservation, for they say the wolf was about to spring upon them when he came to their assistance. We ought to be very grateful to Heaven for their preservation. I had no idea, after what Martin said about the wolves, that they were so dangerous."

"Why, ma'am, it is I that am most to blame, and that's the fact," replied Martin. "When we killed the bullock I threw the offal on the heap of snow close to the cow-lodge, meaning that the wolves and other animals might eat it at night, but it seems this animal was hungry, and had not left his meal when the dog attacked him, and that made the beast so rily and savage."