THE WEDDING SPEECHES
During a lull in the dancing on the afternoon of the wedding day Little Pine's sister went up to him and said: "Brother, may I kiss you? Are you ashamed?" He answered: "No." She kissed him, took his wife's hand, placed it in his with her own over both, and addressed the young wife:
"As you have taken my place, do to him as I have done; listen to him, work for him, and, if need be, die for him."
Then she lowered her head and began to cry.
Ne-Geek, The Otter, Neykia's oldest brother, then went up to Little Pine and asked:
"Are you man enough to work for her, to feed her, and to protect her?"
"Yes," replied the new-made husband.
The Otter put the husband's hand on his sister's hand, and—looking him straight in the eyes … shook his clenched fist at him and said in a threatening tone … "Beware!"
In the midst of one of the dances Oo-koo-hoo walked up to the "band" and knocked up the fiddle to command silence. Pulling his capote tightly about him, he assumed a dignified attitude, slowly looked round the room to see that he had the attention of all present, and began to address the assemblage:
"The step which Shing-wauk has taken is a very serious one. Now he will have to think for two. Now he must supply the wants of two. Now he will realize what trouble is. But the One who made us … The Great Mystery … The Master of Life … made us right. The man has his work to do, and the woman has hers. The man must hunt and kill animals, and the woman must skin and dress them. The man must always stand by her and she by him. The two together are strong … and there is no need of outside assistance. Remember … my grandchildren … you are starting out together that way …"
To illustrate his meaning, he held up two fingers parallel, and added:
"If your tracks fork … they will soon be as far apart as sunrise is from sunset … and you will find many ready to come in between. Carry on in the way you have begun … for that is the way you should end. And remember … if your tracks once fork … they will never come together again … my grandchildren … I have spoken."
After Little Pine's father, as well as several of the guests, had made their remarks, Naudin, Neykia's mother, rose to address her daughter. Overcome with nervousness, she pulled her shawl so far over her face as to leave only a tiny peep-hole through which to look. Hesitatingly she began:
"My daughter, you never knew what trouble is, now you will know. You never knew what hard work is, now you will soon learn. Never let your husband want for anything. Never allow another woman to do anything for him; if you do … you are lost. When you have children, my daughter, and they grow up, your sons will always be sons to you, even though they be gray-headed. But with your daughters it will not be so; when they marry, they will be lost to you. Once married, they are gone for ever."
She stepped up to her daughter, kissed her, and sank to the floor, weeping copiously.
Then Amik rose to speak. He beckoned to his daughter. She advanced and knelt down, holding the fringe of his legging while he addressed her:
"Neykia, my daughter, you have taken this man. Be good to him, work for him, live for him, and if need be, die for him. Kiss me, Neykia, my daughter; kiss me for the last time."
She kissed him, and he added:
"You have kissed me for the last time: henceforth never kiss any man but your husband."
Raising his hand with untutored dignity, he pronounced the words:
"Remember … I have spoken."
VIII
BUSINESS AND ROMANCE
FAREWELL ATHABASCA
Though Wawe Pesim (The Egg Moon), or June, had already brought summer to the Great Northern Forest, the beautiful Athabasca still waited in vain. Son-in-law had not yet appeared. After all—was he but a fond parents' dream? I wondered.
Soon the picturesque and romantic Fur Brigade would be sweeping southward on its voyage from the last entrenchments of the Red Gods to the newest outposts of civilization—a civilization that has debauched, infected, plundered, and murdered the red man ever since its first onset upon the eastern shores of North America. If you don't believe this, read history, especially the history of the American fur trade.
Meanwhile, canoes laden with furs and in charge of Hudson's Bay traders or clerks from outlying "Flying Posts" had arrived; and among the voyageurs was that amusing character, Old Billy Brass. A little later, too, Chief Factor Thompson arrived from the North. Now in the fur loft many hands were busily engaged in sorting, folding, and packing in collapsible moulds—that determined the size and shape of the fur packs—a great variety of skins. Also they were energetically weighing, cording, and covering the fur packs with burlap—leaving two ears of that material at each end to facilitate handling them, as each pack weighed eighty pounds.
A fur pack of one hundred pounds—for the weight varies according to the difficulty of transportation in certain regions—contains on an average fourteen bear, sixty otter, seventy beaver, one hundred and ten fox skins, or six hundred muskrat skins. A pack of assorted furs contains about eighty skins and the most valuable ones are placed in the centre.
During the next few days the great "North" or six-fathom canoes—made of birch bark and capable of carrying from three to four tons of freight in addition to their crews of from eight to twelve men—were brought out of the canoe house, and together with the two new ones, had their bows and sterns painted white in readiness for their finishing touch of decoration in the way of some symbol of the fur trade.
As the principal Indian canoemen, who were to join the Fur Brigade, were already familiar with my ability as an artist, they waited upon the Factor and requested him to solicit my help in the final decorating of those beautiful canoes. So it came to pass that on the bow of one a leaping otter appeared and on the bows of others, a rearing bear, a flying goose, a rampant caribou, a galloping fox, a leaping lynx, a rampant moose, and on still another the coat-of-arms of the Hudson's Bay Company. Each in turn had its admirers, but Oo-koo-hoo, who was to have charge of all the voyageurs, sidled up to Factor Mackenzie and whispered that if Hu-ge-mow—Master—would let him take his choice of the canoes, he would not only give the Factor a dollar in return for the privilege, but he would promise to keep that particular canoe at the very head of the whole brigade, and never once allow another canoe to pass it during the voyage.
The Factor was not only interested in the Indian's appreciation of art, as well as amused over the idea that he would accept a bribe of a dollar, but he was curious to know which canoe the Indian most favoured. It was the one that displayed the Great Company's coat-of-arms; so Oo-koo-hoo, the famous white-water-man, not only won his choice and retained his dollar, but furthermore, he and his crew actually did keep the bow of that canoe ahead of all others—no matter where or when the other crews contested for the honour of leading the Fur Brigade.
The next morning, at sunrise, the Fur Brigade was to take its departure. Now it was time I visited Spearhead, to thank my friends, the Free Trader and his family, for all their kindness to me, and to bid them farewell; so I borrowed a small canoe and paddled across the lake. When I arrived they invited me to dine with them. At the table that day there was less talking—everyone seemed to be in a thoughtful mood.
The windows and doors were open and the baggy mosquito netting sagged away from the hot sun as the cool breeze whispered through its close-knit mesh. Outside, I could see the heifer and her mother lying in the shade of a tree on the far side of the stump-lot, and near the doorway the ducks and geese were sauntering about the grass and every now and then making sudden little rushes—as though they were trying to catch something. There, too, in the pathway, the chickens were scratching about and ruffling their feathers in little dust holes—as though they were trying to get rid of something. An unexpected grunt at the doorway attracted my attention and I saw a pig leering at me from the corners of its half-closed eyes—the very same pig the Free Trader and his wife had chosen to add to their daughter's wedding dowry—then it gave a familiar little nod, as though it recognized me; and I fancied, too, that its ugly chops broke into an insolent smile. What was it thinking about?… Was it Son-in-law? I wondered.
I glanced at Athabasca. How beautiful she looked! The reflected sunlight in the room cast a delightful sheen over her lustrous brown hair, and seemed to enhance the beauty of her charmingly sun-browned skin, that added so much to the whiteness of her even teeth, and to the brilliancy of her soft brown eyes. In a dreamy way she was looking far out through the window and away off toward the distant hills. She, too, set me wondering; was she thinking of Son-in-law?
At that moment, however, the pig gave another impatient grunt which startled Athabasca and caused her to look directly at me. I blushed scarlet, then; so did she—but, of course, only out of sympathy.
"Yes, we'll send her to that finishing school in Toronto," her mother mused, while Free Trader Spear scratched his head once more, and three house flies lazily sat on the sugar bowl and hummed a vulgar tune.
After dinner Mr. Spear invited me into the trading room to see some of the furs he had secured. Among them were four silver fox skins as well as the black one he had bought from Oo-koo-hoo. They were indeed fine skins.
It was now time for me to take my departure, so I returned to the living room, but found no one there. Presently, however, Mrs. Spear entered, and though she sat down opposite me, she never once looked my way. She seemed agitated about something. Clasping her fingers together, she twirled her thumbs about one another, then she twirled them back the other way; later she took to tapping her moccasined toe upon the bare floor, I wondered what was coming. I couldn't make it out. For all the while she was looking at a certain crack in the floor. Once more she renewed the twirling action of her thumbs, and even increased the action of her toe upon the floor.
What did it all mean? Had I done anything to displease her? No; I could think of nothing of the sort, so I felt a little easier. Suddenly, however, she glanced up and, looking straight at me, began:
"Mr. Heming … we have only one child … and we love her dearly …"
But the pause that followed was so long drawn out that I began to lose interest, especially as the flies were once more humming the same old tune. A little later, however, I was almost startled when Mrs. Spear exclaimed:
"But I'll lend you a photograph of Athabasca for six weeks!"
Thereupon Mrs. Spear left her chair and going upstairs presently returned with a photograph wrapped in a silk handkerchief; and as at that very moment the Free Trader and his daughter entered the room, I, without comment, slipped the photograph into my inside pocket, and wished them all good-bye; though they insisted upon walking down to the landing to wave me farewell on my way to Fort Consolation.