“Oh, yes, the same that winds along near the foot of Bare-hill, where the water-cresses grow.”
“Yes, where I gathered the milk-weed the other day.”
“What a beautiful pasture-field that will make, when it is cleared!” said Hector, thoughtfully.
“Hector is always planning about fields, and clearing great farms,” said Louis, laughing. “We shall see Hec a great man one of these days; I think he has in his own mind brushed, and burned, and logged up all the fine flats and table-land on the plains before now, ay, and cropped it all with wheat, and peas, and Indian corn.”
“We will have a clearing and a nice field of corn next year, if we live,” replied Hector; “that corn that we found in the canoe will be a treasure.”
“Yes, and the corn-cob you got on Bare-hill,” said Catherine. “How lucky we have been! We shall be so happy when we see our little field of corn flourishing round the shanty! It was a good thing, Hec, that you went to the Indian camp that day, though both Louis and I were very miserable while you were absent; but you see, God must have directed you, that the life of this poor girl might be saved, to be a comfort to us. Everything has prospered well with us since she came to us. Perhaps it is because we try to make a Christian of her, and so God blesses all our endeavours.”
“We are told,” said Hector, “that there is joy with the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth; doubtless, it is a joyful thing when the heathen that knew not the name of God are taught to glorify his holy name.”
Indiana, while exploring, had captured a porcupine; she declared that she should have plenty of quills for edging baskets and mocassins; beside, she said, the meat was white and good to eat. Hector looked with a suspicious eye upon the little animal, doubting the propriety of eating its flesh, though he had learned to eat musk rats, and consider them good meat, baked in Louis’s Indian oven, or roasted on a forked stick, before the fire. The Indian porcupine is a small animal, not a very great deal larger than the common British hedgehog; the quills, however, are longer and stronger, and varied with alternate clouded marks of pure white and dark brownish grey; they are minutely barbed, so that if one enters the flesh it is with difficulty extracted, but will work through of itself in an opposite direction, and can then be easily pulled out. Dogs and cattle often suffer great inconvenience from getting their muzzles filled with the quills of the porcupine, the former when worrying the poor little animal, and the latter by accidentally meeting a dead one among the herbage; great inflammation will sometimes attend the extraction. Indians often lose valuable hounds from this cause. Beside porcupines, Indiana told her companions, there were some fine butter-nut trees on the island, and they could collect a bag full in a very short time. This was good news, for the butter-nut is sweet and pleasant, almost equal to the walnut, of which it is a species. The day was passed pleasantly enough in collecting nuts and grapes; but as this island did not afford any good cleared spot for passing the night, and, moreover, was tenanted by black snakes, several of which made their appearance among the stones near the edge of the water, they agreed by common council to go to Long Island, where Indiana said there was an old log-house, the walls of which were still standing, and where there was dry moss in plenty, which would make them a comfortable bed for the night. This old log-house she said had been built, she heard the Indians say, by a French Canadian trapper, who used to visit the lake some years ago; he was on friendly terms with the chiefs, who allowed him many privileges, and he bought their furs, and took them down the lake, through the river Trent, to some station-house on the great lake. They found they should have time enough to land and deposit their nuts and grapes and paddle to Long Island before sunset. Upon the western part of this fine island they had several times landed and passed some hours, exploring its shores; but Indiana told them, to reach the old log-house they must enter the low swampy bay to the east, at an opening which she called Indian Cove. To do this required some skill in the management of the canoe, which was rather over-loaded for so light a vessel; and the trees grew so close and thick that they had some difficulty in pushing their way through them without injuring its frail sides. These trees or bushes were chiefly black elder, high-bush cranberries, dogwood, willows, and, as they proceeded further, and there was ground of a more solid nature, cedar, poplar, swamp oak, and soft maple, with silver birch and wild cherries. Long strings of silvery-grey tree-moss hung dangling over their heads, the bark and roots of the birch and cedars were covered with a luxuriant growth of green moss, but there was a dampness and closeness in this place that made it far from wholesome, and the little band of voyagers were not very sorry when the water became too shallow to admit of the canoe making its way through the swampy channel, and they landed on the banks of a small circular pond, as round as a ring, and nearly surrounded by tall trees, hoary with moss and lichens; large water-lilies floated on the surface of this miniature lake, and the brilliant red berries of the high-bush cranberry, and the purple clusters of grapes, festooned the trees.
“A famous breeding place this must be for ducks,” observed Louis.
“And for flowers,” said Catharine, “and for grapes and cranberries. There is always some beauty or some usefulness to be found, however lonely the spot.”