Lost in the Backwoods: A Tale of the Canadian Forest

by Catharine Parr Strickland Traill

These signs were pointed out by Indiana as the harbingers of a rising hurricane; and now a swift spark of light, like a falling star, glanced on the water, as if there to quench its fiery light. Again the Indian girl raised her dark hand and pointed to the rolling storm-clouds, to the crested waters and the moving pine-tops; then to the head of the Beaver Island,—it was the one nearest to them. With an arm of energy she wielded the paddle, with an eye of fire she directed the course of their little vessel; for well she knew their danger and the need for straining every nerve to reach the nearest point of land. Low muttering peals of thunder were now heard; the wind was rising with electric speed. Away flew the light bark, with the swiftness of a bird, over the water; the tempest was above, around, and beneath. The hollow crash of the forest trees as they bowed to the earth could be heard sullenly sounding from shore to shore. And now the Indian girl, flinging back her black streaming hair from her brow, knelt at the head of the canoe and with renewed vigour plied the paddle. The waters, lashed into a state of turbulence by the violence of the storm, lifted the canoe up and down; but no word was spoken; they each felt the greatness of the peril, but they also knew that they were in the hands of Him who can say to the tempest-tossed waves, "Peace, be still," and they obey him.

Every effort was made to gain the nearest island; to reach the mainland was impossible, for the rain poured down a blinding deluge. It was with difficulty the little craft was kept afloat by baling out the water; to do this, Louis was fain to use his cap, and Catharine assisted with the old tin pot which she had fortunately brought from the trapper's shanty. The tempest was at its height when they reached the nearest point of the Beaver, and joyful was the grating sound of the canoe as it was vigorously pushed up on the shingly beach, beneath the friendly shelter of the overhanging trees, where, perfectly exhausted by the exertions they had made, dripping with rain and overpowered by the terrors of the storm, they threw themselves on the ground, and in safety watched its progress, thankful for an escape from such imminent peril.

Thus ended the Indian summer, so deceitful in its calmness and its beauty. The next day saw the ground white with snow, and hardened into stone by a premature frost. Our poor voyagers were not long in quitting the shelter of the Beaver Island, and betaking themselves once more to their ark of refuge, the log-house on Mount Ararat.

The winter that year set in with unusual severity some weeks sooner than usual, so that from the beginning of November to the middle of April the snow never entirely left the ground. The lake was soon covered with ice, and by the month of December it was one compact, solid sheet from shore to shore.

CHAPTER X.

"Scared by the red and noisy light."

—COLERIDGE.

Hector and Louis had now little employment, except chopping fire-wood, which was no very arduous task for two stout, healthy lads used from childhood to handling the axe. Trapping, and hunting, and snaring hares were occupations which they pursued more for the excitement and exercise than from hunger, as they had laid by abundance of dried venison, fish, and birds, besides a plentiful store of rice. They now visited those trees that they had marked in the summer, where they had noticed the bees hiving, and cut them down. In one they got more than a pailful of rich honeycomb, and others yielded some more, some less; this afforded them a delicious addition to their boiled rice and dried acid fruits. They might have melted the wax and burned candles of it; but this was a refinement of luxury that never once occurred to our young housekeepers: the dry pineknots that are found in the woods are the settlers' candles. Catharine made some very good vinegar with the refuse of the honey and combs, by pouring water on it, and leaving it to ferment in a warm nook of the chimney, in one of the birch-bark vessels; and this was an excellent substitute for salt as a seasoning—to the fresh meat and fish. Like the Indians, they were now reconciled to the want of this seasonable article.

Indiana seemed to enjoy the cold weather. The lake, though locked up to every one else, was open to her: with the aid of the tomahawk she patiently made an opening in the ice, and over this she built a little shelter of pine boughs stuck into the ice. Armed with a sharp spear carved out of hardened wood, she would lie upon the ice, and patiently await the rising of some large fish to the air-hole, when dexterously plunging the spear into the unwary creature, she dragged it to the surface. Many a noble fish did the young squaw bring home, and cast at the feet of him whom she had tacitly elected as her lord and master: to him she offered the voluntary service of a faithful and devoted servant—I might almost have said, slave.

During the middle of December there were some days of such intense cold that even our young Crusoes, hardy as they were, preferred the blazing log-fire and warm ingle-nook to the frozen lake and cutting north-west wind which blew the loose snow in blinding drifts over its bleak, unsheltered surface. Clad in the warm tunic and petticoat of Indian blanket, with fur-lined moccasins, Catharine and her Indian friend felt little cold excepting to the face when they went abroad, unless the wind was high, and then experience taught them to keep at home. And these cold gloomy days they employed in many useful works. Indiana had succeeded in dyeing the quills of the porcupine that she had captured on Grape Island; with these she worked a pair of beautiful moccasins and an arrow-case for Hector, besides making a sheath for Louis's couteau de chasse, of which the young hunter was very proud, bestowing great praise on the workmanship.