Only twice in the year did the Europeans at that lonely outpost receive letters from home. Little wonder that they longed for them, and that they went almost wild with joy when they came.
Soon the sleigh appeared in sight, coming up the river at full speed, and a loud “hurrah!” from the men at the gate, told the visitor that he was a welcome guest. It was a dog-sleigh—a sort of conveyance much used by the fur-traders in winter travelling. In form, it was as like as possible to a tin slipper bath. It might also be compared to a shoe. If the reader will try to conceive of a shoe large enough to hold a man, sitting with his legs out before him, that will give him a good idea of the shape of a dog cariole. There is sometimes an ornamental curve in front. It is made of two thin hardwood planks curled up in front, with a light frame-work of wood, covered over with deer or buffalo skin, and painted in a very gay manner. Four dogs are usually harnessed to it, and these are quite sufficient to drag a man on a journey of many days, over every sort of country, where there is no road whatever. Dogs are much used for hauling little sledges in that country in winter. The traveller sits wrapped up so completely in furs, that nothing but his head is visible. He is attended by a driver on snow-shoes, who is armed with a large whip. No reins are used. If the snow is hard, as is usually the case on the surface of a lake or river, the driver walks behind and holds on to a tail-line, to prevent the dogs from running away. If the traveller’s way lies through the woods, the snow is so soft and deep that the poor dogs are neither willing nor able to run away. It is as much as they can do to walk; so the driver goes before them, in this case, and beats down the snow with his snow-shoes—“beats the track,” as it is called. The harness of the dogs is usually very gay, and covered with little bells which give forth a cheerful tinkling sound.
“It’s young Cameron,” cried Mr Pemberton, hastening forward to welcome the newcomer.
Cameron was the gentleman in charge of the nearest outpost—two hundred and fifty miles down the river.
“Welcome, Cameron, my boy, welcome to Fort Erie. You are the pleasantest sight we have seen here for many a day,” said Pemberton, shaking the young man heartily by the hand as soon as he had jumped out of his sleigh.
“Come, Pemberton, you forget Miss Marie Laroche when you talk of my being the pleasantest sight,” said Cameron, laughing.
“Ah! true. Pardon me, Marie—”
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” interrupted Jasper, with much gravity, “I know of no such person as Miss Marie Laroche!”
“How? what do you mean?” said Cameron, with a puzzled look.
“Jasper is right,” explained Pemberton, “Marie was Miss Laroche yesterday; she is Mrs Derry to-day.”