The Young Fur Traders

by R. M. Ballantyne

The motion of Mr Kennedy’s fist warned the cook to make a precipitate retreat, which he did at the same moment that the cat resolved to run for its life. This caused them to meet in the doorway, and making a compound entanglement with the mat, they both fell into the passage with a loud crash. Mr Kennedy shut the door gently, and returned to his chair, patting Kate on the head as he passed.

“Now, darling, go on with what you were saying; and don’t mind the teapot—let it lie.”

“Well,” resumed Kate, with a smile, “I was saying that the next opportunity Charley can have will be by the brigade in spring, which we expect to arrive here, you know, a month hence; but we won’t get a letter by that, as I feel convinced that he and Harry will come by it themselves.”

“And the express canoe, Kate—the express canoe,” said Mr Kennedy, with a contortion of the left side of his head that was intended for a wink; “you know they got leave to come by express, Kate.”

“Oh, as to the express, father, I don’t expect them to come by that, as poor Harry Somerville has been so ill that they would never think of venturing to subject him to all the discomforts, not to mention the dangers, of a canoe voyage.”

“I don’t know that, lass—I don’t know that,” said Mr Kennedy, giving another contortion with his left cheek. “In fact, I shouldn’t wonder if they arrived this very day; and it’s well to be on the look-out, so I’m off to the banks of the river, Kate.” Saying this, the old gentleman threw on an old fur cap with the peak all awry, thrust his left hand into his right glove, put on the other with the back to the front and the thumb in the middle finger, and bustled out of the house, muttering as he went, “Yes, it’s well to be on the look-out for him.”

Mr Kennedy, however, was disappointed: Charley did not arrive that day, nor the next, nor the day after that. Nevertheless the old gentleman’s faith each day remained as firm as on the day previous that Charley would arrive on that day “for certain.” About a week after this, Mr Kennedy put on his hat and gloves as usual, and sauntered down to the banks of the river, where his perseverance was rewarded by the sight of a small canoe rapidly approaching the landing-place. From the costume of the three men who propelled it, the cut of the canoe itself, the precision and energy of its movements, and several other minute points about it only apparent to the accustomed eye of a nor’-wester, he judged at once that this was a new arrival, and not merely one of the canoes belonging to the settlers, many of which might be seen passing up and down the river. As they drew near he fixed his eyes eagerly upon them.

“Very odd,” he exclaimed, while a shade of disappointment passed over his brow: “it ought to be him, but it’s not like him; too big—different nose altogether. Don’t know any of the three. Humph!—well, he’s sure to come to-morrow, at all events.” Having come to the conclusion that it was not Charley’s canoe, he wheeled sulkily round and sauntered back towards his house, intending to solace himself with a pipe. At that moment he heard a shout behind him, and ere he could well turn round to see whence it came, a young man bounded up the bank and seized him in his arms with a hug that threatened to dislocate his ribs. The old gentleman’s first impulse was to bestow on his antagonist (for he verily believed him to be such) one of those vigorous touches with his clinched fist which in days of yore used to bring some of his disputes to a summary and effectual close; but his intention changed when the youth spoke.

“Father, dear, dear father!” said Charley, as he loosened his grasp, and, still holding him by both hands, looked earnestly into his face with swimming eyes.

Old Mr Kennedy seemed to have lost his powers of speech. He gazed at his son for a few seconds in silence, then suddenly threw his arms around him and engaged in a species of wrestle which he intended for an embrace.