In this manner, many days and nights passed on, during which she encountered many imminent dangers, and severe conflicts, and made but little progress. Hunger, weariness, a continual sense of danger, and that sickness of the heart, which solitude and suspense beget, were her inseparable companions. Every day, her hope of ultimately reaching the home of her childhood grew fainter and fainter. But she had a woman’s endurance, and a woman’s fertility of resource. She never for a moment repented her flight. She would have preferred death in any form to a forced espousal with the murderer of her family. Sometimes with roots and herbs, sometimes with nutritious mosses, and sometimes with wild fruits and nuts, she continued to satisfy the cravings of appetite, and to sustain her severely tried fortitude, for the fatigues and perils that were yet before her.
The forest seemed interminable; and so indeed it might well have been regarded, for she was continually travelling round and round, in the same track, having only an occasional glimpse of the sun to direct her way, or a view of the stars, when she climbed some tall tree at night. She knew little of the direction in which she was going; but she was sure that that forest lay between her enemy and her home, and was therefore resolved, at any expense of labor and suffering, to find her way through it, or perish in the attempt.
After several weeks of incredible toil, fatigue, hardship and danger, the brave persevering Tula emerged into a wide opening, having a considerable mountain on one side, and a large sheet of water, and a stream from the mountain pouring into it, on the other. It was a beautiful spot, but the whole aspect of it was new and strange. She was confident she had not passed that way, while a captive in the hands of the Athapuscows. She was now wholly at a loss which way to turn. To retrace her steps through the intricacies of that dark forest, would be as vain as the thought of it was appalling. To go on, when she was absolutely certain she was out of her track, seemed little less than madness. To choose either the right hand or the left, was to leap in the dark, and involve herself in new doubts and difficulties. She needed rest. Her apparel was torn by her difficult passages through the tangled thickets, and her frequent contests with the enemies she found there. Pondering deeply on the difficulties before her, she began to think, that if there was any place of shelter near, she would make herself a new home, and live and die alone in the great wilderness.
“And why,” said she to herself, “why should I return to the wigwam of my father? Kaf-ne-wah-go is not there. My mother, she has gone with him to the spirit land. O-ken-áh-ga waits no longer for my return. I left my brave chief in his blood. His voice will no longer be heard in the valley, with the hunters, nor his shout in the battle. He fell in the glory of his strength, like the young oak that is full of sap, and whose roots have struck deep into the earth. And my child, the son of O-ken-áh-ga, alas! he has not even a grave to sleep in. He lies on the cold bosom of the earth, and I know not where. Why then should I return to a desolate home, only made more desolate by the memory of what it was?”
With such thoughts as these, she beguiled her inward yearnings for the spot where all her joys had been, and where all her hopes were buried. Wandering on the shores of the lake and the stream by day, and seeking such shelter as she could find in the clefts of the rocks at night, she sought for a place where she might provide a suitable protection against the cold and the storms of winter, which were not far distant. Wild berries and fruits afforded her only sustenance for a considerable time, until her own ingenuity provided her with the means of procuring a more certain substantial diet.
Having found a convenient spot in a deep ravine of the mountain, which opened towards the south, and was consequently always exposed to the sun, she immediately commenced the construction of a place to dwell in. The spot selected was romantic and beautiful in the extreme, and seemed to have been designed by nature “for some especial use.” It was sufficiently elevated to command a fine view of the opening, including all the meanderings of the river, and the whole extent of the lake, and yet it was not difficult of access, nor so high as to be too much exposed to the wintry storms. It was a little nook, chipped out from the solid rock, having a smooth slaty floor, about twelve feet square, with a semi-circular recess of about half that depth into the side of the mountain. A jutting rock, about ten feet above this floor, and overhanging it on every side, formed a natural ceiling. It only needed to be enclosed on two sides, to make a lodge that any of the great caciques of the wilderness might be proud of.
Fortunately Tula was not entirely destitute of tools to work with. A piece of an iron hoop, about six inches in length, and the shank of an arrow head, also of iron, both of which she had picked up while among the Athapuscows, constituted her whole stock. With these, which she sharpened upon the rocks, she contrived to cut down a number of young saplings, and shape them to her purpose. Planting two of them upright upon the outer line of the floor, and laying the end of one against the inside, and the end of the other against the outside of the cornice, or overhanging ceiling, she bound them firmly together with green withes. In this manner she went all round, leaving a space open for a door on the sunny side. This done, she wove it, inside and out, with willow boughs, stuffing the intervening spaces with moss, till it was entirely impervious to the weather. The door was of close basket-work hung at the top, and secured at the sides, in a storm, or during the night, by means of withes fastened round the door-posts. This served the double purpose of door and window, while a crevice in the rock above, performed the part of a chimney.
The work went on slowly and heavily at first, but patience and perseverance, which can conquer all but impossibilities, accomplished it before the cold weather set in. Meanwhile, the ingenuity of the fair builder had found means to make a fire upon the hearth. Her materials for that purpose were two hard sulphureous stones, which, by long friction, or hard knocking, produced a few sparks. These, communicated to touchwood, were soon formed into a blaze.
When fruits, berries and nuts failed, her ready ingenuity supplied her with other means of sustaining life. She had, among her scanty stock of furniture, a few deer-sinews, which, with the Indians, are a common substitute for thread. With the aid of these, she managed to snare partridges, rabbits and squirrels. She also killed several beavers and porcupines. The sinews of the rabbit’s legs and feet were twisted with great dexterity, to supply the place of deer-sinews, when they were gone. Their skins also, with those of the squirrels, served to replenish her exhausted wardrobe, supplying, under her skilful hand, a neat and warm suit of winter clothing. Her industry was as untiring as her ingenuity was fruitful of resources. Forlorn as her situation was, she was composed and resigned, if not contented, and seemed to find pleasure in employing every moment of her waking hours in some useful or ornamental contrivance.