The Trapper's Son

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“On and on we galloped, the dense smoke surrounding us. I gasped for breath; already it seemed that the flames were close at the horse’s heels. The animal appeared to know his danger as well as his rider, and sprang frantically forward. I saw no more. I only felt that the horse had made a desperate plunge, and soon afterwards there was the sound of water in my ears, and instead of the violent movements of the galloping horse I felt myself borne smoothly forward. Then I was lifted in the strong arms of the hunter and placed on the ground. I opened my eyes, and found myself seated on a narrow strand, on the opposite side of a river, with a high bank rising above my head. Across the stream the fire raged furiously, devouring the trees which fringed its shores; while close above our heads hung a black canopy of smoke, though a cool current of air, which blew up the stream, enabled me to breathe freely. The hunter, holding the bridle of his horse, was seated by my side.

“‘We have done it, friend,’ he said. ‘I knew we should. It’s not the first time I have had to ride for my life; but I never had a harder gallop, that I’ll allow. The Dacotahs will have had a narrow escape if they managed to get clear. Let me look to your hurts. You are hungry, it may be.’

“‘Water, water,’ were the only words I could utter. He produced a leathern cup from his ample pouch, and, filling it with water, poured the contents down my throat. I felt as if I could have drunk the stream dry, but he would give me no more.

“‘Wait a bit; you shall soon have another draught,’ he said. ‘And now let me see to your hurts.’ He brought more water, and having bathed my wounds, bound them skilfully up with a handkerchief which I fortunately had in my pocket. After I had taken another draught of water, I quickly began to revive under his careful treatment. When he thought that I had sufficiently recovered to be removed, he bore me up a bank, and then led his horse round another way up to where I lay. He carried me on till we reached a wood near a stream. Here, finding from my weak state that I was unable to travel further, he built a hut and tended me with the greatest care till I had recovered sufficiently to sit on horseback. He often, I found, deprived himself of food that I might be amply supplied. As soon as I was able to bear the journey he placed me on the horse, and walking by my side, we set out for the fort. We had many weary leagues to go, and frequently we fell in with traces of the savage and treacherous Sioux or Dacotahs, evidently out on expeditions against the Crees. Occasionally, to avoid our foes, we had to remain in concealment for several days together, and at other times it was necessary to halt while my companion went in search of game, and to obtain provisions. Ultimately, after many adventures, when he often exposed his own life to preserve mine, we reached the fort in safety.

“Such was the commencement of my acquaintance with Michael Moggs, the old trapper. We have met occasionally since, but he has always refused to receive any recompense for the service he rendered me, declaring that he was deserving of none, as he would have done the same for any other white man who might have needed his assistance. I have vainly endeavoured to induce him to remain in the fort, or to take service with the company; but he invariably replies that he prefers the life of a free trapper, and that he will not bind himself to serve any master.”

“I wish we could induce him to stop with us, both for his own sake, and for that of his young son,” observed Mrs Ramsay. “He is an intelligent youth, with a mind capable of cultivation. It is sad to see him so utterly ignorant of religious truth; and I fear that his strength will give way if he continues the hard life he has shared with his eccentric father. I cannot but think that the old man is greatly to blame for bringing him up as he has done.”

“We must hope for the best,” said Mr Ramsay.

“We have no right to hope unless we pray and strive, dear husband,” said Mrs Ramsay. “God will hear our prayers, both for father and son. After the account you have just given me, I feel that we are doubly bound to pray for them. How greatly ought we to value that glorious privilege of prayer, which allows us sinful creatures, trusting to the all-cleansing blood of Jesus, to go boldly to the throne of grace, knowing that our petitions will be heard and granted by the all-pure, all-seeing, and all-just God, who does not look upon us as we are in ourselves, but as clothed with the righteousness of Christ. Let us pray this night that the dark mind of our poor friend may be enlightened, and that the Holy Spirit may bring home the truths of the gospel to that of his young son.”

“You are right; you are right, wife,” said Mr Ramsay, taking her hand. “I have hitherto thought only how I could benefit his temporal condition. It did not occur to me how much more important it was to seek the good of his soul.”

Little did the old hunter think, as he was wandering across the snowy waste, that the hearts of friends were lifted up for him in prayer to that God from whom he had so long obstinately turned away; yet though we must be assured that God overhears the prayers of those who come to Him in His Son’s name, He takes His own good time and way to answer the petitions he receives; and we must be prepared to wait patiently for the result, and not expect always to see it brought about in the manner we in our ignorance may have desired.