The Pioneers. Robert Michael Ballantyne

of the fur-traders of Canada were wont to congregate for the settlement of their affairs in the spring of every year, and from this point also trading-parties were despatched in canoes into the still more remote parts of the great northern wilderness, whence they returned with rich cargoes of furs received from the “red men” in exchange for powder and shot, guns, hatchets, knives, cloth, twine, fish-hooks, and such articles as were suited to the tastes and wants of a primitive and wandering people.

      Here Reuben Guff and his son found Swiftarrow, as they had expected, and proposed to him that he should accompany them on their voyage north,—a proposal which he accepted with pleasure,—for the strong-boned Indian had an adventurous spirit as well as a healthy frame.

      Swiftarrow was a brave and powerful Indian, and was esteemed one of the best hunters of his tribe; but no one seeing him in camp in a quiescent state would have thought him to be possessed of much energy, for he was slow and deliberate in his movements, and withal had a lazy look about his eyes. But the sight of a bear or moose-deer had the effect of waking him up in a way that caused his dark eyes to flash and his large frame to move with cat-like activity.

      When Reuben Guff discovered him on the shore of Lake Superior, he was seated at the door of his skin lodge, anointing his hair, which was long and black, with bear’s grease—the “genuine article,” without even the admixture of a drop of scent!—so pure, in fact, that the Indian basted his steaks and anointed his hair with grease from the same box.

      “Hallo! Swiftarrow,” exclaimed Reuben, as he sauntered up to the savage, with his gun on his shoulder, “ye seem to be beautifyin’ yerself to-day—not goin’ to get married, eh?”

      Swiftarrow, whose long hair hung over his face like a glossy curtain, tossed aside his locks and gazed earnestly at the hunter. A slight smile and a pleasant gleam lighted up his dark countenance as he wiped his greasy right hand on his legging and extended it, exclaiming, “watchee!” by which he meant, what cheer?

      “What cheer? what cheer?” replied Reuben, with a broad but quiet grin, as he shook his friend’s hand heartily.

      Each man understood the other’s language perfectly; but each appeared to prefer to talk in his own tongue; for while Reuben addressed the red man in English, Swiftarrow replied in Indian. This had been an understood arrangement between them ever since the time when, as lads, they had first met and formed a close friendship, on the shores of Lake Huron.

      “Is my brother’s trail to be through the woods or on the waters? Does he go hunting or trading?” inquired the Indian, after the first salutations were over.

      “Well, I may say that I’m neither goin’ a-huntin’ or tradin’—here, fill yer pipe wi’ baccy from my pouch; it’s better than yours, I’ll be bound. In a manner, too, I’m goin’ both to hunt an’ trade in a small way; but my main business on this trip is to be diskivery.”

      The Indian uttered a sound, which meant that he did not understand.

      “I’m goin’ to sarch out new lands,” explained Reuben, “away to the far north. I’ve heard it said by Injins that have wandered to the nor’ard that they’ve met in with red-skins, who said that there is a big river flowin’ out o’ a great lake in the direction o’ the north pole, an’ that it runs into the sea there. They may be tellin’ truth, or they may be tellin’ lies; I dun know; anyhow, I’m koorious to know somethin’ about it, so I’m goin’ north to see for myself, and I’ve comed to ask if Swiftarrow will go with me.”

      The hunter paused, but the Indian remained silently smoking his long stone-headed pipe, or calumet, with a countenance so grave and expressionless, that no idea of his sentiments could be gathered from it. After a brief pause, Reuben continued—

      “It won’t be altogether a trip of diskivery neither, for I’ve got some bales of goods with me, and as we go in a small birch canoe, we’ll travel light; but I hope to come back sunk to the gunwale with furs, for the red-skins of the far north are like enough to have plenty of pelts, and they won’t ask much for them. As to grub, you and I could manage to supply ourselves wi’ lots o’ that anywheres, and I’ve got plenty of powder and lead. Moreover, my boy Lawrence is goin’ with me.”

      During the foregoing remarks, the Indian’s countenance betrayed no sign of feeling until the name of Lawrence was mentioned, when a gleam of satisfaction shot from his eyes. Removing the pipe from his lips, he puffed a volume of smoke through his nostrils, and said:—

      “Swiftarrow will go.”

      Backwoodsmen seldom take long to mature their plans, and are generally prompt to carry them into execution. Two days after the brief conversation above narrated, the three friends pushed off in their little birch-bark canoe and paddled up the stream which leads to the Kakabeka Falls on the Kamenistaquoia River. Surmounting this obstacle by the simple process of carrying the canoe and her lading past the falls by land, and relaunching on the still water above, they continued their voyage day by day, encamping under the trees by night, until they had penetrated far and deep into the heart of the northern wilderness, and had even passed beyond the most distant establishments of the adventurous fur-traders.

      The world of forest, swamp, lake, and river, that still, however, lay between them and the land which they sought to reach, was very wide. Weeks, and even months, would certainly elapse before they could hope to approach it; one day, therefore, they buried their goods and stores in a convenient place, intending to dig them up on their return, and meanwhile turned aside into a country which promised to afford them a good supply of fresh provisions for the voyage north.

      Here an adventure befell them which brought their voyage of discovery, at that time, to an abrupt close.

      Chapter Two.

      Terrible Discoveries and Altered Plans

      “Ho!” ejaculated Swiftarrow.

      “Smoke!” exclaimed Reuben Guff.

      Both men spoke at the same moment,—their discovery having been simultaneous. At the same time Lawrence pointed with the blade of his paddle to a thin line of smoke which rose above the tree-tops into the blue sky, and was faithfully mirrored in the lake on which they floated.

      “Injins!” said Reuben, resting his steering paddle across the canoe for a few seconds.

      Swiftarrow assented with another “Ho,” and Lawrence moved his gun into a handy position to be ready for an emergency; but there was no other sign of man’s presence than the wreath of smoke. All was perfectly silent. The air too was quite still, and the surface of the lake resembled a sheet of glass.

      “Strange,” observed Reuben, “red-skins ain’t usually so shy. If they mean mischief they don’t ever let smoke be seen, an’ when they don’t mean mischief they generally show themselves. Come, push on, lads; we’ll go see what’s i’ the wind.”

      “I’ll show them the muzzle, father,” said Lawrence, laying down his paddle and taking up his gun: “it may be well to let ’em see that we have arms.”

      “No need for that, boy. If they know anything at all, they know that white men don’t go about in the wilderness empty-handed. Put down the piece, and use your paddle.”

      Thus reproved, Lawrence flushed slightly, but obeyed the order and resumed paddling.

      In a few minutes they were on shore. Still all was silent as the grave. Hauling the bow of the canoe on the beach to keep it fast, the three men took their weapons, and, entering the woods in single file, walked cautiously but swiftly in the direction of the smoke. They soon reached the spot, and the scene which met their eyes was one which, while it accounted for the silence that reigned around, filled their minds with sadness and horror.

      In an open space, where a number of trees had been cut down, stood about a dozen skin tents or Indian lodges, some with the curtain-doors closed, others open, exposing the interiors, on the floors of which the dead bodies of Indian men, women, and children, lay in every attitude and in all stages of decomposition. Outside of the tents other corpses lay strewn on the ground, and most of these bore evidence of having been more or less torn by wolves. The travellers knew at a glance that these