“Spring had passed away, and York Fort was filled with all the bustle1 and activity of summer. Brigades came pouring in upon us with furs from the interior, and as every boat brought a CT or a clerk, our mess-table began to overflow2.
“You’ve not seen the summer mess-room filled yet, Hamilton. That’s a treat in store for you.”
“It was pretty full last autumn, I think,” suggested Hamilton, “at the time I arrived from England.”
“Full! why, man, it was getting to feel quite lonely at that time. I’ve seen more than fifty sit down to table there, and it was worth going fifty miles to hear the row they kicked up—telling stories without end (and sometimes without foundation) about their wild doings in the interior, where every man-jack of them having spent at least eight months almost in perfect solitude3, they hadn’t had a chance of letting their tongues go till they came down here. But to proceed. When the ship came out in the fall, she brought a batch4 of new clerks, and among them was this miserable5 chap Peterkin, whom we soon nicknamed Butter. He was the softest fellow I ever knew (far worse than you, Hamilton), and he hadn’t been here a week before the wild blades from the interior, who were bursting with fun and mischief6, began to play off all kinds of practical jokes upon him. The very first day he sat down at the mess-table, our worthy7 governor (who, you are aware, detests8 practical jokes) played him a trick, quite unintentionally, which raised a laugh against him for many a day. You know that old Mr Rogan is rather absent at times; well, the first day that Peterkin came to mess (it was breakfast), the old governor asked him, in a patronising sort of way, to sit at his right hand. Accordingly down he sat, and having never, I fancy, been away from his mother’s apron-string before, he seemed to feel very uncomfortable, especially as he was regarded as a sort of novelty. The first thing he did was to capsize his plate into his lap, which set the youngsters at the lower end of the table into suppressed fits of laughter. However, he was eating the leg of a dry grouse9 at the time, so it didn’t make much of a mess.
“‘Try some fish, Peterkin,’ said Mr Rogan kindly10, seeing that the youth was ill at ease. ‘That old grouse is tough enough to break your knife.’
“‘A very rough passage,’ replied the youngster, whose mind was quite confused by hearing the captain of the ship, who sat next to him, giving to his next neighbour a graphic11 account of the voyage in a very loud key—‘I mean, if you please, no, thank you,’ he stammered12, endeavouring to correct himself.
“‘Ah! a cup of tea perhaps.—Here, Anderson,’ (turning to the butler), ‘a cup of tea to Mr Peterkin.’
“The butler obeyed the order.
“‘And here, fill my cup,’ said old Rogan, interrupting himself in an earnest conversation, into which he had plunged13 with the gentleman on his left hand. As he said this he lifted his cup to empty the slops, but without paying attention to what he was doing. As luck would have it, the slop-basin was not at hand, and Peterkin’s cup was, so he emptied it innocently into that. Peterkin hadn’t courage to arrest his hand, and when the deed was done he looked timidly round to see if the action had been observed. Nearly half the table had seen it, but they pretended ignorance of the thing so well that he thought no one had observed, and so went quietly on with his breakfast, and drank the tea! But I am wandering from my story. Well, about this time there was a young Indian who shot himself accidentally in the woods, and was brought to the fort to see if anything could be done for him. The doctor examined his wound, and found that the ball had passed through the upper part of his right arm and the middle of his right thigh14, breaking the bone of the latter in its passage. It was an extraordinary shot for a man to put into himself, for it would have been next to impossible even for another man to have done it, unless the Indian had been creeping on all fours. When he was able to speak, however, he explained the mystery. While running through a rough part of the wood after a wounded bird, he stumbled and fell on all fours. The gun, which he was carrying over his shoulder, holding it, as the Indians usually do, by the muzzle15, flew forward, and turned right round as he fell, so that the mouth of it was presented towards him. Striking against the stem of a tree, it exploded, and shot him through the arm and leg as described ere he had time to rise. A comrade carried him to his lodge16, and his wife brought him in a canoe to the fort. For three or four days the doctor had hopes of him, but at last he began to sink, and died on the sixth day after his arrival. His wife and one or two friends buried him in our graveyard17, which lies, as you know, on that lonely-looking point just below the powder-magazine. For several months previous to this our worthy doctor had been making strenuous18 efforts to get an Indian skull19 to send home to one of his medical friends, but without success. The Indians could not be prevailed upon to cut off the head of one of their dead countrymen for love or money, and the doctor had a dislike to the idea, I suppose, of killing20 one for himself; but now here was a golden opportunity. The Indian was buried near to the fort, and his relatives had gone away to their tents again. What was to prevent his being dug up? The doctor brooded over the thing for one hour and a half (being exactly the length of time required to smoke out his large Turkey pipe), and then sauntered into Wilson’s room. Wilson was busy, as usual, at some of his mechanical contrivances.
“Thrusting his hands deep into his breeches pockets and seating himself on an old sea-chest, he began,—
“‘I say, Wilson, will you do me a favour?’
“‘That depends entirely21 on what the favour is,’ he replied, without raising his head from his work.
“‘I want you to help me to cut off an Indian’s head!’
“‘Then I won’t do you the favour. But pray, don’t humbug22 me just now; I’m busy.’
“‘No; but I’m serious, and I can’t get it done without help, and I know you’re an obliging fellow. Besides, the savage23 is dead, and has no manner of use for his head now.’
“Wilson turned round with a look of intelligence on hearing this.
“‘Ha!’ he exclaimed, ‘I see what you’re up to; but I don’t half like it. In the first place, his friends would be terribly cut up if they heard of it; and then I’ve no sort of aptitude24 for the work of a resurrectionist; and then, if it got wind, we should never hear the last of it; and then—’
“‘And then,’ interrupted the doctor, ‘it would be adding to the light of medical science, you unaspiring monster.’
“‘A light,’ retorted Wilson, ‘which, in passing through some members of the medical profession, is totally absorbed, and reproduced in the shape of impenetrable darkness.’
“‘Now, don’t object, my dear fellow; you know you’re going to do it, so don’t coquette with me, but agree at once.’
“‘Well, I consent, upon one condition.’
“‘And what is that?’
“‘That you do not play any practical jokes on me with the head when you have got it.’
“‘Agreed!’ cried the doctor, laughing; ‘I give you my word of honour. Now he has been buried three days already, so we must set about it at once. Fortunately the graveyard is composed of a sandy soil, so he’ll keep for some time yet.’
“The two worthies25 then entered into a deep consultation26 as to how they were to set about this deed of darkness. It was arranged that Wilson should take his gun and sally forth27 a little before dark, as if he were bent28 on an hour’s sport, and, not forgetting his game-bag, proceed to the graveyard, where the doctor engaged to meet him with a couple of spades and a dark lantern. Accordingly, next evening, Mr Wilson, true to his promise, shouldered his gun and sallied forth.
“It soon became an intensely dark night. Not a single star shone forth to illumine the track along which he stumbled. Everything around was silent and dark, and congenial with the work on which he was bent. But Wilson’s heart beat a little more rapidly than usual. He is a bold enough man, as you know, but boldness goes for nothing when superstition29 comes into play. However, he trudged30 along fearlessly enough till he came to the thick woods just below the fort, into which he entered with something of a qualm. Scarcely had he set foot on the narrow track that leads to the graveyard, when he ran slap against the post that stands there, but which, in his trepidation31, he had entirely forgotten. This quite upset the small amount of courage that remained, and he has since confessed that if he had not had the hope of meeting with the doctor in a few minutes, he would have turned round and fled at that moment.
“Recovering a little from this accident, he hurried forward, but with more caution; for although the night seemed as dark as could possibly be while he was crossing the open country, it became speedily evident that there were several shades of darkness which he had not yet conceived. In a few minutes he came to the creek32 that runs past the graveyard, and here again his nerves got another shake; for slipping his foot while in the act of commencing the descent, he fell and rolled heavily to the bottom, making noise enough in his fall to scare away all the ghosts in the country. With a palpitating heart poor Wilson gathered himself up, and searched for his gun, which fortunately had not been injured, and then commenced to climb the opposite bank, starting at every twig33 that snapped under his feet. On reaching the level ground again he breathed a little more freely, and hurried forward with more speed than caution. Suddenly he came into violent contact with a figure, which uttered a loud growl34 as Wilson reeled backwards35.
“‘Back, you monster,’ he cried, with a hysterical36 yell, ‘or I’ll blow your brains out!’
“‘It’s little good that would do ye,’ cried the doctor, as he came forward. ‘Why, you stupid, what did you take me for? You’ve nearly knocked out my brains as it is,’ and the doctor rubbed his forehead ruefully.
“‘Oh, it’s you, doctor!’ said Wilson, feeling as if a ton weight had been lifted off his heart; ‘I verily thought it was the ghost of the poor fellow we’re going to disturb. I do think you had better give it up. Mischief will come of it, you’ll see.’
“‘Nonsense,’ cried the doctor; ‘don’t be a goose, but let’s to work at once. Why, I’ve got half the thing dug up already.’ So saying, he led the way to the grave, in which there was a large opening. Setting the lantern down by the side of it, the two seized their spades and began to dig as if in earnest.
“The fact is that the doctor was nearly as frightened as Wilson, and he afterwards confessed to me that it was an immense relief to him when he heard him fall down the bank of the creek, and knew by the growl he gave that it was he.
“In about half an hour the doctor’s spade struck upon the coffin37 lid, which gave forth a hollow sound.
“‘Now, then, we’re about done with it,’ said he, standing38 up to wipe away the perspiration39 that trickled40 down his face. ‘Take the axe41 and force up the lid, it’s only fixed42 with common nails, while I—’ He did not finish the sentence, but drew a large scalping-knife from a sheath which hung at his belt.
“Wilson shuddered43 and obeyed. A good wrench44 caused the lid to start, and while he held it partially45 open the doctor inserted the knife. For five minutes he continued to twist and work with his arms, muttering between his teeth, every now and then, that he was a ‘tough subject,’ while the crackling of bones, and other disagreeable sounds, struck upon the horrified46 ears of his companion.
“‘All right,’ he exclaimed at last, as he dragged a round object from the coffin and let down the lid with a bang, at the same time placing the savage’s head with its ghastly features full in the blaze of the lantern.
“‘Now, then, close up,’ said he, jumping out of the hole and shovelling47 in the earth.
“In a few minutes they had filled the grave up and smoothed it down on the surface, and then, throwing the head into the game-bag, retraced48 their steps to the fort. Their nerves were by this time worked up to such a pitch of excitement, and their minds filled with such a degree of supernatural horror, that they tripped and stumbled over stumps49 and branches innumerable in their double-quick march. Neither would confess to the other, however, that he was afraid. They even attempted to pass a few facetious50 remarks as they hurried along, but it would not do, so they relapsed into silence till they came to the hollow beside the powder-magazine. Here the doctor’s foot happening to slip, he suddenly grasped Wilson by the shoulder to support himself—a movement which, being unexpected, made his friend leap, as he afterwards expressed it, nearly out of his skin. This was almost too much for them. For a moment they looked at each other as well as the darkness would permit, when all at once a large stone, which the doctor’s slip had overbalanced, fell down the bank and through the bushes with a loud crash. Nothing more was wanting. All further effort to disguise their feelings was dropped. Leaping the rail of the open field in a twinkling, they gave a simultaneous yell of consternation51, and fled to the fort like autumn leaves before the wind, never drawing breath till they were safe within the pickets52.”
“But what has all this to do with Peterkin?” asked Harry53, as the accountant paused to relight his pipe and toss a fresh log on the fire.
“Have patience, lad; you shall hear.”
The accountant stirred the logs with his toe, drew a few whiffs to see that the pipe was properly ignited, and proceeded.
“For a day or two after this, the doctor was observed to be often mysteriously engaged in an outhouse of which he kept the key. By some means or other, the skipper, who is always up to mischief, managed to discover the secret. Watching where the doctor hid the key, he possessed54 himself of it one day, and sallied forth, bent on a lark55 of some kind or other, but without very well knowing what. Passing the kitchen, he observed Anderson, the butler, raking the fire out of the large oven which stands in the back-yard.
“‘Baking again, Anderson?’ said he in passing. ‘You get soon through with a heavy cargo56 of bread just now.’
“‘Yes, sir; many mouths to feed, sir,’ replied the butler, proceeding57 with his work.
“The skipper sauntered on, and took the track which leads to the boat-house, where he stood for some time in meditation58. Casting up his eyes, he saw Peterkin in the distance, looking as if he didn’t very well know what to do.
“A sudden thought struck him. Pulling off his coat, he seized a mallet59 and a caulking-chisel, and began to belabour the side of a boat as if his life depended on it. All at once he stopped and stood up, blowing with the exertion60.
“‘Hollo, Peterkin!’ he shouted, and waved his hand.
“Peterkin hastened towards him.
“‘Well, sir,’ said he, ‘do you wish to speak to me?’
“‘Yes,’ replied the skipper, scratching his head as if in great perplexity. ‘I wish you to do me a favour, Peterkin, but I don’t know very well how to ask you.’
“‘Oh, I shall be most happy,’ said poor Butter eagerly, ‘if I can be of any use to you.’
“‘I don’t doubt your willingness,’ replied the other; ‘but then—the doctor, you see—the fact is, Peterkin, the doctor being called away to see a sick Indian, has entrusted61 me with a delicate piece of business—rather a nasty piece of business, I may say—which I promised to do for him. You must know that the Surgical62 Society of London has written to him, begging, as a great favour, that he would, if possible, procure63 them the skull of a native. After much trouble he has succeeded in getting one, but is obliged to keep it a great secret, even from his fellow-clerks, lest it should get wind; for if the Indians heard of it they would be sure to kill him, and perhaps burn the fort too. Now I suppose you are aware that it is necessary to boil an Indian’s head in order to get the flesh clean off the skull?’
“‘Yes; I have heard something of that sort from the students at college, who say that boiling brings flesh more easily away from the bone. But I don’t know much about it,’ replied Peterkin.
“‘Well,’ continued the skipper, ‘the doctor, who is fond of experiments, wishes to try whether baking won’t do better than boiling, and ordered the oven to be heated for that purpose this morning; but being called suddenly away, as I have said, he begged me to put the head into it as soon as it was ready. I agreed, quite forgetting at the time that I had to get this precious boat ready for sea this very afternoon. Now the oven is prepared, and I dare not leave my work; indeed, I doubt whether I shall have it quite ready and taut64 after all, and there’s the oven cooling; so, if you don’t help me, I’m a lost man.’
“Having said this, the skipper looked as miserable as his jolly visage would permit, and rubbed his nose.
“‘Oh, I’ll be happy to do it for you, although it is not an agreeable job,’ replied Butter.
“‘That’s right—that’s friendly now!’ exclaimed the skipper, as if greatly relieved. ‘Give us your flipper65, my lad;’ and seizing Peterkin’s hand, he wrung66 it affectionately. ‘Now, here is the key of the outhouse; do it as quickly as you can, and don’t let any one see you. It’s in a good cause, you know, but the results might be terrible if discovered.’
“So saying, the skipper fell to hammering the boat again with surprising vigour67 till Butter was out of sight, and then resuming his coat, returned to the house.
“An hour after this, Anderson went to take his loaves out of the oven; but he had no sooner taken down the door than a rich odour of cooked meat greeted his nostrils68. Uttering a deep growl, the butler shouted out, ‘Sprat!’
“Upon this, a very thin boy, with arms and legs like pipe stems, issued from the kitchen, and came timidly towards his master.
“‘Didn’t I tell you, you young blackguard, that the grouse-pie was to be kept for Sunday? and there you’ve gone and put it to fire to-day.’
“‘The grouse-pie!’ said the boy, in amazement69.
“‘Yes, the grouse-pie,’ retorted the indignant butler; and seizing the urchin70 by the neck, he held his head down to the mouth of the oven.
“‘Smell that, you villain71! What did you mean by it, eh?’
“‘Oh, murder!’ shouted the boy, as with a violent effort he freed himself, and ran shrieking72 into the house.
“‘Murder!’ repeated Anderson in astonishment73, while he stooped to look into the oven, where the first thing that met his gaze was a human head, whose ghastly visage and staring eyeballs worked and moved about under the influence of the heat as if it were alive.
“With a yell that rang through the whole fort, the horrified butler rushed through the kitchen and out at the front door, where, as ill-luck would have it, Mr Rogan happened to be standing at the moment. Pitching head first into the small of the old gentleman’s back, he threw him off the platform and fell into his arms. Starting up in a moment, the governor dealt Anderson a cuff74 that sent him reeling towards the kitchen door again, on the steps of which he sat down, and began to sing out, ‘Oh, murder, murder! the oven, the oven!’ and not another word, bad, good, or indifferent, could be got out of him for the next half-hour, as he swayed himself to and fro and wrung his hands.
“To make a long story short, Mr Rogan went himself to the oven, and fished out the head, along with the loaves, which were, of course, all spoiled.”
“And what was the result?” inquired Harry.
“Oh, there was a long investigation75, and the skipper got a blowing-up, and the doctor a warning to let Indians’ skulls76 lie at peace in their graves for the future; and poor Butter was sent to McKenzie’s River as a punishment, for old Rogan could never be brought to believe that he hadn’t been a willing tool in the skipper’s hands; and Anderson lost his batch of bread and his oven, for it had to be pulled down and a new one built.”
“Humph! and I’ve no doubt the governor read you a pretty stiff lecture on practical joking.”
“He did,” replied the accountant, laying aside his pipe, and drawing the green blanket over him, while Harry piled several large logs on the fire.
“Good-night,” said the accountant.
“Good-night,” replied his companions; and in a few minutes more they were sound asleep in their snowy camp, while the huge fire continued, during the greater part of the night, to cast its light on their slumbering77 forms.
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1
bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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overflow
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| v.(使)外溢，(使)溢出；溢出，流出，漫出 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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batch
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| n.一批(组，群)；一批生产量 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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detests
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| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的第三人称单数 ) | |
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grouse
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| n.松鸡；v.牢骚，诉苦 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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graphic
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| adj.生动的，形象的，绘画的，文字的，图表的 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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graveyard
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| n.坟场 | |
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strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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humbug
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| n.花招，谎话，欺骗 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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aptitude
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| n.(学习方面的)才能，资质，天资 | |
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worthies
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| 应得某事物( worthy的名词复数 )； 值得做某事； 可尊敬的； 有（某人或事物）的典型特征 | |
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consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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trudged
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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trepidation
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| n.惊恐，惶恐 | |
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creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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trickled
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| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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43
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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44
wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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45
partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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46
horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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47
shovelling
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| v.铲子( shovel的现在分词 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份 | |
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retraced
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| v.折回( retrace的过去式和过去分词 )；回忆；回顾；追溯 | |
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stumps
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| （被砍下的树的）树桩( stump的名词复数 )； 残肢； （板球三柱门的）柱； 残余部分 | |
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facetious
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| adj.轻浮的，好开玩笑的 | |
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consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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pickets
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| 罢工纠察员( picket的名词复数 ) | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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lark
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| n.云雀，百灵鸟；n.嬉戏，玩笑；vi.嬉戏 | |
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cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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mallet
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| n.槌棒 | |
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exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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61
entrusted
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| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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surgical
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| adj.外科的，外科医生的，手术上的 | |
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procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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taut
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| adj.拉紧的，绷紧的，紧张的 | |
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flipper
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| n. 鳍状肢，潜水用橡皮制鳍状肢 | |
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66
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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urchin
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| n.顽童；海胆 | |
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villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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74
cuff
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| n.袖口；手铐；护腕；vt.用手铐铐；上袖口 | |
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investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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76
skulls
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| 颅骨( skull的名词复数 )； 脑袋； 脑子； 脑瓜 | |
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slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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