Fran?ois La Certe was seated on the floor of his hut smoking a long clay pipe beside an open wood fire when Fergus McKay approached. His wife was seated beside him calmly smoking a shorter pipe with obvious enjoyment1.
The man was a Canadian half-breed. His wife was an Indian woman. They were both moderately young and well matched, for they thoroughly2 agreed in everything conceivable—or otherwise. In the length and breadth of the Settlement there could not have been found a lazier or more good-natured or good-for-nothing couple than La Certe and his spouse3. Love was, if we may venture to say so, the chief element in the character of each. Love of self was the foundation. Then, happily, love of each other came next. Rising gracefully4, the superstructure may be described as, love of tobacco, love of tea, love of ease, and love of general comfort, finishing off with a top-dressing, or capital, of pronounced, decided5, and apparently6 incurable7 love of indolence. They had only one clear and unmistakable hatred8 about them, and that was the hatred of work. They had a child about four years of age which was like-minded—and not unlike-bodied.
In the wilderness9, as in the city, such individuals are well-known by the similarity of their characteristics. It is not that they can’t work, but they won’t work—though, of course, if taxed with this disposition10 they would disclaim11 it with mild indignation, or an expression of hurt remonstrance12, for they are almost too lazy to become enraged13. “Take life easy, or, if we can’t take it easy, let us take it as easy as we can,” is, or ought to be, their motto. In low life at home they slouch and smile. In high life they saunter and affect easy-going urbanity—slightly mingled14 with mild superiority to things in general. Whatever rank of life they belong to they lay themselves out with persistent15 resolution to do as little work as they can; to make other people do as much work for them as possible; to get out of life as much of enjoyment as may be attainable—consistently, of course, with the incurable indolence—and, to put off as long as may be the evil day which, they perceive or suspect, must inevitably16 be coming.
The curious thing about this race of beings is, that, whether in high or low station, they are never ashamed of themselves—or of their position as drones in the world’s hive. They seem rather to apologise for their degradation17 as a thing inevitable18, for which they are not accountable—and sometimes, in the case of the rich, as a thing justifiable19.
“I’m glad I did not go to the plains this fall,” said La Certe, stirring the logs on the fire with his toe and emitting a prolonged sigh of mingled smoke and contentment, while a blast from the bleak20 nor’-west shook every blackened rafter in his little hut.
“Heel hee!” responded his wife, whose Indian name—translated—was Slowfoot, and might have been Slowtongue with equal propriety21, for she was quite an adept22 at the art of silence. She frequently caused a giggle23 to do duty for speech. This suited her husband admirably, for he was fond of talking—could tell a good story, sing a good song, and express his feelings in a good hearty24 laugh.
“Yes, it will be hard for the poor boys who have gone to the plains, the weather is so awful, to say nothing of the women.”
“Ho,” replied Slowfoot—though what she meant to express by this no mortal knows—nor, perhaps, cares. It meant nothing bad, however, for she smiled seraphically and sent forth25 a stream of smoke, which, mingling26 with that just emitted by her husband, rose in a curling harmony to the roof.
Slowfoot was not a bad-looking woman as North American Indians go. She was brown unquestionably, and dirty without doubt, but she had a pleasant expression, suggestive of general good-will, and in the budding period of life must have been even pretty. She was evidently older than her husband, who might, perhaps, have been a little over thirty.
“I should not wonder,” continued La Certe, “if the buffalo27 was drove away, and the people starved this year. But the buffalo, perhaps, will return in time to save them.”
“Hm!” responded the wife, helping28 herself to some very strong tea, which she poured out of a tin kettle into a tin mug and sweetened with maple29 sugar.
“Do you know if Cloudbrow went with them?” asked the half-breed, pushing forward his mug for a supply of the cheering beverage30.
“No, he stopped in his house,” replied the woman, rousing herself for a moment to the conversational31 point, but relapsing immediately.
The man spoke32 in patois33 French, the woman in her native Cree language. For convenience we translate their conversation as near as may be into the English in which they were wont34 to converse35 with the Scotch36 settlers who, some time before, had been sent out by the Earl of Selkirk to colonise that remote part of the northern wilderness.
La Certe’s father was a French Canadian, his mother an Indian woman, but both having died while he was yet a boy he had been brought or left to grow up under the care of an English woman who had followed the fortunes of the La Certe family. His early companions had been half-breeds and Indians. Hence he could speak the English, French, and Indian languages with equal incorrectness and facility.
“You don’t like Cloudbrow,” remarked the man with an inquiring glance over the rim37 of his mug. “Why you not like him?”
“Hee! hee!” was Slowfoot’s lucid38 reply. Then, with an unwonted frown on her mild visage, she added with emphasis—
“No! I not like him.”
“I know that,” returned the husband, setting down his mug and resuming his pipe, “but why?”
To this the lady answered with a sound too brief to spell, and the gentleman, being accustomed to his wife’s little eccentricities39, broke into a hilarious40 laugh, and assured her that Cloudbrow was not a bad fellow—a capital hunter and worthy41 of more regard than she was aware of.
“For,” said he, “Cloudbrow is willing to wait till spring for payment of the horse an’ cart I hired from him last year. You know that I could not pay him till I go to the plains an’ get another load of meat an’ leather. You will go with me, Slowfoot, an’ we will have grand times of it with buffalo-humps an’ marrow42 bones, an’ tea an’ tobacco. Ah! it makes my mouth water. Give me more tea. So. That will do. What a noise the wind makes! I hopes it won’t blow over the shed an’ kill the horse. But if it do I cannot help that. Cloudbrow could not ask me to pay for what the wind does.”
There came another gust43 of such violence, as he spoke, that even Slowfoot’s benignant expression changed to a momentary44 glance of anxiety, for the shingles45 on the roof rattled46, and the rafters creaked as if the hut were groaning47 under the strain. It passed, however, and the pair went on smoking with placid48 contentment, for they had but recently had a “square” meal of pemmican and flour.
This compost when cooked in a frying-pan is exceedingly rich and satisfying—not to say heavy—food, but it does not incommode such as La Certe and his wife. It even made the latter feel amiably49 disposed to Cloudbrow.
This sobriquet50 had been given by the half-breeds to a young Scotch settler named Duncan McKay, in consequence of the dark frown which had settled habitually51 on his brow—the result of bad temper and unbridled passion. He was younger brother to that Fergus who has already been introduced to the reader. Having been partially52 trained, while in Scotland, away from the small farm-house of his father, and having received a better education, Duncan conceived himself to stand on a higher level than the sedate53 and uneducated Fergus. Thus pride was added to his bad temper. But he was not altogether destitute54 of good points. What man is? One of these was a certain reckless open-handedness, so that he was easily imposed on by the protestations and assurances of the sly, plausible55, and lazy La Certe.
The couple were still engaged in smoking, quaffing56 tea, and other intellectual pursuits, when they heard sounds outside as of some one approaching. Another moment, and the door burst open, and a man in white stepped in. He saluted57 them with a familiar and hasty “bonjour,” as he stamped and beat the snow vigorously from his garments.
“What? Antoine Dechamp!” exclaimed La Certe, rising slowly to welcome his friend; “you seem in hurry?”
“Ay—in great hurry! They are starving on the plains! Many are dead! Davidson has come in! He is more than half-dead! Can hardly tell the news! Drops asleep when he is speaking! Luckily I met him when going home in my cariole! Okématan, the Indian, was with me. So he got out, and said he would pilot Davidson safe home! He said something about Fergus McKay, which I could not understand, so I have come on, and will drive to Fort Garry with the news! But my horse has broke down! Is yours in the stable?”
Dechamp was a sturdy young half-breed and an old playmate of La Certe. He spoke with obvious impatience58 at the delay caused by having so much to tell.
“Is your horse in the stable?” he demanded sharply a second time, while his friend began, with exasperating59 composure, to assure him that it was, but that the horse was not his.
“Cloudbrow is its owner,” he said, “and you know if anything happens to it he will —. Stay, I will get you lantern—”
He stopped, for Dechamp, observing a large key hanging on the wall, had seized it and rushed out of the hut without waiting for a lantern.
“Strange, how easy some men get into a fuss!” remarked La Certe to his surprised, but quiet, spouse as he lighted a large tin lantern, and went to the door. Looking out with an expression of discomfort60, he put on his cap, and prepared to face the storm in the cause of humanity. He held the lantern high up first, however, and peered under it as if to observe the full extent of the discomfort before braving it. Just then a furious gust blew out the light.
“Ha! I expected that,” he said, with a sigh that was strongly suggestive of relief, as he returned to the fire to relight the lantern.
On going the second time to the door he observed the form of his friend leading the horse past—both of them looking dim and spectral61 through the driving snow.
“Dechamp have good eyes!” he remarked, halting on the threshold. “There is light enough without the lantern; besides—ha! there, it is out again! What a trouble it is! Impossible to keep it in—such a night!”
La Certe was still standing63 in a state of hesitancy, troubled by a strong desire to help his friend, and a stronger desire to spare himself, when he was thrown somewhat off his wonted balance by the sudden reappearance of Dechamp, leading, or rather supporting, a man.
Need we say that it was Fergus McKay, almost blind and dumb from exhaustion64, for the parting from Dan Davidson which we have mentioned had proved to be the last straw which broke them both down, and it is probable that the frozen corpse65 of poor Dan would have been found next day on the snow, had he not been accidentally met by Dechamp, and taken in charge by the Indian Okématan. Fergus, having a shorter way to go, and, perhaps, possessing a little more vitality66 or endurance, had just managed to stagger to La Certe’s hut when he encountered the same man who, an hour previously67, had met and saved his companion further down the Settlement.
The moment Fergus entered the hut, he looked wildly round, and opened his mouth as if to speak. Then he suddenly collapsed68, and fell in a heap upon the floor, scattering69 flakes70 of snow from his person in all directions.
La Certe and his wife, though steeped in selfishness, were by no means insensible to the sufferings of humanity when these were actually made visible to their naked eyes. Like many—too many—people, they were incapable71 of being impressed very deeply through their ears, but could be keenly touched through the eyes. No sooner did they behold72 the condition of Fergus—who was well-known to them—than they dropped their apathetic73 characters as though they had been garments.
In her haste Slowfoot let fall her pipe, which broke to atoms on the floor—but she heeded74 it not. La Certe capsized his mug of tea—but regarded it not; and while the former proceeded to remove the shawl from Fergus’s neck and chafe75 his cold hands, the latter assisted Dechamp to drag the exhausted76 man a little nearer to the fire, and poured a cup of warm tea down his throat.
Their efforts, though perchance not as wisely directed as they might have been, were so vigorously conducted that success rewarded them. Fergus soon began to show signs of returning animation77. A hunter of the western wilderness is not easily overcome, neither is he long of reviving, as a rule, if not killed outright78.
They set him up in a sitting posture79 with his back against a box, and his feet towards the fire. Heaving a deep sigh, Fergus looked round with a bewildered, anxious expression. In a moment intelligence returned to his eyes, and he made a violent attempt to rise, but Dechamp held him down.
“Be still, Fergus McKay,” said Dechamp, with that firmness of manner and tone which somehow command respect; “I know all about it. Take one bit of bread, one swig more of tea, and you go with me to Fort Garry, to tell the Gov’nor what you know. He will send help at once.”
Great was the relief of Fergus when he heard this. Submitting to treatment like an obedient child, he was soon fit to stagger to the sleigh or cariole, into which he was carefully stuffed and packed like a bale of goods by La Certe and his wife, who, to their credit be it recorded, utterly81 ignored, for once, the discomforts82 of the situation.
Fergus was asleep before the packing was quite done. Then Dechamp jumped in beside him, and drove off in the direction of the Hudson’s Bay Company’s establishment, Fort Garry, while our worthy couple returned to their hut to indulge in a final and well-earned pipe and a mug of the strongest possible tea.
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1
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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spouse
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| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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incurable
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| adj.不能医治的，不能矫正的，无救的；n.不治的病人，无救的人 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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disclaim
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| v.放弃权利，拒绝承认 | |
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remonstrance
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| n抗议，抱怨 | |
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enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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justifiable
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| adj.有理由的，无可非议的 | |
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bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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adept
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| adj.老练的，精通的 | |
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giggle
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| n.痴笑，咯咯地笑；v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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buffalo
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| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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maple
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| n.槭树，枫树，槭木 | |
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30
beverage
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| n.(水，酒等之外的)饮料 | |
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conversational
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| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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patois
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| n.方言；混合语 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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lucid
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| adj.明白易懂的，清晰的，头脑清楚的 | |
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eccentricities
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| n.古怪行为( eccentricity的名词复数 )；反常；怪癖 | |
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hilarious
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| adj.充满笑声的，欢闹的；[反]depressed | |
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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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marrow
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| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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shingles
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| n.带状疱疹；（布满海边的）小圆石( shingle的名词复数 )；屋顶板；木瓦（板）；墙面板 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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amiably
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| adv.和蔼可亲地，亲切地 | |
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sobriquet
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| n.绰号 | |
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habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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53
sedate
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| adj.沉着的，镇静的，安静的 | |
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destitute
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| adj.缺乏的；穷困的 | |
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55
plausible
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| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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56
quaffing
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| v.痛饮( quaff的现在分词 )；畅饮；大口大口将…喝干；一饮而尽 | |
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saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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exasperating
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| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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flakes
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| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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72
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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apathetic
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| adj.冷漠的，无动于衷的 | |
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heeded
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的过去式和过去分词 )；变平，使（某物）变平( flatten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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chafe
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| v.擦伤；冲洗；惹怒 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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78
outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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79
posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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80
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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81
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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82
discomforts
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| n.不舒适( discomfort的名词复数 )；不愉快，苦恼 | |
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