Josette, his wife, slender and tired, her dark head bare in the fading sun, stood wistful and hoping at his side, praying gently that at last their long wanderings up the St. Lawrence and along this wilderness shore of Superior had come to an end, and that they might abide11 in this new paradise, and never travel again until the end of their days.
Back of them, where a little stream ran out of the cool forest, a tireless boy quested on hands and knees in the ferns and green grass for wild strawberries, and though strawberry season was late his mouth was smeared12 red.
The man said, pointing down, "It makes one almost think the big lake is alive, and a hand is reaching in for him."
"Yes, they are Five Fingers of water reaching in from the lake," agreed Josette, seating herself wearily upon a big stone, "though it seems to me there should be only four fingers, and one thumb."
And so the place came to be named, and through all the years that have followed since that day it has tenaciously13 clung to its birthright.
The boy came to his mother, bringing her strawberries to eat; and the man, climbing a scarp of rock, made a megaphone of his hands and hallooed through[3] it until an answering shout came from deep in the spruces and balsams, and a little later Dominique Beauvais came out to the edge of the slope, his whiskered face bright with expectancy14, and with him his little wife Marie, panting hard to keep pace with his long legs.
When they were together Pierre Gourdon made a wide and all-embracing sweep with his arms.
"This will be a good place to live in," he said. "It is what we have been looking for."
With enthusiasm Dominique agreed. The women smiled. Again they were happy. The boy was hunting for strawberries. He was always empty, this boy.
Pierre Gourdon kissed his wife's smooth hair as they went back to the camp they had made two hours earlier in the day, and broke into a wild boat song which his grandfather had taught him on his knee in the wicked days before he had known Josette at Ste. Anne, and Dominique joined in heartily15 through his whiskers.
The women's smiles were sweeter and their eyes brighter, for fatigue16 seemed to have run away from them now that their questing men-folk were satisfied and had given them a promise of home.
That night, after supper, with their green birch camp-fire lighting17 up the blackness of the wilderness, they sat and made plans, and long after nine-year-old Joe had crawled into his blanket to sleep, and the women's eyes were growing soft with drowsiness,[4] Pierre and Dominique continued to smoke pipefuls of tobacco and to build over and over the homes of their dreams.
Young and happy, and overflowing18 with the adventurous19 enthusiasm of the race of coureurs from which they had sprung, they saw themselves with the rising of another sun pitched into the heart of realities which they had anticipated for a long time; and when at last Josette fell asleep, her head pillowed close to her boy's, her red lips that had not lost their prettiness through motherhood and wandering were tender with a new peace and contentment. And a little later, while Pierre and Dominique still smoked and painted their futures20, the moon rose over the forest-tops in a great golden welcome to the pioneers, and the wind came in softly and more coolly from the lake, and at the last, from far away, rose faintly a wilderness note that thrilled them—the cry of wolves.
Dominique listened, and silently emptied the ash from his pipe into the palm of his hand.
"Where wolves run there is plenty of game, and where there is game there is trapping," he said.
And then came a sound which stopped the hearts of both for an instant, a deep and murmuring echo, faint and very far, that broke in a note of strange and vital music upon the stillness of the night.
"A ship!" whispered Pierre.
"Yes, a ship!" repeated Dominique, half rising to catch the last of the sound.
[5]
For this was a night of forty years ago, when on the north shore of Superior the cry of wolves in the forest was commoner than the blast of a ship's whistle at sea.
The pioneers slept. The yellow moon climbed up until it was straight overhead. Shadows in the deep forest moved like living things. The wolves howled, circled, came nearer, and stopped their cry where the kill was made. Mellow22 darkness trembled and thrilled with life. Silent-winged creatures came and disappeared like ghosts. Bright eyes watched the sleeping camp of the home seekers. A porcupine23 waddled24 through it, chuckling25 and complaining in his foolish way. A buck26 caught the scent27 of it, stamped his foot and whistled. There were whisperings in the tall, dark spruce tops.
Caverns28 of darkness gave out velvety29 footfalls of life, and little birds that were silent in the day uttered their notes softly in the moon glow.
A bar of this light lay across Josette's face, softening30 it and giving to its beauty a touch of something divine. The boy was dreaming. Pierre slept with his head pillowed in the crook31 of his arm. Dominique's whiskers were turned to the sky, bristling32 and fierce, as if he had taken this posture33 to guard against harm the tired little wife who lay at his side.
So the night passed, and dawn came, wakening them with the morning chatter34 of a multitude of red squirrels[6] in a little corner of the world as yet unspoiled by man.
That first day from which they began to measure their new lives the axes of Pierre and Dominique struck deep into the sweetly scented35 hearts of the cedar36 trees out of which they were to build their homes at Five Fingers. But first they looked more carefully into the prospects38 of their domain39.
The forest was back of them, a forest of high ridges41 and craggy ravines, of hidden meadows and swamps, a picturesque42 upheaval43 of wild country which reached for many miles from the Superior shore to the thin strip of settlement lands along the Canadian Pacific. Black and green and purple with its balsam, cedar and spruce, silver and gold with its poplar and birch, splashed red with mountain ash, its climbing billows and dripping hollows were radiantly tinted44 by midsummer sun—and darkly sullen45 and mysterious under cloud or storm. Out of these fastnesses, choked with ice and snow in winter, Pierre knew how the floods must come roaring in springtime, and his heart beat exultantly46, for he loved the rush and thunder of streams, and the music of water among rocks.
At the tip of the longest of the five inlets which broke like gouging47 fingers through the rock walls of the lake half a mile away they decided48 upon the sites for their cabins. Against those walls they could hear faintly the moaning of surf, never quite still even when[7] there was no whisper of wind. But the long finger of water, narrow and twisted, as if broken at the joint49, was a placid50 pool of green and silver over which the gulls51 floated, calling out their soft notes in welcome to the home builders, and in its white sand were the prints of many feet, both of birds and of beasts, who played and washed themselves there, and came down to drink. Between these two, the open and peaceful serenity52 of the inlet and the cool, still hiding-places of the forest, were the green meadowland and slopes and patches of level plain, a narrow strip of park-like beauty at the upper edge of which, in the very shadow of the forest, Pierre and Dominique struck off their plots and squared their angles, making ready for the logs in which the afternoon saw their axes buried.
The days passed. Each dawn the red squirrel chorus greeted the rising sun; through hours that followed came the ring of steel and the freedom of voice which is born of love and home. Pierre sang, as his grandfather had sung long years ago, and Dominique bellowed53 like a baying hound when the chorus came. Women's laughter rose with the singing of the birds. Josette and Marie were girls again, and the boy was forever leading them to newly discovered strawberry patches hidden among the rocks and grass and ferns.
It was a new thing for the wilderness, this invasion of human life, and for a long time it fell away from them, listening, frightened and subdued54. But the[8] birds and the red squirrels gave it courage, and softly it returned, curious and shy and friendly. The deer came down to drink again in the dusk, and moose rattled55 their antlers up the ridge40. Pop-eyed whisky jacks56 began to eat bannock crumbs57 close to Josette's hands. Jays came nearer to scream their defiance58, like wild Indians, in the tree-tops, and thrushes and warblers sang until their throats were ready to burst, and twenty times a day Pierre would pause in his labor59 and say, "This is going to be a fine place to live in, with the sea at our front door and the woods at our back."
He called Superior "the sea," and twice in the first week they saw far out in its hazy60 vastness white and shimmering61 specks62 which were sailing ships.
Log upon log the first of the cabins rose, until the roof was covered, and scarcely was it done when Josette and Marie were planting wild morning glories and crimson63 splashes of roses about it, and were digging in the dark, cool mold of birch and poplar thickets64 for violet roots, and out in the sheltered fens65 and meadow-dips for hyacinths and fire-flowers; and in the hour before dusk, when the day's work was over and supper was eaten, they would go hand in hand with their men-folk to study and ponder over the fertile patches of earth here and there where next spring they would plant potatoes and carrots and turnips66 and all the other fine things they had known back in the land of Ste. Anne.
[9]
It was August when the two cabins were finished, small in dimensions but snug67 as dovecotes, and in the eyes of Josette and Marie grew a deeper and more serious look. For they were housewives again, with little to do with, but with a world full of endeavor and anticipation68 ahead of them. And it worried them to see that the fruits were ripening69, red raspberries so thick the bears were turning into hulks of fat, black currants and saskatoons among the rocks, and all over the ridgesides great trees of wild plums and mountain ash berries, waiting for the first frosts to make them ready for preserves and jams.
So Dominique, one day, set out to blaze a trail to the nearest settlement, thirty miles away; and thereafter their men-folk took turns, one and then the other, going with empty pack and returning with sixty pounds of burden, and berries were put into cans and dried and preserved—until Pierre and Dominique began to tease their wives and ask them if they wanted their husbands to turn into bears and sleep on their fat all winter. It was this banter70 which reminded Josette of candles, and in September they killed two bears and made several hundred of them.
With the first frosts of autumn Pierre said even more frequently than before, "This is a fine place to live in," and Josette and Marie, seeing what the frosts were doing, rose each morning with new wonder and new joy in their eyes. For if these frosts were giving to the waters of the lake a colder and harder sheen, with[10] something of menace and gloom about it, they were also painting the ridges and hollows and all the forest land as far as they could see with a glory of color which they had never known at Ste. Anne.
Breath of winter came in the nights. Higher grew the great birch piles of firewood which Pierre and Dominique dragged close to the cabin doors, and very soon came the days when the carnival72 of autumn color was gone and all but the evergreen73 trees assumed the ragged71 distress74 of naked limbs and branches, and winds broke down fiercely over the wilderness, and the moan of the lake, beating against its rock walls, grew clearer and at times was a muffled75 and sullen roar half a mile away.
But these changes were not frightening to Pierre and his people. Canadian winter was, after all, the heart of their lives; long months of adventure and thrill of deep snows and stinging blizzards76 on the trap lines, of red-hot stoves, and snug evenings at home telling the tales of the day, and appetites as keen as the winds that howled down from the north.
This season, of all seasons, they would not have changed. It was then the wolf howl took on a new note, the foxes cried out hungrily at the edge of the clearing in the night. The call of the moose floated awesomely77 through the frost of still evenings, and the bears hunted their dens78. One after another songbirds departed, leaving the whisky jacks and the jays behind, and the ravens79 gathered in flocks, while in the thickets[11] and swamps the big snowshoe rabbits turned from brown to gray and from gray to white. All hunting things were astir, from the wolf and the fox and the little outlaw80 ermine to the owl21 and the dog-faced fisher-cat, and in November Pierre and Dominique dipped their traps in hot bear grease and prayed for the first snow.
It came in the night, so quietly that none heard the breathless fall of it, and the world was white when little Joe got out of his bed at dawn to look at his rabbit snares81 in the edge of the timber. That was the beginning of their first winter at Five Fingers. It was a cold, dry winter, and there was never a day that a haunch of venison or moose meat was not hanging behind the cabins. Trapping was good, and the store of pelts82 grew as the weeks went on, until Pierre and Dominique both swore in the same breath that it was a paradise that they had found on this north shore of Superior, and each day they made new promises of what they would buy for Josette and Marie in the spring. The snow piled itself deeper, and the lake froze over. In January it was thirty degrees below zero.
The white world, Josette called it, and at times they all played in it like children. There was Christmas, and then New Year's, and a birthday for Marie, and games and stories at night round the crackling stoves in the cabins. Pierre and Dominique built toboggans, and from the crest83 of the ridge where they had first looked[12] down upon the Five Fingers they sped in wild races over the open and halfway84 across the snow-crusted ice of the middle finger. And yet when Dominique came in one day and said quite casually85 that he had heard the chirp86 of a brush warbler back in the big swamp Marie gave a little cry of delight and Josette's eyes grew suddenly bright.
It meant spring. A day or two later Pierre said the coats of the snowshoe rabbits were turning rusty87, which meant early spring. Then came discovery of the first bear track, the track of a foolish bear who had come out hungrily, like a woodchuck, only to hunt himself a den1 again when he saw his shadow freezing in the snow. After this there was more sun in the morning and less of the cold of sullen twilight88 each night, and before even the crust of the snow had begun to thaw89 Pierre brought in a poplar twig90 to show how the buds were swelling91 until they seemed ready to pop. "I have never seen them fatter," he said. "It means spring isn't far away."
When the first robin92 came Josette told her husband she could already smell the perfume of flowers. He was a cold-footed and crabbed-looking bird, forlorn and disappointed at the world's chill aspect, and for a few minutes he sat humped up on the roof log and then flew away.
This was the beginning. The snow began to thaw on the sunny sides of the slopes, and after that the change came swiftly. In April a steady and swelling murmur[13] ran through the forests, the music of the gathering93 waters. Meadows and flats became flooded, little creeks94 changed suddenly into rushing torrents95, lakes and ponds crept up over their sides, and the tiny stream which passed near the cabins, quiet and gentle in summertime, was all at once a riotous96 and quarrelsome outlaw, roaring and foaming97 in its mad rush down to the Middle Finger. Half a mile away was a larger stream whose flood sounds came to them like the distant roar of a cataract98. It was glorious music, with something in it that stirred the blood of Pierre and his people like tonic99 and wine. Pierre, in his optimism and love of life, explained it all by saying, "It is good to have a long, cold winter that we may fully37 enjoy the spring."
The birds seemed to return in a night and a day—robins perky and glad to get back from the lazy southland, thrushes and catbirds and a dozen kinds of little brown warblers and brush sparrows whose voices were sweetest of all the spring songsters. The earth itself began to breathe with swelling roots and tips of green; the first flowers popped up; the poplar buds exploded into fuzzy leaves, and Pierre and Dominique worked from morning until night, clearing the patches they were to plant this year, and spading up the rich, dark soil.
It was about this time Pierre gave voice to a thought which had been growing in his head all winter. He was standing100 with Josette at the tip of the green[14] ridge from which they had first looked down upon Five Fingers.
"Ste. Anne was never as fine as this, chérie," he said.
"No, not even before the woods were cut," agreed Josette.
He took her hand and held it softly in his own, and Josette laid her cheek against his shoulder so that his lips could touch her smooth hair. Pierre always liked it that way.
"I have been having a dream," he said, his voice a little queer because of its secret, and because he knew how its confession101 would thrill the one at his side, "and I have said nothing about it, but have done much thinking. Would not a little church look pretty down there, just where the tip of the evergreen forest reaches to the Middle Finger?"
"A church!" whispered Josette, her heart giving a sudden swift beat.
"Yes, a church," chuckled102 Pierre softly. "And over there, in that green bit of meadow—what a place for a home for our old friend Poleon Dufresne, and Sara, and all the children. And there is room for the Clamarts, too, and Jean Croisset and his wife. It is a big land, with plenty of fur and game and good rich soil underfoot, and I have thought it is not right to keep it all to ourselves, douce amie."
From the door of her cabin some distance away Marie Beauvais wondered just why it was that Josette threw her arms so suddenly round her husband's neck[15] and kissed him. And Pierre, with a heart full of happiness, little guessed that with the fulfilment of his dreams would come tragedy into the wilderness paradise at Five Fingers.
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1
den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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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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creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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attuned
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| v.使协调( attune的过去式和过去分词 )；调音 | |
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5
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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6
consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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canes
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| n.（某些植物，如竹或甘蔗的）茎( cane的名词复数 )；（用于制作家具等的）竹竿；竹杖 | |
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9
crutches
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| n.拐杖, 支柱 v.支撑 | |
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afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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11
abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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12
smeared
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| 弄脏； 玷污； 涂抹； 擦上 | |
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tenaciously
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| 坚持地 | |
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14
expectancy
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| n.期望，预期，（根据概率统计求得）预期数额 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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17
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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18
overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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19
adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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futures
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| n.期货，期货交易 | |
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owl
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| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
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22
mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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porcupine
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| n.豪猪， 箭猪 | |
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waddled
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| v.（像鸭子一样）摇摇摆摆地走( waddle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25
chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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26
buck
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| n.雄鹿，雄兔；v.马离地跳跃 | |
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27
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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28
caverns
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| 大山洞，大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
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29
velvety
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| adj. 像天鹅绒的, 轻软光滑的, 柔软的 | |
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30
softening
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| 变软，软化 | |
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31
crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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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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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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35
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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36
cedar
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| n.雪松，香柏(木) | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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39
domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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40
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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41
ridges
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| n.脊( ridge的名词复数 )；山脊；脊状突起；大气层的)高压脊 | |
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42
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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43
upheaval
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| n.胀起，(地壳)的隆起；剧变，动乱 | |
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44
tinted
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| adj. 带色彩的 动词tint的过去式和过去分词 | |
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45
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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46
exultantly
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| adv.狂欢地，欢欣鼓舞地 | |
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47
gouging
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| n.刨削[槽]v.凿( gouge的现在分词 )；乱要价；（在…中）抠出…；挖出… | |
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48
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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49
joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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50
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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51
gulls
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| n.鸥( gull的名词复数 )v.欺骗某人( gull的第三人称单数 ) | |
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52
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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53
bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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54
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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55
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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56
jacks
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| n.抓子游戏；千斤顶( jack的名词复数 )；（电）插孔；[电子学]插座；放弃 | |
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57
crumbs
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| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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hazy
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| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
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shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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specks
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| n.眼镜；斑点，微粒，污点( speck的名词复数 ) | |
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63
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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thickets
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| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
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fens
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| n.（尤指英格兰东部的）沼泽地带( fen的名词复数 ) | |
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turnips
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| 芜青( turnip的名词复数 )； 芜菁块根； 芜菁甘蓝块根； 怀表 | |
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snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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ripening
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| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的现在分词 )；熟化；熟成 | |
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banter
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| n.嘲弄，戏谑；v.取笑，逗弄，开玩笑 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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carnival
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| n.嘉年华会，狂欢，狂欢节，巡回表演 | |
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evergreen
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| n.常青树；adj.四季常青的 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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76
blizzards
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| 暴风雪( blizzard的名词复数 )； 暴风雪似的一阵，大量（或大批） | |
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awesomely
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| 赫然 | |
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dens
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| n.牙齿，齿状部分；兽窝( den的名词复数 )；窝点；休息室；书斋 | |
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ravens
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| n.低质煤；渡鸦( raven的名词复数 ) | |
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outlaw
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| n.歹徒，亡命之徒；vt.宣布…为不合法 | |
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snares
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| n.陷阱( snare的名词复数 )；圈套；诱人遭受失败（丢脸、损失等）的东西；诱惑物v.用罗网捕捉，诱陷，陷害( snare的第三人称单数 ) | |
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82
pelts
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| n. 皮毛，投掷, 疾行 vt. 剥去皮毛，（连续）投掷 vi. 猛击，大步走 | |
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83
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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chirp
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| v.(尤指鸟)唧唧喳喳的叫 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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thaw
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| v.（使）融化，（使）变得友善；n.融化，缓和 | |
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twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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creeks
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| n.小湾( creek的名词复数 )；小港；小河；小溪 | |
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torrents
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| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
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riotous
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| adj.骚乱的；狂欢的 | |
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foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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98
cataract
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| n.大瀑布，奔流，洪水，白内障 | |
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tonic
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| n./adj.滋补品，补药，强身的，健体的 | |
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100
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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101
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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102
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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