The Best Ballantyne Westerns. R. M. Ballantyne
dogs, an’ when I com’d among them I didn’t see much to alter my opinion. Here an’ there I have found one or two honest Injins, an’ Redfeather is as true as steel; but the most o’ them are no better than they should be. I s’pose I don’t think much o’ them just because they are redskins.”
“Ah, Jacques, you will excuse me if I say that there is not much sense in that reason. An Indian cannot help being a red man any more than you can help being a white one, so that he ought not to be despised on that account. Besides, God made him what he is, and to despise the work of God, or to undervalue it, is to despise God himself. You may indeed despise, or rather abhor, the sins that red men are guilty of; but if you despise them on this ground, you must much more despise white men, for they are guilty of greater iniquities than Indians are. They have more knowledge, and are, therefore, more inexcusable when they sin; and any one who has travelled much must be aware that, in regard to general wickedness, white men are at least quite as bad as Indians. Depend upon it, Jacques, that there will be Indians found in heaven at the last day as well as white men. God is no respecter of persons.”
“I niver thought much on that subject afore, sir,” returned the hunter; “what you say seems reasonable enough. I’m sure an’ sartin, any way, that if there’s a redskin in heaven at all, Redfeather will be there, an’ I only hope that I may be there too to keep him company.”
“I hope so, my friend,” said the pastor earnestly; “I hope so too, with all my heart. And if you will accept of this little book, it will show you how to get there.”
The missionary drew a small, plainly-bound copy of the Bible from his pocket as he spoke, and presented it to Jacques, who received it with a smile, and thanked him, saying, at the same time, that he “was not much up to book-larnin’, but he would read it with pleasure.”
“Now, Jacques,” said the pastor, after a little further conversation on the subject of the Bible, in which he endeavoured to impress upon him the absolute necessity of being acquainted with the blessed truths which it contains—“now, Jacques, about my visit to the Indians. I intend, if the Almighty spares me, to embark in yon tin canoe that you found me engaged with, and, with six men to work it, proceed to the country of the Knisteneux Indians, visit their chief camp, and preach to them there as long as the weather will permit. When the season is pretty well advanced, and winter threatens to cut off my retreat, I shall re-embark in my canoe and return home. By this means I hope to be able to sow the good seed of Christian truth in the hearts of men who, as they will not come to this settlement, have no chance of being brought under the power of the gospel by any other means.”
Jacques gave one of his quiet smiles on hearing this. “Right, sir—right,” he said, with some energy; “I have always thought, although I niver made bold to say it before, that there was not enough o’ this sort o’ thing. It has always seemed to me a kind o’ madness (excuse my plainness o’ speech, sir) in you pastors, thinkin’ to make the redskins come an’ settle round you like so many squaws, and dig up an’ grub at the ground, when it’s quite clear that their natur’ and the natur’ o’ things about them meant them to be hunters. An’ surely since the Almighty made them hunters, He intended them to be hunters, an’ won’t refuse to make them Christians on that account. A redskin’s natur’ is a huntin’ natur’, an’ nothin’ on arth’ll ever make it anything else.”
“There is much truth in what you observe, friend,” rejoined the pastor; “but you are not altogether right. Their nature may be changed, although certainly nothing on earth will change it. Look at that frozen lake.” He pointed to the wide field of thick, snow-covered ice that stretched out for miles like a sheet of white marble before them. “Could anything on earth break up or sink or melt that?”
“Nothin’,” replied Jacques laconically—
“But the warm beams of yon glorious sun can do it,” continued the pastor, pointing upwards as he spoke, “and do it effectually, too; so that, although you can scarcely observe the process, it nevertheless turns the hard, thick, solid ice into limpid water at last. So is it in regard to man. Nothing on earth can change his heart or alter his nature; but our Saviour, who is called the Sun of Righteousness, can. When He shines into a man’s soul it melts. The old man becomes a little child, the wild savage a Christian. But I agree with you in thinking that we have not been sufficiently alive to the necessity of seeking to convert the Indians before trying to gather them round us. The one would follow as a natural consequence, I think, of the other, and it is owing to this conviction that I intend, as I have already said, to make a journey in spring to visit those who will not or cannot come to visit me. And now, what I want to ask is, whether you will agree to accompany me as steersman and guide on my expedition.”
The hunter slowly shook his head. “I’m afeard not, sir; I have already promised to take charge of a canoe for the Company. I would much rather go with you, but I must keep my word.”
“Certainly, Jacques, certainly; that settles the question. You cannot go with me—unless—” the pastor paused as if in thought for a moment—“unless you can persuade them to let you off.”
“Well, sir, I can try,” returned Jacques.
“Do; and I need not say how happy I shall be if you succeed. Good-day, friend, good-bye.” So saying, the missionary shook hands with the hunter and returned to his house, while Jacques wended his way to the village in search of Harry and Hamilton.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
Good news and romantic scenery—Bear-hunting and its results.
Jacques failed in his attempt to break off his engagement with the fur-traders. The gentleman in charge of Norway House, albeit a good-natured, estimable man, was one who could not easily brook disappointment, especially in matters that involved the interests of the Hudson’s Bay Company; so Jacques was obliged to hold to his compact, and the pastor had to search for another guide.
Spring came, and with it the awakening (if we may use the expression) of the country from the long, lethargic sleep of winter. The sun burst forth with irresistible power, and melted all before it. Ice and snow quickly dissolved, and set free the waters of swamp and river, lake and sea, to leap and sparkle in their new-found liberty. Birds renewed their visits to the regions of the north; frogs, at last unfrozen, opened their leathern jaws to croak and whistle in the marshes, and men began their preparations for a summer campaign.
At the commencement of the season an express arrived with letters from headquarters, which, among other matters of importance, directed that Messrs Somerville and Hamilton should be dispatched forthwith to the Saskatchewan district, where, on reaching Fort Pitt, they were to place themselves at the disposal of the gentleman in charge of the district. It need scarcely be added that the young men were overjoyed on receiving this almost unhoped-for intelligence, and that Harry expressed his satisfaction in his usual hilarious manner, asserting somewhat profanely, in the excess of his glee, that the governor-in-chief of Rupert’s Land was a “regular brick.” Hamilton agreed to all his friend’s remarks with a quiet smile, accompanied by a slight chuckle, and a somewhat desperate attempt at a caper, which attempt, bordering as it did on a region of buffoonery into which our quiet and gentlemanly friend had never dared hitherto to venture, proved an awkward and utter failure. He felt this, and blushed deeply.
It was further arranged and agreed upon that the young men should accompany Jacques Caradoc in his canoe. Having become sufficiently expert canoemen to handle their paddles well, they scouted the idea of taking men with them, and resolved to launch boldly forth at once as bona-fide voyageurs. To this arrangement Jacques, after one or two trials to test their skill, agreed; and very shortly after the arrival of the express, the trio set out on their voyage, amid the cheers and adieus of the entire population of Norway House, who were assembled on the end of the wooden wharf to witness their departure, and with whom they had managed, during their short residence at that place, to become