Canadian Crusoes: A Tale of the Rice Lake Plains. Catharine Parr Strickland Traill
Catharine’s feet; in the distance the eye of the young girl rested on a belt of shining waters, which girt in the shores like a silver zone; beyond, yet more remote to the northward, stretched the illimitable forest.
Never had Catharine looked upon a scene so still or so fair to the eye; a holy calm seemed to shed its influence over her young mind, and peaceful tears stole down her cheeks. Not a sound was there abroad, scarcely a leaf stirred; she could have stayed for hours there gazing on the calm beauty of nature, and communing with her own heart, when suddenly a stirring rustling sound caught her car; it came from a hollow channel on one side of the promontory, which was thickly overgrown with the shrubby dogwood, wild roses and bilberry bushes. Imagine the terror which seized the poor girl, on perceiving a grisly beast breaking through the covert of the bushes. With a scream and a bound, which the most deadly fear alone could have inspired, Catharine sprung from the supporting trunk of the oak, dashed, down the precipitous side of the ravine; now clinging to the bending sprays of the flexile dogwood—now to some fragile birch or poplar—now trusting to the yielding heads of the sweet-scented ceanothus, or filling her hands with sharp thorns from the roses that clothed the bank; flowers, grass, all were alike clutched at in her rapid and fearful descent. A loose fragment of granite on which she had unwittingly placed her foot rolled from under her; unable to regain her balance she fell forwards, and was precipitated through the bushes into the ravine below, conscious only of unspeakable terror and an agonising pain in one of her ancles, which rendered her quite powerless. The noise of the stones she had dislodged in her fall and her piteous cries, brought Louis and Hector to her side, and they bore her in their arms to the hut of boughs and laid her down upon her bed of leaves and grass and young pine boughs. When Catharine was able to speak, she related to Louis and Hector the cause of her fright. She was sure it must have been a wolf by his sharp teeth, long jaws, and grisly coat. The last glance she had had of him had filled her with terror, he was standing on a fallen tree with his eyes fixed upon her—she could tell them no more that happened, she never felt the ground she was on, so great was her fright.
Hector was half disposed to scold his sister for rambling over the hills alone, but Louis was full of tender compassion for la belle cousine, and would not suffer her to be chidden. Fortunately, no bones had been fractured, though the sinews of her ankle were severely sprained; but the pain was intense, and after a sleepless night, the boys found to their grief and dismay, that Catharine was unable to put her foot to the ground. This was an unlooked-for aggravation of their misfortunes; to pursue their wandering was for the present impossible; rest was their only remedy, excepting the application of such cooling medicaments as circumstances would supply them with. Cold water constantly applied to the swollen joint, was the first thing that was suggested; but, simple as was the lotion, it was not easy to obtain it in sufficient quantities. They were a full quarter of a mile from the lake shore, and the cold springs near it were yet further off; and then the only vessel they had was the tin-pot, which hardly contained a pint; at the same time the thirst of the fevered sufferer was intolerable, and had also to be provided for. Poor Catharine, what unexpected misery she now endured!
The valley and its neighbouring hills abounded in strawberries; they were now ripening in abundance; the ground was scarlet in places with this delicious fruit; they proved a blessed relief to the poor sufferer’s burning thirst. Hector and Louis were unwearied in supplying her with them.
Louis, ever fertile in expedients, crushed the cooling fruit and applied them to the sprained foot; rendering the application still more grateful by spreading them upon the large smooth leaves of the sapling oak; these he bound on with strips of the leathery bark of the moose-wood, [FN: “Dirca palustris,”—Moose-wood. American mezereon, leather-wood. From the Greek, dirka, a fountain or wet place, its usual place of growth.] which he had found growing in great abundance near the entrance of the ravine. Hector, in the meantime, was not idle. After having collected a good supply of ripe strawberries, he climbed the hills in search of birds’ eggs and small game. About noon he returned with the good news of having discovered a spring of fine water in an adjoining ravine, beneath a clump of bass-wood and black cherry-trees; he had also been so fortunate as to kill a woodchuck, having met with many of their burrows in the gravelly sides of the hills. The woodchuck seems to be a link between the rabbit and badger; its colour is that of a leveret; it climbs like the racoon and burrows like the rabbit; its eyes are large, full, and dark, the lip cleft, the soles of the feet naked, claws sharp, ears short; it feeds on grasses, grain, fruit, and berries. The flesh is white, oily, and, in the summer, rank, but is eaten in the fall by the Indians and woodsmen; the skin is not much valued. They are easily killed by dogs, though, being expert climbers, they often baffle their enemies, clinging to the bark beyond their reach; a stone or stick well-aimed soon kills them, but they often bite sharply.
The woodchuck proved a providential supply, and Hector cheered his companions with the assurance that they could not starve, as there were plenty of these creatures to be found. They had seen one or two about the Cold Springs, but they are less common in the deep forest lands than on the drier, more open plains.
“It is a great pity we have no larger vessel to bring our water from the spring in,” said Hector, looking at the tin-pot, “one is so apt to stumble among stones and tangled underwood. If we had only one of our old bark dishes we could get a good supply at once.”
“There is a fallen birch not far from this,” said Louis; “I have here my trusty knife; what is there to hinder us from manufacturing a vessel capable of holding water, a gallon if you like?”
“How can you sew it together, cousin?” asked Catharine; “you have neither deer sinews, nor war-tap.” [The Indian name for the flexible roots of the tamarack, or swamp larch, which they make use of in manufacturing the birch baskets and canoes.] “I have a substitute at hand, ma belle,” and Louis pointed to the strips of leatherwood that he had collected for binding the dressings on his cousin’s foot.
When an idea once struck Louis, he never rested till he worked it out in some way. In a few minutes he was busily employed, stripping sheets of the ever-useful birch-bark from the trunk that had fallen at the foot of the “Wolf’s Crag,” for so the children had named the memorable spot where poor Catharine’s accident had occurred.
The rough outside coatings of the bark, which are of silvery whiteness, but are ragged from exposure to the action of the weather in the larger and older trees, he peeled off, and then cutting the bark so that the sides lapped well over, and the corners were secured from cracks, he proceeded to pierce holes opposite to each other, and with some trouble managed to stitch them tightly together, by drawing strips of the moose or leather-wood through and through. The first attempt, of course, was but rude and ill-shaped, but it answered the purpose, and only leaked a little at the corners for want of a sort of flap, which he had forgotten to allow in cutting out the bark; this flap in the Indian baskets and dishes turns up, and keeps all tight and close. The defect he remedied in his subsequent attempts. In spite of its deficiencies, Louis’s water-jar was looked upon with great admiration, and highly commended by Catharine, who almost forgot her sufferings—while watching her cousin’s proceedings.
Louis was elated by his own successful ingenuity, and was for running off directly to the spring. “Catharine shall now have cold water to bathe her poor ancle with, and to quench her thirst,” he said, joyfully springing to his feet, ready for a start up the steep bank: but Hector quietly restrained his lively cousin, by suggesting the possibility of his not finding the “fountain in the wilderness,” as Louis termed the spring, or losing himself altogether.
“Let us both go together, then.” cried Louis. Catharine cast on her cousin an imploring glance.
“Do not leave me, dear Louis; Hector, do not let me be left alone.” Her sorrowful appeal stayed the steps of the volatile Louis.
“Go you, Hector, as you know the way: I will not leave you, Kate, since I was the cause of all you have suffered; I will abide by you in joy or in sorrow till I see you once more safe in your own dear mother’s arms.”
Comforted by this assurance, Catharine quickly dashed away the gathering tears from her checks, and chid her own foolish fears.
“But you know,