Dillon Wallace - Grit A-Plenty

“It looks fine t’ me out there! And think o’ th’ martens and foxes and lynx! It’s full o’ fur, Andy, waitin’ t’ be trapped, and if Pop lets me go, I can trap some of un, what ever!”

“There’s Indian Jake! See him? The lanky one!” exclaimed Andy, as the boat drew near the wharf and four men came out of one of the buildings and down the wharf to meet them.

“Sure ’tis he! And there’s Uncle Ben Rudder and Hiram Muggs, along with Zeke Hodge! They must be gettin’ their winter outfit. I’m wonderful glad Indian Jake’s here!” exclaimed David.

Zeke Hodge, the Company’s servant, with the assistance of the three, quickly unloaded the boat.

“Where’s your pop? Makin’ ready for th’ winter huntin’?” asked Zeke, as the boys came ashore after discharging the cargo and making the boat fast.

“He broke his leg this mornin’ whilst we were loadin’ th’ boat,” said David. “Doctor Joe was there and fixed un, but Pop won’t be out o’ bed for five or six weeks, what ever, and won’t be strong to go t’ th’ huntin’ th’ whole winter.”

“Good gracious! Good gracious! Dear eyes!” exclaimed Uncle Ben Rudder, a grizzled, stockily-built old trapper of sixty years or thereabouts. “Broke his leg! Tom Angus went, now, and broke his leg, did you say?”

“Aye, Uncle Ben, broke un clear off, but she’s fixed good and proper, and Doctor Joe says she’ll heal fine,” David explained.

Zeke, and Hiram Muggs and Indian Jake all declared it was “too bad, and a sore misfortune, just at th’ beginnin’ o’ th’ huntin’ season,” and Uncle Ben exclaimed:

“Tom Angus broke his leg! Dear eyes! But Doctor Joe’ll fix un! Good gracious, yes! He’ll fix un! He’s a wonderful man, now, is Doctor Joe!”

“Too bad he can’t hunt,” remarked Indian Jake. “His trail up on Seal Lake is one o’ th’ best in th’ country. Too bad t’ let it stand idle.”

“Hum-m-m!” grunted Uncle Ben.

“’Tis a fine trail,” agreed David, “and Pop makes fine hunts on it.”

“He might let some one hunt it on shares?” suggested Indian Jake.

“Tom Angus won’t need much help in decidin’ whether he wants his trail hunted on shares or no,” Uncle Ben broke in with some asperity. “Tom Angus is a great man t’ decide for himself what he’s wantin’, and what he’s not wantin’. Good gracious! Tom Angus can decide for himself!”

With this outburst Uncle Ben followed Zeke and Hiram into Zeke’s cabin, in response to Zeke’s suggestion that “supper was ’most ready and they might as well go in,” but Indian Jake tarried behind with David and Andy.

Indian Jake, the half-breed, was not a native of the Bay. He had appeared here first some five years before, coming from “somewhere south,” and after trapping in the vicinity for three seasons, disappeared. During this time, as David had explained to Andy, he had contracted a debt, and when he left he took with him furs which should rightfully have been used in discharging it. Now after two years he had returned, to remain permanently, as he stated, in the Bay.

He was a tall, muscular fellow, with the dark red skin, straight black hair and swinging stride of the Indian. A pair of keen, restless black eyes and a beaked nose, suggested the hawk. His features, however, were not those of an Indian, and plainly indicated a mixed ancestry.

“I’d like t’ hunt your father’s trail on shares,” suggested Indian Jake, when he was alone with David and Andy.

“Pop’s got two trails up at Seal Lake,” said David. “I knows his old trail, and I were thinkin’ t’ hunt she myself if Pop lets me, and I’m not doubtin’ he would if some one were along with me huntin’ th’ new trail. He’s got all th’ traps for th’ new trail. I were goin’ t’ ask you t’ speak to he about un, Jake.”

“I’d like t’ hunt with ye, Davy. I think we’d get along fine,” said Indian Jake, smiling down ingratiatingly at David, and Indian Jake had a bland and pleasant smile when he chose, in spite of his beaked nose and hawk’s eyes.

And so it came about that Indian Jake went to The Jug the next day with David and Andy. And because there was such urgent need of money, and also because David pleaded so hard, and Indian Jake was so good a trapper—for no one doubted his ability—it was decided that not only David, but Andy also, should go with Indian Jake to Seal Lake for the winter, as we shall presently see.

The boys were pleased beyond measure, for now each felt he was in truth to take a man’s place and do his part in earnest, and they were quite sure that the problem of getting the money to pay the expense of curing Jamie’s eyes was solved. And perhaps, too, they were pleased with the promise of adventure, for every red-blooded boy loves adventure; and to be buried in the depths of the great wilderness for many months, with no other companion than Indian Jake, was adventure in itself. And, indeed, there was to be plenty of it for both of them, and of hardships, too.

“Then you’ll be goin’ home with Andy and me tomorrow to ask Pop?” inquired David expectantly.

“Yes,” said Indian Jake, with undoubted satisfaction. “I’ll go back with you.”

David could scarce suppress his excitement, but neither he nor Andy nor Indian Jake himself thought best to refer to the arrangement when, a moment later, they followed the others into Zeke Hodge’s cabin. Tea was ready, and they drew up to the table with Zeke and Hiram and Uncle Ben.

In the center of the clean-scoured, uncovered table was a big, steaming dish of stewed porcupine and doughboys, and at either end a plate piled high with huge slices of bread, and when Zeke had asked the blessing, Mrs. Hodge and Kate, her fifteen-year-old daughter, poured tea and otherwise served the men while they ate.

“Porcupine! Dear eyes! Porcupine!” exclaimed Uncle Ben, helping himself generously. “Where’d ye get un, Zeke? They’re wonderful scarce these days. Wonderful scarce! I ain’t seen one since last spring.”

“Right back here in th’ green-woods,” said Zeke. “I heard th’ dogs yelpin’ this mornin’; and I goes t’ see what ’tis all about. There sat th’ porcupine hunched up, and th’ old dogs in a circle around he, doin’ th’ yelpin’, and two of th’ young dogs pawin’ at their noses and whinin’, with their mouths full o’ quills.”

“Huh-huh,” chuckled Uncle Ben. “Th’ old uns knew enough t’ keep away from danger. They’d been there theirselves, or seen them that had, and th’ young dogs had t’ get hurt t’ learn enough t’ leave dangerous things alone.”

“It took me an hour t’ pull th’ quills out o’ their noses and mouths with a pair of pincers,” said Zeke. “They’ll know enough t’ give porcupines room after this.”

“Some folks is like porcupines,” observed Uncle Ben, glancing at Indian Jake, who seemed quite unconscious of the thrust. “It’s best not t’ have any dealin’s with un.”

David and Andy were too full of their plans, and too hungry, and well occupied with the toothsome dish, to heed Uncle Ben’s suggestion. And though many times that evening, while the men sat smoking their pipes and talking about this and that, Uncle Ben made blunt and cutting remarks that were aimed at Indian Jake’s character and honesty, the half-breed kept his temper and silence, with a remarkable display of self-control. Once or twice, to be sure, a sneering smile stole upon his face. It might have been that he held the esteem of the others in fine contempt, or possibly he awaited a better opportunity for accounting and revenge.

But so far as David and Andy were concerned, they were thinking only of Indian Jake’s ability as a trapper, and were quite transported by the belief that they had already solved the problems of the future. With Indian Jake’s help they were well satisfied the money would be earned to pay for Jamie’s cure. It only remained to gain their father’s consent to David’s plan. They were optimists. They believed that what they wished to be, would be, if they did their best to make their wishes realized. Only experience can teach that the best laid plans sometimes fail.