A Gantlet of Fire.

Cromwell Argus, Volume I, Issue 22, 13 April 1870, Page 3

A Gantlet of Fire.

It is now several years since I was in the service of the Hudson’s Bay Compa'ny, and living at their trading-station of Hemlock Bend, on the banks of the Great Snake River. A wild, desolate spot it was, surrounded by dreary pine forests, and yet more dreary swamps; and with its double cordon of tall stockade, and a k swivel gun crowning its central ware- ® s sse, more resembling a military post Ifcdn a commercial depot. I Most lonely was our life in that distant factory, with the fierce blasts from the great bay sweeping down upon us in almost polar cold and furious snow-storms during more than half the year ; while our brief summer was cheered by no more pleasant visitants than the rugged voyagers of the boats which brought our merchandise, and (he grave Indian hunters who came to barter their winter’s take oi furs for our powder, cloth, and brazen ornaments. My range of society was, however, somewhat greater, for, as assistant-factor, it was my duty, during the summer months, to visit our different out-stations; and not only singular were the characters with whom I thus made acquaintance, but wild and sometimes perilous the adventures I encountered.

On one occasion I remember being bound to Sandy’s Bluff, beyond Loon Lake, one of the most distant charges. In those thickly wooded regions, the rivers and creeks form the only highway; and with the usual farewell cheer given and returned, my Indian crew and I, in our large nor’west canoe, started on our expedition. A pleasant mid-summer voyage it promised, leading along gentle rivers, bordered by young green foliage ; across bright breezy lakes, and through the windings of narrow creeks, fringed with countless blossoms. When night came we drew our light boat to land, and, wrapped in our blankets, slept soundly beneath its shelter, until daylight called us to resume our journey. Two and a half days had been thus occupied, and the afternoon of the third saw us entering the right fork, Kaskongshadi, or broken water, a stream noted in that wild country for its rugged gorges of arrowy rapid. But the ready philosophy of the Indians was equal to every exigence as it appeared. The light, graceful action with which they wielded the paddles sent our canoe skimming along the stream, gradually changing, as the adverse current quickened, into a fierce, rapid movement, capable of making head against the wild, leaping, foaming torrent which surged down on us. At length but one more rapid rolled between us and Loon Lake, and a murmur of pleasure broke from the Indians’ lips as they saw the broad sunlit space beyond. But the race was the worst upon our route —a very hill of surging waves, crowned by a powerful sweep, as the waters of the lake rushed over in the twin-forks of the Kaskongshadi ; while, to add to the difficulties of the ascent, the water was too deep for wading, the banks on either side too abrupt for even Indian feet to scale.

The men, however, had many times before ascended this rapid, and they doubted not of doing so again; and, dashing their paddles into the foaming flood, with every nerve strained to the utmost, strongly, eagerly, impetuously, they plied their Wades, almost burying their slight vessel in the white sea of breakers, which seethed in a wild, shrieking tumult round us, and almost blinded us with the clouds of spray which dashed full in our faces.

Ten anxious, arduous minutes, and the topmost wave alone remained before us, and every hand took a firmer hold, every paddle a longer sweep, for that last mighty effort. At last the steep ascent was gained, and as the shallop) swayed upon its crest, the well-known whoop of victo.iy resounded through the wilds. But a cry of blank dismay quickly followed, as the steersman's paddle, strained by the pressure, snappied off above the blade; while the uaguided canoe, yielding to the rushing current, broached-to on to the watery brink. Ere any one could control her, she swayed completely round, and passing the intervening pomt of land, shot like an arrow into the left fork of the Kaskongshadi, and begun to leap down the surging breakers and steep) cascades of the companion rapid to that which we had just s™ laboriously ascended. Suddenly a new and fearful horror came over us as we swept into the wild descent: scarce a rood below us there flashed upon our eyes a great glare of fire, while a sharp, orackling noise broke upmn the silence. At once we comprehended the fearful truth. One of those terrific conflagrations which, lit by a spark from a hunter’s rifle, an unextinguished Indian fire, or some other trivial cause, occasionally devastate the sun-dried American wilds, was raging in our front. It. was an appalling discovery ; and instantly every poaddle was at work to try and win our way hack from those deadly precinots. |)ut our boat had received an impetus with whose force no power of ours: could cope ; and, despite our utmost efforts, ahe still plunged madly on. Tearful was the scene to which she brought us. Eire on either side, as the fierce element wrapped the lofty forest in sheeljs) of flame ; fire above, as the 'branches joined together in a ourihng arch j .nay, it, scorned, even fire

below, as the boiling wavoa which raged around us caught the red reflection, and flashed it back in a thousand broken rays. Though momentarily overpowered, wo were not discouraged. Again wo strove to stem both flood and impetus; but all in vain : faster and faster surged the waves over the bristling rocks, until it became

evident that all the lust and steepest rapids of the neighbouring fork were on this unknown stream united into one long and insurmountable river race.

Meanwhile, on we sped, amid air which grow each moment hotter as we passed deeper into the burning-region, while the flames around us raged with a wilder fury, and the voice of the destroyer eook a more threatening tone. Yet it was a magnificent sight, that dark primeval forest ablaze with one great rolling mass of fire, its mighty trees glowing redly amid the fiery radiance, as the flaming streamers wrapped them round, its jets of fire leaping high into the air, now darkened by night; while the rush and roar of those tumultuous flames grew well-nigh deafening; and louder still the thunderous reverberations with which, at intervals, some forest giant crashed down to the ground, sending up into the sky great clouds of sparks. Strange and gorgeous were the various hues iu which the different trees yielded up their summer foliage; and yet stranger, when this brief glory had passed, was the aspect of their tall, gaunt forms, changed to flaming pinnacles, or masses of glowing embers. Every now and then, piercing shrieks, which made ua shiver, rose above the tumult 6f the flames, telling of wild animals overtaken in their flight, while scorched and terrified birds fell thickly around us, to die by an easier death. Each moment, too, our own fate appeared more imminent, as the hot furnace-like air made us faint and pant for breath, and our strength wither like grass beneath its blighting influence; while, as we passed, the overhanging trees swept their long, flaming boughs across our faces, or strewed the stream and us with burning brands; and, worse than all, far as the keen-eyed red man could penetrate the ruddy haze, stretched the fiery gantlet we were compelled to run. Never shall I foi’get what we endured, as, with wetted blankets casing both the lofty ends of our canoe, with similar coverings wrapped around ourselves—our slight but only shield—we swept along that fearful avenue, our breath more and more laboured, our dazzled and fire-scorched eyes more dim. Hopeless, helpless, and suffering, we sped on to certain death, which each prepared to meet as best he might—• some with the proud stoicism of their race, others with the Cross-sign taught them by the earliest missionaries ; while a pang of inexpressible anguish tor the dear ones left desolate in that wild land divided my last thoughts. It was an interval of unutterable misery, passed amid a wild, roaring, leaping rush of flames, and a scarce less wildly leaping rush of waters.

At length the measure of their endurance was complete, and one by one the stricken Indians sank beneath their fierytrial : some, it seemed, happily unconscious of their dreadful doom ; others moaning in their suffocating agony. As my own stronger organisation slowiy yielded to the deadly breath of the over-heated air, and a faint, bewildering. exhaustion crept over raej paralysing every faculty, I closed my bleared and aching eyes, as I believed, for ever, with a murmured prayer that our fiery passage might be short as terrible. But when hope had gone, and life had almost passed, an overruling Providence guided us to safety. Within an hour, that narrow gorge widened- into a lake-like reach, among whose placid waters our canoe at length found rest, while the cooling air fanning our brows recalled our all but departed spirits. Thence in safety, and deeply thankful for our urthoped-for escape, for two days we watched the progress of the forest conflagration ; and on the third, when it had passed away, we bore our little bark across the devastated country, and remounting successfully the right fork of the Kaskongshadi, at length reached our destination.

But neither time, nor the chance 3 and changes of life in the wilds, can banish the haunting memory of that most fearful night, when my Indians and ran that gauntlet of fire.

A steamboat captain on one of tho American lakes was recently feeling his way along in tho dark, when the look-out ahead cried “ Schooner without a light.” It was a narrow escape ; and as tho steamer passed the schooner, the captain demanded, “ What are you doing with your schooner here in the dark without a light ?” To his dismay, the skipper, who was a Frenchman, answered, “ Vat ze dibble you do here viz your ele steamboat in three feet of water, eh ?” and just then the steamer landed high and dry on a sand-bank.

A greenhorn from the country went to a menagerie to examine tho beasts, birds, and creeping things there congregated, among which an ourang-outang particularly struck his attention. Several gentlemen wore conversing about the animal, one of whom expressed the opinion that it belonged to a lower order of the human species. Yokel did not like this idea, and, striding up to the gentleman, expressed his contempt for it thus, “ Pooh ! pooh, I he’s no more human species than I be !”