CHILDREN'S COLUMN.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 11552, 16 January 1901, Page 3

CHILDREN'S COLUMN.

WHAT MADE A MAN OF HIM. [by W. d. iittlbert.]

It. was, on a warm, pleasant July evening that old Mr. Howard, sitting on the verandah of his son's summer cottage at Mackinac, let his grandchildren coax him into telling about his youthful start in the same place. This is his story: —

It seems a great deal farther away to you than to me—the time when John Jacob Astor was boss of everything here and I was 16 years old. I suppose I was the youngest clerk in a Fur Company, and I'm quite sure I was the lonesomest, after I'd been here three months. A letter from my mother had come up by bateau and canoe from Montreal, telling me that my sister Stella was at death's door, and the letter was five weeks old when I got it. •

As soon as I'd read it I went to Mr. Crooks—Crooks and Stewart were the Mackinac agents of the Fur Companyand showed it to him, and begged to be allowed to go home. I was from New York State, and had persuaded my father to get me into the service, for my head was full of romantic notions of adventure. »

" No, you can't go," Mr. Crooks told me firmly, although he seemed sorry for me. " You are like a soldier. You've enlisted for five years, and you must serve your time. We couldn't get anybody this side of Montreal to take your place. Besides, what's the use of going, my boy? The letter is five weeks old, and your sister is either quite well now—or in heaven."

That refusal seemed to me like rank tyranny. I was sick of the service, anyway. My notion that fur-trading meant fishing and shooting and having a good time in the open air had been all wrong. From five in the morning till seven in the evening, except for an hour at noon, I sorted and packed and carried furs—and I can remember those backaches to this hour. At night I couldn't sleep. The company's boardinghouse was hot and crowded and rank and noisy, and in summer the whole village rang with the yells of Indians and the shouts and songs of the voyageurs. After I left Mr. "Crooks, I began thinking of all the hardships before me. I was only at the beginning of my trouble. Not to see any of my people for five years ! And I must soon be sent away back into the wilderness, where I could get no letters at all, or only once a year or so. Then the devil came along and tempted me.Among the v.oyageurs that I had become acquainted with on the long voyage from Montreal was Francois Robidaux, a French boatman from Quebec. He was still a " pork-eater"as we used to call new men that had not got used to the company's rations. On the voyage up Francois had been jolly and good-natured, but after three months he was still grumbling at the Mackinac fare. 1 I can remember the very tones of his voice after more than 60 years. Francois would say: — "Me, I wish I was back in Montreal for sure—den I could get good grub. Hall de way up day's give out salt pork and good pea-soup and hard bread, but now dey's got us here, baptime, Ave don't get noting, honly hulled corn and a small little bit of tallow, and some flour for pancakes on Sunday. And Baptiste Beaubien, he's say I'll be glad for get dat before de brigade come back to. Mackinac next summer. He's say hall last winter he's get noting for a month honly fish wisout, no salt. Me, I hain' goin, for eat no such trash seh!" And so Francois had proposed to me that we should take a bateau some dark, moonless night and set out for Buffalo. He said we could follow the shores of Lake Huron and Lake Erie, hoist a sail when the wind Was fair, and camp on the beach when it was too stormy to travel, and with good luck we might make the voyage in two or three weeks.

I had refused his proposal, and I had even mildly rebuked him for making it; but it lingered in my. mind, and that evening, when my heart was sore with the thought of my sister's illness, it tempted me hard. In fact, I. went to Francois and told him that if he still wanted to go I'd have a talk with him the next day about it; and then I went ba.ck to the boarding-house. I hadn't been there ten minutes when one of the other clerks came in and said. " Howard, Mr. Crooks wants to see you in the private office."-

My heart gave a great bound. I thought Mr. Crooks had relented and would let me go home after all. But it was for a very different purpose that he wanted me. A party of 25 men was at work on Bois Blanc Island, cutting wood for the use of the agency ; at Mackinac through the winter. The clerk who had charge of the work had been taken sick, and two of the men had brought him across to Mackinac in a canoe. Someone must take his place, for the woodcutting could not be finished for several days, and Mr.' Crooks had selected me. It was the making of me, and that was just what he meant it to be. He saw that if there was any good stuff in me I should be steadied and attached to the company's interests by being put into a place of responsibility . and command. Many a time I've saved a young fellow since then by putting responsibility on his shoulders. Well, the sun had not risen out of Lake Huron the next morning when I and the two voyageurs who had brought the sick man home got into the canoe and started for Bois Blanc. I sat in the. middle on my bag of clothing and the others took their places forward and aft. Alec Prevanche, who was in the stern, was a tall, broad-shouldered Frenchman, strong as a horse, and one of the , best canoemen on the upper lakes. He was a handsome fellow, with curly hair, a heavy black beard, and dark, flashing, eyes. As long as he was sober he was one of the jolliest men on the island, but when he was drunk he was a crazy man. Alec wore a black feather in his cap to signify that he was the bully of a brigade of voyageurs. They used to say that he had been in more fights than any other man at Mackinac, and had never been whipped. It was also said that he had killed a man in a drunken brawl at Quebec, and that he dared not go. back there for fear of arrest and punishment. Joe Rolette, who sat in the bow, was a wiry, leathery little man, between fifty and sixty 'years of age. His hair and beard were fast turning grey, but he was stronger and more active than most of the younger men among the voyageurs. Both were alert paddlers, and when they put their strength into the stroke the canoe leaped forward as if she were alive and something had stung her. In about an hour we reached Bois Blanc, and I stepped ashore and inspected my forces. There was little for me to do except to see that the choppers did not shirk, and I thought I should have an easy time of it; but after dinner, as the men sat on the beach and.smoked their pipes, it struck me that there was more loud talking and joking than I had expccted to hear.

The French-Canadian voyageurs and boatmen of those days were always ready for a laugh and a song, and no other class of men would have put lip with their hardships and privations so cheerfully; but it seemed to me the twenty-five were noisy and boisterous rather than cheerful and jolly.

When the noon hour was over I gave the word, and they went back to their woodcutting, but some of them moved sulkily, and I fancied they did not work as industriously as in the morning. _ I suspected they had made up their minds that I was only a boy and that they could do as they pleased, and this suspicion frightened me. There I was, alone with twenty-five men, some of them three or four times as old as myself, and if I lost control of them I should be disgraced. Somehow the idea of deserting had entirely gone out of my mind, you see. Although I was scared, you mustn't think I showed the white feather. No; all the afternoon I went about among the men, speaking a quiet word now and then, but never attempting any bullying. But things plainly grew worse rather than better.

I could hot imagine what was the' matter with the men, until late in the day I happened to pass near Joe Rolette and noticed a strong odour of whisky. In an instant I understood. - Joe and Alec must have brought some liquor from Mackinac. Before morning, the whole crew would be drunk! '

Then I remembered noticing that Alec's jacket had been carefully spread over some large object in the bottom of the canoe. I had paid little attention to it at the time, supposing that it was merely a bundle of clothes, but now I knew it had been a jug. Now that I had some definite, knowledge, my wits seemed to clear. I passed on without stopping, and in,a little .while came back again, this time from a different direction. Joe and another man had dropped their axes and were talking together in low tones. I slipped quietly behind a tree and listened for a moment.

"How much did you bring from Mackinac, Joe?" asked the other chopper, speaking in French, which was then almost as familiar to me as English.

"A big jugful," said Joe, "and it's the genuine stuff. All right— of your tobacco and water, such as they sell to the Indians. Alec's got a little in a bottle in his pocket, and he's given most of the boys a taste, but he's saving the jug for to-night." "Hasn't he drunk any himself?" " Not a drop; but just you wait. He'll have a high old time before morning, and that Howard boy will catch it if he tries to interfere." >

I had heard enough, so I stole away without being seen. ■

Then I made a circuit through the woods, and approached the two men again, taking pains to attract their attention. Seeing me coming, they took up their axes and went to work.

Something I was bound to do, but I couldn't see my way clear. To go to Alec and demand the liquor would be useless, and with Alec's refusal to obey -there would be an end of ' all discipline. I fancied that one or two of the older men looked at me with pity, and I wondered if there would be any use in calling on them to support me. But if part of them did stand by me it would probably bring on a fight, and possibly the death of several men. I decided to depend on myself alone. If the worst-came to the worst, I could jump into a canoe and go to Mackinac for help; but that would be to confess I could not control my men. Alec was farthest from the shore of all the men, and was felling a big maple. I heard his axestrokes following one another quick and sharp. But suddenly they ceased. The tree could not have fallen, for there had been no crash. Keeping myself pretty well concealed, I went toward the spot where I had last seen the big Frenchman. There I found the tree cut half-way through, the axe sticking in the wood, and Alec gone. I considered a moment. Alec had a bottle. He had probably gone to fill that bottle. If I could find him, I might find out where the jug was, and might be able to destroy it. First I went to my tent for my rifle; then I circled round till I was again near the big maple, but farther back in the woods. I am not ashamed to own that I was shaking from head to foot for fear of Alec; but, stepping as lightly as I knew how, I .kept on. I had not gone far when I caught sight of Alec's tall figure bending down. I crept a little nearer, and saw him take the jug from under the root of a large black birch and begin filling a big flat flask from it. Suddenly a twig broke tinder my foot, and Alec looked up and saw me. His face got red instantly, and he broke out into a volley of oaths, mingled with the foulest names in a voyageur's vocabulary. It was just what I needed; it made me angry, too. Quick as thought the rifle came to my shoulder.

" Drop that jug," I shouted. "Not much, I won't!" he cried, and I fired.