How Hartman won, a story of old Ontario

Contents

THE LUMBERMAN’S DILEMMA . ‘ THE EVENING AT THE TOBOGGAN SLIDE HOW THE SCHEME WAS FRUSTRATED

FOR LOVE'S SAKE : d é é ,

HOW DR. HARTMAN CAME TO SETTLE LINBROOK 6 Lee e . ° e

Chapter I. The Lumberman’s Dilemma

Att through the sixties, Linbrook was a bustling and thriving village, although it did not contain more than three or four hundred inhabitants. It was situated within the margin of a considerable belt of pine forest ; and the energy of its two or three business men, who combined the double interests of merchants and lumbermen, turned its natural advantages to the best account.

The village itself was picturesquely situated on the banks of the Powan river, which wound in a semicircular manner through the valley. On each side were hills, and except for the clearings, which here and there made a wide cut through the forest, they were still covered with tall pines.

As in many other parts of Upper Canada at that time, nearly all the settlers for many miles around devoted their winters to lumbering. These winters were usually long and steady; and when the mantle of snow dropped on mother earth in December, it often remained without a break, notwithstanding the

February thaw, until the snow-birds took their flight to make way for April blossoms.

Good sleighing was an all-important thing in those early days; and the settlers around Linbrook counted on its coming and staying, with even more confidence than they did upon the crop of fall wheat from amongst the stumps of their scattered clearings.

What was more, this sleighing was their life. True, the lumbermen gave but small prices for their saw-logs, and even that was in trade; but these little gains, by their gradual accumulation through the winter, enabled them to secure comforts as well as necessaries, which the clearings themselves could not produce. The people were satisfied; and, after all, is not satisfaction the half of living ?

The Powan river, slow and narrow in the summer-time, fed only by the springs and marshes of the upper flats, and presenting during the winter a uniformly frozen surface, had a widely different aspect when the annual flood came. ‘Then the little river became a mighty torrent, swollen wide and deep by the melting of the snows of winter; and it bore onward to the lake the innumerable piles of saw-logs which had accumulated upon its banks during the months of the sleighing season.

Our story opens in January, 186—. The morning is bright with a clear frosty air, and a temperature not much above zero. ‘lhe sun shines down on the dazzling snow with keen brilliancy, the white sheeting extending everywhere, over housetops and hill and valley, hiding even the ice on the river from view.

Strings of teams, both oxen and horses, are descend-

» ing from the uplands to the different rollways along

THE LUMBERMAN’S DILEMMA. 3 the river bank, each hurrying in its burden of saw-logs from the forest. Sometimes a huge single stick, three or four feet in thickness, makes the load; or a pair, or even a trio, bound together with chains, are piled on the bobs and drawn by the one team.

But there is much excitement as they whirl one after another down the long slopes to the river. The occasional slipping of a break; the difficulty in controlling either the cattle or the horses, borne on over the smoothly packed snow, by the heavy loads behind them; the shouting of the drivers; the peals of laughter and the bonhomie of the men themselves ; capped at intervals by the booming of the timbers, as they bound down over the skidway for a hundred feet or more, to be piled amid the ice on the river: all fill the air with music.

Young Robert Thornton was a busy man that morning. An expert and accurate measureman, he had for two years been tallyman for the Cartright Brothers, the big lumbermen of the village. This winter, however, his father had added lumbering to his general store business, and, as a consequence, Robert had withdrawn from the employment of the larger firm to become manager for themselves.

‘‘'That’s a splendid log, Hugh,” he exclaimed to a young man who had just driven to the rollway with a huge white pine butt.

** Yes,’ was the answer. ‘‘ We never had a better in our bush. There are four more in the same tree; and the top one will be more than a ‘standard. ”

‘“‘ Trees like that will pay both of us,” said Robert with a laugh, as he tallied it with a hammer bearing his father’s initials, ‘‘ T. T.,’’ for Theodore Thornton.

B 2

‘‘Tt measures four feet four inches at the small end.”’

The pair of bob-sleighs stood at a slight incline close to the skidway; and having loosened the binding pole and chains, the log was rolled off with a canthook. Gathering impetus from its weight, it rolled down the smooth skids, and bounding over the smaller logs, nearly buried itself in the ice toward the middle of the river dam. —

The children out for intermission from the neighbouring school-house ran down to the opposite bank to witness the scene, and greeted it with a chorus of wild whoops.

Hugh readjusted his gearing, and drove on to make way for another team.

‘Be sure to bring your sister to the toboggan slide to-night,” Robert shouted after him. ‘‘And remember the hour, eight o’clock sharp. It will be a erand night, with a full moon.”

‘‘T will, if it’s possible,” was the answer. “It all depends on Winifred. Her school exhibition | does not come off until Friday, so I expect we can come.”

The logs came in large numbers to all the skidways that day; but Robert Thornton got his share, even if his father was a new buyer, and, but for the rising moon, it would have been dark before he had measured his last log. He finally pocketed his log-roll, and, throwing his hammer over his shoulder, returned to the store.

‘This was one of the old-fashioned kind, so commonly found at that period in the villages of Canada. It was a long two-storied frame building, with gable to the

THE LUMBERMAN’S DILEMMA. - 5 street; and served the double purpose of store and post-office, as well as family residence on the upper flat.

Mr. Thornton was busy with his books when Robert entered. A younger son was piling goods, while a tall young man, who in no way resembled the Thorntons, was waiting upon customers. The merchant himself was past middle life and not very robust in appearance. He had a gentle but worried expression of face; and his nervous, irresolute mouth was too characteristic to remain unnoticed by any keen observer. In these points he differed from his son, who, although bearing some resemblance in features, was cast in a different mould. Robert was above medium height, with well-poised head planted firmly on square shoulders. His blue eyes were less restless than his father’s, while there was a firmness about the mouth which added strength to resolution, probably inherited from his mother. Robert was not a badlooking fellow. He had a pleasant word for everybody, and carried his two-and-twenty years with free, unconscious self-assurance.

Taking in the situation as Robert entered, a word or two might be said in reference to the clerk already mentioned. ‘Thomas Pettigrew, who had been in Mr. Thornton’s employ for years, was past thirty, tall and wiry, dark in feature, with long narrow head, and deep gray eyes, placed close together. He had a habit of alertness that seemed as perpetual as the smile that wreathed his face like a mask. Added to this was the fact that his persuasive manner had won him many friends among the customers; and, as one of the eligible young men of Linbrook, many a fair and rosy maiden trimmed her hat and smiled serenely, with an eye to a possible future.

‘*’You have had a busy day,’’ remarked ‘Thornton, as his son came up behind the counter to the desk.

“Yes,” was the cheery answer. ‘‘A lot of logs came in. Some of them splendid fellows—clear stuff, white pines. A couple brought in by Hugh Finlayson were A, 1, the finest we’ve had since we started.”

Pettigrew, who was at the opposite side of the counter, looked up at the mention of the name, fastened his eyes intently upon Robert for a moment, and then dropped them again.

‘‘'That’s good news,” commented Mr. Thornton ; and lowering his voice he continued—-‘‘ I wish everything else was as satisfactory.”

Robert’s face became grave. His look was an interrogation.

‘We will talk about it afterwards,”’ said his father. Robert turned to help his brother replace some goods, and it being the tea hour, the three went upstairs, leaving the clerk in charge.

The living-rooms of the Thorntons were neatly and pleasantly arranged. Mrs. Thornton, perhaps ten years the junior of her husband, was an active and thrifty housewife, and in features bore a striking resemblance to Robert. Beside her were the two daughters, only one of them entering her teens, and both busy with their studies. Greetings of pleasure welcomed the entrance of the male members of the family ; and Ethel and Alice, putting away their books, drew up the chairs to the table.

‘“‘'Tea is just ready,” said Mrs. Thornton with a bright smile. ‘‘I hope your head is better, Theodore?”

THE LUMBERMAN’S DILEMMA. 7

“Perhaps it is, Mary,” was the answer, his face lighting up as he smelled the roast chicken. ‘‘ How delicious !”’

‘*Yes, and the scones are as good as I can make them.”’

‘* They are always that.’’ Whatever his other defects might be, Theodore did not believe in letting a word of approval die on his lips unuttered.

In a few minutes they were all seated. A bright lamp encased in a handsome shade hung over the centre of the table, while spotless linen and pretty bits of china gave a beauty and charm not always seen in Canadian village life in those early days. Gradually the shadow, which seemed as the day closed to have fallen upon Mr. Thornton’s mind, was lifted away; and before tea was over, they were all merrily discussing the prospective meeting of the young people’s toboggan club.

** Yes, there will be a lot of us,’ said Robert. ‘‘I expect about fifty, boys and girls together.”

‘*'The slide is very steep,” interposed Mrs. Thornton, ‘‘and as James is one of the youngest members, you must look after him well.”

“Tl see to that, mother,” rejoined Robert. ‘‘ He has known the run for years, and the hours are only from eight to ten. Other boys will be there, too. It would never do to use James’s bobs, and not have him with us.”

While the mother and daughters were clearing the table, Mr. Thornton and Robert adjourned for a few minutes to the little parlour, James having gone to the store to release Pettigrew for his evening meal.

“You said you had something to tell me,” said Robert as he closed the door, ‘‘ What is it, father ?”’

‘Tt is our wretched financial position,’ he replied, his worried expression returning. ‘‘ You know that note of Grantham and Scott’s, of Hamilton, for five hundred dollars. It was renewed two months ago, and will be due again on Saturday. ‘That only leaves five days; and now they write that it must be met. Moreton, the drygoods man of Montreal, has two notes, both maturing inside of two weeks; and for the life of me I don’t see how I can meet them. ‘These are the most pressing, but not the only claims by a long way.” j

‘Why did you not tell me more fully about this before ?’’ Robert asked, his brow contracting, as the seriousness of the position became apparent. It had only been during the last few months that the father had taken his son into his confidence over financial matters at all. While engaged with the Cartrights, he had led his own life and, hearing no complaints, had supposed that everything was all right.

‘*T didn’t see the use of it,” was the answer, ‘‘ and I expected to weather through somehow, as I have often done before. Now, I suppose it’s too late.”

The light fell upon Mr. Thornton’s face, and Robert noticed its haggard expression.

‘* But I don’t think it is,” said Robert more cheerily, his heart going out in sympathy to the father, who had kept him at college in days when he really should have been his right-hand man. ‘ They all told you that they would wait until you could realise upon your logs in the spring.”

“So they did; but you see I had to buy more goods to keep the people supplied. This is something I did not count on when the bargain was made ;

THE LUMBERMAN’S DILEMMA. 9 and grain this year being a failure, I hadn’t the cash to pay for anything.”’

‘Oh, father, did you not explain all this to the wholesale men before we started lumbering ?”’

“‘T did in a general way; but I was never so astonished in my life as when I found how much we owed, and how little we had to show for it. I can’t understand it. ‘There’s something rotten somewhere, but where it is I don’t know.”

Robert did not like to blame his father, although he winced severely at the position they were in, and which he felt sure might have been avoided.

** What do you propose to do?”’ he asked.

‘Try and raise another thousand some way,’’ Mr. Thornton answered, burying his face in his hands and resting his elbows on the table.

“J don’t like that plan,” said Robert. ‘‘ It would only be postponing the evilday. The place is already fully mortgaged, and I don’t see what available security _ you have to offer.”

“Why not mortgage the saw-logs ?”’

‘That, too, would be bad policy; and under the circumstances might be difficult to effect.”

‘Then there’s no alternative. We shall be ruined and lose everything.”

‘* Perhaps not, father. Have you talked it over with mother ?’’

‘* She knows everything but of the two letters I got this afternoon.”

‘‘Suppose we all talk it over when I get back to-night,” suggested Robert. ‘‘I don’t feel a bit like going to the slide after what you have said; but I specially asked some people from the country, and, as captain of the club, I am needed to see that no accident occurs.”

His father nodded assent, and the two went downstairs.

Mr. Pettigrew soon returned from supper, and commenced preparing the mail for the morrow. Robert went to the desk to make his log entries for the day. One or two other customers and several loungers dropped in, whiling away the time in a desultory manner until the closing hour of eight o’clock.

Then Robert and James, well wrapped, for the night was sharp, left for the toboggan slide ; the last loiterer called out ‘‘ good-night,”’ as he closed the door; and Mr. Thornton and his clerk were alone. The latter, as usual, after raking the embers in the stove, shoved in a large log to keep the fire alive for the night; and putting on his overcoat, stopped in front of Mr. Thornton on his road to the door.

‘‘Are you going?’’ asked the latter, (ooking up from his writing.

‘* Yes,” was the answer. ‘‘ Kverything is all right I guess. But do you know, Mr. Thornton, I would like to get away for a couple of days. I had a letter from Hamilton to-night. My uncle is very ill and would like to see me at once.”’

“That’s unfortunate!’ exclaimed Mr. Thornton with a start. ‘‘I am sorry to hear it, but can’t you postpone the visit for a day or two. ‘To-morrow, Tuesday, is always a busy day with us.”

“¢T don’t think I can,’”’ was the answer. ‘‘ The call is urgent. Probably I could get Thompson in my place for a couple of days, if that would suit?”

Pettigrew knew very well that Thompson would

THE LUMBERMAN’S DILEMMA. ll not be accepted; but the offer was a plea in his favour.

‘*No, no,” said Mr. Thornton. ‘‘ If you must go, you must, and we will get on as best we can. There could not be a worse time, though. You will be sure to return by Wednesday night ?”

*‘ Quite sure, but it will take all my time.”’

** Good-night,”’ said Mr. Thornton.

‘* Good-night,”’ rejoined Pettigrew.

And as the clerk took his departure, Thornton soliloquised—“ Everything is all right, eh? Much he knows about it, or much he cares either !”’

Chapter II. The Evening At The Toboggan Slide

THis was the first regular meeting of the ‘‘ Pines Toboggan Club.” Robert Thornton had been elected captain, partly because he was the owner of a genuine toboggan, but chiefly because he was the originator of the club, and it was mainly through his instrumentality that it had been formed.

The “Pines” was the designation given to an elevated knoll, covered with standing timber, from which there was a steady decline to the river bank. It was situated in near proximity to the road, but clear of the saw-logs skidway, and had been a general resort for the boys for years back, as the scene of their winter pastime. One of the chief attractions was the fact that the slide struck the dam at a bend; and with the momentum given by the long descent, the sleigh, without varying its course, could spin over the frozen surface for a long distance.

With the buzz of merry voices and many a ringing laugh, the young people prepared for their first slide. Each sled was composed of a pair of short bobs, connected together by a plank, with long raves on either side for the feet of the riders to rest upon. Beyond this, there was a considerable variety in the display of taste, with regard to personal comfort as well as facility for steering. As they were getting in line ready to start, the last load of prospective riders arrived from

THE EVENING AT THE TOBOGGAN SLIDE, 13 the country ; among the number being Hugh Finlayson and his sister. |

“You are just in time,” called out the captain. ‘“‘ Miss Finlayson, there are seats on the toboggan for you and your brother, as well as Miss Roberts. James, make room for Campbell and Miss Mathers on your sled. ‘There are two yet wanting places.”

‘* Lots of room for the boys on our sled,” called out young Cleveland, who, besides having only boys, had the longest and broadest plank in the lot.

‘“ Remember the rule,’ cried Robert in stentorian tones. He was standing on the brow of the hill—his toboggan being the last to start. ‘‘ No one leaves until I give the word. That tree is thirty yards down the hill. When the first sled reaches it, I give the word again, and the next one follows in regular order. Remember, too, there is no danger if every steersman understands his business; and I believe every one here does.”

‘* Ay, ay, captain! We’re ready,” shouted one and all. A moment’s pause, and—

‘* One, two, three, and off,” came the order, and with a cheer away glided the sled, swift and straight like an arrow. In-another moment it shot past the tree.

‘* Off,” again cried the captain, and another. followed in quick pursuit, and the next was waiting for the signal. But the wait was only for the moment. Again and yet again was the signal given in regular sequence. It was evident that Robert knew what he was about. In his brief college life, he had himself been a leader where toboggans and not sleds were used. As the eighth and last, his own toboggan, drew up, he took his place.

“We're off, too,”’ he said to Miss Finlayson, who sat immediately behind him, and away they sped.

It was a beautiful sight. Above, the deep blue heavens, dotted with innumerable stars; the full moon shining down through the still air in all her brilliancy; the earth clothed with its pure white mantle, and the hill-sides of the river valley shaded with woodland; while the tin spire of the village church glistened in the moonlight, as it pointed upward toward the home of that Father who was the giver of all beauty and all truth.

Then there was the charm, intensely human in its nature. The little barks gliding noiselessly and swiftly one after the other with regular rhythm, and charged almost to their utmost with the joyous laughing revellers.

For more than a hundred feet the grade was regular and smooth; then it became undulating, descending abruptly for a short distance, then on the level and ascending a knoll; down again for another hundred feet, along the level once more, and down the bank and away along the river.

The snow had been cleared from the ice for a hundred yards or more, and the force of descent was so great that the sledges, one after another, drew up near the very terminus.

‘“‘ What glorious fun !”’

‘* How it takes one’s breath away!”

“Oh! How jolly!” were the screaming exclamations, as they rolled and jumped off the sleighs, each giving vent to feelings suppressed during the minute or two which had so excitingly passed since leaving the starting-point. A

‘“‘It’s awful dangerous!’ gasped one young girl, who, white as a sheet, declared that this was the first

THE EVENING AT THE TOBOGGAN SLIDE. 15 and last time she would “ever slide on one o’ them things.”

‘“* That’s all fudge,” exclaimed her elder sister. ‘Tt ain’t a bit dangerous. You’ve got to ride again, or else sit by your lonesome till it’s all over.”

And, finally, of the two evils she chose the former.

‘* How do you enjoy it, Miss Finlayson ?”’ Robert asked, as he handed her off.

**Tt’s splendid fun,” was her laughing answer; ‘‘ but it’s a new experience. You can hardly breathe at first, the descent is so fast. Then you feel so exhilarated that you almost wish the ride would never end.”

‘“* And suddenly mundane experience brings you to a full stop,” exclaimed the platonic Miss Roberts. ‘‘ One minute to fly down the hill, and five to climb up.”

‘‘ Never mind, girls,” cried out Miss Mathers. ‘We've got the best of it. Let us lead the way, while the boys pull up the sleds.”

Miss Mathers was the lady teacher in the village school, and in some sense Miss Finlayson’s rival.

“Well, let’s have a race for the top,” cried Cleveland of the long bob. ‘‘ The boys against the girls.”’

** All right, away we go,” called out the captain, and there was a general stampede. Along the flat over the ice it was pretty equal running. The weight of the sleighs was as nothing to drag over the frozen surface of the river, while the garments of the girls somewhat impeded their progress. Still they fled like deer, and amid screams of laughter commenced to climb the hill. Here they had the advantage. Most of their well-shod feet were protected by rubber soles which refused to slip on the ice, while the men had the usual tendency to slip half as much backward as they went forward, and the heavy uphill tug upon the sleds did its full share in slowing their speed.

By the time the girls had mounted the first level, it became evident that they would be the victors; and Thornton, wisely calling a halt, announced that the boys would give in.

‘“‘'That’s what they always do,” was the ringing answer from above.

When they reached the top, a new arrival awaited them. There stood Mr. Pettigrew.

‘“You came after all, Thomas. Glad to see oe exclaimed Robert. ‘‘I think there is room on the long sleigh. If not you might squeeze in with us.”

‘There is room on our sled for Mr. Pettigrew,” cried Miss Mathers.

‘‘ Lots of room here,’ shouted Cleveland.

“Thanks, awfully. I must accept Miss Mathers’ offer. In my heart I could never refuse a lady,’”’ was © the smiling answer. |

A general laugh and one or two wild hoots followed ; and in another minute they were ready to start again.

So the time passed, and as ten o’clock approached they had gathered together on the summit ready for the signal for the last run.

On each trip the Cleveland bobs had drawn nearer and nearer to the margin of a ravine lying to the left, and perhaps half-way down the slope. In the last trip it seemed on the verge of going over; and one or two of the riders now refused to try it again, without the owner would promise to keep clear of the danger.

“You run too much risk, Cleveland,” said Thornton. ‘‘ That’s a dangerous gully. You don’t want to smash your heads on the logs at the bottom.”

THE EVENING AT THE TOBOGGAN SLIDE. Lif

‘«'There’s no danger at all,” replied Cleveland, with a toss of his head. ‘‘I guess I know how to steer. I’ve gone over that there slide hunderds o’ times, and I never touched the gully yet.”

‘ Still, you’ve no right to risk other people’s lives.”

“Well, cap’n, I’ve carried seven fellows on my sled nearly every time. If any one of ’em is chicken-hearted and skeered, he can stay behind, that’s all.”

None of them, however, chose to show the white feather ; and as Cleveland promised not to run too close to the ravine, they all returned to his sleigh. His was the last but one to start, immediately preceding Thornton’s toboggan. He appeared to be steering all right, although still rather close to the dreaded gulch, when, just as the toboggan was leaving, the air was rent with a wild shout and they witnessed the half-expected catastrophe. ‘he sled had gone over the embankment; and as Thornton’s party shot past, they saw it turn over in its descent, throwing all upon it headlong into the snow and débris below.

** Don’t move,” said Robert quickly to those on the toboggan, fearing lest any rash act might result from the sudden excitement; and then to Hugh, who was steering—‘‘ but go right on to the flats. Tl drop off and see what has happened.”

At the first knoll he rolled over into the snow, and - then scrambled up the hill to the scene of the accident. There the full moon playing directly downwards revealed more of the ludicrous than the alarming. The chasm seemed to be a sort of wash-out watercourse to the river, striking the side of the slideway almost ata right angle. It was filled with logs and saplings and brushwood; but owing to the bald nature

H.H.W. c of the hill above, and the belt of trees on the side, the drifting snow had filled the upper part of the chasm to the depth of many feet, and so saved the sliders from any very serious injury. Into it the young men had pitched pell-mell, two or three receiving pretty sharp bruises on the legs. One had been stunned for a moment and the skin peeled from his scalp as his head grazed a sapling. Others were almost buried in the snow; while Cleveland, in making a wild leap for safety, had his feet caught, throwing him headlong, and was sprawling heels upwards, his head and body lodged between two logs. Both legs were squirming in view, and his comrades were making an effort to release him, when Robert appeared.

‘Cleveland is stuck, and we can’t get him out,” someone shouted.

‘‘He’s alive, though; see him kick,” scold another, who had been one of the objectors, and did not feel pleasantly disposed toward the supposed offender, even if he was hurt.

The depth of the snow made it difficult to get through it; but in a few moments Robert was able to realise the situation.

““Get me out,’ cried Cleveland. ‘‘Oh! Mind my arm !”’

“Come, boys, we must lift the log. Tait, you hold him still while we raise it.”

‘* But we can’t, it’s frozen,”’ Piectade someone.

“We must try. Now, all together!” But it wouldn't budge.

“Oh! there’sarail. Shove itunder. Now lift again.”

This time they were successful, and Cleveland was limp enough when they got him out.

THE EVENING AT THE TOBOGGAN SLIDE. 19

It was evident that he was seriously hurt, and the faces of all became more grave.

‘* My left arm’s the worst,” he groaned. ‘‘I believe it’s broken.”

They soon had him on his feet, however, and finding that he could walk, helped him up the hill, his arm hanging by his side, as he could not bear to have it touched.

“* Won’t someone go for the doctor ?”’ he asked, as they seated him upon one of the sleds, which by this time had been dragged to the top, the whole party having gathered round him. A dozen offered to go.

“It would be no use,” said Robert. ‘‘ Dr. Hartman intended to come to the slide to-night ; but was called out on the 14th Concession.* He told me he couldn’t possibly be here before half-past ten.”

‘* What time is it now?”

‘** Just ten minutes after.”

‘* He will probably pass here,’”’ said Miss Finlayson. ‘‘T heard he was to visit old Mrs. Sanderson near our place to-night. She is very low.”

Robert looked at her for a moment.