Two boys in Beaver-land; a book of the woods

Front matter

WO BOYS

IN

BEAVER-LAND

Chapter I

After recovering from severe illness Jack Sylvester and Charlie Mason are ordered to the woods of Canada.

lV/TRS. SYLVESTER was standing against the -*■***■ fireplace in the large living room, staring with unseeing, tear-filled eyes at the crackling logs. Her pale face showed signs of suffering and anxiety; the slight rustling of a wind-blown curtain startled her violently, while her glance at the stairs which led into the room showed that she was anxiously expecting someone to appear. Fear showed in her face as though she dreaded to see the person for whose coming she looked.

Only the crackling of the burning logs, and the gentle, rhythmic ticking of the clock on the mantel disturbed the quiet of the house. Again and again Mrs. Sylvester glanced at the clock whose hands moved so slowly. Minute after minute passed and still nothing happened. For nearly half an hour the silent woman stood motionless, when the slight noise of a door being opened and closed caused her to turn her head quickly toward the sound.

Then came the light tread of someone at the head of the stairs, and the woman was seized with the dizziness of fear. She scarcely dared to keep her face turned in the direction of the footsteps. A man was coming down the stairs, and the look on that man’s face would mean life or death! The woman’s eyes were blinded by the tears that would not be denied. She clutched nervously at the white mantel-piece to prevent herself from falling. The man caught sight of her and quickened his step. Would he never speak? Would he never open his lips to say the words she longed to hear? An eternity passed before he reached her side.

“My dear Mrs. Sylvester” — why, oh why, did he waste time with those unnecessary words! Why didn’t he say the words she wanted !

But she heard no more; the strain of the past days — or were they years? had sapped her strength, and she dropped to the floor before the doctor could catch her. A few moments later consciousness returned, and she found herself lying on the sofa with her husband kneeling at her side, while the doctor, deeply moved, stood staring at the fire.

“Jack is out of danger, dear,” she heard her husband say, “and Charlie is doing splendidly.”

Was it all a dream? Was the boy really ,safe? It was no dream, and the news was the glorious truth, thank God! Her boy was not going to be taken from her! What more could she wish?

Doctor Saunders, feeling that his presence was no longer needed, said good-bye and repeated that everything was going as well as possible, and that nothing remained to be done but the best of nursing.

“We shall have the two boys out and about in a few weeks, and you will both forget these terrible days of anxiety. I shall look in early this afternoon; till then good-bye. Call me up if there is the slightest reason, but really you have nothing to fear. I have given the most careful instructions to the nurses.”

What had happened in that usually cheerful house in the Boston suburb? The Sylvesters’ son, Jack, and their adopted son, Charlie, had both been struck down by that scourge, the “flu”; with Charlie it had developed into a fairly slight attack of pneumonia. This had caused considerable anxiety, but, thanks to his splendid constitution, he had passed the crisis without much difficulty. Jack, however, had developed double pneumonia, and for two days the doctor and nurses had fought the dread disease with all the skill of modern science. The battle had been against fearful odds, but science and love had won. The dreaded crisis had passed that morning, and now, as the doctor had said, careful nursing aided by the boy’s natural strength was all that was needed.

Mrs. Sylvester went up with her husband to see their boy and found him sleeping peacefully. How pale he looked, how different from the rugged, brown boy who the previous year had come back from Newfoundland after having been lost for a year ! And yet was it not most probably due to the strength he had gained during that year out in the wilds that he had been able to win this struggle against death? Silently she kissed the cool forehead. She turned to the nurse, but could not speak. Her hands grasped the nurse’s hand, she bent down and kissed it with gratitude. Leaving the room the husband and wife went in to tell their daughter Evelyn, who was sitting by Charlie’s bed side; she was his self-appointed nurse and was jealous of any one who tried to help her. Charlie was dozing when the Sylvesters entered the room, and Evelyn, who had not realized how near death her brother had been, put up a warning finger to her lips; but Charlie had awakened and turned his head toward the two who were standing silently at the door. Their faces showed that something had been happening and he inquired in consternation what it was that they had come to tell him. Mrs. Sylvester could only lean over his bed and kiss him while the blessed tears of gratefulness fell on his pale face.

Her husband came to the rescue and told in a few words what had happened and how happy they should all feel.

“Poor old Jack!” was Charlie’s only comment, while Evelyn made a bolt from the room in her attempt to hide her deep emotion.

And after that the days passed quickly, the glories of early spring gave way to the riper glories of approaching summer. The two boys were allowed out of doors to enjoy the health-giving sunshine. Their illness had been very severe and their recovery would not be hurried. Very slowly their strength returned but Jack’s condition caused a certain amount of anxiety. Finally, one day when they were at the sea shore for change of air. Doctor Saunders came to make a careful examination, with the result that he strongly recommended that Jack should be sent away to live out of doors for some months. A long camping trip would be the best thing in the world, he said. The advice caused considerable commotion in the family, each member having his or her own ideas on the possibilities. Charlie was perhaps the most worried; he saw a wonderful long stay in the wild woods which he loved so much, but it was then June and before very long he would have to return to school, and so would be unable to go far away or stay for the many months suggested by Doctor Saunders.

The mere idea of Jack going anywhere without him was impossible to imagine. Yet how could it be otherwise? Such were the thoughts which possessed his mind when the family grouped about the large porch overlooking the sea.

The Sylvesters’ great friend Fred Pratt had come down to hear the result of the doctor’s examination and he now formed part of the important council of war which was to decide on the fate of the two boys. Charlie, in great need of sympathy and support, sat by the side of Evelyn on the swinging hammock. He knew she would understand his anxiety even though he said not a word. One does not always have to tell one’s thoughts. Mrs. Sylvester, fearing that the doctor had kept back something, was looking very much worried, as she sat near her husband with her trembling hand resting on his arm. Everyone was looking unreasonably solemn when Mr. Pratt, with his usual jovial way, called the meeting to order by rapping his large fist on the table with such vigour that it nearly upset the pitcher of ice water.

“ What’s the matter with you all? The whole bunch of you look as though you were considering the best place in the cemetery for your family vault, instead of planning where to go for a glorious long trip to the woods. Get off with your glum looks and see what’s to be done. I believe, Jack, you young rascal, that you’re a deep-dyed villain, and have got the doctor bribed to order you off to your favourite haunts. Eh! How about it?”

His jolly manner caused a smile to appear on every face. Even Charlie looked a little bit hopeful.

“Come on now, Sylvester, what’s your idea? Ship ’em both back to Newfoundland, the country of their fame? I’ll bet that’s what they would like.”

Charlie gasped at the word “they.” Did it mean that he would be sent with his chum after all?

“No! Fred. Saunders is not in favour of Newfoundland. He wants a drier and more wooded country, suggests Canada, either Quebec or Ontario, pretty well north, where it is not liable to be too hot. What are your own ideas, Jack, for after all you are the one most concerned?”

Ever since their extraordinary experiences, when they were lost for a year in Newfoundland, the two boys had longed for an opportunity of making a close study of the beaver and their work, but the idea had always seemed so remote, owing to the fact that schooling was considered necessary for young men of these days, and the said schooling always occupied the most precious months of the year. The autumn, which was the time for studying beaver, was bound to be taken up with mere books; then, when school and college days had finished there would be no chance for taking up their favourite subjects in the wilds, as they would surely be launched on some sort of business career. It may be easily understood, then, that their hopes had not been high. But here, at this unexpected time, an opportunity was actually offering itself. Jack glanced with a meaning look toward Charlie as he replied to his father’s question :

“If we cannot go to Newfoundland, Dad, I think we would both rather choose the upper part of Ontario, where there are lakes and rivers and woods enough to suit the doctor. The fishing is good, too, but we have another reason for wishing to go there.”

“Go ahead, you young schemer. I can see that Mr. Pratt wasn’t so far wrong when he said you had planned all this. What’s your scheme? ”

“It’s beaver, we both want so much to have an opportunity of studying them; the little we saw of their wonderful work in Newfoundland interested us, as you know, so much that we called our camp ‘Beaver Stream Camp.’ In those days we did not have much time for anything but trying to live, and you never would send us anything in the way of luxuries.”

Jack hesitated a moment as he saw the rather

TWO BOYS IN BEAVER-LAND n pained look on his mother’s face. Too well did she remember that awful year of anxiety and misery when she believed that her son and Charlie had gone for ever.

“Oh, you crue parents!” laughed Mr. Pratt. “To think of your never sending the dear boys anything! But wait a minute, it wasn’t your fault after all. You cold-blooded young imps, why did you never send your postal address? Such carelessness I never knew. Really, Sylvester, I think they should be severely punished. Six months hard labour in the wilds of Canada I suggest as their punishment. What does the Court say, all in favour signify their will by saying Aye.” Five Ayes were voiced immediately. “ Contrary minded say No!” Dead silence. “The Ayes have it, but I doubt whether the prisoners have the right to vote; however, we’ll let that point go. What’s that, Evelyn?”

“I was only going to ask if they may have two months taken off the sentence for good behaviour, because it’s awful cold up there in December and they may not be able to send us their address if the snow gets deep.”

“Good idea, young woman, it would be rather cold; their sentence, as suggested, will therefore terminate on the last day of November.”

During these proceedings, Charlie’s spirits had been steadily rising. Evidently there was no question about his going, and he already saw himself paddling the heavily laden canoe through those wonderful Northern waters, when an unexpected jolt came in the form of a question from Mr. Sylvester.

“How about school? ” he asked. “The doctor did not say it was necessary for Charlie to go, and he really should not miss his studies.” Had any one been watching Mr. Sylvester during the meeting they would have seen that he looked at Charlie very frequently and had apparently read the boy’s thoughts; they would also have seen a merry little twinkle in his gray eyes when he asked the alarming question. But somehow no one had noticed these details. Even Mrs. Sylvester had failed to see through his well-feigned expression of seriousness, and after a moment’s silence, particularly painful for two of the party, she gasped rather than said: “Oh, but I simply could not let Jack go without Charlie!”

How Charlie loved her at that moment, not only for what she said, but for the way in which she said it. Mr. Sylvester could no longer keep back his mirth, but burst into a mighty peal of laughter in which, after a moment’s pause, he was joined by them all.

“Oh Lord! how you did bite, and Charlie’s face, the funniest thing I ever saw/’ he jerked out as he regained his breath. “How I wish the trout would rise as quickly as you do! My dear, you’re simply wonderful.”

“I don’t care, you’re a horrid mean old tease — isn’t he, Fred?” Mrs. Sylvester said, turning to Mr. Pratt. But she got little sympathy. Mr. Pratt simply laughed and remarked, “Some tease!”

Jack, in the meantime, had gone over and had crowded himself into the hammock with his sister and Charlie. A happy trio they were; the mere prospect of a trip to the woods was something for which to be thankful. The senior members of the council now left the porch so the younger ones were able to indulge to their hearts’ content in plans and schemes.

Evelyn started the conversation by saying: “Now what I want to know is where does poor little me come in on this expedition? You left me behind once before, and the consequences, as you remember, were highly disastrous. You will only get lost again. ReaUy you are not fit to be trusted by yourselves. In fact you need me to look after you and see that you do not do mad things; so I want to know how it can be worked for me to be included in the party. The doctor won’t order me off for my health, as I look altogether too well.”

This was perfectly true: a more delightfully healthy girl could not be found. Evelyn was fourteen years old, and rather mature-looking for her age, exceedingly pretty though not really beautiful, as her features were not quite as regular as they should have been. Her hair added greatly to her charm as it always resented being kept in restraint : the wavy locks of rich golden brown had a delightful way of falling over her temples and giving a most attractive effect. In disposition she was inclined to be quiet and reserved, very slow to make friends, but truly devoted to the few people she liked. Having no sister she had always been in the closest companionship with her brother Jack, who was two years her senior, and with Charlie Mason a fine lad of nearly seventeen who had lived with the Sylvesters exactly as one of the family ever since that terrible day when his father, who had been a very intimate friend of the Sylvesters, was killed in an accident. His mother he could scarcely remember, but Mrs. Sylvester was all that a mother could be to him, and in every way treated him as her own son.

Evelyn’s appeal left the two boys looking rather blank; to go off for several months without her was not at all what they wished. She was a thoroughly good hand in camp life, having been brought up to know how to make herself both useful and happy. She fished well, was an expert in handling i5 a canoe, in fact she joined in all the boys’ sports except shooting. Shooting she hated, and was partly responsible by her attitude for the boys’ apathy to what is so often a boy’s greatest amusement. After a moment’s silence, Charlie, whose mind had been working quickly, looked up with a decidedly hopeful expression in his face:

“I have it,” he said; “of course we do not yet know just what is being arranged for us, but I think we are safe in believing that we shall be allowed to go alone and not have any troublesome idiot of a guide to act as nurse.”

Here Jack interrupted. “Guide! guide! Why I’d shoot any guide that dared come with us! We go alone or I’ll be hanged if I go at all. We are not babies!”

“That’s all right, Jack, my boy, don’t get hot round the collar. Please remember you are a sort of invalid and that perhaps your father or the doctor will think you must not work too hard. There is no reason on earth why I, who am pretty husky, should not tackle the more strenuous jobs, at least until you regain your strength. I’ll make you work then you may be sure, so if the guide question is brought up we must urge our point. But you are interrupting the even flow of my thoughts and words of wisdom, so shut up till I make my suggestion.”

“Right you are, oh High and Mighty, we stand rebuked (get up, Evelyn) and bow to your august Majesty. Bow low, Evelyn, or he won’t solve the vital problem and you will be left behind to cry your eyes out on the desert sands of the beach. Proceed, my Lord, we are all attention. Have we your permission to be seated? ”

“Oh sit down, you silly idiot, and do shut up. I’ve almost forgotten what I wanted to say. Look here now: let us presume that we are allowed to go up where, who was it, Frank Stevens I think — yes, I am sure it was — said he had seen such a wonderful amount of beaver work up north of Rabbit Lake. He was after moose at the time and didn’t bother much with the beaver. We can go by train and steamer for the first part and then go on with our canoe. I don’t think it’s more than three or four days’ paddling from where the steamer drops us to where the best beaver country begins. If we have a decent sized canoe, say eighteen foot, we can carry enough supplies to last a very long time; after we had picked out a really good place, we could make a sort of permanent camp from which short trips could be taken. Your father cannot get away till some time in September. Why couldn’t he then come up with your mother and Evelyn? We could meet them at the landing place and take them up to our camp, and we could all have a i7 glorious time for a month, or as long your father could stay. In this way Evelyn would have a bit of the fun, for I am sure they would not let her come with us alone.”

“ That’s a jolly good idea,” said Jack. “Let’s go and tackle Dad now and see what he thinks of it. Oh I say, Evelyn, wouldn’t this be fine!”

“Rather,” said Evelyn, “half a loaf is better than no bread, and I would give all I own to have even a month with you two up there. It seems simply ages since I was off camping, and I do love being in the wild woods. The beaver would give us a wonderful excuse and object, and we would have the jolliest of times. Come on ! Let’s go and present our petition to the family.”

No sooner said than done, and the three plotters hurried away to find their elders. After some searching they were found walking along the shore discussing plans for the boys’ trip. Jack acting as spokesman launched the subject without loss of time:

“We have come, ” he said, “ to ask you to consider our suggestions,” and he briefly outlined the plan as they had arranged it. Mr. Sylvester, after listening carefully, agreed that it was an excellent idea and said that they had been puzzling over what to do with Evelyn but that this seemed a thoroughly satisfactory solution. He added that the boys might as well plan to start the following week and that immediately after lunch they could make out a list of what was needed. “For I think,” he said smiling, “you will need more than your beloved crooked knives and a wrecked launch for this trip.”*

This is how the trip to Beaver-land originated, to the mutual satisfaction of all concerned. Mr. Pratt joined in the momentous after-lunch powwow, and of course added many useful and practical suggestions. The question of the canoe was an important one. If only one large canoe were taken, it would mean that any trips away from the main waterways would involve a lot of hard work as an eighteen-foot canoe is not easily carried through the timber-strewn forests, and the boys would undoubtedly want to visit many of the more isolated lakes and ponds. It is far easier for two persons to paddle one large canoe than for each to paddle his own; so the large one for the main journey would be best, especially as there would probably be rapids tcvpass. A small light canoe might possibly be towed up stream without much trouble, but in going down any rapids it would be dangerous and would therefore mean each boy taking charge of one. A fair-sized tent must be taken,

^Referring to the time when the boys were wrecked off the coast of Newfoundland, and were lost for a year.

also one small and very light for use on the side trips. No camp furniture was needed as the boys much preferred to make their own. A small saw and some nails were put on the list besides, of course, the inevitable two axes. Fishing tackle both for bass and trout was necessary and Charlie added sketching material as he was fond of painting and hoped to have plenty of opportunity of doing something in that line. A book on birds and the latest book on beaver were put on the list.

Nine days after the doctor had advised Jack’s going off to the woods, the two boys started on their way north, equipped with everything necessary to make camp life comfortable, that is, all except the food supply, which was to be purchased in Canada in order to save carriage and duty. It was a cheerful little party at the North Station that stuffy July evening; Evelyn alone felt somewhat aggrieved that she was not going to be with the boys from the beginning; however, she consoled herself with the thought that the few weeks before her father could get away would soon pass. If all went well, they would meet again on the sixteenth of September, at the place where the steamer was to land the boys. A final good-bye and the heavy train puffed its noisy way out of the station and away from the sweltering city, carrying Charlie and Jack on the first stage of their journey to Beaver-land.

It can be readily understood that they were an excited couple, and it was long before they stopped talking and planning and sought the comforts of bed. The noise and dust of that hot train would soon be forgotten in the glorious quiet and sweetscented, clean air of the woods. Over four months of happiness stretched out before them, and they went over to the land of Nod happy with wonderful thoughts of what the future had in store for them. Who is there that hasn’t thought himself to sleep, tired out with the delicious work of building aerial castles? The largest and gamiest of fish always take the very flies we have brought; camp sites are perfect, fires don’t smoke, dishes are washed by fairies, there is no drudgery, there are no mosquitoes or black flies, life is all joy, all sunshine and peace. Those castles remain in the air always just beyond our reach. We know we cannot reach the perfect place, but if we are optimists — and all others should be banished from our world — we go on hoping, and yet hoping, and so must it always be.

Chapter II

They arrive in Canada , make friends with the Hudson’s Bay Company’s Factor and start for the woods. Their first camp is on a delightful island.

TT WAS late the next day when the boys reached ** their railway destination. This was a small trading post, which we shall call Beaver Town, though that is not its real name, from which the steamer started on its occasional trips northward through lakes and rivers. By good luck the boat was expected to leave the following morning, so there was no time to be lost in getting together food and other things necessary for the trip. A visit to the Hudson’s Bay Company’s stores proved most interesting. There is a peculiar fascination in the very name of this great Company, whose exploits have been the subject of so many thrilling stories, and it always seems as though the Company was a thing of the past rather than a still existing organization whose influence is felt to-day in the wilder parts, even as in the days when the railways had not penetrated to the comparatively remote regions.

Both Jack and Charlie felt a strange sensation as they looked about the Company’s store — a miniature department store it was, one that catered to the requirements of those who live in the wilds yet who demand certain luxuries. Standing alongside of a heap of steel traps was a sewing machine of the most modern pattern; here and there were highly ornate pieces of inartistic furniture, meant to appeal to some young couple contemplating marriage who felt that their pride could not be satisfied with any furniture that was not dazzlingly polished (with cheap varnish) ; from the ceiling hung bundles of snowshoes and moccasins and “gum” boots. Shelves were filled with really good blankets, for the shoddy blanket has no place in the life of those who must face the bitter winters of the North; then there were shelves of “store” suits and mackinaw coats, and fancy articles to suit the tastes of the young and fair of the land, rolls of gorgeously coloured oilcloth, stoves of all sorts of patterns, a couple of gramaphones, and even a small harmonium. The “show case” was filled with the strangest assortment imaginable: wonderful patent medicines, that cured (so the labels said) every ill to which the human flesh was heir, rested, alongside of fishing tackle (which perhaps would be the cure of more ailments than the medicinal concoctions), knives, cheap silver plate, very fancy sweets of startling, if not alluring, colours, vegetable seeds, mouth organs, warranted gold filled watches which sold for seven dollars and ninety-eight cents, with immense equally warranted gold filled chains “ thrown in” to show good faith; in fact, there was scarcely anything that was not more or less represented in that marvellous collection, and the prices generally speaking were very moderate, while the quality of the really useful articles was invariably extremely good. It has always been the policy of the Hudson’s Bay Company to treat squarely those on whom it depends for trade. The policy is sound for a poor blanket or defective boots might easily mean the loss of valuable skins.

Besides themselves there were but two customers in the store, one a more or less white man, who was sitting on a flour barrel laboriously reading an old newspaper and chewing a huge piece of tobacco in a most ostentatious manner. His face was of the worst possible type — small, deep-set eyes very close together, a sharp, somewhat hooked nose, which showed evidence of having been broken as it was very crooked; the mouth, more or less covered by a scraggy black moustache and sparse bristly beard, was of the cruel, thin-lipped, drooping type; evidence of Indian blood was distinctly visible in the high cheek bones, dark skin, and straight hair which showed beneath his worn fur cap.

The other customer was an Indian, who was trying to make a bargain over a silver fox skin. This naturally interested the boys, who listened attentively to the quaintly expressed English of the Indian as he urged his views on the beauty and value of the skin he was showing. The storeman displayed a very mild interest; he took the pelt in his hand, blew the fur gently to see how thick it was, stated what he would give in cash or trade, sat back and picked his teeth thoughtfully. For many minutes no one spoke, then as the storeman decided to pay attention to the newcomers, and was about to move toward them, the Indian made what might be supposed to be a final effort to get a good price for his offering. “T’ree honded dollar, he dam good, eh!” but the storeman did not seem to hear him and came over to the boys to see what they wanted.