CHAPTER IX.

_ENTERTAINING THE “PACKET” MEN._

During the next few days the sufferers from exposure and travel quickly recuperated, and in a week all were once again in their accustomed good health. Kasba had luckily escaped Jack Frost’s most tenacious embrace, and a few hours had been sufficient to enable her to throw off the lethargy occasioned by her perilous adventure. David, on the other hand, had suffered painfully. The parts of his body that had been frozen became swollen and inflamed to an alarming degree, but as the blood regained its accustomed circulation the swelling slowly subsided. After two days of careful nursing the boy had been removed to Delgezie’s hut, where he had quickly recovered the use of his limbs and elasticity of spirits, while any fatigue the little dog-driver and his partner might have felt by their long journey had been entirely shaken off after several good nights’ rest.

Roy had traded with the few Eskimo encamped at the Fort and sent them about their business. A large seamless sack, whose sides bulged alarmingly, standing behind the counter in the trading store, had been the cynosure of their oblique eyes. This was the damning evidence of Ocpic’s cupidity, the sack he had filled with goods during the time he was in possession of Roy’s store key, but had been prevented from transporting from the premises for some unaccountable reason—probably some sound had alarmed him and caused him to leave the store post-haste.

The Eskimo spoke among themselves respecting the incident, and from the fragmentary conversation Roy overheard whilst engaging in trading with them he gathered that they felt more regret at Ocpic’s failing to take the goods away than at his behavior. And this was not to be wondered at, for they were acquainted with Roy only as a man who gave “nothing for nothing,” while Ocpic was of their own race, and truly blood is thicker than water.

The trading-store was a small, unpretentious building of undressed plank. It contained every imaginable commodity likely to be required for the Eskimo trade: cloth of red and blue, white capotes, blankets, scalpy knives, dags (snow-knives), pocket-knives, white seed beads, telescopes, tin and copper kettles of various sizes and a large stock of firearms, etc. First of all an Eskimo handed his bale of furs over the counter to Roy, who counted and valued them. Having done this, the trader handed the native a number of pins (pieces of wood), which the native with great deliberation arranged upon the counter, first in tens, then into little piles according to how much he wanted to buy of any one article. Each of these pieces of wood represented a “skin,” or, as it is sometimes called, a “made beaver,” the standard valuation by which trade is carried on between the Hudson’s Bay Company and the natives in that northern country. Having selected an article valued at, say, eight skins, the native handed over eight of his pieces of wood in exchange, and continued this method of doing business till all were gone.

As each native finished his bartering he fell out of the gang which thronged before the counter, and retired to the particular _iglo_ he inhabited to gloat over his purchases. After untying the bundle which he had tied up in the store with such security as to lead one to imagine that he never again intended to unloose it, he took each purchase in hand separately, felt the edges of the knives, admired their workmanship and shape, closely scrutinized the large tin kettles and went into raptures over their shining brightness.

The trading done and the Eskimo away from the Fort, Roy gave his attention to the accounts and letters he wished to send by the return “packet.” The packet-train’s stay at Fort Future was limited to one week by the hard-and-fast rules governing the Company’s “packets,” and Roy’s search for Kasba and his trading with the natives had occupied several days of this time, but at an isolated post like Fort Future the official correspondence was not heavy and he was easily able to accomplish that part of his duties in due season. The work of writing his private letters, however, was more protracted. It was only in the evenings, after the loquacious Broom had retired, that Roy could apply himself to these. But by continuing his labors into the small hours of the morning he arose from the table on the last day of the allotted time with his work completed.

With the “packet” off his mind, Roy turned his thoughts to giving Hopkins and his companion a good send-off, and accordingly he arranged for a dance to take place that evening. Sahanderry was told to make a large supply of raisin cakes and to coax his dilapidated fiddle into tune. And the delighted Indian proceeded to carry out these orders with much jubilation. Soon little squares of dough, spotted with raisins, lay on top of the stove, and the pleasant smell of newly-cooked cakes filled the house all morning. During the afternoon the Indian brought out his fiddle and started to tune it. At this Broom uttered fearful imprecations and threatened to throw various objects at the fiddler’s head, but Roy, greatly amused, allowed Sahanderry to go on with his tuning, and the Indian continued the nerve-racking process with diabolical ingenuity.

As soon as supper was over, Sahanderry and Hopkins prepared the kitchen for the coming ball, and when everything was in readiness and the guests assembled Roy was apprised of the fact. There was a short delay occasioned by Broom, who at the last moment decided to groom his hair and unkempt whiskers, then the trader and his companion put in an appearance.

Kasba’s face at once filled with delight. She had not forgotten the caress she had received from Bekothrie; her lips where his had pressed them tingled still. And when he stood up for the first dance with her, thereby elating her into a seventh heaven of happiness, the crimson flew to her cheeks and brow. She tossed her head and smiled very prettily, her heart glowing in her eyes, and I must confess she clung to his hand, as they went through the figure dances, a good deal longer than was necessary; also, I may as well tell you at once, she put up her lips, when she bade him good-night, standing on tip-toe that she might reach his face. He received her salute with a little laugh of embarrassment, and in truth was too much worried over what she had done to allow of his sleeping after he turned in.

Kasba was the only woman present at this singular entertainment, but the absence of lady partners seemed in no wise to detract from the jollity of the evening. Hopkins, Poo-koo and David faced Broom, Delgezie and Minnihak, while Roy had Kasba for partner, as we have just described, and jigs, country dances, figures of eight, duck dances and rabbit dances were one and all performed with commendable spirit. There was a little confusion in the set dances caused by an occasional mix-up of partners or a dancer jigging alone down the perspective, but these mistakes only added to the fun of the evening.

At first solemnity and much perspiration marked these performances, but as pint after pint of “sugar beer” was swallowed by the thirsty dancers, their solemnity wore away, a gayer humor prevailed and some most intricate steps were ventured upon and accomplished with more or less success by the juvenile members of the party.

As the evening progressed, Broom suddenly burst into a song, much to Roy’s astonishment, for the sailor had often declared himself incapable of singing a note. The comic expression of Broom’s face created much amusement, and when he ended his performance by shuffling a few steps after the orthodox manner of the music-hall artists the delight of his audience knew no bounds, and the fun waxed fast and furious till the clock pointed to the hour of midnight. At the striking of the hour, Roy shook hands with all present, and then, led by Broom, three cheers were given for “the master,” and the party quickly dissolved.

Despite their terpsichorean efforts of the previous evening they were all up betimes next morning. Even Broom arose much before his wonted hour to see the packet men start on their return journey.

“Well, good luck, George!” cried Roy, grasping the little dog-driver by the hand. “May you have a good trip!”

“Thank you, sir,” returned the little man, who hastily proceeded to shake hands with all within sight, which act of courtesy was closely imitated by Poo-koo. And while it was yet dark the packet-train started on its hazardous journey south. The dogs, greatly refreshed by their rest, bounded after the rapidly disappearing Eskimo in front, who, unlike most of his race, was a good and fast walker, and the last link to the outside world was quickly swallowed up in the gloom of the early morning.

With an unconscious sigh of regret Roy turned to go indoors. To be sure Churchill was as much out of the world as Fort Future, but there were more people—possibly a dozen—and four mails a year there. Four mails a year looked good to Roy. Truly all things are judged by comparison.

Roy’s naturally buoyant spirits seemed to have departed with the packet and he appeared dull and listless, remaining preoccupied during the whole of breakfast, and returning only monosyllabic answers to Broom’s airy remarks. The interesting occupation of letter-writing gone, there seemed nothing to occupy his mind, and it was with something of an effort that he forced himself to take up the old monotonous life and to revive the interest he had hitherto felt in his work. But these feelings, this hankering after the unattainable, was soon dispersed by his strong will, and he was again the zealous officer the Company had ever found him. He was inwardly longing for the time when the ice would be out of the river, and Chief Factor McCall would arrive on his trip of inspection, and the knowledge that Lena was to accompany her father only made the enforced wait the more exasperating. But Roy knew from bitter experience that the only way to make time fly was to be fully occupied, and he therefore decided to make a trip to the camp of his Eskimo trader Acpa.