despise. Thus Harry soon came to know that what he at first thought and, along with his companions, called softness in Hamilton was in reality gentleness of disposition and thorough good-nature, united in one who happened to be utterly unacquainted with the knowing ways of this peculiarly sharp and clever world, while in the course of time new qualities showed themselves in a quiet, unobtrusive way that won upon his affections and raised his esteem. On the other hand, Hamilton found that, although Harry was volatile, and possessed of an irresistible tendency to fun and mischief, he never by any chance gave way to anger, or allowed malice to enter into his practical jokes. Indeed, he often observed him restrain his natural tendencies when they were at all likely to give pain, though Harry never dreamed that such efforts were known to any one but himself. Besides this, Harry was peculiarly unselfish, and when a man is possessed of this inestimable disposition, he is not quite but very nearly perfect!
After another pause, during which the party had left the open river and directed their course through the woods, where the depth of the snow obliged them to tread in each other’s footsteps, Harry resumed the conversation.
“You have not yet told me, by-the-bye, what old Mr Rogan said to you just before we started. Did he give you any hint as to where you might be sent to after reaching Norway House?”
“No; he merely said he knew that clerks were wanted both for Mackenzie River and the Saskatchewan districts, but he did not know which I was destined for.”
“Hum! exactly what he said to me, with the slight addition that he strongly suspected that Mackenzie River would be my doom. Are you aware, Hammy, my boy, that the Saskatchewan district is a sort of terrestrial paradise, and Mackenzie River equivalent to Botany Bay?”
“I have heard as much during our conversations in Bachelors’ Hall, but—Stop a bit, Harry; these snow-shoe lines of mine have got loosened with tearing through this deep snow and these shockingly thick bushes. There—they are right now; go on. I was going to say that I don’t—oh!”
This last exclamation was elicited from Hamilton by a sharp blow caused by a branch which, catching on part of Harry’s dress as he plodded on in front, suddenly rebounded and struck him across the face. This is of common occurrence in travelling through the woods, especially to those who from inexperience walk too closely on the heels of their companions.
“What’s wrong now, Hammy?” inquired his friend, looking over his shoulder.
“Oh, nothing worth mentioning—rather a sharp blow from a branch, that’s all.”
“Well, proceed; you’ve interrupted yourself twice in what you were going to say. Perhaps it’ll come out if you try it a third time.”
“I was merely going to say that I don’t much care where I am sent to, so long as it is not to an outpost where I shall be all alone.”
“All very well, my friend; but seeing that outposts are, in comparison with principal forts, about a hundred to one, your chance of avoiding them is rather slight. However, our youth and want of experience is in our favour, as they like to send men who have seen some service to outposts. But I fear that, with such brilliant characters as you and I, Hammy, youth will only be an additional recommendation, and inexperience won’t last long.—Hollo! what’s going on yonder?”
Harry pointed as he spoke to an open spot in the woods about a quarter of a mile in advance, where a dark object was seen lying on the snow, writhing about, now coiling into a lump, and anon extending itself like a huge snake in agony.
As the two friends looked, a prolonged howl floated towards them.
“Something wrong with the dogs, I declare!” cried Harry.
“No doubt of it,” replied his friend, hurrying forward, as they saw their Indian guide rise from the ground and flourish his whip energetically, while the howls rapidly increased.
A few minutes brought them to the scene of action, where they found the dogs engaged in a fight among themselves, and the driver, in a state of vehement passion, alternately belabouring and trying to separate them. Dogs in these regions, like the dogs of all other regions, we suppose, are very much addicted to fighting—a propensity which becomes extremely unpleasant if indulged while the animals are in harness, as they then become peculiarly savage, probably from their being unable, like an ill-assorted pair in wedlock, to cut or break the ties that bind them. Moreover, they twist the traces into such an ingeniously complicated mass that it renders disentanglement almost impossible, even after exhaustion has reduced them to obedience. Besides this, they are so absorbed in worrying each other that for the time they are utterly regardless of their driver’s lash or voice. This naturally makes the driver angry, and sometimes irascible men practise shameful cruelties on the poor dogs. When the two friends came up they found the Indian glaring at the animals, as they fought and writhed in the snow, with every lineament of his swarthy face distorted with passion, and panting from his late exertions. Suddenly he threw himself on the dogs again, and lashed them furiously with the whip. Finding that this had no effect, he twined the lash round his hand, and struck them violently over their heads and snouts with the handle; then falling down on his knees, he caught the most savage of the animals by the throat, and seizing its nose between his teeth almost bit it off. The appalling yell that followed this cruel act seemed to subdue the dogs, for they ceased to fight, and crouched, whining, in the snow.
With a bound like a tiger young Hamilton sprang upon the guide, and seizing him by the throat, hurled him violently to the ground. “Scoundrel!” he cried, standing over the crestfallen Indian with flushed face and flashing eyes, “how dare you thus treat the creatures of God?”
The young man would have spoken more, but his indignation was so fierce that it could not find vent in words. For a moment he raised his fist, as if he meditated dashing the Indian again to the ground as he slowly arose; then, as if changing his mind, he seized him by the back of the neck, thrust him towards the panting dogs, and stood in silence over him with the whip grasped firmly in his hand, while he disentangled the traces.
This accomplished, Hamilton ordered him in a voice of suppressed anger to “go forward”—an order which the cowed guide promptly obeyed, and in a few minutes more the two friends were again alone.
“Hamilton, my boy,” exclaimed Harry, who up to this moment seemed to have been petrified, “you have perfectly amazed me! I’m utterly bewildered.”
“Indeed, I fear that I have been very violent,” said Hamilton, blushing deeply.
“Violent!” exclaimed his friend. “Why, man, I’ve completely mistaken your character. I—I—”
“I hope not, Harry,” said Hamilton, in a subdued tone; “I hope not. Believe me, I am not naturally violent. I should be very sorry were you to think so. Indeed, I never felt thus before, and now that it is over I am amazed at myself; but surely you’ll admit that there was great provocation. Such terrible cruelty to—”
“My dear fellow, you quite misunderstand me. I’m amazed at your pluck, your energy. Soft, indeed! we have been most egregiously mistaken. Provocation! I just think you had; my only sorrow is that you didn’t give him a little more.”
“Come, come, Harry; I see you would be as cruel to him as he was to the poor dog. But let us press forward; it is already growing dark, and we must not let the fellow out of sight ahead of us.”
“Allons, donc,” cried Harry; and hastening their steps, they travelled silently and rapidly among the stems of the trees, while the shades of night gathered slowly round them.
That
