“Well, ma’am, just as you please; but still, suppose you marry them after your fashion, the girl won’t understand a word that is said, so what good will it do?”

  “None to her at present, Malachi; but recollect, if she is not a Christian at present, she may be hereafter; I have often thought upon that subject, and although I feel it useless to speak to her just now, yet as soon as she understands English well enough to know what I say to her, I hope to persuade her to become one. Now, if she should become a Christian, as I hope in God she will, she then will perceive that she has not been properly married, and will be anxious to have the ceremony properly performed over again; so why not do it now?”

  “Well, ma’am, if it pleases you, I have no objection; I’m sure Martin will have none.”

  “It will please me very much, Malachi,” replied Mrs. Campbell.

  “And although there is no chaplain at the fort,” observed Mr. Campbell, “yet the Colonel can marry in his absence; a marriage by a commanding officer is quite legal.”

  “Yes,” replied Alfred, “and so is one by a Captain of a man-of-war.”

  “So be it then,” replied Malachi, “the sooner the better, for the soldiers are very troublesome, and I can not keep them out of my lodge.”

  Martin, who had remained outside the door and overheard all that passed, now came in; the subject was again canvassed, and Martin returned his thanks for the permission given to him.

  “Well,” said Emma, “I little thought we should have a wedding in the family so soon; this is quite an event. Martin, I wish you joy — you will have a very pretty and a very good wife.”

  “I think so too, miss,” replied Martin.

  “Where is she?” said Mary.

  “She is in the garden, miss,” said Malachi, “getting out of the way of the soldiers; now that the work is done, they torment her not a little, and she is glad to escape from them; I’d tell them to go away, but they don’t mind me; they know I must not use my rifle.”

  “I should hope not,” replied Mrs. Campbell, “it would be hard to shoot a good man merely because he wished to marry your daughter.”

  “Why, yes, ma’am, it would,” replied Malachi, “so the sooner she is given to Martin the sooner we shall have peace.”

  As the boat was continually going backward and forward between the fort and the farm, Mr. Campbell wrote to the Colonel, stating what they wished him to do, and the Colonel appointed that day week, on which he would come and perform the ceremony. It was a little fête at the farm. Mrs. Campbell and the Miss Percivals dressed themselves more than usually smart, so did all the males of the establishment; a better dinner than usual was prepared, as the Colonel and some of the officers were to dine and spend the day with them. Martin was very gayly attired, and in high spirits. The Strawberry had on a new robe of young deer skin, and had a flower or two in her long black hair; she looked as she was, very pretty and very modest, but not at all embarrassed. The marriage ceremony was explained to her by Malachi, and she cheerfully consented. Before noon the marriage took place, and an hour or two afterward they sat down to a well-furnished table, and the whole party were very merry, particularly as the Colonel, who was most unusually gay, insisted upon the Strawberry sitting at the table, which she had never done before. She acquitted herself, however, without embarrassment, and smiled when they laughed, although she could understand but little of what they said. Mr. Campbell opened two of his bottles of wine to celebrate the day, and they had a very happy party; the only people who were discontented were three or four of the soldiers outside, who had wanted to marry the Strawberry themselves; but the knowledge that the Colonel was there, effectually put a stop to any thing like annoyance or disturbance on their part. At sunset, the Colonel and officers departed for the fort, the family remained in the house till past ten o’clock, by which time all the soldiers had gone to bed. Mr. Campbell then read prayers, and offered up an additional one for the happiness of the newly-married couple, after which they all saluted the Strawberry and wished her good-night; she was then led to the lodge by Martin, accompanied by Alfred, Henry, Malachi, Percival, and John, who all went home with them as a guard from any interruption on the part of the disappointed suitors.

  CHAPTER XXVII.

  “How cheerful and gay every thing looks now,” observed Emma to Mary, a few mornings after the celebration of the marriage. “One could hardly credit that in a few months all this animated landscape will be nothing but one dreary white mass of snow and ice, with no sounds meeting the ear but the howling of the storm and the howling of the wolves.”

  “Two very agreeable additions certainly,” replied Mary, “but what you observe was actually occurring to my own mind at the very moment.”

  The scene was indeed cheerful and lively. The prairie on one side of the stream waved its high grass to the summer breeze; on the other, the cows, horses and sheep were grazing in every direction. The lake in the distance was calm and unruffled; the birds were singing and chirping merrily in the woods; near the house the bright green of the herbage was studded with the soldiers, dressed in white, employed in various ways; the corn waved its yellow ears between the dark stumps of the trees in the cleared land, and the smoke from the chimney of the house mounted straight up in a column to the sky; the grunting of the pigs and the cackling of the fowls, and the occasional bleating of the calves, responded to by the lowing of the cows, gave life and animation to the picture. At a short distance from the shore the punt was floating on the still waters. John and Malachi were very busy fishing; the dogs were lying down by the palisades, all except Oscar, who, as usual, attended upon his young mistresses; and under the shade of a large tree, at a little distance from the house, were Mr. Campbell and Percival, the former reading while the other was conning over his lesson.

  “This looks but little like a wilderness now, Mary, does it?” said Emma.

  “No, my dear sister. It is very different from what it was when we first came; but still I should like to have some neighbors.”

  “So should I; any society is better than none at all.”

  “There I do not agree with you; at the same time, I think we could find pleasure in having about us even those who are not cultivated, provided they were respectable and good.”

  “That’s what I would have said, Mary; but we must go in, and practice the new air for the guitar which Henry brought us from Montreal. We promised him that we would. Here comes Alfred to spend his idleness upon us.”

  “His idleness, Emma; surely, you don’t mean that; he’s seldom if ever unemployed.”

  “Some people are very busy about nothing,” replied Emma.

  “Yes; and some people say what they do not mean, sister,” replied Mary.

  “Well, Alfred, here is Emma pronouncing you to be an idle body.”

  “I am not likely to be that, at all events,” replied Alfred, taking off his hat and fanning himself. “My father proposes to give me enough to do. What do you think he said to me this morning before breakfast?”

  “I suppose he said that you might as well go to sea again as remain here,” replied Emma, laughing.

  “No, indeed; I wish he had; but he has proposed that your prophecy should be fulfilled, my malicious little cousin. He has proposed my turning miller.”

  Emma clapped her hands and laughed.

  “How do you mean?” said Mary.

  “Why, he pointed out to me that the mill would cost about two hundred and fifty pounds, and that he thought as my half-pay was unemployed, that it would be advisable that I should expend it in erecting the mill, offering me the sum necessary for the purpose. He would advance the money, and I might repay him as I received my pay. That, he said, would be a provision for me, and eventually an independence.”

  “I told you that you would be a miller,” replied Emma, laughing. “Poor Alfred!”

  “Well, what did you reply, Alfred?” said Mary.

  “I said yes, I believe, because I did not like to say no.”

  “You did perfectly right, Alfred,” replied Mary. “There can be no harm in your having the property, and had you refused it, it would have given pain to your father. If your money is laid out on the mill, my uncle will have more to expend upon the farm; but still it does not follow that you are to become a miller all your life.”

  “I should hope not,” replied Alfred; “as soon as Emma meets with that long black gentleman we were talking of, I’ll make it over to her as a marriage portion.”

  “Thank you, cousin,” replied Emma, “I may put you in mind of your promise; but now Mary and I must go in and astonish the soldiers with our music; so good-by, Mr. Campbell, the miller.”

  The soldiers had now been at work for more than two months, a large portion of the wood had been felled and cleared away. With what had been cleared by Alfred and Martin and Henry the year before, they had now more than forty acres of corn land. The rails for the snake-fence had also been split, and the fence was almost complete round the whole of the prairie and cleared land, when it was time for the grass to be cut down and the hay made and gathered up. This had scarcely been finished when the corn was ready for the sickle and gathered; in a barn had been raised close to the sheep-fold as well as the lodge for Malachi, Martin, and his wife. For six weeks all was bustle and hard work, but the weather was fine, and every thing was got in safe. The services of the soldiers were now no longer required, and Mr. Campbell having settled his accounts, they returned to the fort.

  “Who would think,” said Henry to Alfred, as he cast his eyes over the buildings, the stacks of corn and hay, and the prairie stocked with cattle, “that we had only been here so short a time?”

  “Many hands make light work,” replied Alfred; “we have done with the help from the fort what it would have taken us six years to do with our own resources. My father’s money has been well laid out, and will bring in good return.”

  “You have heard of the proposal of Colonel Forster, about the cattle at the fort?”

  “No; what is it?”

  “He wrote to my father yesterday, saying, as he had only the means of feeding the cows necessary for the officers of the garrison, that he would sell all the oxen at present at the fort at a very moderate price.”

  “But even if we have fodder enough for them during the winter what are we to do with them?”

  “Sell them again to the fort for the supply of the troops,” replied Henry, “and thereby gain good profit. The commandant says that it will be cheaper to government in the end than being compelled to feed them.”

  “That it will, I have no doubt, now that they have nothing to give them; they trusted chiefly to our prairie for hay; and if they had not had such a quantity in store, they could not have fed them last winter.”

  “My father will consent, I know; indeed he would be very foolish not to do so, for most of them will be killed when the winter sets in, and will only cost us the grazing.”

  “We are fortunate in finding such friends as we have done,” replied Alfred. “All this assistance would not have been given to perhaps any other settlers.”

  “No, certainly not; but you see, Alfred, we are indebted to your influence with Captain Lumley for all these advantages, at least my father and mother say so, and I agree with them. Captain Lumley’s influence with the Governor has created all this interest about us.”

  “I think we must allow that the peculiar position of the family has done much toward it. It is not often that they meet with settlers of refined habits and cultivated minds, and there naturally must be a feeling toward a family of such a description in all generous minds.”

  “Very true, Alfred,” replied Henry; “but there is our mother waiting for us to go in to dinner.”

  “Yes; and the Strawberry by her side. What a nice little creature she is!”

  “Yes; and how quickly she is becoming useful. She has almost given up her Indian customs and is settling down quietly into English habits. Martin appears very fond of her.”

  “And so he ought to be,” replied Henry; “a wife with a smile always upon her lips is a treasure. Come, let us go in.”

  Another fortnight passed away when an incident occurred which created some uneasiness. Mr. Campbell was busy with Martin and Alfred clearing out the store-room and arranging the stores. Many of the cases and packages had been opened to be examined and aired, and they were busily employed, when, turning round, Mr. Campbell, to his great surprise, beheld an Indian by his side, who was earnestly contemplating the various packages of blankets, etc., and cases of powder, shot, and other articles, which were opened around him.

  “Why, who is this?” exclaimed Mr. Campbell, starting.

  Martin and Alfred, who had their backs to him at the time of Mr. Campbell’s exclamation, turned round and beheld the Indian. He was an elderly man, very tall and muscular, dressed in leggins and deer-skin coat, a war eagle’s feather, fixed by a fillet, on his head, and a profusion of copper and brass medals and trinkets round his neck. His face was not painted, with the exception of two black circles round his eyes. His head was shaved, and one long scalp-lock hung behind him. He had a tomahawk and a knife in his belt and a rifle upon his arm. Martin advanced to the Indian and looked earnestly at him.

  “I know his tribe,” said Martin; “but not his name; but he is a chief and a warrior.”

  Martin then spoke to him in the Indian tongue. The Indian merely gave an “ugh” in reply.

  “He does not choose to give his name,” observed Martin; “and, therefore, he is here for no good. Mr. Alfred, just fetch Malachi; he will know him I dare say.”

  Alfred went to the house for Malachi; in the meantime the Indian remained motionless, with his eyes fixed upon different articles exposed to view.

  “It’s strange,” observed Martin, “how he could have come here; but to be sure neither Malachi nor I have been out lately.”

  Just as he had finished his remark, Alfred returned with Malachi. Malachi looked at the Indian and spoke to him.

  The Indian now replied in the Indian language.

  “I knew him, sir,” said Malachi, “the moment I saw his back. He’s after no good, and it’s a thousand pities that he has come just now and seen all this,” continued Malachi; “it’s a strong temptation.”

  “Why, who is he?” said Mr. Campbell.

  “The Angry Snake, sir,” replied Malachi. “I had no idea that he would be in these parts before the meeting of the Indian council, which takes place in another month, and then I meant to have been on the look-out for him.”

  “But what have we to fear from him?”

  “Well; that’s to be proved; but this I can say, that he has his eyes upon what appears to him of more value than all the gold in the universe; and he’s any thing but honest.”

  “But we have nothing to fear from one man,” observed Alfred.

  “His party ain’t far off, sir,” said Malachi. “He has some followers, although not many, and those who follow him are as bad as himself. We must be on the watch.”

  Malachi now addressed the Indian for some time; the only reply was an “ugh.”

  “I have told him that all the powder and ball that he sees are for our rifles, which are more than are possessed by his whole tribe. Not that it does much good, but at all events it’s just as well to let him know that we shall be well prepared. The crittur’s quite amazed at so much ammunition; that’s a fact. It’s a pity he ever saw it.”

  “Shall we give him some?” said Mr. Campbell.

  “No, no, sir; he would only make use of it to try to get the rest; however, I believe that he is the only one of his party who has a rifle. The best thing is to close the doors and then he will go.”

  They did as Malachi requested, and the Indian, after waiting a short time, turned round on his heel, and walked away.

  “He is a regular devil, that Angry Snake,” observed Malachi, as he watched him departing; “but never mind, I’ll be a match for him. I wish he’d never seen all that ammunition, nevertheless.”

  “At all events, we had better not say a word in the house about his making his appearance,” said Mr. Campbell. “It will only alarm the women, and do no good.”

  “That’s true, sir. I’ll only tell the Strawberry,” said Martin; “she’s an Indian, and it will put her on the look-out.”

  “That will be as well, but caution her not to mention it to Mrs. Campbell or the girls, Martin.”

  “Never fear, sir,” replied Malachi; “I’ll watch his motions nevertheless; to-morrow I’ll be in the woods and on his trail. I’m glad that he saw me here, for he fears me; I know that.”

  It so happened that the Indian was not seen by Mrs. Campbell or any of them in the house, either upon his arrival or departure; and when Mr. Campbell and the others returned to the house, they found that no one there had any idea of such a visit having been paid. The secret was kept, but it occasioned a great deal of anxiety for some days. At last the alarm of Mr. Campbell gradually subsided. Malachi had gone out with John, and had discovered that all the Indians had come down near to them, to meet in council, and that there were many other parties of them in the woods. But although the visit of the Angry Snake might have been partly accidental, still Malachi was convinced that there was every prospect of his paying them another visit, if he could obtain a sufficient number to join him, so that he might obtain by force the articles he had seen and so much coveted.

  CHAPTER XXVIII.

  Mr. Campbell acceded to the offer made by the commandant of the fort, and purchased of him, at a moderate price, eighteen oxen, which were all that remained of the stock at the fort, except the cows. He also took six weaning calves to bring up. The cattle were now turned into the bush to feed, that they might obtain some after-grass from that portion of the prairie on which they had been feeding. The summer passed quickly away, for they all had plenty of employment. They fished every day in the lake, and salted what they did not eat, for winter provision. Martin now was a great part of his time in the woods, looking after the cattle, and Malachi occasionally accompanied him, but was oftener out hunting with John, and always returned with game. They brought in a good many bear-skins, and sometimes the flesh, which, although approved of by Malachi and Martin, was not much admired by the rest. As soon as the after-grass had been gathered in, there was not so much to do. Henry and Mr. Campbell, with Percival, were quite sufficient to look after the stock, and as the leaves began to change, the cattle were driven in from the woods, and pastured on the prairie. Every thing went on in order; one day was the counterpart of another. Alfred and Henry threshed out the corn, in the shed, or rather open barn, which had been put up by the soldiers in the sheep-fold, and piled up the straw for winter-fodder for the cattle. The oats and wheat were taken into the store-house. Martin’s wife could now understand English, and spoke it a little. She was very useful, assisting Mrs. Campbell and her nieces in the house, and attending the stock. They had brought up a large number of chickens, and had disposed of a great many to the Colonel and officers of the fort. Their pigs also had multiplied exceedingly, and many had been put up to fatten, ready to be killed and salted down. The time for that occupation was now come, and they were very busy curing their meat; they had also put up a small shed for smoking their bacon and hams. Already they were surrounded with comfort and plenty, and felt grateful to Heaven that they had been so favored.