Lost in the Backwoods | Page 8

which he always carried in a sheath at

his girdle, and spread two beds,--one, parted off by dry boughs and
bark, for herself, in the interior of the wigwam; and one for her brother
and cousin, nearer the entrance. When all was finished to her
satisfaction she called the two boys, and, according to the custom of her
parents, joined them in the lifting up of their hands as an evening
sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving. Nor were these simple-hearted
children backward in imploring help and protection from the Most
High. They earnestly prayed that no dangerous creature might come
near to molest them during the hours of darkness and helplessness, no
evil spirit visit them, no unholy or wicked thoughts intrude into their
minds; but that holy angels and heavenly thoughts might hover over
them, and fill their hearts with the peace of God which passeth all
understanding. And the prayer of the poor wanderers was heard; they
slept in peace, unharmed, in the vast solitude. So passed their first night
on the Plains.
CHAPTER II
"Fear not: ye are of more value than many sparrows."--St. Luke.
The sun had risen in all the splendour of a Canadian summer morning
when the sleepers arose from their leafy beds. In spite of the novelty of
their situation, they had slept as soundly and tranquilly as if they had
been under the protecting care of their beloved parents, on their little
palliasses of corn straw; but they had been cared for by Him who
neither slumbereth nor sleepeth, and they waked full of youthful hope,
and in fulness of faith in His mercy into whose hands they had
commended their souls and bodies before they retired to rest.
While the children slept in peace and safety, what terrors had filled the
minds of their distracted parents! what a night of anguish and sorrow
had they passed!
When night had closed in without bringing back the absent children,
the two fathers, lighting torches of fat pine, went forth in search of the
wanderers. How often did they raise their voices in hopes their loud
halloos might reach the hearing of the lost ones! How often did they

check their hurried steps to listen for some replying call! But the
sighing breeze in the pine tops, or sudden rustling of the leaves caused
by the flight of the birds startled by the unusual glare of the torches,
and the echoes of their own voices, were the only sounds that met their
anxious ears. At daybreak they returned, sad and dispirited, to their
homes, to snatch a morsel of food, endeavour to cheer the drooping
hearts of the weeping mothers, and hurry off, taking different directions.
But, unfortunately, they had little clue to the route which Hector and
Louis had taken, there being many cattle-paths through the woods.
Louis's want of truthfulness had caused this uncertainty, as he had left
no intimation of the path he purposed taking when he quitted his
mother's house. He had merely said he was going with Hector in search
of the cattle, giving no hint of his intention of asking Catharine to
accompany them; he had but told his sick sister that he would bring
home strawberries and flowers, and that he would soon return. Alas!
poor, thoughtless Louis! how little did you think of the web of woe you
were then weaving for yourself, and all those to whom you and your
companions were so dear! Children, think twice ere ye deceive once.
Catharine's absence would have been quite unaccountable but for the
testimony of Duncan and Kenneth, who had received her sisterly
caresses before she joined Hector at the barn; and much her mother
marvelled what could have induced her good, dutiful Catharine to have
left her work and forsaken her household duties to go rambling away
with the boys, for she never left the house when her mother was absent
from it without her express permission. And now she was gone,--lost to
them perhaps for ever. There stood the wheel she had been turning;
there hung the untwisted hanks of yarn, her morning task; and there
they remained week after week, and month after month, untouched,--a
melancholy memorial to the hearts of the bereaved parents of their
beloved.
It were indeed a fruitless task to follow the agonized fathers in their
vain search for their children, or to paint the bitter anguish that filled
their hearts as day passed after day, and still no tidings of the lost ones.
As hope faded, a deep and settled gloom stole over the sorrowing
parents, and reigned throughout the once cheerful and gladsome homes.

At the end of a week the only idea that remained was, that one of these
three casualties had befallen the lost children,--death, a lingering death
by