Humberside Collegiate Institute - Hermes Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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THE r-igramrgfn 9011 f V , - V Y, -, VVhen I woke in the morning, I couldn't think where I was. The room was icy cold and the fire was out. I struggled into my clothes, for my hands were blue and numb, and tried to fix the fire. As there was still a little spark of life in it, I managed to coax it into fiame, and soon I was feeling more cheerful. I cut myself a generous sandwich of bread and meat, and as there wasn't much to do, I climbed back into bed again with my Robinson Crusoe. I stayed there nearly all day, and dozed off about three o'clock in the after- noon. I woke to find it growing strangely dark outside. The snow was whirling round in giddy fiurries, and there was a weird light in the sky. Though I was only eight years old, I knew the signs of a snowstorm, so I barricaded the door and did what I could to fill the cracks in the walls. By the time I had once more piled fuel on the fire and eaten my last slice of bread and meat, the snow was coming down in great thick fiakes, forming a blanket-like drift, only to be whirled down to the lake in a mad-cap rush. I confess that I was a little 'frightened all by myself with our nearest neigh- bour up at the sawmill five miles away, but I kept saying to myself that mother and father would probably appear around Treasure Island at any moment. As the hours passed, however, and twilight changed to utter darkness, I stopped trying to convince myself that they would come, and after crying a little, I fell into a deep sleep from which I did not awaken until about eight o'clock in the morning. The snow was still coming down, and it was so dark that I could scarce see one hundred yards in front of the house. I did not venture outside, but decided to camp by the stove to keep warm at all costs. When I went to the fuel box I found that I had been more lavish than I realized, for there were left only six sticks. There I was, a merechit of eight years, all alone five miles from anywhere, in the midst of a howling blizzard, with almost all my fuel gone, and nothing to eat. I threw myself down on my cot and proceeded to cry my eyes out. I had not been there long when I heard a violent banging at the door. At first I thought it was only the wind, but when I peeked out the window, I saw the muffled figure of a man. The wild thought came to me that perhaps it was my father, who had returned in some miraculous way, and I hastened to pull aside the chairs and tables with which I had blocked up the door. VVhat was my amazement to find myself face to face with an Indian! I knew there were none living nearer than the big island five miles to the west. where Chief Rigwin had a settlement. I let the stranger in hurriedly, and a blast of snow and a fierce gust of wind came with him. 'You all alone?' he asked, as he drew off his mittens and slung his knapsack over a chair. I told him rather timorously about my mother and father being in Iiaysville. He looked so kindly at me, that I found myself confessing how cold and lonely and hungry I was, too. He listened to my recitation in silence, then went over to a corner of the room and ripped a couple of boards from the floor. VV'ith these and a few papers, he soon built up a roaring blaze, then he went out into the storm and brought wood from God knows where to replenish the fire. When he had warmed himself, he handed me his knapsack, and said,

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In Days of Yore It Tt'IE.'i i 1l-EVQIVlEf, The chilly August night had forced all the hotel guests into the cheery kitchen, the only really warm room in the ramshackle building. This sum- mer hotel, called White House, because it once was white, is situated on the northwest shore of Lake of Bays and is a Mecca for people who, tired of the hubbub of city life, desire to steal away to some quiet retreat, where they can be alone with their thoughts. and with the beauty of Nature in the North. This particu- lar evening found the guests grouped around the old range, chatting pleasantly, while old Mrs. Elder, the proprietress and mother Superior of them all, was peeling shining apples under the uncertain light of a coal-oil lamp. Mr. Elder was in his accus- tomed place in the corner, smoking his pipe, and seemingly lost in medi- tation. He rarely spoke, except to wish someone a Good morning in his cracked voice. But this evening, he seemed inclined to join in the con- versation, and drew his chair nearer to the group. I encouraged him by saying, Well, Mr. Elder, I guess this is about the fortieth year you've seen in Lake of Bays. Fortieth, man,', he fairly shrieked, it'll be the eightieth year come Michaelmas ! Did you ever have trouble with Indians up here in the good old days P I ventured. ' No trouble, he said laconically, but I owe my life to one Indian. The others heard his last words, and one of the ladies, a Mrs. Brown said, v Oh, dear Mr. Elder, do please tell us about it. Life in early Canada must have been so romantic! Mr. Elder gave her a glance which seemed to imply that romantic was hardly the word for it, but seeing all eyes fixed upon him, he began his story. When I was just a little toad of about eight years, my mother and father were forced to leave me alone one winter to go to Baysville for sup- plies. I guess we hadn't counted on such pa bad winter and all our eatables were well-nigh exhausted. They left on a Saturday, and mother said to me, 'Now, johnny, there's wood and bread and meat enough to last you two days. Your father and I will prob- ably be back long before then, but there's plenty, just in case we aren't.' I kissed them both good-bye, and watched them drive over the glisten- ing ice until the cutter disappeared behind..Frozen Point, and I could no longer see my mother's bright red hat. I felt a little lonely when they had passed out of sight, and picking up my Robinson Crusoe, I curled up on a cushion in front of the stove and read until I felt hungry. I ate quite heartily, because I thought there was no need to save my rations if mother and father were going to be back in less than two days anyway. I went to bed early and pulled my little cot up close to the warmth of this very stove, for it seemed to be getting deadly cold outside. I banked up the stove and stuffed some old rugs around the edges of the windows.

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THE l'1EVQWlEf 'Here food for you. Storm soon over now. Your pa, he come for sure tonight.' He bundled his scarf around his ears, pulled on his mittens, and adjusted his snowshoes. 'Good-byel' he said. 'You tell mother Chief Bigwin look after little boy.' I managed to stammer 'thank you'. and watched him set out at an easy jog-trot over the snowy drifts. Then, worn out with hunger and excitement and anxiety, I fell asleep. The next thing I knew, someone was bending over me, saying, 'Dear little fellow, welll never leave him alone like this again., But look, where did he get that knapsack ?' I woke with a start to find my mother and father hovering over me. Mother kissed me over and over again, while with tears in his eyes father said they had been afraid they would find me frozen. When I told them about my visitor, they stared at one another. 'Those Indians are uncannyf said my mother, 'they always seem to know when someone is alone. Good Chief Bigwin, I'll never be able to repay him. just think what might have happened to you if he hadn't come'. So that, concluded Mr. Elder with a reminiscent sight, was how an Indian saved my life. I guess hardship was pretty well mixed with romance in Canada fifty years ago, said Mrs. Brown thought- fully. -Ainslie .MacKimz0n, V-A. Fire Glow Firelight flickering on the walls, Mystical wraiths of enchantment, Friendly shadows hovering near, And pussy, a ball of contentment. Curled on the hearth-rug with head drooping low, Bushy tail tickling his little wet nose, Yellow eyes watching the swift-curling fire, That glows like the heart of a deep-blushing rose. Pictures of dreamland in saffron hue, Castles of old where the red fire flashes, Long-steching fields of the poppies of Lethe Where the lamb-ent Hame dies in the ashes. Snow-feathers drifting against the panes, And the weird wind-woman prowling without, But inside the cheerful, crackling blaze, And the wavering shadows Hitting about. -Nan-cy Smith, V -A.