From the tavern I went to the village, with an elation hardly disturbed
by the fact that many of the salmon-fishers were sullen, because of
foolish depredations committed the evening before by idle river-men and
mill-hands of Viking. Had I not been so occupied with Mrs. Falchion and
an event wherein she must figure, I should have taken more seriously the
mutterings of the half-breeds, the moroseness of the Indians, and the
nervous threatenings of the white fishers: the more so because I knew
that Mr. Devlin had started early that morning for the Pacific Coast, and
would not be back for some days.
No two classes of people could be more unlike than the salmon-fishers of
Sunburst and the mill-hands and river-drivers of Viking. The life of the
river-men was exciting, hardy, and perilous; tending to boisterousness,
recklessness, daring, and wild humour: that of the salmon-fishers was
cheerful, picturesque, infrequently dangerous, mostly simple and quiet.
The river-driver chose to spend his idle hours in crude, rough
sprightliness; the salmon-fisher loved to lie upon the shore and listen
to the village story-teller,--almost official when successful,--who
played upon the credulity and imagination of his listeners. The river-
driver loved excitement for its own sake, and behind his boisterousness
there was little evil. When the salmon-fisher was roused, his anger
became desperately serious. It was not his practice to be boisterous for
the sake of boisterousness.
All this worked for a crisis.
From Sunburst I went over to Viking, and for a time watched a handful of
river-drivers upon a little island in the centre of the river, working to
loosen some logs and timber and foist them into the water, to be driven
down to the mill. I stood interested, because I had nothing to do of any
moment for a couple of hours. I asked an Indian on the bank to take his
canoe and paddle me over to the island. He did so. I do not know why I
did not go alone; but the Indian was near me, his canoe was at his hand,
and I did the thing almost mechanically. I landed on the island and
watched with great interest the men as they pried, twisted and tumbled
the pile to get at the key-log which, found and loosened, would send the
heap into the water.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account