Chapter XVII: Indian Jake’s Surprise

David and Andy had agreed to sleep later on Christmas morning. This was to be a day of rest and recreation. Sleeping late meant, to them, until break of day. But Indian Jake arose at the usual early hour, and his movements aroused the boys, and through force of habit they sat up in their bunk.

“No need of you fellers gettin’ up yet unless you want to,” said Indian Jake cheerfully. “I had some things I wanted t’ do, so I got up t’ get un done before breakfast. I’ll call you when breakfast is ready. This is Christmas, you know.”

“Thank you, Jake,” yawned David, snuggling back into his sleeping bag. “I’m thinkin’ I’ll take another snooze, then. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas to both of you!” broke in Andy, who, following David’s example, settled down again into his bag. “I’m thinkin’ I’ll snooze some more, too.”

“The same to you, lads! I’ll call you when I’m through fussin’ around.” The half-breed spoke with unusual heartiness and good nature. It was evident that his mood of silence and sullen indifference of the previous evening had passed, and that he was in an excellent frame of mind.

Indian Jake proceeded at once to put flour into the mixing pan, and to knead a quantity of dough. Then, assuring himself by their heavy breathing that the boys were soundly sleeping, he cautiously drew from beneath his bunk a two-quart covered pail that served him, when on the trail, as a cooking kettle. Lifting the cover, he examined the contents.

“They’re all right,” he said. “They’ll do. They’ve been froze ever since I picked ’em in September.”

He now lay down, side by side, two of the boards used for stretching fox pelts, and cutting a piece of dough from the mass in the mixing pan, he placed it upon the boards, and proceeded to roll it thin with the end of a round, dry stick. This done to his satisfaction, he turned up the edges of the dough on all sides, and poured upon it the contents of the pail, which proved to be cranberries. These he spread evenly over the dough, and rolling it up, placed it in a small bag of cotton cloth which he produced from his kit bag. The bag containing dough and berries, was now deposited in the tin pail, the cover replaced, and the pail set behind the stove.

“The lads’ll never look into that,” he observed, “and she’ll be safe enough there, and won’t get chilled till I wants her.”

He again reached under his bunk and drew forth a package which he had deposited there with the kettle and other personal belongings upon his arrival the previous evening. Looking furtively, to make certain the boys were not awake and observing him, he undid this, and there appeared a big fat goose, all picked and cleaned. He proceeded at once to cut this into sections, which he dropped into the large cooking kettle which was one of the furnishings of the tilt.

“There,” he said, after covering the goose with cold water, putting the lid on the kettle and placing it beside the other, behind the stove, “she’s froze pretty hard, but that’ll draw th’ frost out, and I can set her on when I’m ready, and cook her in the same water.”

Turning then to the dough remaining in the pan, he began to mould it into cakes, and fry it after the usual fashion.

“Plum duff!” he muttered to himself as he placed the frying pan on the stove. “If we’re goin’ t’ keep Christmas we may’s well keep her right, and surprisin’ is a part of keepin’ her. ’Twon’t do any harm t’ surprise ’em, and make ’em feel good. They’ll like me better for it. They like me pretty well now. They brought the fur down, and I didn’t have t’ show ’em what I had. I wonder how much they’d like me if they knew what I’m plannin’ t’ do when we goes out in th’ spring!”

When Indian Jake had finished bread baking it was broad daylight, and when presently he called the boys several loaves of the hot bread were ranged upon a board by the stove, tea was made and caribou steaks were frying, and the tilt was filled with the pleasant odor of cooking.

“Oh, but it smells good!” exclaimed Andy, springing out of his bunk.

“I feel like I could eat a whole deer!” declared David.

“Well, get washed up, then!” grinned Indian Jake “Breakfast is ready and waitin’.”

A storm had sprung up in the night. As they ate they could hear the wind howling around the tilt, and dashing snow in spiteful gusts against the door. But with the cheerful, crackling fire in the stove they were as warm and cozy as any one could wish, and after breakfast, when Indian Jake lighted his pipe and the boys snuggled down in vast and luxurious contentment, Andy remarked:

“’Tis fine t’ feel we can ’bide inside, and don’t have t’ go out in th’ snow t’ cut wood or anything. ’Tis a fine day for Christmas.”

They discussed the furs they had accumulated, and what they were likely to get before the season closed, and the price the furs would bring, and the boys were made vastly happy by Indian Jake’s reassurance that they already had, he was quite certain, enough to pay the expenses of Jamie’s operation. Then it was quite natural they should be deeply concerned about their father’s broken leg, and whether it was healing, and whether or not the mist in Jamie’s eyes was continuing to thicken. Indian Jake was wholly optimistic.

“Your father’s up and about before this,” he cheered. “He’s feedin’ th’ dogs and ’tendin’ t’ things, and like as not doin’ some huntin’ close by Th’ Jug. There’s no need worryin’ about Jamie’s eyes, either. Doctor Joe’s lookin’ out for them. He’ll see to ’em and take care of ’em. He’ll never let th’ lad go blind.” Indian Jake’s positive manner lent this assurance the character of certainty. It seemed to remove from the day the last cloud, and they fell to speculating upon what the folk were doing at The Jug, and how they were enjoying the Christmas day.

And thus they talked of this and that until at length Indian Jake announced that it was time to “think of dinner,” and reaching behind the stove brought forth the big kettle containing the goose, and set it upon the fire, after taking a surreptitious peek under the cover.

“What’ll we have for dinner?” asked David. “I’m gettin’ hungry already.”

“Meat and other things. They’s no knowin’ what all,” answered Indian Jake cautiously.

“What’ll there be t’ have besides meat?” asked Andy curiously.

“Whitefish, maybe--and other things. But I don’t want any questions asked,” warned Indian Jake. “_I’m_ gettin’ dinner. You’ll see what we have when th’ time comes.”

Indian Jake was most mysterious, and he was in great good humor with it all. The boys were keyed to a high state of expectancy. Something unusual was surely in store for them. The kettle boiled and in due time sent forth a most delicious and appetizing odor. The boys speculated and endeavored to identify the odor until suddenly David, with a happy thought, exclaimed:

“She smells like goose!”

“Where’d I be gettin’ goose _this_ time o’ year?” asked Indian Jake, as though it were a most preposterous suggestion. “Didn’t we eat all the geese we had frozen up after the bear’s meat was gone?”

“Aye,” admitted David regretfully, “we ate un all; but she _smells_ wonderfully like goose, and I wish she _were_ goose!”

“She ain’t deer’s meat, _what_ever!” declared Andy.

“You’ll see when the time comes,” was all the satisfaction Indian Jake would give them, as he partially lifted the lid and threw some salt into the kettle as seasoning. Then, pouring boiling water into the kettle containing the pudding, he placed it also on the stove.

“What’s in _that_, now?” asked Andy.

“They’s no tellin’,” Indian Jake grinned. “They might be ’most anything. Davy, get a pan of whitefish ready to fry, whilst I mix some dumplings for th’ big kettle. We’ll start in with whitefish.”

The boys could scarcely contain their curiosity. The mystery was thickening, and the odor of goose was growing more appealing. Even when Indian Jake dropped the dumplings into the kettle, and they took big whiffs when he lifted the lid, they could make nothing of it.

“Oh-h-!” breathed Andy ecstatically. “But that smells good! And I’m hungrier’n I ever was in my life!”

“So be I!” declared David, turning the fish.

Indian Jake brewed the tea, and at last dinner was ready.

“Don’t eat too much of th’ fish,” he cautioned. “That’s just a starter.”

And so maintaining his air of mystery, and keeping the boys in suspense until the last moment, he lifted the cover from the kettle at the proper time with the announcement:

“It’s goose, lads, with dumplin’s. You guessed right.”

“Oh! Goose! Goose!” exploded Andy.

“I thought she smelled wonderfully like goose!” exclaimed David.

Indian Jake grinned broadly.

“This is just the best Christmas dinner we ever could have!” enthused Andy, as Indian Jake dished him a liberal portion.

“Where’d you get un, Jake?” asked David, as Indian Jake filled his plate. “After the bear’s meat were gone I were thinkin’ we ate th’ last goose we had.”

“I shot un just before th’ freeze up,” explained Indian Jake. “I was huntin’ up near where my first tilt is, and I left un in th’ tilt where she froze up and kept good, and I kept un for a Christmas feed. And now we’re havin’ th’ feed!”

But it _was_ a dinner! And how they ate! They were sure the goose was every whit as good as though it had been fresh killed! It was fat and tender as ever a goose could be, and Indian Jake explained that while it was a big goose, it was a young one! And the dumplings! They were light and fluffy, and there was plenty of gravy to cover them!

“Don’t eat too much, now!” warned Indian Jake. “Save room for what’s comin’!”

Something was surely coming! Whatever it was, it bobbed merrily in the kettle, making the cover dance and jingle a lively tune. At last Indian Jake arose, and, taking the mixing pan, cleaned and dried it carefully.

The boys were on tiptoes, with curiosity and expectation. Indian Jake had never done anything with so much deliberation in his life! Satisfied, finally, that the pan was quite dry, he lifted the lid of the kettle and disclosed a cotton bag filled almost to bursting. With the point of his sheath knife he lifted the tied end of the bag cautiously, seized it quickly, and transferred the bag from the boiling water into the pan.

“Duff!” shouted Andy. “Plum duff!”

“Um-m-m! Plum duff!” echoed David.

Indian Jake ripped the bag its length, and with a dexterous movement lifted it, leaving the pudding naked, and disclosed in all its glory, announcing as he did so:

“Cranberry puddin’!”

Then he cut it into three big portions, and covering each with molasses, in lieu of sauce, passed one to each of the boys.

“There ’tis,” he said. “Go to un, and see how you like un!”

Like it! They were both quite sure they had never eaten _such_ a pudding in all their life. Andy declared it “A wonderful lot better than plum duff!” It was a fit crown for the dinner.

Indian Jake explained that he had picked the berries one day when they were making a portage along the Nascaupee River. He had put them in the tea pail which he used on his trail, and there he found them when he opened the pail at his first tilt. They were frozen, and he stowed them away with other things under his bunk, and quite forgot them until he heard Andy wishing for plum duff on the day they killed the caribou.

“Then I makes up my mind if you wants plum duff so bad, we’ll use t’ berries and have some,” he concluded.

“You’ve been thinkin’ up a wonderful lot o’ surprises for us,” said Andy appreciatively.

The wind continued to howl and the snow to drift outside, but it troubled them not in the least. They were as snug and warm and satisfied as ever mortals can be. They were as happy, too--only David and Andy complained that they had eaten too much. But that is characteristic of boys the world over, on such occasions. And as for Indian Jake, he had reason to be the happiest of the three, for there is no happiness so complete as that which comes from giving others pleasure.

And if it were to be measured by appreciation rather than by variety or quality of cooking, or manner of service, I daresay nowhere in all the world was a better dinner served that Christmas day than in the little Narrows tilt on Seal Lake, in the heart of the Labrador wilderness.