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I 
Seven Boys in a Blizzard 
By JAN MAYEN 
A FTER thirty years of wandering in dis¬ 
tant lands I once more stood upon the 
wide bridge spanning a stream which 
formed the boundary of my native settlement in 
the least of the provinces which constitute the 
Dominion of Canada. 
Leaning upon the rude wooden railing I al¬ 
lowed my thoughts to drift back to the days of 
my childhood and early youth, how many years 
back I scarce dared to think. A chickadee piped 
its simple note in an adjacent bush, a kingfisher 
with harsh cry flew by up the creek seeking per¬ 
chance an unwary fish for his midday meal, and 
a red squirrel started to run across the opposite 
railing, but stopped suddenly when half way and 
regarded me with bright black eyes for a few 
moments, then finished his course, and ascending 
a convenient maple tree by fits and starts dis¬ 
appeared among the branches. No other sign 
of life was in view, although a farmhouse con¬ 
cealed by trees stood within two hundred yards 
of my position. 
How long I leaned upon the railing in silent 
reverie I know not, hut I was suddenly awakened 
by a shrill clear voice beside me crying out, 
“Hullo! old man. Welcome back to P. E. I.” 
Starting up I looked around for the owner of 
the voice and perceived a stranger perched on 
the railing at my elbow. He wore a suit of 
gray tweeds and a derby hat set jauntily over 
one eye. To say that I was surprised or aston¬ 
ished would not convey the slightest idea of my 
state of bewildered amazement upon beholding 
him. After regarding him in silence I managed 
to ejaculate, “Who are you?” 
“Oh, don’t be afraid,” he said patronizingly. 
“I know you; knew you long ago before you left 
home; knew you when you were a little boy not 
knee high to a grasshopper.” 
He must have read surprise and amazement in 
my face, for he continued. 
“Don’t think I am trying to run a confidence 
game on you, old man. I’d scorn the idea. I’m 
giving you straight goods. I was born on P. 
E. I. myself. My parents lived here many years. 
I have been away from the old sod for some 
time though. Am traveling now for a firm of 
wholesale furriers, Montreal, P. Q., largest firm 
in the trade in all the broad Dominion from Van¬ 
couver to Sydney. Allow me,” and he produced 
and handed me the card of his firm in the most 
business like manner conceivable. 
1 was by this time beginning to collect my scat¬ 
tered thoughts, and accepting the situation as it 
stood, seeing I could not well do otherwise, I 
entered into conversation with my acquaintance 
and he proceeded to remind me of incidents of 
my youth which I had long forgotten. 
“Do you recollect one fine winter morning, 
away back in the fifties, of seven little boys 
going a-fishing unknown to their parents.” 
“I do well, and I was one of them.” 
“And you were one of them,” echoed he. “I 
saw you myself. Our family lived near the first 
house you made when you came back. Saw you 
go by in the morning and father remarked to 
me, says he, ‘Them lads are going a-fishing un¬ 
known to their folks likely, and will have a hard 
time coming back. It’s a fine morning now, but 
there’s a wicked storm coming on, and some of 
the kind Scotch women in the valley may weep 
for them boys before another day comes.’ 
“The event proved that the old man knew 
what he was talking about. By noon the wind 
had reached to the northwest and blew a hurri¬ 
cane. Then the drift flew. But what am I talk¬ 
ing about. You were there and knew all about 
it.” 
I was there. The incident thus, brought vividly 
to my recollection arose before my mind’s eye 
as plainly as on that winter’s day on which it 
occurred many long eventful years before. A 
clear frosty morning without a breath of air 
stirring, the snow lay on hill and dalg, field and 
wood to the depth of eighteen inches or more, 
loose and frosty. Myriads of snow crystals shone 
like diamonds in the bright sunlight. Seven small 
boys, sons of neighboring settlers, met at an 
appointed rendezvous to go fishing, and after a 
short consultation filed silently into the woods 
on a five-mile tramp to a well known pond, the 
biggest boy, a lad of about fourteen summers, 
taking the lead, the second in size and strength 
following closely carrying the indispensable axe, 
the remainder tailed on in single file, the smaller 
boys being kept well in the center of the line, 
and the rear brought up by a sturdy lad of 
twelve or thereabout whose especial duty it was 
to see that none fell out of line or lagged be¬ 
hind, for these little men were trained woods¬ 
men every one, and marched by the rules of 
woodcraft, well knowing that the consequence of 
losing the marks on a blazed trail such as they 
were following might mean camping in the woods 
over night, which in such weather would certainly 
result in severe suffering to the weaker members 
of the party. 
On we tramped through the deep snow silently 
and determined, I being the youngest and weak¬ 
est of the party, taking the center of the line. 
Suddenly our march was interrupted by a quick 
rush and flurry of snow, and a roar of wings, as 
up from among our feet flew three ruffed grouse 
which, being disturbed from their comfortable 
quarters under the loose snow by our unexpected 
appearance, sought safety in flight and were care¬ 
fully marked down by the larger boys in the top 
of a giant birch about a hundred yards distant 
and close to our line of march in which they had 
alighted, probably for the purpose of feeding, the 
buds of the birch being a favorite food of these 
birds in winter. 
A halt was called, and immediate preparations 
made for the capture of the game, the appear¬ 
ance of which in this manner was perhaps not 
wholly unexpected by the elder boys. When, tc 
the wonder and admiration of his comrades, out 
leader unexpectedly produced from under hi; 
homespun jacket a flintlock horse pistol all glor¬ 
ious in brass mounting, a present received from 
his uncle ^recently arrived from the “old coun¬ 
try” who had in his youth served as a troopei 
in that famous cavalry regiment, the Scots Gray; 
and fought under the Iron Duke at Waterloo- 
and during the subsequent operations which 
ended in the surrender of the great Napoleor 
and the consequent close of the war. 
This weapon, which had been carefully loadec 
with powder and shot before leaving home, wa; 
now for the first time to be turned to practica 
account since coming into the possession of it; 
present owner. Word was passed that now 
should leave the trail except the two foremos 
boys, who would stealthily go forward toward th(' 
tree in which the birds could be plainly seen 1 
The remainder of the party stood patiently ir 
their tracks scarcely daring to breathe in theii 
anxiety for the success of their comrades who 
by using other trees as blinds, had crept up dost 
to that in which the partridge were feeding an( 
well within range. The deadly weapon wa: 
silently raised and rested against the side of ; 
tree. A careful aim was taken, two of the bird; 1 
caught in line, the trigger was pulled, the faith 
ful flint struck a spark, the priming flashed 
Short and sharp came the bark of the old-tirm 
weapon and down from their perch fell two bird: 
which were quickly gathered in and slung ove 
the shoulders of one of the lads. The third bin 
had sought safety in flight, and it was voted in 
expedient to follow, as the day at that season i 
short and we must push on to reach our fishin! 
ground as early as possible, but not be 
fore the gun was, by special request, passei 
around for examination, particular attentior 
being paid to the royal arms displayed in a bras 
medallion on the butt and the old nursery rhyiw 
repeated: 
The lion and the unicorn fighting- for the crown, 
Up jumped the litttle dog and knocked them both dowr 
Which little dog was there most certainl: 
perched aloft upon the crown to our minds, prov 
ing the truth of the old rhyme beyond questioi 
