While Hector and Louis were preparing the sleeping-chamber, Catharine busied herself in preparing the partridge for their supper. Having collected some thin peelings from the ragged bark of a birch-tree, that grew on the side of the steep bank to which she gave the appropriate name of the “Birken shaw,” she dried it in her bosom, and then beat it fine upon a big stone, till it resembled the finest white paper. This proved excellent tinder, the aromatic oil contained in the bark of the birch being highly inflammable, Hector had prudently retained the flint that they had used in the morning, and a fire was now lighted in front of the rocky stone, and a forked stick, stuck in the ground, and bent over the coals, served as a spit, on which, gipsy-fashion, the partridge was suspended,--a scanty meal, but thankfully partaken of, though they knew not how they should breakfast next morning, The children felt they were pensioners on God’s providence not less than the wild denizens of the wilderness around them.
When Hector--who by nature was less sanguine than his sister or cousin--expressed some anxiety for their provisions for the morrow, Catharine, who had early listened with trusting piety of heart to the teaching of her father, when he read portions from the holy word of God, gently laid her hand upon her brother’s head, which rested on her knees, as he sat upon the grass beside her, and said, in a low and earnest tone, “‘Consider the fowls of the air; they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns, yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?’ Surely, my brother, God careth for us as much as for the wild creatures, that have no sense to praise and glorify his holy name. God cares for the creatures He has made, and supplies them with knowledge where they shall find food when they hunger and thirst. So I have heard my father say; and surely our father knows, for is he not a wise man, Hector?”
“I remember,” said Louis, thoughtfully, “hearing my mother repeat the words of a good old man she knew when she lived in Quebec;--‘When you are in trouble, Mathilde,’ he used to say to her, ‘kneel down, and ask God’s help, nothing doubting but that He has the power as well as the will to serve you, if it be for your good; for He is able to bring all things to pass. It is our own want of faith that prevents our prayers from being heard. And, truly, I think the wise old man was right,” he added.