Branches West

As he rounded the corner onto the main street his thoughts were rudely interrupted as a group of voyageurs, arm in arm, bellowing a boisterous paddling song, brushed Neil aside as they entered the tavern. One of the men, seeing Neil's annoyed look, smiled broadly as he reached out and grasped Neil around the waist, pulling him along and urging him to join them inside.

"Come, sing!" he cried as Neil reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled into the crowded tavern.

The voyageur, a short, bulky, older man, with a broad face, long hair tied in a pigtail was thoroughly enjoying his evening on the town. His two younger friends were similar in height, but one was lean with a long narrow face with a big nose, the other with big shoulders and narrow hips, his swarthy face scarred by an encounter with a bear. All three had long, dark hair and wore dark flannel shirts with blue kerchiefs around the neck, trousers with beaded garters below the knees and crimson sashes tied around the waist, deer-skin moccasins with no socks, and caps crowned with a plume of colored feathers.

"Rum!" the older man shouted to the bartender as they worked their way through the crowd to the bar.

"Here, my friend," he said, thrusting a drink into Neil's hand.

Pleased by the friendliness and merry singing of the voyageurs, Neil accepted the drink and listened as a fiddler began playing a tune while the entire room broke into a rollicking song.

As the singing subsided, Neil asked "What are your names?"

The older man replied, "I'm Louisson. LeBlanc here and Boucher there," pointing to his friends now lighting their clay pipes. "My friends do not speak much English but they sing almost as well as they paddle!" he laughed as he finished his drink and again the room broke into singing as the fiddler led them in "A la Claire Fontaine".

"Bartender! Bring us another round!" shouted Louisson.

"Tell me about your life as a voyageur. How long have you been one?" asked Neil.

"There is no life so happy as a voyageur's life," replied Louisson. "I have been a canoe-man for twenty years. It is very hard work. I paddle, carry, walk, and sing all day as we travel hundreds of miles. We sleep under our canoe. We fish, we cook, we fight bears. See my friend Boucher. The bear had Boucher's head in his mouth, but he must not have tasted good because the bear spat him out and swatted him!" cried Louisson, laughing as he pointed at Boucher. "I've spent all my money on pleasure, but if I were young I would do it all over again!"

Boucher and LeBlanc, understanding most of what Louisson said, grinned and nodded in agreement.

"Here's to the life of a voyageur!" cried Louisson as they all raised their glasses and downed their drinks.

The singing and drinking continued into the night as the voyageurs told of their exploits canoeing the dangerous rapids, fighting with Indians and bears, and told extravagant tales of their exploits with the Indian women at the inland forts. Neil, enjoying their stories but not accustomed to such a drinking bout, was no match for the rowdy voyageurs. He decided to leave. Standing unsteadily, he started to walk to the door but stumbled back into his chair.

"Oh, my friend. Where are you going?" asked Louisson, amused at Neil's condition.

"I need a plaesh to s-sthay tonight," answered Neil, slurring the words as his head dropped to his chest.

Louisson repeated this in French to LeBlanc and Boucher. They conversed among themselves, laughing uproariously as LeBlanc suggested that they take Neil to the whorehouse across the street. They agreed that it was just the place for Neil to spend the night.

"Neil, we know of a place where you can stay. It's not far. Can you stand? We'll help you walk," said Louisson.

"Oh, I'm real-ly dizzy. Give me a hand," said Neil as he struggled to his feet.

Louisson, LeBlanc and Boucher broke into another song as they marched Neil through the crowd, out the door, and across the street to a log hut. Louisson knocked on the door. A woman, a half-breed Chippewa, opened the door a crack and conversed with Louisson in French. She questioned him but finally opened the door and the three voyageurs carried Neil inside to a bunk bed behind a curtain.

"Here, Neil. This will be your bed. Here's your knapsack and your bedding roll." Louison said as they dumped Neil on the bed, laughed at what they considered a hilarious joke and went back across the street to the tavern.

Neil had passed out, completely oblivious to his surroundings. The woman watched him for a few minutes. Then, assured that he was asleep, opened his knapsack, found his purse, took all the money, blew out the candle and left the hut.