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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1088 ***
+
+ROLF IN THE WOODS
+
+By Ernest Thompson Seton
+
+[Chapters 10 and 60 not designated in the original file.]
+
+
+
+
+Preface
+
+In this story I have endeavoured to realize some of the influences that
+surrounded the youth of America a hundred years ago, and made of them,
+first, good citizens, and, later, in the day of peril, heroes that won
+the battles of Lake Erie, Plattsburg, and New Orleans, and the great sea
+fights of Porter, Bainbridge, Decatur, Lawrence, Perry, and MacDonough.
+
+I have especially dwelt in detail on the woodland and peace scouting
+in the hope that I may thus help other boys to follow the hard-climbing
+trail that leads to the higher uplands.
+
+For the historical events of 1812-14, I have consulted among books
+chiefly, Theodore Roosevelt's “Naval War of 1812,” Peter S. Palmer's
+“History of Lake Champlain,” and Walter Hill Crockett's “A History of
+Lake Champlain,” 1909. But I found another and more personal mine of
+information. Through the kindness of my friend, Edmund Seymour, a native
+of the Champlain region, now a resident of New York, I went over all the
+historical ground with several unpublished manuscripts for guides, and
+heard from the children of the sturdy frontiersmen new tales of the
+war; and in getting more light and vivid personal memories, I was glad,
+indeed, to realize that not only were there valour and heroism on both
+sides, but also gentleness and courtesy. Histories written by either
+party at the time should be laid aside. They breathe the rancourous
+hate of the writers of the age--the fighters felt not so--and the
+many incidents given here of chivalry and consideration were actual
+happenings, related to me by the descendants of those who experienced
+them; and all assure me that these were a true reflex of the feelings of
+the day.
+
+I am much indebted to Miss Katherine Palmer, of Plattsburg, for kindly
+allowing me to see the unpublished manuscript memoir of her grandfather,
+Peter Sailly, who was Collector of the Port of Plattsburg at the time of
+the war.
+
+Another purpose in this story was to picture the real Indian with his
+message for good or for evil.
+
+Those who know nothing of the race will scoff and say they never heard
+of such a thing as a singing and religious red man. Those who know him
+well will say, “Yes, but you have given to your eastern Indian songs
+and ceremonies which belong to the western tribes, and which are of
+different epochs.” To the latter I reply:
+
+“You know that the western Indians sang and prayed in this way. How do
+you know that the eastern ones did not? We have no records, except
+those by critics, savagely hostile, and contemptuous of all religious
+observances but their own. The Ghost Dance Song belonged to a much more
+recent time, no doubt, but it was purely Indian, and it is generally
+admitted that the races of continental North America were of one stock,
+and had no fundamentally different customs or modes of thought.”
+
+The Sunrise Song was given me by Frederick R. Burton, author of
+“American Primitive Music.” It is still in use among the Ojibwa.
+
+The songs of the Wabanaki may be read in C. G. Leland's “Kuloskap the
+Master.”
+
+The Ghost Dance Song was furnished by Alice C. Fletcher, whose “Indian
+Song and Story” will prove a revelation to those who wish to follow
+further.
+
+ERNEST THOMPSON SETON.
+
+
+
+Chapter 1. The Wigwam Under the Rock
+
+The early springtime sunrise was near at hand as Quonab, the last of the
+Myanos Sinawa, stepped from his sheltered wigwam under the cliff that
+borders the Asamuk easterly, and, mounting to the lofty brow of the
+great rock that is its highest pinnacle, he stood in silence, awaiting
+the first ray of the sun over the sea water that stretches between
+Connecticut and Seawanaky.
+
+His silent prayer to the Great Spirit was ended as a golden beam shot
+from a long, low cloud-bank over the sea, and Quonab sang a weird Indian
+song for the rising sun, an invocation to the Day God:
+
+     “O thou that risest from the low cloud
+     To burn in the all above;
+     I greet thee!  I adore thee!”
+
+Again and again he sang to the tumming of a small tom-tom, till the
+great refulgent one had cleared the cloud, and the red miracle of the
+sunrise was complete. Back to his wigwam went the red man, down to his
+home tucked dosed under the sheltering rock, and, after washing his
+hands in a basswood bowl, began to prepare his simple meal.
+
+A tin-lined copper pot hanging over the fire was partly filled with
+water; then, when it was boiling, some samp or powdered corn and some
+clams were stirred in. While these were cooking, he took his smooth-bore
+flint-lock, crawled gently over the ridge that screened his wigwam from
+the northwest wind, and peered with hawk-like eyes across the broad
+sheet of water that, held by a high beaver-dam, filled the little valley
+of Asamuk Brook.
+
+The winter ice was still on the pond, but in all the warming shallows
+there was open water, on which were likely to be ducks. None were to be
+seen, but by the edge of the ice was a round object which, although so
+far away, he knew at a glance for a muskrat.
+
+By crawling around the pond, the Indian could easily have come within
+shot, but he returned at once to his wigwam, where he exchanged his gun
+for the weapons of his fathers, a bow and arrows, and a long fish-line.
+A short, quick stalk, and the muskrat, still eating a flagroot, was
+within thirty feet. The fish-line was coiled on the ground and then
+attached to an arrow, the bow bent--zip--the arrow picked up the line,
+coil after coil, and trans-fixed the muskrat. Splash! and the animal was
+gone under the ice.
+
+But the cord was in the hands of the hunter; a little gentle pulling and
+the rat came to view, to be despatched with a stick and secured. Had he
+shot it with a gun, it had surely been lost.
+
+He returned to his camp, ate his frugal breakfast, and fed a small,
+wolfish-looking yellow dog that was tied in the lodge.
+
+He skinned the muskrat carefully, first cutting a slit across the rear
+and then turning the skin back like a glove, till it was off to the
+snout; a bent stick thrust into this held it stretched, till in a day,
+it was dry and ready for market. The body, carefully cleaned, he hung in
+the shade to furnish another meal.
+
+As he worked, there were sounds of trampling in the woods, and
+presently a tall, rough-looking man, with a red nose and a curling white
+moustache, came striding through brush and leaves. He stopped when
+he saw the Indian, stared contemptuously at the quarry of the morning
+chase, made a scornful remark about “rat-eater,” and went on toward the
+wigwam, probably to peer in, but the Indian's slow, clear, “keep away!”
+ changed his plan. He grumbled something about “copper-coloured tramp,”
+ and started away in the direction of the nearest farmhouse.
+
+
+
+Chapter 2. Rolf Kittering and the Soldier Uncle
+
+     A feller that chatters all the time is bound to talk a
+     certain amount of drivel.--The Sayings of Si Sylvanne
+
+This was the Crow Moon, the white man's March. The Grass Moon was at
+hand, and already the arrow bands of black-necked honkers were passing
+northward from the coast, sending down as they flew the glad tidings
+that the Hunger Moon was gone, that spring was come, yea, even now was
+in the land. And the flicker clucked from a high, dry bough, the spotted
+woodwale drummed on his chosen branch, the partridge drummed in the pine
+woods, and in the sky the wild ducks, winging, drummed their way. What
+wonder that the soul of the Indian should seek expression in the drum
+and the drum song of his race?
+
+Presently, as though remembering something, he went quietly to the
+southward under the ridge, just where it breaks to let the brook go by,
+along the edge of Strickland's Plain, and on that hill of sliding stone
+he found, as he always had, the blue-eyed liver-leaf smiling, the first
+sweet flower of spring! He did not gather it, he only sat down and
+looked at it. He did not smile, or sing, or utter words, or give it
+a name, but he sat beside it and looked hard at it, and, in the first
+place, he went there knowingly to find it. Who shall say that its beauty
+did not reach his soul?
+
+He took out his pipe and tobacco bag, but was reminded of something
+lacking--the bag was empty. He returned to his wigwam, and from their
+safe hanger or swinging shelf overhead, he took the row of stretched
+skins, ten muskrats and one mink, and set out along a path which led
+southward through the woods to the broad, open place called Strickland's
+Plain, across that, and over the next rock ridge to the little town and
+port of Myanos.
+
+               SILAS PECK
+               Trading Store
+
+was the sign over the door he entered. Men and women were buying and
+selling, but the Indian stood aside shyly until all were served, and
+Master Peck cried out:
+
+“Ho, Quonab! what have ye got for trade to-day?”
+
+Quonab produced his furs. The dealer looked at them narrowly and said:
+
+“They are too late in the season for primes; I cannot allow you more
+than seven cents each for the rats and seventy-five cents for the mink,
+all trade.”
+
+The Indian gathered up the bundle with an air of “that settles it,” when
+Silas called out:
+
+“Come now, I'll make it ten cents for the rats.”
+
+“Ten cents for rats, one dollar for mink, all cash, then I buy what I
+like,” was the reply.
+
+It was very necessary to Silas's peace that no customer of his should
+cross the street to the sign,
+
+              SILAS MEAD
+              Trading Store
+
+So the bargain, a fair one now, was made, and the Indian went off with a
+stock of tobacco, tea, and sugar.
+
+His way lay up the Myanos River, as he had one or two traps set along
+the banks for muskrats, although in constant danger of having them
+robbed or stolen by boys, who considered this an encroachment on their
+trapping grounds.
+
+After an hour he came to Dumpling Pond, then set out for his home,
+straight through the woods, till he reached the Catrock line, and
+following that came to the farm and ramshackle house of Micky Kittering.
+He had been told that the man at this farm had a fresh deer hide for
+sale, and hoping to secure it, Quonab walked up toward the house. Micky
+was coming from the barn when he saw the Indian. They recognized each
+other at a glance. That was enough for Quonab; he turned away. The
+farmer remembered that he had been “insulted.” He vomited a few oaths,
+and strode after the Indian, “To take it out of his hide”; his purpose
+was very clear. The Indian turned quickly, stood, and looked calmly at
+Michael.
+
+Some men do not know the difference between shyness and cowardice, but
+they are apt to find it out unexpectedly Something told the white man,
+“Beware! this red man is dangerous.” He muttered something about, “Get
+out of that, or I'll send for a constable.” The Indian stood gazing
+coldly, till the farmer backed off out of sight, then he himself turned
+away to the woods.
+
+Kittering was not a lovely character. He claimed to have been a soldier.
+He certainly looked the part, for his fierce white moustache was curled
+up like horns on his purple face, at each side of his red nose, in
+a most milita style. His shoulders were square and his gait was
+swaggering, beside which, he had an array of swear words that was new
+and tremendously impressive in Connecticut. He had married late in life
+a woman who would have made him a good wife, had he allowed her. But, a
+drunkard himself he set deliberately about bringing his wife to his own
+ways and with most lamentable success. They had had no children, but
+some months before a brother's child, fifteen-year-old lad, had become
+a charge on their hands and, with any measure of good management, would
+have been a blessing to all. But Micky had gone too far. His original
+weak good-nature was foundered in rum. Always blustery and frothy, he
+divided the world in two--superior officers, before whom he grovelled,
+and inferiors to whom he was a mouthy, foul-tongued, contemptible bully,
+in spite of a certain lingering kindness of heart that showed itself at
+such rare times when he was neither roaring drunk nor crucified by black
+reaction. His brother's child, fortunately, had inherited little of the
+paternal family traits, but in both body and brain favoured his mother,
+the daughter of a learned divine who had spent unusual pains on her book
+education, but had left her penniless and incapable of changing that
+condition.
+
+Her purely mental powers and peculiarities were such that, a hundred
+years before, she might have been burned for a witch, and fifty years
+later might have been honoured as a prophetess. But she missed the crest
+of the wave both ways and fell in the trough; her views on religious
+matters procured neither a witch's grave nor a prophet's crown, but a
+sort of village contempt.
+
+The Bible was her standard--so far so good--but she emphasized the wrong
+parts of it. Instead of magnifying the damnation of those who follow not
+the truth (as the village understood it), she was content to semi-quote:
+
+“Those that are not against me are with me,” and “A kind heart is the
+mark of His chosen.” And then she made a final utterance, an echo really
+of her father: “If any man do anything sincerely, believing that thereby
+he is worshipping God, he is worshipping God.”
+
+Then her fate was sealed, and all who marked the blazing eyes, the
+hollow cheeks, the yet more hollow chest and cough, saw in it all the
+hand of an offended God destroying a blasphemer, and shook their heads
+knowingly when the end came.
+
+So Rolf was left alone in life, with a common school education, a
+thorough knowledge of the Bible and of “Robinson Crusoe,” a vague
+tradition of God everywhere, and a deep distrust of those who should
+have been his own people.
+
+The day of the little funeral he left the village of Redding to tramp
+over the unknown road to the unknown south where his almost unknown
+Uncle Michael had a farm and, possibly, a home for him.
+
+Fifteen miles that day, a night's rest in a barn, twenty-five miles the
+next day, and Rolf had found his future home.
+
+“Come in, lad,” was the not unfriendly reception, for his arrival
+was happily fallen on a brief spell of good humour, and a strong,
+fifteen-year-old boy is a distinct asset on a farm.
+
+
+
+Chapter 3. Rolf Catches a Coon and Finds a Friend
+
+Aunt Prue, sharp-eyed and red-nosed, was actually shy at first, but
+all formality vanished as Rolf was taught the mysteries of pig-feeding,
+hen-feeding, calf-feeding, cow-milking, and launched by list only in
+a vast number of duties familiar to him from his babyhood. What a list
+there was. An outsider might have wondered if Aunt Prue was saving
+anything for herself, but Rolf was used to toil. He worked without
+ceasing and did his best, only to learn in time that the best could win
+no praise, only avert punishment. The spells of good nature arrived more
+seldom in his uncle's heart. His aunt was a drunken shrew and soon Rolf
+looked on the days of starving and physical misery with his mother as
+the days of his happy youth gone by.
+
+He was usually too tired at night and too sleepy in the morning to say
+his prayers, and gradually he gave it up as a daily habit. The more he
+saw of his kinsfolk, the more wickedness came to view; and yet it was
+with a shock that he one day realized that some fowls his uncle brought
+home by night were there without the owner's knowledge or consent. Micky
+made a jest of it, and intimated that Rolf would have to “learn to do
+night work very soon.” This was only one of the many things that showed
+how evil a place was now the orphan's home.
+
+At first it was not clear to the valiant uncle whether the silent boy
+was a superior to be feared, or an inferior to be held in fear, but
+Mick's courage grew with non-resistance, and blows became frequent;
+although not harder to bear than the perpetual fault-finding and
+scolding of his aunt, and all the good his mother had implanted was
+being shrivelled by the fires of his daily life.
+
+Rolf had no chance to seek for companions at the village store, but an
+accident brought one to him. Before sunrise one spring morning he went,
+as usual, to the wood lot pasture for the cow, and was surprised to find
+a stranger, who beckoned him to come. On going near he saw a tall
+man with dark skin and straight black hair that was streaked with
+gray--undoubtedly an Indian. He held up a bag and said, “I got coon
+in that hole. You hold bag there, I poke him in.” Rolf took the sack
+readily and held it over the hole, while the Indian climbed the tree to
+a higher opening, then poked in this with a long pole, till all at once
+there was a scrambling noise and the bag bulged full and heavy. Rolf
+closed its mouth triumphantly. The Indian laughed lightly, then swung to
+the ground.
+
+“Now, what will you do with him?” asked Rolf.
+
+“Train coon dog,” was the answer.
+
+“Where?”
+
+The Indian pointed toward the Asamuk Pond.
+
+“Are you the singing Indian that lives under Ab's Rock?
+
+“Ugh! [*] Some call me that. My name is Quonab.”
+
+“Wait for an hour and then I will come and help,” volunteered Rolf
+impulsively, for the hunting instinct was strong in him.
+
+The Indian nodded. “Give three yelps if you no find me;” then he
+shouldered a short stick, from one end of which, at a safe distance from
+his back, hung the bag with the coon. And Rolf went home with the cow.
+
+He had acted on hasty impulse in offering to come, but now, in the
+normal storm state of the household, the difficulties of the course
+appeared. He cudgelled his brain for some plan to account for his
+absence, and finally took refuge unwittingly in ancient wisdom: “When
+you don't know a thing to do, don't do a thing.” Also, “If you can't
+find the delicate way, go the blunt way.”
+
+So having fed the horses, cleaned the stable, and milked the cow, fed
+the pigs, the hens, the calf, harnessed the horses, cut and brought in
+wood for the woodshed, turned out the sheep, hitched the horses to the
+wagon, set the milk out in the creaming pans, put more corn to soak for
+the swill barrel, ground the house knife, helped to clear the breakfast
+things, replaced the fallen rails of a fence, brought up potatoes from
+the root cellar, all to the maddening music of a scolding tongue, he set
+out to take the cow back to the wood lot, sullenly resolved to return
+when ready.
+
+
+     * Ugh (yes) and wah (no) are Indianisms that continue no
+     matter how well the English has been acquired.
+
+
+
+Chapter 4. The Coon Hunt Makes Trouble for Rolf
+
+Not one hour, but nearly three, had passed before Rolf sighted the
+Pipestave Pond, as it was called. He had never been there before, but
+three short whoops, as arranged, brought answer and guidance. Quonab was
+standing on the high rock. When Rolf came he led down to the wigwam on
+its south side. It was like stepping into a new life. Several of the
+old neighbours at Redding were hunters who knew the wild Indians and had
+told him tales that glorified at least the wonderful woodcraft of the
+red man. Once or twice Rolf had seen Indians travelling through, and he
+had been repelled by their sordid squalour. But here was something of
+a different kind; not the Champlain ideal, indeed, for the Indian wore
+clothes like any poor farmer, except on his head and his feet; his head
+was bare, and his feet were covered with moccasins that sparkled with
+beads on the arch. The wigwam was of canvas, but it had one or two
+of the sacred symbols painted on it. The pot hung over the fire was
+tin-lined copper, of the kind long made in England for Indian trade,
+but the smaller dishes were of birch bark and basswood. The gun and the
+hunting knife were of white man's make, but the bow, arrows, snowshoes,
+tom-tom, and a quill-covered gun case were of Indian art, fashioned of
+the things that grow in the woods about.
+
+The Indian led into the wigwam. The dog, although not fully grown,
+growled savagely as it smelled the hated white man odour. Quonab gave
+the puppy a slap on the head, which is Indian for, “Be quiet; he's all
+right;” loosed the rope, and led the dog out. “Bring that,” and the
+Indian pointed to the bag which hung from a stick between two trees. The
+dog sniffed suspiciously in the direction of the bag and growled, but
+he was not allowed to come near it. Rolf tried to make friends with the
+dog, but without success and Quonab said, “Better let Skookum [*] alone.
+He make friends when he ready--maybe never.”
+
+The two hunters now set out for the open plain, two or three hundred
+yards to the southward. Here the raccoon was dumped out of the sack,
+and the dog held at a little distance, until the coon had pulled itself
+together and began to run. Now the dog was released and chivvied on.
+With a tremendous barking he rushed at the coon, only to get a nip that
+made him recoil, yelping. The coon ran as hard as it could, the dog
+and hunters came after it; again it was overtaken, and, turning with a
+fierce snarl, it taught the dog a second lesson. Thus, running, dodging,
+and turning to fight, the coon got back to the woods, and there made
+a final stand under a small, thick tree; and, when the dog was again
+repulsed, climbed quickly up into the branches.
+
+The hunters did all they could to excite the dog, until he was jumping
+about, trying to climb the tree, and barking uproariously. This was
+exactly what they wanted. Skookum's first lesson was learned--the duty
+of chasing the big animal of that particular smell, then barking up the
+tree it had climbed.
+
+Quonab, armed with a forked stick and a cord noose, now went up the
+tree. After much trouble he got the noose around the coon's neck, then,
+with some rather rough handling, the animal was dragged down, maneuvered
+into the sack, and carried back to camp, where it was chained up to
+serve in future lessons; the next two or three being to tree the coon,
+as before; in the next, the coon was to be freed and allowed to get out
+of sight, so that the dog might find it by trailing, and the last, in
+which the coon was to be trailed, treed, and shot out of the tree, so
+that the dog should have the final joy of killing a crippled coon, and
+the reward of a coon-meat feast. But the last was not to be, for the
+night before it should have taken place the coon managed to slip its
+bonds, and nothing but the empty collar and idle chain were found in the
+captive's place next morning.
+
+These things were in the future however. Rolf was intensely excited over
+all he had seen that day. His hunting instincts were aroused. There had
+been no very obvious or repellant cruelty; the dog alone had suffered,
+but he seemed happy. The whole affair was so exactly in the line of
+his tastes that the boy was in a sort of ecstatic uplift, and already
+anticipating a real coon hunt, when the dog should be properly trained.
+The episode so contrasted with the sordid life he had left an hour
+before that he was spellbound. The very animal smell of the coon seemed
+to make his fibre tingle. His eyes were glowing with a wild light. He
+was so absorbed that he did not notice a third party attracted by the
+unusual noise of the chase, but the dog did. A sudden, loud challenge
+called all attention to a stranger on the ridge behind the camp. There
+was no mistaking the bloated face and white moustache of Rolf's uncle.
+
+“So, you young scut! that is how you waste your time. I'll larn ye a
+lesson.”
+
+The dog was tied, the Indian looked harmless, and the boy was cowed,
+so the uncle's courage mounted high. He had been teaming in the nearby
+woods, and the blacksnake whip was in his hands. In a minute its thong
+was lapped, like a tongue of flame, around Rolf's legs. The boy gave a
+shriek and ran, but the man followed and furiously plied the whip.
+The Indian, supposing it was Rolf's father, marvelled at his method
+of showing affection, but said nothing, for the Fifth Commandment is a
+large one in the wigwam. Rolf dodged some of the cruel blows, but was
+driven into a corner of the rock. One end of the lash crossed his face
+like a red-hot wire.
+
+“Now I've got you!” growled the bully.
+
+Rolf was desperate. He seized two heavy stones and hurled the first with
+deadly intent at his uncle's head. Mick dodged in time, but the second,
+thrown lower, hit him on the thigh. Mick gave a roar of pain. Rolf
+hastily seized more stones and shrieked out, “You come on one step and
+I'll kill you!”
+
+Then that purple visage turned a sort of ashen hue. Its owner mouthed in
+speechless rage. He “knew it was the Indian had put Rolf up to it. He'd
+see to it later,” and muttering, blasting, frothing, the hoary-headed
+sinner went limping off to his loaded wagon.
+
+
+     * “Skookum” or “Skookum Chuck,” in Chinook means “Troubled
+     waters.”
+
+
+
+Chapter 5. Good-bye to Uncle Mike
+
+     For counsel comes with the night, and action comes with the
+     day; But the gray half light, neither dark nor bright, is a
+     time to hide away.
+
+
+Rolf had learned one thing at least--his uncle was a coward. But he also
+knew that he himself was in the wrong, for he was neglecting his work
+and he decided to go back at once and face the worst. He made little
+reply to the storm of scolding that met him. He would have been
+disappointed if it had not come. He was used to it; it made him feel at
+home once more. He worked hard and silently.
+
+Mick did not return till late. He had been drawing wood for Horton that
+day, which was the reason he happened in Quonab's neighbourhood; but his
+road lay by the tavern, and when he arrived home he was too helpless to
+do more than mutter.
+
+The next day there was an air of suspended thunder. Rolf overheard his
+uncle cursing “that ungrateful young scut--not worth his salt.” But
+nothing further was said or done. His aunt did not strike at him once
+for two days. The third night Micky disappeared. On the next he returned
+with another man; they had a crate of fowls, and Rolf was told to keep
+away from “that there little barn.”
+
+So he did all morning, but he peeped in from the hayloft when a chance
+came, and saw a beautiful horse. Next day the “little barn” was open and
+empty as before.
+
+That night this worthy couple had a jollification with some callers, who
+were strangers to Rolf. As he lay awake, listening to the carouse, he
+overheard many disjointed allusions that he did not understand, and some
+that he could guess at: “Night work pays better than day work any time,”
+ etc. Then he heard his own name and a voice, “Let's go up and settle it
+with him now.” Whatever their plan, it was clear that the drunken crowd,
+inspired by the old ruffian, were intent on doing him bodily harm. He
+heard them stumbling and reeling up the steep stairs. He heard, “Here,
+gimme that whip,” and knew he was in peril, maybe of his life, for they
+were whiskey-mad. He rose quickly, locked the door, rolled up an old rag
+carpet, and put it in his bed. Then he gathered his clothes on his arm,
+opened the window, and lowered himself till his head only was above the
+sill, and his foot found a resting place. Thus he awaited. The raucous
+breathing of the revellers was loud on the stairs; then the door was
+tried; there was some muttering; then the door was burst open and in
+rushed two, or perhaps three, figures. Rolf could barely see in the
+gloom, but he knew that his uncle was one of them. The attack they made
+with whip and stick on that roll of rags in the bed would have broken
+his bones and left him shapeless, had he been in its place. The men were
+laughing and took it all as a joke, but Rolf had seen enough; he slipped
+to the ground and hurried away, realizing perfectly well now that this
+was “good-bye.”
+
+Which way? How naturally his steps turned northward toward Redding, the
+only other place he knew. But he had not gone a mile before he stopped.
+The yapping of a coon dog came to him from the near woods that lay to
+the westward along Asamuk. He tramped toward it. To find the dog is one
+thing, to find the owner another; but they drew near at last. Rolf gave
+the three yelps and Quonab responded.
+
+“I am done with that crowd,” said the boy. “They tried to kill me
+tonight. Have you got room for me in your wigwam for a couple of days?”
+
+“Ugh, come,” said the Indian.
+
+That night, for the first time, Rolf slept in the outdoor air of a
+wigwam. He slept late, and knew nothing of the world about him till
+Quonab called him to breakfast.
+
+
+
+Chapter 6. Skookum Accepts Rolf at Last
+
+Rolf expected that Micky would soon hear of his hiding place and come
+within a few days, backed by a constable, to claim his runaway ward. But
+a week went by and Quonab, passing through Myanos, learned, first, that
+Rolf had been seen tramping northward on the road to Dumpling Pond, and
+was now supposed to be back in Redding; second, that Micky Kittering was
+lodged in jail under charge of horse-stealing and would certainly get
+a long sentence; third, that his wife had gone back to her own folks at
+Norwalk, and the house was held by strangers.
+
+All other doors were closed now, and each day that drifted by made it
+the more clear that Rolf and Quonab were to continue together. What boy
+would not exult at the thought of it? Here was freedom from a brutal
+tyranny that was crushing out his young life; here was a dream of the
+wild world coming true, with gratification of all the hunter instincts
+that he had held in his heart for years, and nurtured in that single,
+ragged volume of “Robinson Crusoe.” The plunge was not a plunge, except
+it be one when an eagle, pinion-bound, is freed and springs from a cliff
+of the mountain to ride the mountain wind.
+
+The memory of that fateful cooning day was deep and lasting. Never
+afterward did smell of coon fail to bring it back; in spite of the many
+evil incidents it was a smell of joy.
+
+“Where are you going, Quonab?” he asked one morning, as he saw the
+Indian rise at dawn and go forth with his song drum, after warming it at
+the fire. He pointed up to the rock, and for the first time Rolf heard
+the chant for the sunrise. Later he heard the Indian's song for “Good
+Hunting,” and another for “When His Heart Was Bad.” They were prayers or
+praise, all addressed to the Great Spirit, or the Great Father, and it
+gave Rolf an entirely new idea of the red man, and a startling light
+on himself. Here was the Indian, whom no one considered anything but a
+hopeless pagan, praying to God for guidance at each step in life, while
+he himself, supposed to be a Christian, had not prayed regularly for
+months--was in danger of forgetting how.
+
+Yet there was one religious observance that Rolf never forgot--that was
+to keep the Sabbath, and on that day each week he did occasionally say
+a little prayer his mother had taught him. He avoided being seen at such
+times and did not speak of kindred doings. Whereas Quonab neither hid
+nor advertised his religious practices, and it was only after many
+Sundays had gone that Quonab remarked:
+
+“Does your God come only one day of the week? Does He sneak in after
+dark? Why is He ashamed that you only whisper to Him? Mine is here all
+the time. I can always reach Him with my song; all days are my Sunday.”
+
+The evil memories of his late life were dimming quickly, and the joys of
+the new one growing. Rolf learned early that, although one may talk of
+the hardy savage, no Indian seeks for hardship. Everything is done that
+he knows to make life pleasant, and of nothing is he more careful than
+the comfort of his couch. On the second day, under guidance of his host,
+Rolf set about making his own bed. Two logs, each four inches thick and
+three feet long, were cut. Then two strong poles, each six feet long,
+were laid into notches at the ends of the short logs. About seventy-five
+straight sticks of willow were cut and woven with willow bark into a
+lattice, three feet wide and six feet long. This, laid on the poles,
+furnished a spring mattress, on which a couple of blankets made a most
+comfortable couch, dry, warm, and off the ground. In addition to the
+lodge cover, each bed had a dew cloth which gave perfect protection, no
+matter how the storm might rage outdoors. There was no hardship in it,
+only a new-found pleasure, to sleep and breathe the pure night air of
+the woods.
+
+The Grass Moon--April--had passed, and the Song Moon was waxing, with
+its hosts of small birds, and one of Rolf's early discoveries was that
+many of these love to sing by night. Again and again the familiar voice
+of the song sparrow came from the dark shore of Asamuk, or the field
+sparrow trilled from the top of some cedar, occasionally the painted
+one, Aunakeu, the partridge, drummed in the upper woods, and nightly
+there was the persistent chant of Muckawis, the whippoorwill, the myriad
+voices of the little frogs called spring-peepers, and the peculiar,
+“peent, peent,” from the sky, followed by a twittering, that Quonab told
+him was the love song of the swamp bird--the big snipe, with the fantail
+and long, soft bill, and eyes like a deer.
+
+“Do you mean the woodcock?” “Ugh, that's the name; Pah-dash-ka-anja we
+call it.”
+
+The waning of the moon brought new songsters, with many a nightingale
+among them. A low bush near the plain was vocal during the full moon
+with the sweet but disconnected music of the yellow-breasted chat. The
+forest rang again and again with a wild, torrential strain of music
+that seemed to come from the stars. It sent peculiar thrill into Rolf's
+heart, and gave him a lump his throat as he listened.
+
+“What is that, Quonab?”
+
+The Indian shook his head. Then, later, when it ended, he said: “That
+is the mystery song of some one I never saw him.”
+
+There was a long silence, then the lad began, “There's no good hunting
+here now, Quonab. Why don't you go to the north woods, where deer are
+plentiful?”
+
+The Indian gave a short shake of his head, and then to prevent further
+talk, “Put up your dew cloth; the sea wind blows to-night.”
+
+He finished; both stood for a moment gazing into the fire. Then Rolf
+felt something wet and cold thrust into his hand. It was Skookum's nose.
+At last the little dog had made up his mind to accept the white boy as a
+friend.
+
+
+
+Chapter 7. Rolf Works Out with Many Results
+
+     He is the dumbest kind of a dumb fool that ain't king in
+     some little corner.--Sayings of Si Sylvanne
+
+The man who has wronged you will never forgive you, and he who has
+helped you will be forever grateful. Yes, there is nothing that draws
+you to a man so much as the knowledge that you have helped him.
+
+Quonab helped Rolf, and so was more drawn to him than to many of the
+neighbours that he had known for years; he was ready to like him.
+Their coming together was accidental, but it was soon very clear that a
+friendship was springing up between them. Rolf was too much of a child
+to think about the remote future; and so was Quonab. Most Indians are
+merely tall children.
+
+But there was one thing that Rolf did think of--he had no right to
+live in Quonab's lodge without contributing a fair share of the things
+needful. Quonab got his living partly by hunting, partly by fishing,
+partly by selling baskets, and partly by doing odd jobs for the
+neighbours. Rolf's training as a loafer had been wholly neglected,
+and when he realized that he might be all summer with Quonab he said
+bluntly:
+
+“You let me stay here a couple of months. I'll work out odd days, and
+buy enough stuff to keep myself any way.” Quonab said nothing, but their
+eyes met, and the boy knew it was agreed to.
+
+Rolf went that very day to the farm of Obadiah Timpany, and offered to
+work by the day, hoeing corn and root crops. What farmer is not glad of
+help in planting time or in harvest? It was only a question of what did
+he know and how much did he want? The first was soon made clear; two
+dollars a week was the usual thing for boys in those times, and when he
+offered to take it half in trade, he was really getting three dollars a
+week and his board. Food was as low as wages, and at the end of a week,
+Rolf brought back to camp a sack of oatmeal, a sack of cornmeal, a
+bushel of potatoes, a lot of apples, and one dollar cash. The dollar
+went for tea and sugar, and the total product was enough to last them
+both a month; so Rolf could share the wigwam with a good conscience.
+
+Of course, it was impossible to keep the gossipy little town of Myanos
+from knowing, first, that the Indian had a white boy for partner; and,
+later, that that boy was Rolf. This gave rise to great diversity of
+opinion in the neighbourhood. Some thought it should not be allowed, but
+Horton, who owned the land on which Quonab was camped, could not see any
+reason for interfering.
+
+Ketchura Peck, spinster, however, did see many most excellent reasons.
+She was a maid with a mission, and maintained it to be an outrage that a
+Christian boy should be brought up by a godless pagan. She worried over
+it almost as much as she did over the heathen in Central Africa, where
+there are no Sunday schools, and clothes are as scarce as churches.
+Failing to move Parson Peck and Elder Knapp in the matter, and
+despairing of an early answer to her personal prayers, she resolved on
+a bold move, “An' it was only after many a sleepless, prayerful night,”
+ namely, to carry the Bible into the heathen's stronghold.
+
+Thus it was that one bright morning in June she might have been seen,
+prim and proper--almost glorified, she felt, as she set her lips just
+right in the mirror--making for the Pipestave Pond, Bible in hand and
+spectacles clean wiped, ready to read appropriate selections to the
+unregenerate.
+
+She was full of the missionary spirit when she left Myanos, and partly
+full when she reached the Orchard Street Trail; but the spirit was
+leaking badly, and the woods did appear so wild and lonely that she
+wondered if women had any right to be missionaries. When she came in
+sight of the pond, the place seemed unpleasantly different from Myanos
+and where was the Indian camp? She did not dare to shout; indeed, she
+began to wish she were home again, but the sense of duty carried her
+fully fifty yards along the pond, and then she came to an impassable
+rock, a sheer bank that plainly said, “Stop!” Now she must go back or up
+the bank. Her Yankee pertinacity said, “Try first up the bank,” and she
+began a long, toilsome ascent, that did not end until she came out on a
+high, open rock which, on its farther side, had a sheer drop and gave a
+view of the village and of the sea.
+
+Whatever joy she had on again seeing her home was speedily queued in the
+fearsome discovery that she was right over the Indian camp, and the two
+inmates looked so utterly, dreadfully savage that she was thankful
+they had not seen her. At once she shrank back; but on recovering
+sufficiently to again peer down, she saw something roasting before the
+fire--“a tiny arm with a hand that bore five fingers,” as she afterward
+said, and “a sickening horror came over her.” Yes, she had heard of
+such things. If she could only get home in safety! Why had she tempted
+Providence thus? She backed softly and prayed only to escape. What, and
+never even deliver the Bible? “It would be wicked to return with it!” In
+a cleft of the rock she placed it, and then, to prevent the wind blowing
+off loose leaves, she placed a stone on top, and fled from the dreadful
+place.
+
+That night, when Quonab and Rolf had finished their meal of corn and
+roasted coon, the old man climbed the rock to look at the sky. The book
+caught his eye at once, evidently hidden there carefully, and therefore
+in cache. A cache is a sacred thing to an Indian. He disturbed it not,
+but later asked Rolf, “That yours?”
+
+“No.”
+
+It was doubtless the property of some one who meant to return for it, so
+they left it untouched. It rested there for many months, till the winter
+storms came down, dismantling the covers, dissolving the pages, but
+leaving such traces as, in the long afterward, served to identify the
+book and give the rock the other name, the one it bears to-day--“Bible
+Rock, where Quonab, the son of Cos Cob, used to live.”
+
+
+
+Chapter 8. The Law of Property Among Our Four-Footed Kin
+
+Night came down on the Asamuk woods, and the two in the wigwam were
+eating their supper of pork, beans, and tea, for the Indian did not, by
+any means object to the white man's luxuries, when a strange “yap-yurr”
+ was heard out toward the plain. The dog was up at once with a growl.
+Rolf looked inquiringly, and Quonab said, “Fox,” then bade the dog be
+still.
+
+“Yap-yurr, yap-yurr,” and then, “yurr, yeow,” it came again and again.
+“Can we get him?” said the eager young hunter. The Indian shook his
+head.
+
+“Fur no good now. An' that's a she-one, with young ones on the
+hillside.”
+
+“How do you know?” was the amazed inquiry. “I know it's a she-one,
+'cause she says:
+
+“Yap-yurr” (high pitched)
+
+If it was a he-one he'd say:
+
+“Yap-yurr” (low pitched)
+
+“And she has cubs, 'cause all have at this season. And they are on that
+hillside, because that's the nearest place where any fox den is, and
+they keep pretty much to their own hunting grounds. If another fox
+should come hunting on the beat of this pair, he'd have to fight for it.
+That is the way of the wild animals; each has his own run, and for that
+he will fight an outsider that he would be afraid of at any other
+place. One knows he is right--that braces him up; the other knows he is
+wrong--and that weakens him.” Those were the Indian's views, expressed
+much less connectedly than here given, and they led Rolf on to a train
+of thought. He remembered a case that was much to the point.
+
+Their little dog Skookum several times had been worsted by the dog on
+the Horton farm, when, following his master, he had come into the
+house yard. There was no question that the Horton dog was stronger. But
+Skookum had buried a bone under some brushes by the plain and next day
+the hated Horton dog appeared. Skookum watched him with suspicion and
+fear, until it was no longer doubtful that the enemy had smelled the
+hidden food and was going for it. Then Skookum, braced up by some
+instinctive feeling, rushed forward with bristling mane and gleaming
+teeth, stood over his cache, and said in plainest dog, “You can't touch
+that while I live!”
+
+And the Horton dog--accustomed to domineer over the small yellow
+cur--growled contemptuously, scratched with his hind feet, smelled
+around an adjoining bush, and pretending not to see or notice, went off
+in another direction.
+
+What was it that robbed him of his courage, but the knowledge that he
+was in the wrong?
+
+Continuing with his host Rolf said, “Do you think they have any idea
+that it is wrong to steal?”
+
+“Yes, so long as it is one of their own tribe. A fox will take all he
+can get from a bird or a rabbit or a woodchuck, but he won't go far on
+the hunting grounds of another fox. He won't go into another fox's den
+or touch one of its young ones, and if he finds a cache of food with
+another fox's mark on it, he won't touch it unless he is near dead of
+hunger.”
+
+“How do you mean they cache food and how do they mark it?”
+
+“Generally they bury it under the leaves and soft earth, and the only
+mark is to leave their body scent. But that is strong enough, and every
+fox knows it.”
+
+“Do wolves make food caches?”
+
+“Yes, wolves, cougars, weasels, squirrels, bluejays, crows, owls, mice,
+all do, and all have their own way of marking a place.”
+
+“Suppose a fox finds a wolf cache, will he steal from it?”
+
+“Yes, always. There is no law between fox and wolf. They are always at
+war with each other. There is law only between fox and fox, or wolf and
+wolf.”
+
+“That is like ourselves, ain't it? We say, 'Thou shalt not steal,' and
+then when we steal the Indian's land or the Frenchman's ships, we say,
+'Oh, that don't mean not steal from our enemies; they are fair game.'”
+
+Quonab rose to throw some sticks on the fire, then went out to turn the
+smoke flap of the wigwam, for the wind was changed and another set
+was needed to draw the smoke. They heard several times again the
+high-pitched “yap yurr,” and once the deeper notes, which told that the
+dog fox, too, was near the camp, and was doubtless seeking food to carry
+home.
+
+
+
+Chapter 9. Where the Bow Is Better Than the Gun
+
+Of all popular errors about the Indians, the hardest to down is the idea
+that their women do all the work. They do the housework, it is true, but
+all the heavy labour beyond their strength is done by the men. Examples
+of this are seen in the frightful toil of hunting, canoeing, and
+portaging, besides a multitude of kindred small tasks, such as making
+snowshoes, bows, arrows, and canoes.
+
+Each warrior usually makes his own bow and arrows, and if, as often
+happens, one of them proves more skilful and turns out better weapons,
+it is a common thing for others to offer their own specialty in
+exchange.
+
+The advantages of the bow over the gun are chiefly its noiselessness,
+its cheapness, and the fact that one can make its ammunition anywhere.
+As the gun chiefly used in Quonab's time was the old-fashioned,
+smooth-bore flint-lock, there was not much difference in the accuracy
+of the two weapons. Quonab had always made a highclass bow, as well as
+high-class arrows, and was a high-class shot. He could set up ten clam
+shells at ten paces and break all in ten shots. For at least half of
+his hunting he preferred the bow; the gun was useful to him chiefly
+when flocks of wild pigeons or ducks were about, and a single charge of
+scattering shot might bring down a dozen birds.
+
+But there is a law in all shooting--to be expert, you must practise
+continually--and when Rolf saw his host shoot nearly every day at some
+mark, he tried to join in the sport.
+
+It took not many trys to show that the bow was far too strong for him
+to use, and Quonab was persuaded at length to make an outfit for his
+visitor.
+
+From the dry store hole under the rock, he produced a piece of common
+red cedar. Some use hickory; it is less liable to break and will stand
+more abuse, but it has not the sharp, clean action of cedar. The latter
+will send the arrow much farther, and so swiftly does it leave the
+string that it baffles the eye. But the cedar bow must be cared for like
+a delicate machine; overstring it, and it breaks; twang it without an
+arrow, and it sunders the cords; scratch it, and it may splinter; wet
+it, and it is dead; let it lie on the ground, even, and it is weakened.
+But guard it and it will serve you as a matchless servant, and as can no
+other timber in these woods.
+
+Just where the red heart and the white sap woods join is the bowman's
+choice. A piece that reached from Rolf's chin to the ground was shaved
+down till it was flat on the white side and round on the red side,
+tapering from the middle, where it was one inch wide and one inch thick
+to the ends, where it was three fourths of an inch wide and five eighths
+of an inch thick, the red and white wood equal in all parts.
+
+The string was made of sinew from the back of a cow, split from the
+long, broad sheath that lies on each side the spine, and the bow strung
+for trial. Now, on drawing it (flat or white side in front), it was
+found that one arm bent more than the other, so a little more scraping
+was done on the strong side, till both bent alike.
+
+Quonab's arrows would answer, but Rolf needed a supply of his own. Again
+there was great choice of material. The long, straight shoots ol' the
+arrowwood (Viburnuin dentatum) supplied the ancient Indians, but
+Quonab had adopted a better way, since the possession of an axe made it
+possible. A 25-inch block of straight-grained ash was split and split
+until it yielded enough pieces. These were shaved down to one fourth of
+an inch thick, round, smooth, and perfectly straight. Each was notched
+deeply at one end; three pieces of split goose feather were lashed on
+the notched end, and three different kinds of arrows were made. All were
+alike in shaft and in feathering, but differed in the head. First, the
+target arrows: these were merely sharpened, and the points hardened by
+roasting to a brown colour. They would have been better with conical
+points of steel, but none of these were to be had. Second, the ordinary
+hunting arrows with barbed steel heads, usually bought ready-made, or
+filed out of a hoop: these were for use in securing such creatures as
+muskrats, ducks close at hand, or deer. Third, the bird bolts: these
+were left with a large, round, wooden head. They were intended for
+quail, partridges, rabbits, and squirrels, but also served very often,
+and most admirably, in punishing dogs, either the Indian's own when he
+was not living up to the rules and was too far off for a cuff or kick,
+or a farmer's dog that was threatening an attack.
+
+Now the outfit was complete, Rolf thought, but one other touch was
+necessary. Quonab painted the feather part of the shaft bright red, and
+Rolf learned why. Not for ornament, not as an owner's mark, but as a
+finding mark. Many a time that brilliant red, with the white feather
+next it, was the means of saving the arrow from loss. An uncoloured
+arrow among the sticks and leaves of the woods was usually hidden, but
+the bright-coloured shaft could catch the eye 100 yards away.
+
+It was very necessary to keep the bow and arrows from the wet. For this,
+every hunter provides a case, usually of buckskin, but failing that they
+made a good quiver of birch bark laced with spruce roots for the arrows,
+and for the bow itself a long cover of tarpaulin.
+
+Now came the slow drilling in archery; the arrow held and the bow
+drawn with three fingers on the cord--the thumb and little finger doing
+nothing. The target was a bag of hay set at twenty feet, until the
+beginner could hit it every time: then by degrees it was moved away
+until at the standard distance of forty yards he could do fair shooting,
+although of course he never shot as well as the Indian, who had
+practised since he was a baby.
+
+There are three different kinds of archery tests: the first for aim: Can
+you shoot so truly as to hit a three-inch mark, ten times in succession,
+at ten paces?
+
+Next for speed: Can you shoot so quickly and so far up, as to have five
+arrows in the air at once? If so, you are good: Can you keep up six?
+Then you are very good. Seven is wonderful. The record is said to be
+eight. Last for power: Can you pull so strong a bow and let the arrow go
+so clean that it will fly for 250 yards or will pass through a deer at
+ten paces? There is a record of a Sioux who sent an arrow through three
+antelopes at one shot, and it was not unusual to pierce the huge buffalo
+through and through; on one occasion a warrior with one shot pierced the
+buffalo and killed her calf running at the other side.
+
+If you excel in these three things, you can down your partridge and
+squirrel every time; you can get five or six out of each flock of birds;
+you can kill your deer at twenty-five yards, and so need never starve in
+the woods where there is game.
+
+Of course, Rolf was keen to go forth and try in the real chase, but it
+was many a shot he missed and many an arrow lost or broken, before
+he brought in even a red squirrel, and he got, at least, a higher
+appreciation of the skill of those who could count on the bow for their
+food.
+
+For those, then, who think themselves hunters and woodmen, let this be
+a test and standard: Can you go forth alone into the wilderness where
+there is game, take only a bow and arrows for weapons, and travel afoot
+250 miles, living on the country as you go?
+
+
+
+Chapter 10. Rolf Works Out with Many Results
+
+    He is the dumbest kind of a dumb fool that ain't king in some
+    little corner.--_Sayings of Si Sylvanne_
+
+
+The man who has wronged you will never forgive you, and he who has
+helped you will be forever grateful. Yes, there is nothing that draws
+you to a man so much as the knowledge that you have helped him.
+
+Quonab helped Rolf, and so was more drawn to him than to many of the
+neighbours that he had known cor years; he was ready to like him. Their
+coming together ffas accidental, but it was soon very clear that a
+friendship was springing up between them. Rolf was too much of a child
+to think about the remote future; and so was Quonab. Most Indians are
+merely tall children.
+
+But there was one thing that Rolf did think of--he had no right to live
+in Quonab's lodge without contributing a fair share of the things
+needful. Quonab got his living partly by hunting, partly by fishing,
+partly by selling baskets, and partly by doing odd jobs for the
+neighbours. Rolf's training as a loafer had been wholly neglected, and
+when he realized that he might be all summer with Quonab he said
+bluntly:
+
+“You let me stay here a couple of months. I'll work out odd days, and
+buy enough stuff to keep myself any way.” Quonab said nothing, but
+their eyes met, and the boy knew it was agreed to.
+
+Rolf went that very day to the farm of Obadiah Timpany, and offered to
+work by the day, hoeing corn and root crops. What farmer is not glad of
+help in planting time 01 in harvest? It was only a question of what did
+he know and how much did he want? The first was soon made clear; two
+dollars a week was the usual thing for boys in those times, and when he
+offered to take it half in trade, he was really getting three dollars a
+week and his board. Food was as low as wages, and at the end of a week,
+Rolf brought back to camp a sack of oatmeal, a sack of cornmeal, a
+bushel of potatoes, a lot of apples, and one dollar cash. The dollar
+went for tea and sugar, and the total product was enough to last them
+both a month; so Rolf could share the wigwam with a good conscience.
+
+Of course, it was impossible to keep the gossipy little town of Myanos
+from knowing, first, that the Indian had a white boy for partner; and,
+later, that that boy was Rolf. This gave rise to great diversity of
+opinion in the neighbourhood. Some thought it should not be allowed,
+but Horton, who owned the land on which Quonab was camped, could not
+see any reason for interfering.
+
+Ketchura Peck, spinster, however, did see many most excellent reasons.
+She was a maid with a mission, and maintained it to be an outrage that
+a Christian boy should be brought up by a godless pagan. She worried
+over it almost as much as she did over the heathen in Central Africa,
+where there are no Sunday schools, and clothes are as scarce as
+churches. Failing to move Parson Peck and Elder Knapp in the matter,
+and despairing of an early answer to her personal prayers, she resolved
+on a bold move, “An' it was only after many a sleepless, prayerful
+night,” namely, to carry the Bible into the heathen's stronghold.
+
+Thus it was that one bright morning in June she might have been seen,
+prim and proper--almost glorified, she felt, as she set her lips just
+right in the mirror--making for the Pipestave Pond, Bible in hand and
+spectacles clear wiped, ready to read appropriate selections to the
+unregenerate.
+
+She was full of the missionary spirit when she left Myanos, and partly
+full when she reached the Orchard Street Trail; but the spirit was
+leaking badly, and the woods did appear so wild and lonely that she
+wondered if women had any right to be missionaries. When she came in
+sight of the pond, the place seemed unpleasantly different from Myanos
+and where was the Indian camp? She did not dare to shout; indeed, she
+began to wish she were home again, but the sense of duty carried her
+fully fifty yards along the pond, and then she came to an impassable
+rock, a sheer bank that plainly said, “Stop!” Now she must go back or
+up the bank. Her Yankee pertinacity said, “Try first up the bank,” and
+she began a long, toilsome ascent, that did not end until she came out
+on a high, open rock which, on its farther side, had a sheer drop and
+gave a view of the village and of the sea.
+
+Whatever joy she had on again seeing her home was speedily quelled in
+the fearsome discovery that she was right over the Indian camp, and the
+two inmates looked so utterly, dreadfully savage that she was thankful
+they had not seen her. At once she shrank back; but on recovering
+sufficiently to again peer down, she saw something roasting before the
+fire--“a tiny arm with a hand that bore five fingers,” as she afterward
+said, and “a sickening horror came over her.” Yes, she had heard of
+such things. If she could only get home in safety! Why had she tempted
+Providence thus? She backed softly and prayed only to escape. What, and
+never even deliver the Bible? “It would be wicked to return with it!”
+ In a cleft of the rock she placed it, and then, to prevent the wind
+blowing off loose leaves, she placed a stone on top, and fled from the
+dreadful place.
+
+That night, when Quonab and Rolf had finished theic meal of corn and
+roasted coon, the old man climbed the rock to look at the sky. The book
+caught his eye at once, evidently hidden there carefully, and therefore
+in cache. A cache is a sacred thing to an Indian. He disturbed it not,
+but later asked Rolf, “That yours?”
+
+“No.”
+
+It was doubtless the property of some one who meant to return for it,
+so they left it untouched. It rested there for many months, till the
+winter storms came down, dismantling the covers, dissolving the pages,
+but leaving such traces as, in the long afterward, served to identify
+the book and give the rock the other name, the one it bears
+to-day--“Bible Rock, where Quonab, the son of Cos Cob, used to live.”
+
+
+
+Chapter 11. The Thunder-storm and the Fire Sticks
+
+When first Rolf noticed the wigwam's place, he wondered that Quonab had
+not set it somewhere facing the lake, but he soon learned that it is
+best to have the morning sun, the afternoon shade, and shelter from the
+north and west winds.
+
+The first two points were illustrated nearly every day; but it was two
+weeks before the last was made clear.
+
+That day the sun came up in a red sky, but soon was lost to view in a
+heavy cloud-bank. There was no wind, and, as the morning passed, the day
+grew hotter and closer. Quonab prepared for a storm; but it came with
+unexpected force, and a gale of wind from the northwest that would
+indeed have wrecked the lodge, but for the great sheltering rock. Under
+its lea there was hardy a breeze; but not fifty yards away were two
+trees that rubbed together, and in the storm they rasped so violently
+that fine shreds of smoking wood were dropped and, but for the rain,
+would surely have made a blaze. The thunder was loud and lasted long,
+and the water poured down in torrents. They were ready for rain, but not
+for the flood that rushed over the face of the cliff, soaking everything
+in the lodge except the beds, which, being four inches off the ground,
+were safe; and lying on them the two campers waited patiently, or
+impatiently, while the weather raged for two drenching hours. And then
+the pouring became a pattering; the roaring, a swishing; the storm, a
+shower which died away, leaving changing patches of blue in the lumpy
+sky, and all nature calm and pleased, but oh, so wet! Of course the fire
+was out in the lodge and nearly all the wood was wet. Now Quonab drew
+from a small cave some dry cedar and got down his tinder-box with flint
+and steel to light up; but a serious difficulty appeared at once--the
+tinder was wet and useless.
+
+These were the days before matches were invented. Every one counted on
+flint and steel for their fire, but the tinder was an essential, and now
+a fire seemed hopeless; at least Rolf thought so.
+
+“Nana Bojou was dancing that time,” said the Indian.
+
+“Did you see him make fire with those two rubbing trees? So he taught
+our fathers, and so make we fire when the tricks of the white man fail
+us.”
+
+Quonab now cut two pieces of dry cedar, one three fourths of an inch
+thick and eighteen inches long, round, and pointed at both ends; the
+other five eighths of an inch thick and flat. In the flat one he cut a
+notch and at the end of the notch a little pit. Next he made a bow of
+a stiff, curved stick, and a buckskin thong: a small pine knot was
+selected and a little pit made in it with the point of a knife. These
+were the fare-making sticks, but it was necessary to prepare the
+firewood, lay the fire, and make some fibre for tinder. A lot of fine
+cedar shavings, pounded up with cedar bark and rolled into a two-inch
+ball, made good tinder, and all was ready. Quonab put the bow thong once
+around the long stick, then held its point in the pit of the flat stick,
+and the pine knot on the top to steady it. Now he drew the bow back and
+forth, slowly, steadily, till the long stick or drill revolving ground
+smoking black dust out of the notch. Then faster, until the smoke was
+very strong and the powder filled the notch. Then he lifted the flat
+stick, fanning the powder with his hands till a glowing coal appeared.
+Over this he put the cedar tinder and blew gently, till it flamed, and
+soon the wigwam was aglow.
+
+The whole time taken, from lifting the sticks to the blazing fire, was
+less than one minute.
+
+This is the ancient way of the Indian; Rolf had often heard of it as a
+sort of semi-myth; never before had he seen it, and so far as he could
+learn from the books, it took an hour or two of hard work, not a few
+deft touches and a few seconds of time.
+
+He soon learned to do it himself, and in the years which followed,
+he had the curious experience of showing it to many Indians who had
+forgotten how, thanks to the greater portability of the white man's
+flint and steel.
+
+As they walked in the woods that day, they saw three trees that had been
+struck by lightning during the recent storm; all three were oaks. Then
+it occurred to Rolf that he had never seen any but an oak struck by
+lightning.
+
+“Is it so, Quonab?”
+
+“No, there are many others; the lightning strikes the oaks most of all,
+but it will strike the pine, the ash, the hemlock, the basswood, and
+many more. Only two trees have I never seen struck, the balsam and the
+birch.”
+
+“Why do they escape?”
+
+“My father told me when I was a little boy it was because they sheltered
+and warmed the Star-girl, who was the sister of the Thunder-bird.”
+
+“I never heard that; tell me about it.”
+
+“Sometime maybe, not now.”
+
+
+
+Chapter 12. Hunting the Woodchucks
+
+Cornmeal and potatoes, with tea and apples, three times a day, are apt
+to lose their charm. Even fish did not entirely satisfy the craving for
+flesh meat. So Quonab and Rolf set out one morning on a regular hunt for
+food. The days of big game were over on the Asamuk, but there were still
+many small kinds and none more abundant than the woodchuck, hated of
+farmers. Not without reason. Each woodchuck hole in the field was a
+menace to the horses' legs. Tradition, at least, said that horses' legs
+and riders' necks had been broken by the steed setting foot in one of
+these dangerous pitfalls: besides which, each chuck den was the hub
+centre of an area of desolation whenever located, as mostly it was, in
+the cultivated fields. Undoubtedly the damage was greatly exaggerated,
+but the farmers generally agreed that the woodchuck was a pest.
+
+Whatever resentment the tiller of the soil might feel against the
+Indian's hunting quail on his land, he always welcomed him as a killer
+of woodchucks.
+
+And the Indian looked on this animal as fair game and most excellent
+eating.
+
+Rolf watched eagerly when Quonab, taking his bow and arrows, said they
+were going out for a meat hunt. Although there were several fields
+with woodchucks resident, they passed cautiously from one to another,
+scanning the green expanse for the dark-brown spots that meant
+woodchucks out foraging. At length they found one, with a large and two
+small moving brown things among the clover. The large one stood up on
+its hind legs from time to time, ever alert for danger. It was a broad,
+open field, without cover; but close to the cleared place in which,
+doubtless, was the den, there was a ridge that Quonab judged would help
+him to approach.
+
+Rolf was instructed to stay in hiding and make some Indian signs that
+the hunter could follow when he should lose sight of the prey. First,
+“Come on” (beckoning); and, second, “Stop,” (hand raised, palm forward);
+“All right” (hand drawn across level and waist high); forefinger moved
+forward, level, then curved straight down, meant “gone in hole.” But
+Rolf was not to sign anything or move, unless Quonab asked him by making
+the question sign (that is waving his hand with palm forward and spread
+fingers).
+
+Quonab went back into the woods, then behind the stone walls to get
+around to the side next the ridge, and crawling so flat on his breast in
+the clover that, although it was but a foot high, he was quite invisible
+to any one not placed much above him.
+
+In this way he came to the little ridge back of the woodchuck den, quite
+unknown to its occupants. But now he was in a difficulty. He could not
+see any of them.
+
+They were certainly beyond range of his bow, and it was difficult to
+make them seek the den without their rushing into it. But he was
+equal to the occasion. He raised one hand and made the query sign, and
+watching Rolf he got answer, “All well; they are there.” (A level sweep
+of the flat hand and a finger pointing steadily.) Then he waited a few
+seconds and made exactly the same sign, getting the same answer.
+
+He knew that the movement of the distant man would catch the eye of the
+old woodchuck; she would sit up high to see what it was, and when it
+came a second time she would, without being exactly alarmed, move toward
+the den and call the young ones to follow.
+
+The hunter had not long to wait. He heard her shrill, warning whistle,
+then the big chuck trotted and waddled into sight, stopping occasionally
+to nibble or look around. Close behind her were the two fat cubs.
+Arrived near the den their confidence was restored, and again they began
+to feed, the young ones close to the den. Then Quonab put a blunt bird
+dart in his bow and laid two others ready. Rising as little as possible,
+he drew the bow. 'Tsip! the blunt arrow hit the young chuck on the nose
+and turned him over. The other jumped in surprise and stood up. So did
+the mother. 'Tsip! another bolt and the second chuck was kicking. But
+the old one dashed like a flash into the underground safety of her den.
+Quonab knew that she had seen nothing of him and would likely come forth
+very soon. He waited for some time; then the gray-brown muzzle of the
+fat old clover-stealer came partly to view; but it was not enough for
+a shot, and she seemed to have no idea of coming farther. The Indian
+waited what seemed like a long time, then played an ancient trick. He
+began to whistle a soft, low air. Whether the chuck thinks it is another
+woodchuck calling, or merely a pleasant sound, is not known, but she
+soon did as her kind always does, came out of the hole slowly and ever
+higher, till she was half out and sitting up, peering about.
+
+This was Quonab's chance. He now drew a barbed hunting arrow to the head
+and aimed it behind her shoulders. 'Tsip! and the chuck was transfixed
+by a shaft that ended her life a minute later, and immediately prevented
+that instinctive scramble into the hole, by which so many chucks elude
+the hunter, even when mortally wounded.
+
+Now Quonab stood up without further concealment, and beckoned to Rolf,
+who came running. Three fat woodchucks meant abundance of the finest
+fresh meat for a week; and those who have not tried it have no idea
+what a delicacy is a young, fat, clover-fed woodchuck, pan-roasted, with
+potatoes, and served at a blazing campfire to a hunter who is young,
+strong, and exceedingly hungry.
+
+
+
+Chapter 13. The Fight with the Demon of the Deep
+
+One morning, as they passed the trail that skirts the pond, Quonab
+pointed to the near water. There was something afloat like a small,
+round leaf, with two beads well apart, on it. Then Rolf noticed, two
+feet away, a larger floating leaf, and now he knew that the first was
+the head and eyes, the last the back, of a huge snapping turtle. A
+moment more and it quickly sank from view. Turtles of three different
+kinds were common, and snappers were well known to Rolf; but never
+before had he seen such a huge and sinister-looking monster of the deep.
+
+“That is Bosikado. I know him; he knows me,” said the red man. “There
+has long been war between us; some day we will settle it. I saw him
+here first three years ago. I had shot a duck; it floated on the water.
+Before I could get to it something pulled it under, and that was the
+last of it. Then a summer duck came with young ones. One by one he took
+them, and at last got her. He drives all ducks away, so I set many night
+lines for him. I got some little snappers, eight and ten pounds each.
+They were good to eat, and three times already I took Bosikado on the
+hooks, but each time when I pulled him up to the canoe, he broke my
+biggest line and went down. He was as broad as the canoe; his claws
+broke through the canoe skin; he made it bulge and tremble. He looked
+like the devil of the lake. I was afraid!
+
+“But my father taught me there is only one thing that can shame a
+man--that is to be afraid, and I said I will never let fear be my guide.
+I will seek a fair fight with Bosikado. He is my enemy. He made me
+afraid once; I will make him much afraid. For three years we have been
+watching each other. For three years he has kept all summer ducks away,
+and robbed my fish-lines, my nets, and my muskrat traps. Not often do I
+see him--mostly like today.
+
+“Before Skookum I had a little dog, Nindai. He was a good little dog. He
+could tree a coon, catch a rabbit, or bring out a duck, although he was
+very small. We were very good friends. One time I shot a duck; it fell
+into the lake; I called Nindai. He jumped into the water and swam to
+the duck. Then that duck that I thought dead got up and flew away, so I
+called Nindai. He came across the water to me. By and by, over that deep
+place, he howled and splashed. Then he yelled, like he wanted me. I ran
+for the canoe and paddled quick; I saw my little dog Nindai go down.
+Then I knew it was that Bosikado again. I worked a long time with a
+pole, but found nothing; only five days later one of Nindai's paws
+floated down the stream. Some day I will tear open that Bosikado!
+
+“Once I saw him on the bank. He rolled down like a big stone to the
+water. He looked at me before he dived, and as we looked in each other's
+eyes I knew he was a Manito; but he is evil, and my father said, 'When
+an evil Manito comes to trouble you, you must kill him.'
+
+“One day, when I swam after a dead duck, he took me by the toe, but I
+reached shallow water and escaped him; and once I drove my fish-spear
+in his back, but it was not strong enough to hold him. Once he caught
+Skookum's tail, but the hair came out; the dog has not since swum across
+the pond.
+
+“Twice I have seen him like today and might have killed him with the
+gun, but I want to meet him fighting. Many a time I have sat on the bank
+and sung to him the 'Coward's Song,' and dared him to come and fight in
+the shallow water where we are equals. He hears me. He does not come.
+
+“I know he made me sick last winter; even now he is making trouble with
+his evil magic. But my magic must prevail, and some day we shall meet.
+He made me afraid once. I will make him much afraid, and will meet him
+in the water.”
+
+Not many days were to pass before the meeting. Rolf had gone for water
+at the well, which was a hole dug ten feet from the shore of the lake.
+He had learned the hunter's cautious trick of going silently and peering
+about, before he left cover. On a mud bank in a shallow bay, some fifty
+yards off, he described a peculiar gray and greenish form that he slowly
+made out to be a huge turtle, sunning itself. The more he looked and
+gauged it with things about, the bigger it seemed. So he slunk back
+quickly and silently to Quonab. “He is out sunning himself--Bosikado--on
+the bank!”
+
+The Indian rose quickly, took his tomahawk and a strong line. Rolf
+reached for the gun, but Quonab shook his head. They went to the lake.
+Yes! There was the great, goggle-eyed monster, like a mud-coloured
+log. The bank behind him was without cover. It would be impossible to
+approach the watchful creature within striking distance before he could
+dive. Quonab would not use the gun; in this case he felt he must atone
+by making an equal fight. He quickly formed a plan; he fastened the
+tomahawk and the coiled rope to his belt, then boldly and silently
+slipped into the lake, to approach the snapper from the water
+side--quite the easiest in this case, not only because the snapper would
+naturally watch on the land side, but because there was a thick clump of
+rushes behind which the swimmer could approach.
+
+Then, as instructed, Rolf went back into the woods, and came silently
+to a place whence he could watch the snapper from a distance of twenty
+yards.
+
+The boy's heart beat fast as he watched the bold swimmer and the savage
+reptile. There could be little doubt that the creature weighed a
+hundred pounds. It is the strongest for its size and the fiercest of all
+reptiles. Its jaws, though toothless, have cutting edges, a sharp beak,
+and power to the crushing of bones. Its armour makes it invulnerable to
+birds and beasts of prey. Like a log it lay on the beach, with its long
+alligator tail stretched up the bank and its serpentine head and tiny
+wicked eyes vigilantly watching the shore. Its shell, broad and ancient,
+was fringed with green moss, and its scaly armpits exposed, were decked
+with leeches, at which a couple of peetweets pecked with eager interest,
+apparently to the monster's satisfaction. Its huge limbs and claws were
+in marked contrast to the small, red eyes. But the latter it was that
+gave the thrill of unnervement.
+
+Sunk down nearly out of sight, the Indian slowly reached the reeds. Here
+he found bottom, and pausing, he took the rope in one hand, the tomahawk
+in the other, and dived, and when he reappeared he was within ten yards
+of the enemy, and in water but four feet deep.
+
+With a sudden rush the reptile splashed into the pond and out of sight,
+avoiding the rope noose. But Quonab clutched deep in the water as
+it passed, and seized the monster's rugged tail. Then it showed its
+strength. In a twinkling that mighty tail was swung sidewise, crushing
+the hand with terrible force against the sharp-edged points of the back
+armour. It took all the Indian's grit to hold on to that knife-edged war
+club. He dropped his tomahawk, then with his other hand swung the rope
+to catch the turtle's head, but it lurched so quickly that the rope
+missed again, slipped over the shell, and, as they struggled, encircled
+one huge paw. The Indian jerked it tight, and they were bound together.
+But now his only weapon was down at the bottom and the water all
+muddied. He could not see, but plunged to grope for the tomahawk. The
+snapper gave a great lurch to escape, releasing the injured hand, but
+jerking the man off his legs. Then, finding itself held by a forepaw, it
+turned with gaping, hissing jaws, and sprang on the foe that struggled
+in bottom of the water.
+
+The snapper has the bulldog habit to seize and hold till the piece tears
+out. In the muddy water it had to seize in the dark, and fending first
+the left arm of its foe, fastened on with fierce beak and desperate
+strength. At this moment Quonab recovered his tomahawk; rising into the
+air he dragged up the hanging snapper, and swung the weapon with all the
+force of his free arm. The blow sank through the monster's shell, deep
+into its back, without any visible effect, except to rob the Indian of
+his weapon as he could not draw it out.
+
+Then Rolf rushed into the water to help. But Quonab gasped, “No, no, go
+back--I'm alone.”
+
+The creature's jaws were locked on his arm, but its front claws, tearing
+downward and outward, were demolishing the coat that had protected it,
+and long lines of mingled blood were floating on the waves.
+
+After a desperate plunge toward shallow water, Quonab gave another
+wrench to the tomahawk--it moved, loosed; another, and it was free.
+Then “chop, chop, chop,” and that long, serpentine neck was severed; the
+body, waving its great scaly legs and lashing its alligator tail, went
+swimming downward, but the huge head, blinking its bleary, red eyes and
+streaming with blood, was clinched on his arm. The Indian made for the
+bank hauling the rope that held the living body, and fastened it to a
+tree, then drew his knife to cut the jaw muscles of the head that ground
+its beak into his flesh. But the muscles were protected by armour
+plates and bone; he could not deal a stab to end their power. In vain he
+fumbled and slashed, until in a spasmodic quiver the jaws gaped wide and
+the bloody head fell to the ground. Again it snapped, but a tree branch
+bore the brunt; on this the strong jaws clinched, and so remained.
+
+For over an hour the headless body crawled, or tried to crawl, always
+toward the lake. And now they could look at the enemy. Not his size so
+much as his weight surprised them. Although barely four feet long, he
+was so heavy that Rolf could not lift him. Quonab's scratches were many
+but slight; only the deep bill wound made his arm and the bruises of the
+jaws were at all serious and of these he made light. Headed by Skookum
+in full 'yap,' they carried the victim's body to camp; the head, still
+dutching the stick, was decorated with three feathers, then set on a
+pole near the wigwam. And the burden of the red man's song when next he
+sang was:
+
+“Bosikado, mine enemy was mighty, But I went into his country And made
+him afraid!”
+
+
+
+Chapter 14. Selectman Horton Appears at the Rock
+
+Summer was at its height on the Asamuk. The woodthrush was nearing the
+end of its song; a vast concourse of young robins in their speckled
+plumage joined chattering every night in the thickest cedars; and one or
+two broods of young ducks were seen on the Pipestave Pond.
+
+Rolf had grown wonderfully well into his wigwam life. He knew now
+exactly how to set the flap so as to draw out all the smoke, no matter
+which way the wind blew; he had learned the sunset signs, which tell
+what change of wind the night might bring. He knew without going to the
+shore whether the tide was a little ebb, with poor chances, or a mighty
+outflow that would expose the fattest oyster beds. His practiced fingers
+told at a touch whether it was a turtle or a big fish on his night line;
+and by the tone of the tom-tom he knew when a rainstorm was at hand.
+
+Being trained in industry, he had made many improvements in their camp,
+not the least of which was to clean up and burn all the rubbish and
+garbage that attracted hordes of flies. He had fitted into the camp
+partly by changing it to fit himself, and he no longer felt that his
+stay there was a temporary shift. When it was to end, he neither knew
+nor cared. He realized only that he was enjoying life as he never had
+done before. His canoe had passed a lot of rapids and was now in a
+steady, unbroken stream--but it was the swift shoot before the fall.
+A lull in the clamour does not mean the end of war, but a new onset
+preparing; and, of course, it came in the way least looked for.
+
+Selectman Horton stood well with the community; he was a man of good
+judgment, good position, and kind heart. He was owner of all the
+woods along the Asamuk, and thus the Indian's landlord on the Indian's
+ancestral land. Both Rolf and Quonab had worked for Horton, and so they
+knew him well, and liked him for his goodness.
+
+It was Wednesday morning, late in July, when Selectman Horton,
+clean-shaven and large, appeared at the wigwam under the rock.
+
+“Good morrow to ye both!” Then without wasting time he plunged in.
+“There's been some controversy and much criticism of the selectmen for
+allowing a white lad, the child of Christian parents, the grandson of a
+clergyman, to leave all Christian folk and folds, and herd with a pagan,
+to become, as it were, a mere barbarian. I hold not, indeed, with those
+that out of hand would condemn as godless a good fellow like Quonab,
+who, in my certain knowledge and according to his poor light, doth
+indeed maintain in some kind a daily worship of a sort. Nevertheless,
+the selectmen, the magistrates, the clergy, the people generally, and
+above all the Missionary Society, are deeply moved in the matter. It
+hath even been made a personal charge against myself, and with much
+bitterness I am held up as unzealous for allowing such a nefarious
+stronghold of Satan to continue on mine own demesne, and harbour one,
+escaped, as it were, from grace. Acting, therefore, not according to my
+heart, but as spokesman of the Town Council, the Synod of Elders, and
+the Society for the Promulgation of Godliness among the Heathen, I am
+to state that you, Rolf Kittering, being without kinsfolk and under age,
+are in verity a ward of the parish, and as such, it hath been arranged
+that you become a member of the household of the most worthy Elder
+Ezekiel Peck, a household filled with the spirit of estimable piety and
+true doctrine; a man, indeed, who, notwithstanding his exterior coldness
+and severity, is very sound in all matters regarding the Communion of
+Saints, and, I may even say in a measure a man of fame for some most
+excellent remarks he hath passed on the shorter catechism, beside which
+he hath gained much approval for having pointed out two hidden meanings
+in the 27th verse of the 12th chapter of Hebrews; one whose very
+presence, therefore, is a guarantee against levity, laxity, and false
+preachment.
+
+“There, now, my good lad, look not so like a colt that feels the whip
+for the first time. You will have a good home, imbued with the spirit of
+a most excellent piety that will be ever about you.”
+
+“Like a colt feeling the whip,” indeed! Rolf reeled like a stricken
+deer. To go back as a chore-boy drudge was possible, but not alluring;
+to leave Quonab, just as the wood world was opening to him, was
+devastating; but to exchange it all for bondage in the pious household
+of Old Peck, whose cold cruelty had driven off all his own children, was
+an accumulation of disasters that aroused him.
+
+“I won't go!” he blurted out, and gazed defiantly at the broad and
+benevolent selectman.
+
+“Come now, Rolf, such language is unbecoming. Let not a hasty tongue
+betray you into sin. This is what your mother would have wished. Be
+sensible; you will soon find it was all for the best. I have ever liked
+you, and will ever be a friend you can count on.
+
+“Acting, not according to my instructions, but according to my heart,
+I will say further that you need not come now, you need not even give
+answer now, but think it over. Nevertheless, remember that on or before
+Monday morning next, you will be expected to appear at Elder Peck's, and
+I fear that, in case you fail, the messenger next arriving will be
+one much less friendly than myself. Come now, Rolf, be a good lad, and
+remember that in your new home you will at least be living for the glory
+of God.”
+
+Then, with a friendly nod, but an expression of sorrow, the large, black
+messenger turned and tramped away.
+
+Rolf slowly, limply, sank down on a rock and stared at the fire. After
+awhile Quonab got up and began to prepare the mid-day meal. Usually Rolf
+helped him. Now he did nothing but sullenly glare at the glowing coals.
+In half an hour the food was ready. He ate little; then went away in the
+woods by himself. Quonab saw him lying on a flat rock, looking at the
+pond, and throwing pebbles into it. Later Quonab went to Myanos. On his
+return he found that Rolf had cut up a great pile of wood, but not a
+word passed between them. The look of sullen anger and rebellion on
+Rolf's face was changing to one of stony despair. What was passing in
+each mind the other could not divine.
+
+The evening meal was eaten in silence; then Quonab smoked for an hour,
+both staring into the fire. A barred owl hooted and laughed over their
+heads, causing the dog to jump up and bark at the sound that ordinarily
+he would have heeded not at all. Then silence was restored, and the red
+man's hidden train of thought was in a flash revealed.
+
+“Rolf, let's go to the North Woods!”
+
+It was another astounding idea. Rolf had realized more and more how much
+this valley meant to Quonab, who worshipped the memory of his people.
+
+“And leave all this?” he replied, making a sweep with his hand toward
+the rock, the Indian trail, the site of bygone Petuquapen, and the
+graves of the tribe.
+
+For reply their eyes met, and from the Indian's deep chest came the
+single word, “Ugh.” One syllable, deep and descending, but what a tale
+it told of the slowly engendered and strong-grown partiality, of a
+struggle that had continued since the morning when the selectman came
+with words of doom, and of friendship's victory won.
+
+Rolf realized this, and it gave him a momentary choking in his throat,
+and, “I'm ready if you really mean it.”
+
+“Ugh I go, but some day come back.”
+
+There was a long silence, then Rolf, “When shall we start?” and the
+answer, “To-morrow night.”
+
+
+
+Chapter 15. Bound for the North Woods
+
+When Quonab left camp in the morning he went heavy laden, and the
+trail he took led to Myanos. There was nothing surprising in it when
+he appeared at Silas Peck's counter and offered for sale a pair of
+snowshoes, a bundle of traps, some dishes of birch bark and basswood,
+and a tom-tom, receiving in exchange some tea, tobacco, gunpowder, and
+two dollars in cash. He turned without comment, and soon was back in
+camp. He now took the kettle into the woods and brought it back filled
+with bark, fresh chipped from a butternut tree. Water was added, and the
+whole boiled till it made a deep brown liquid. When this was cooled he
+poured it into a flat dish, then said to Rolf: “Come now, I make you a
+Sinawa.”
+
+With a soft rag the colour was laid on. Face, head, neck, and hands were
+all at first intended, but Rolf said, “May as well do the whole thing.”
+ So he stripped off; the yellow brown juice on his white skin turned it
+a rich copper colour, and he was changed into an Indian lad that none
+would have taken for Rolf Kittering. The stains soon dried, and Rolf,
+re-clothed, felt that already he had burned a bridge.
+
+Two portions of the wigwam cover were taken off; and two packs were
+made of the bedding. The tomahawk, bows, arrows, and gun, with the few
+precious food pounds in the copper pot, were divided between them and
+arranged into packs with shoulder straps; then all was ready. But there
+was one thing more for Quonab; he went up alone to the rock. Rolf knew
+what he went for, and judged it best not to follow.
+
+The Indian lighted his pipe, blew the four smokes to the four winds,
+beginning with the west, then he sat in silence for a time. Presently
+the prayer for good hunting came from the rock:
+
+     “Father lead us!
+     Father, help us!
+     Father, guide us to the good hunting.”
+
+And when that ceased a barred owl hooted in the woods, away to the
+north.
+
+“Ugh! good,” was all he said as he rejoined Rolf; and they set out, as
+the sun went down, on their long journey due northward, Quonab, Rolf,
+and Skookum. They had not gone a hundred yards before the dog turned
+back, raced to a place where he had a bone in cache and rejoining there
+trotted along with his bone.
+
+The high road would have been the easier travelling, but it was very
+necessary to be unobserved, so they took the trail up the brook Asamuk,
+and after an hour's tramp came out by the Cat-Rock road that runs
+westerly. Again they were tempted by the easy path, but again Quonab
+decided on keeping to the woods. Half an hour later they were halted by
+Skookum treeing a coon. After they had secured the dog, they tramped on
+through the woods for two hours more, and then, some eight miles from
+the Pipestave, they halted, Rolf, at least, tired out. It was now
+midnight. They made a hasty double bed of the canvas cover over a pole
+above them, and slept till morning, cheered, as they closed their drowsy
+eyes, by the “Hoo, Hoo, Hoo, Hoo, yah, hoo,” of their friend, the barred
+owl, still to the northward.
+
+The sun was high, and Quonab had breakfast ready before Rolf awoke. He
+was so stiff with the tramp and the heavy pack that it was with secret
+joy he learned that they were to rest, concealed in the woods, that day,
+and travel only by night, until in a different region, where none knew
+or were likely to stop them. They were now in York State, but that did
+not by any means imply that they were beyond pursuit.
+
+As the sun rose high, Rolf went forth with his bow and blunt arrows, and
+then, thanks largely to Skookum, he succeeded in knocking over a couple
+of squirrels, which, skinned and roasted, made their dinner that day.
+At night they set out as before, making about ten miles. The third night
+they did better, and the next day being Sunday, they kept out of sight.
+But Monday morning, bright and clear, although it was the first morning
+when they were sure of being missed, they started to tramp openly along
+the highway, with a sense of elation that they had not hitherto known
+on the joumey. Two things impressed Rolf by their novelty: the curious
+stare of the country folk whose houses and teams they passed, and the
+violent antagonism of the dogs. Usually the latter could be quelled by
+shaking a stick at them, or by pretending to pick up a stone, but one
+huge and savage brindled mastiff kept following and barking just out of
+stick range, and managed to give Skookum a mauling, until Quonab drew
+his bow and let fly a blunt arrow that took the brute on the end of
+the nose, and sent him howling homeward, while Skookum got a few highly
+satisfactory nips at the enemy's rear. Twenty miles they made that day
+and twenty-five the next, for now they were on good roads, and their
+packs were lighter. More than once they found kind farmer folk who gave
+them a meal. But many times Skookum made trouble for them. The farmers
+did not like the way he behaved among their hens. Skookum never could be
+made to grasp the fine zoological distinction between partridges which
+are large birds and fair game, and hens which are large birds, but not
+fair game. Such hair splitting was obviously unworthy of study, much
+less of acceptance.
+
+Soon it was clearly better for Rolf, approaching a house, to go alone,
+while Quonab held Skookum. The dogs seemed less excited by Rolf's smell,
+and remembering his own attitude when tramps came to one or another
+of his ancient homes, he always asked if they would let him work for a
+meal, and soon remarked that his success was better when he sought first
+the women of the house, and then, smiling to show his very white teeth,
+spoke in clear and un-Indian English, which had the more effect coming
+from an evident Indian.
+
+“Since I am to be an Indian, Quonab, you must give me an Indian name,”
+ he said after one of these episodes.
+
+“Ugh! Good! That's easy! You are 'Nibowaka,' the wise one.” For the
+Indian had not missed any of the points, and so he was named.
+
+Twenty or thirty miles a day they went now, avoiding the settlements
+along the river. Thus they saw nothing of Albany, but on the tenth
+day they reached Fort Edward, and for the first time viewed the great
+Hudson. Here they stayed as short a time as might be, pushed on by
+Glen's Falls, and on the eleventh night of the journey they passed the
+old, abandoned fort, and sighted the long stretch of Lake George, with
+its wooded shore, and glimpses of the mountains farther north.
+
+Now a new thought possessed them--“If only they had the canoe that they
+had abandoned on the Pipestave.” It came to them both at the sight of
+the limit less water, and especially when Rolf remembered that Lake
+George joined with Champlain, which again was the highway to all the
+wilderness.
+
+They camped now as they had fifty times before, and made their meal. The
+bright blue water dancing near was alluring, inspiring; as they sought
+the shore Quonab pointed to a track and said, “Deer.” He did not show
+much excitement, but Rolf did, and they returned to the camp fire with
+a new feeling of elation--they had reached the Promised Land. Now they
+must prepare for the serious work of finding a hunting ground that was
+not already claimed.
+
+Quonab, remembering the ancient law of the woods, that parcels off the
+valleys, each to the hunter first arriving, or succeeding the one who
+had, was following his own line of thought. Rolf was puzzling over means
+to get an outfit, canoe, traps, axes, and provisions. The boy broke
+silence.
+
+“Quonab, we must have money to get an outfit; this is the beginning of
+harvest; we can easily get work for a month. That will feed us and give
+us money enough to live on, and a chance to learn something about the
+country.”
+
+The reply was simple, “You are Nibowaka.”
+
+The farms were few and scattered here, but there were one or two along
+the lake. To the nearest one with standing grain Rolf led the way. But
+their reception, from the first brush with the dog to the final tilt
+with the farmer, was unpleasant--“He didn't want any darn red-skins
+around there. He had had two St. Regis Indians last year, and they were
+a couple of drunken good-for-nothings.”
+
+The next was the house of a fat Dutchman, who was just wondering how he
+should meet the compounded accumulated emergencies of late hay, early
+oats, weedy potatoes, lost cattle, and a prospective increase of
+his family, when two angels of relief appeared at his door, in
+copper-coloured skins.
+
+“Cahn yo work putty goood?
+
+“Yes, I have always lived on a farm,” and Rolf showed his hands, broad
+and heavy for his years.
+
+“Cahn yo mebby find my lost cows, which I haf not find, already yet?”
+
+Could they! it would be fun to try.
+
+“I giff yo two dollars you pring dem putty kvick.”
+
+So Quonab took the trail to the woods, and Rolf started into the
+potatoes with a hoe, but he was stopped by a sudden outcry of poultry.
+Alas! It was Skookum on an ill-judged partridge hunt. A minute later he
+was ignominiously chained to a penitential post, nor left it during the
+travellers' sojourn.
+
+In the afternoon Quonab returned with the cattle, and as he told Rolf he
+saw five deer, there was an unmistakable hunter gleam in his eye.
+
+Three cows in milk, and which had not been milked for two days, was a
+serious matter, needing immediate attention. Rolf had milked five cows
+twice a day for five years, and a glance showed old Van Trumper that the
+boy was an expert.
+
+“Good, good! I go now make feed swine.”
+
+He went into the outhouse, but a tow-topped, redcheeked girl ran after
+him. “Father, father, mother says--” and the rest was lost.
+
+“Myn Hemel! Myn Hemel! I thought it not so soon,” and the fat Dutchman
+followed the child. A moment later he reappeared, his jolly face clouded
+with a look of grave concern. “Hi yo big Injun, yo cahn paddle canoe?”
+ Quonab nodded. “Den coom. Annette, pring Tomas und Hendrik.” So
+the father carried two-year-old Hendrik, while the Indian carried
+six-year-old Tomas, and twelve-year-old Annette followed in vague,
+uncomprehended alarm. Arrived at the shore the children were placed in
+the canoe, and then the difficulties came fully to the father's
+mind--he could not leave his wife. He must send the children with the
+messenger--In a sort of desperation, “Cahn you dem childen take to de
+house across de lake, and pring back Mrs. Callan? Tell her Marta Van
+Trumper need her right now mooch very kvick.” The Indian nodded. Then
+the father hesitated, but a glance at the Indian was enough. Something
+said, “He is safe,” and in spite of sundry wails from the little ones
+left with a dark stranger, he pushed off the canoe: “Yo take care for my
+babies,” and turned his brimming eyes away.
+
+The farmhouse was only two miles off, and the evening calm; no time was
+lost: what woman will not instantly drop all work and all interests, to
+come to the help of another in the trial time of motherhood?
+
+Within an hour the neighbour's wife was holding hands with the mother of
+the banished tow-heads. He who tempers the wind and appoints the season
+of the wild deer hinds had not forgotten the womanhood beyond the reach
+of skilful human help, and with the hard and lonesome life had conjoined
+a sweet and blessed compensation. What would not her sister of the city
+give for such immunity; and long before that dark, dread hour of
+night that brings the ebbing life force low, the wonderful miracle was
+complete; there was another tow-top in the settler's home, and all was
+well.
+
+
+
+Chapter 16. Life with the Dutch Settler
+
+The Indians slept in the luxuriant barn of logs, with blankets, plenty
+of hay, and a roof. They were more than content, for now, on the edge of
+the wilderness, they were very close to wild life. Not a day or a night
+passed without bringing proof of that.
+
+One end of the barn was portioned off for poultry. In this the working
+staff of a dozen hens were doing their duty, which, on that first night
+of the “brown angels' visit,” consisted of silent slumber, when all at
+once the hens and the new hands were aroused by a clamorous cackling,
+which speedily stopped. It sounded like a hen falling in a bad dream,
+then regaining her perch to go to sleep again. But next morning the body
+of one of these highly esteemed branches of the egg-plant was found in
+the corner, partly devoured. Quonab examined the headless hen, the dust
+around, and uttered the word, “Mink.”
+
+Rolf said, “Why not skunk?”
+
+“Skunk could not climb to the perch.”
+
+“Weasel then.”
+
+“Weasel would only suck the blood, and would kill three or four.”
+
+“Coon would carry him away, so would fox or wildcat, and a marten would
+not come into the building by night.”
+
+There was no question, first, that it was a mink, and, second, that he
+was hiding about the barn until the hunger pang should send him again
+to the hen house. Quonab covered the hen's body with two or three large
+stones so that there was only one approach. In the way of this approach
+he buried a “number one” trap.
+
+That night they were aroused again; this time by a frightful screeching,
+and a sympathetic, inquiring cackle from the fowls.
+
+Arising, quickly they entered with a lantem. Rolf then saw a sight that
+gave him a prickling in his hair. The mink, a large male, was caught by
+one front paw. He was writhing and foaming, tearing, sometimes at the
+trap, sometimes at the dead hen, and sometimes at his own imprisoned
+foot, pausing now and then to utter the most ear-piercing shrieks, then
+falling again in crazy animal fury on the trap, splintering his sharp
+white teeth, grinding the cruel metal with bruised and bloody jaws,
+frothing, snarling, raving mad. As his foemen entered he turned on them
+a hideous visage of inexpressible fear and hate, rage and horror.
+His eyes glanced back green fire in the lantern light; he strained in
+renewed efforts to escape; the air was rank with his musky smell. The
+impotent fury of his struggle made a picture that continued in Rolf's
+mind. Quonab took a stick and with a single blow put an end to the
+scene, but never did Rolf forget it, and never afterward was he a
+willing partner when the trapping was done with those relentless jaws of
+steel.
+
+A week later another hen was missing, and the door of the hen house left
+open. After a careful examination of the dust, inside and out of the
+building, Quonab said, “Coon.” It is very unusual for coons to raid a
+hen house. Usually it is some individual with abnormal tastes, and once
+he begins, he is sure to come back. The Indian judged that he might be
+back the next night, so prepared a trap. A rope was passed from the door
+latch to a tree; on this rope a weight was hung, so that the door was
+selfshutting, and to make it self-locking he leaned a long pole against
+it inside. Now he propped it open with a single platform, so set that
+the coon must walk on it once he was inside, and so release the door.
+The trappers thought they would hear in the night when the door closed,
+but they were sleepy; they knew nothing until next morning. Then they
+found that the self-shutter had shut, and inside, crouched in one of the
+nesting boxes, was a tough, old fighting coon. Strange to tell, he had
+not touched a second hen. As soon as he found himself a prisoner he had
+experienced a change of heart, and presently his skin was nailed on the
+end of the barn and his meat was hanging in the larder.
+
+“Is this a marten,” asked little Annette. And when told not,
+her disappointment elicited the information that old Warren, the
+storekeeper, had promised her a blue cotton dress for a marten skin.
+
+“You shall have the first one I catch,” said Rolf.
+
+Life in Van Trumper's was not unpleasant. The mother was going about
+again in a week. Annette took charge of the baby, as well as of
+the previous arrivals. Hendrik senior was gradually overcoming his
+difficulties, thanks to the unexpected help, and a kindly spirit made
+the hard work not so very hard. The shyness that was at first felt
+toward the Indians wore off, especially in the case of Rolf, he was
+found so companionable; and the Dutchman, after puzzling over the
+combination of brown skin and blue eyes, decided that Rolf was a
+half-breed.
+
+August wore on not unpleasantly for the boy, but Quonab was getting
+decidedly restless. He could work for a week as hard as any white man,
+but his race had not risen to the dignity of patient, unremitting,
+life-long toil.
+
+“How much money have we now, Nibowaka?” was one of the mid-August
+indications of restlessness. Rolf reckoned up; half a month for Quonab,
+$15.00; for himself, $10.00; for finding the cows $2.00--$27.00 in all.
+Not enough.
+
+Three days later Quonab reckoned up again. Next day he said: “We need
+two months' open water to find a good country and build a shanty.” Then
+did Rolf do the wise thing; he went to fat Hendrik and told him all
+about it. They wanted to get a canoe and an outfit, and seek for a
+trapping or hunting ground that would not encroach on those already
+possessed, for the trapping law is rigid; even the death penalty is not
+considered too high in certain cases of trespass, provided the injured
+party is ready to be judge, jury, and executioner. Van Trumper was able
+to help them not a little in the matter of location--there was no use
+trying on the Vermont side, nor anywhere near Lake Champlain, nor near
+Lake George; neither was it worth while going to the far North, as the
+Frenchmen came in there, and they were keen hunters, so that
+Hamilton County was more promising than any other, but it was almost
+inaccessible, remote from all the great waterways, and of course without
+roads; its inaccessibility was the reason why it was little known. So
+far so good; but happy Hendrik was unpleasantly surprised to learn that
+the new help were for leaving at once. Finally he made this offer: If
+they would stay till September first, and so leave all in “good shape
+fer der vinter,” he would, besides the wages agreed, give them the
+canoe, one axe, six mink traps, and a fox trap now hanging in the barn,
+and carry them in his wagon as far as the Five-mile portage from Lake
+George to Schroon River, down which they could go to its junction with
+the upper Hudson, which, followed up through forty miles of rapids and
+hard portages, would bring them to a swampy river that enters from the
+southwest, and ten miles up this would bring them to Jesup's Lake, which
+is two miles wide and twelve miles long. This country abounded with
+game, but was so hard to enter that after Jesup's death it was deserted.
+
+There was only one possible answer to such an offer--they stayed.
+
+In spare moments Quonab brought the canoe up to the barn, stripped off
+some weighty patches of bark and canvas and some massive timber thwarts,
+repaired the ribs, and when dry and gummed, its weight was below one
+hundred pounds; a saving of at least forty pounds on the soggy thing he
+crossed the lake in that first day on the farm.
+
+September came. Early in the morning Quonab went alone to the lakeside;
+there on a hill top he sat, looking toward the sunrise, and sang a song
+of the new dawn, beating, not with a tom-tom--he had none--but with one
+stick on another. And when the sunrise possessed the earth he sang again
+the hunter's song:
+
+“Father, guide our feet, Lead us to the good hunting.”
+
+Then he danced to the sound, his face skyward, his eyes closed, his feet
+barely raised, but rythmically moved. So went he three times round to
+the chant in three sun circles, dancing a sacred measure, as royal David
+might have done that day when he danced around the Ark of the Covenant
+on its homeward joumey. His face was illumined, and no man could have
+seen him then without knowing that this was a true heart's worship of a
+true God, who is in all things He has made.
+
+
+
+Chapter 17. Canoeing on the Upper Hudson
+
+     There is only one kind of a man I can't size up; that's the
+     faller that shets up and says nothing.--Sayings of Si
+     Sylvanne.
+
+A settler named Hulett had a scow that was borrowed by the neighbours
+whenever needed to take a team across the lake. On the morning of their
+journey, the Dutchman's team and wagon, the canoe and the men, were
+aboard the scow, Skookum took his proper place at the prow, and all
+was ready for “Goodbye.” Rolf found it a hard word to say. The good old
+Dutch mother had won his heart, and the children were like his brothers
+and sisters.
+
+“Coom again, lad; coom and see us kvick.” She kissed him, he kissed
+Annette and the three later issues. They boarded the scow to ply the
+poles till the deep water was reached, then the oars. An east wind
+springing up gave them a chance to profit by a wagon-cover rigged as a
+sail, and two hours later the scow was safely landed at West Side,
+where was a country store, and the head of the wagon road to the Schroon
+River.
+
+As they approached the door, they saw a rough-looking man slouching
+against the building, his hands in his pockets, his blear eyes taking in
+the new-comers with a look of contemptuous hostility. As they passed, he
+spat tobacco juice on the dog and across the feet of the men.
+
+Old Warren who kept the store was not partial to Indians, but he was
+a good friend of Hendrik and very keen to trade for fur, so the new
+trappers were well received; and now came the settling of accounts.
+Flour, oatmeal, pork, potatoes, tea, tobacco, sugar, salt, powder,
+ball, shot, clothes, lines, an inch-auger, nails, knives, awls, needles,
+files, another axe, some tin plates, and a frying pan were selected and
+added to Hendrik's account.
+
+“If I was you, I'd take a windy-sash; you'll find it mighty convenient
+in cold weather.” The store keeper led them into an outhouse where was a
+pile of six-lighted window-frames all complete. So the awkward thing was
+added to their load.
+
+“Can't I sell you a fine rifle?” and he took down a new, elegant small
+bore of the latest pattern. “Only twenty-five dollars.” Rolf shook his
+head; “part down, and I'll take the rest in fur next spring.” Rolf was
+sorely tempted; however, he had an early instilled horror of debt. He
+steadfastly said: “No.” But many times he regretted it afterward! The
+small balance remaining was settled in cash.
+
+As they were arranging and selecting, they heard a most hideous
+yelping outdoors, and a minute later Skookum limped in, crying as if
+half-killed. Quonab was out in a moment.
+
+“Did you kick my dog?”
+
+The brutal loafer changed countenance as he caught the red man's eye.
+“Naw! never touched him; hurted himself on that rake.”
+
+It was obviously a lie, but better to let it pass, and Quonab came in
+again.
+
+Then the rough stranger appeared at the door and growled: “Say, Warren!
+ain't you going to let me have that rifle? I guess my word's as good as
+the next man's.”
+
+“No,” said Warren; “I told you, no!”
+
+“Then you can go to blazes, and you'll never see a cent's worth of fur
+from the stuff I got last year.”
+
+“I don't expect to,” was the reply; “I've learned what your word's
+worth.” And the stranger slouched away.
+
+“Who vas he?” asked Hendrik.
+
+“I only know that his name is Jack Hoag; he's a little bit of a trapper
+and a big bit of a bum; stuck me last year. He doesn't come out this
+way; they say he goes out by the west side of the mountains.”
+
+New light on their course was secured from Warren, and above all, the
+important information that the mouth of Jesup's River was marked by an
+eagle's nest in a dead pine. “Up to that point keep the main stream, and
+don't forget next spring I'm buying fur.”
+
+The drive across Five-mile portage was slow. It took over two hours to
+cover it, but late that day they reached the Schroon.
+
+Here the Dutchman said “Good-bye: Coom again some noder time.” Skookum
+saluted the farmer with a final growl, then Rolf and Quonab were left
+alone in the wilderness.
+
+It was after sundown, so they set about camping for the night. A wise
+camper always prepares bed and shelter in daylight, if possible. While
+Rolf made a fire and hung the kettle, Quonab selected a level, dry place
+between two trees, and covered it with spruce boughs to make the beds,
+and last a low tent was made by putting the lodge cover over a pole
+between the trees. The ends of the covers were held down by loose
+green logs quickly cut for the purpose, and now they were safe against
+weather.
+
+Tea, potatoes, and fried pork, with maple syrup and hard-tack, made
+their meal of the time, after which there was a long smoke. Quonab took
+a stick of red willow, picked up-in the daytime, and began shaving it
+toward one end, leaving the curling shreds still on the stick. When
+these were bunched in a fuzzy mop, he held them over the fire until they
+were roasted brown; then, grinding all up in his palm with some tobacco,
+and filling his pipe he soon was enveloped in that odour of woodsy smoke
+called the “Indian smell,” by many who do not know whence or how it
+comes. Rolf did not smoke. He had promised his mother that he would
+not until he was a man, and something brought her back home now with
+overwhelming force; that was the beds they had made of fragrant balsam
+boughs. “Cho-ko-tung or blister tree” as Quonab called it. His mother
+had a little sofa pillow, brought from the North--a “northern pine”
+ pillow they called it, for it was stuffed with pine needles of a kind
+not growing in Connecticut. Many a time had Rolf as a baby pushed his
+little round nose into that bag to inhale the delicious odour it gave
+forth, and so it became the hallowed smell of all that was dear in his
+babyhood, and it never lost its potency. Smell never does. Oh, mighty
+aura! that, in marching by the nostrils, can reach and move the soul;
+how wise the church that makes this power its handmaid, and through its
+incense overwhelms all alien thought when the worshipper, wandering,
+doubting, comes again to see if it be true, that here doubt dies. Oh,
+queen of memory that is master of the soul! how fearful should we be of
+letting evil thought associated grow with some recurrent odour that
+we love. Happy, indeed, are they that find some ten times pure and
+consecrated fragrance, like the pine, which entering in is master
+of their moods, and yet through linking thoughts has all its power,
+uplifting, full of sweetness and blessed peace. So came to Rolf his
+medicine tree.
+
+The balsam fir was his tree of hallowed memory. Its odour never failed,
+and he slept that night with its influence all about him.
+
+Starting in the morning was no easy matter. There was so much to be
+adjusted that first day. Packs divided in two, new combinations to trim
+the canoe, or to raise such and such a package above a possible leak.
+The heavy things, like axes and pans, had to be fastened to the canoe or
+to packages that would float in case of an upset. The canoe itself had
+to be gummed in one or two places; but they got away after three hours,
+and began the voyage down the Schroon.
+
+This was Rolf's first water journey. He had indeed essayed the canoe on
+the Pipestave Pond, but that was a mere ferry. This was real travel. He
+marvelled at the sensitiveness of the frail craft; the delicacy of its
+balance; its quick response to the paddle; the way it seemed to shrink
+from the rocks; and the unpleasantly suggestive bend-up of the ribs
+when the bottom grounded upon a log. It was a new world for him. Quonab
+taught him never to enter the canoe except when she was afloat; never to
+rise in her or move along without hold of the gunwale; never to make a
+sudden move; and he also learned that it was easier to paddle when there
+were six feet of water underneath than when only six inches.
+
+In an hour they had covered the five miles that brought them to the
+Hudson, and here the real labour began, paddling up stream. Before long
+they came to a shallow stretch with barely enough water to float the
+canoe. Here they jumped out and waded in the stream, occasionally
+lifting a stone to one side, till they reached the upper stretch of deep
+water and again went merrily paddling. Soon they came to an impassable
+rapid, and Rolf had his first taste of a real carry or portage. Quonab's
+eye was watching the bank as soon as the fierce waters appeared; for
+the first question was, where shall we land? and the next, how far do we
+carry? There are no rapids on important rivers in temperate America
+that have not been portaged more or less for ages. No canoe man portages
+without considering most carefully when, where, and how to land. His
+selection of the place, then, is the result of careful study. He cannot
+help leaving some mark at the place, slight though it be, and the next
+man looks for that mark to save himself time and trouble.
+
+“Ugh” was the only sound that Rolf heard from his companion, and
+the canoe headed for a flat rock in the pool below the rapids. After
+landing, they found traces of an old camp fire. It was near noon now,
+so Rolf prepared the meal while Quonab took a light pack and went on to
+learn the trail. It was not well marked; had not been used for a year
+or two, evidently, but there are certain rules that guide one. The trail
+keeps near the water, unless there is some great natural barrier, and it
+is usually the easiest way in sight. Quonab kept one eye on the river,
+for navigable water was the main thing, and in about one hundred yards
+he was again on the stream's edge, at a good landing above the rapid.
+
+After the meal was finished and the Indian had smoked, they set to work.
+In a few loads each, the stuff was portaged across, and the canoe was
+carried over and moored to the bank.
+
+The cargo replaced, they went on again, but in half an hour after
+passing more shoal water, saw another rapid, not steep, but too shallow
+to float the canoe, even with both men wading. Here Quonab made what
+the Frenchmen call a demi-charge. He carried half the stuff to the bank;
+then, wading, one at each end, they hauled the canoe up the portage and
+reloaded her above. Another strip of good going was succeeded by a long
+stretch of very swift water that was two or three feet deep and between
+shores that were densely grown with alders. The Indian landed, cut two
+light, strong poles, and now, one at the bow, the other at the stern,
+they worked their way foot by foot up the fierce current until safely on
+the upper level.
+
+Yet one more style of canoe propulsion was forced on them. They came to
+a long stretch of smooth, deep, very swift water, almost a rapid-one of
+the kind that is a joy when you are coming down stream. It differed from
+the last in having shores that were not alder-hidden, but open gravel
+banks. Now did Quonab take a long, strong line from his war sack. One
+end he fastened, not to the bow, but to the forward part of the canoe,
+the other to a buckskin band which he put across his breast. Then, with
+Rolf in the stern to steer and the Indian hauling on the bank, the canoe
+was safely “tracked” up the “strong waters.”
+
+Thus they fought their way up the hard river, day after day, making
+sometimes only five miles after twelve hours' toilsome travel. Rapids,
+shoals, portages, strong waters, abounded, and before they had covered
+the fifty miles to the forks of Jesup's River, they knew right well why
+the region was so little entered.
+
+It made a hardened canoe man of Rolf, and when, on the evening of the
+fifth day, they saw a huge eagle's nest in a dead pine tree that stood
+on the edge of a long swamp, both felt they had reached their own
+country, and were glad.
+
+
+
+Chapter 18. Animal Life Along the River
+
+It must not be supposed that, because it has been duly mentioned, they
+saw no wild life along the river. The silent canoe man has the best of
+opportunities. There were plenty of deer tracks about the first camp,
+and that morning, as they turned up the Hudson, Rolf saw his first deer.
+They had rounded a point in rather swift water when Quonab gave two taps
+on the gunwale, the usual sign, “Look out,” and pointed to the shore.
+There, fifty yards away on bank, gazing at them, was a deer. Stock still
+he stood like a red statue, for he was yet in the red coat. With three
+or four strong strokes, Quonab gave a long and mighty forward spurt;
+then reached for his gun. But the deer's white flag went up. It turned
+and bounded away, the white flag the last thing to disappear. Rolf sat
+spellbound. It was so sudden; so easy; it soon melted into the woods
+again. He trembled after it was gone.
+
+Many a time in the evening they saw muskrats in the eddies, and once
+they glimpsed a black, shiny something like a monstrous leech rolling up
+and down as it travelled in the stream. Quonab whispered, “Otter,” and
+made ready his gun, but it dived and showed itself no more. At one of
+the camps they were awakened by an extraordinary tattoo in the middle of
+the night--a harsh rattle close by their heads; and they got up to find
+that a porcupine was rattling his teeth on the frying-pan in an effort
+to increase the amount of salt that he could taste on it. Skookum, tied
+to a tree, was vainly protesting against the intrusion and volunteered
+to make a public example of the invader. The campers did not finally get
+rid of the spiny one till all their kitchen stuff was hung beyond his
+reach.
+
+Once they heard the sharp, short bark of a fox, and twice or thrice
+the soft, sweet, moaning call of the gray wolf out to hunt. Wild fowl
+abounded, and their diet was varied by the ducks that one or other of
+the hunters secured at nearly every camp.
+
+On the second day they saw three deer, and on the third morning Quonab
+loaded his gun with buckshot, to be ready, then sallied forth at dawn.
+Rolf was following, but the Indian shook his head, then said: “Don't
+make fire for half an hour.”
+
+In twenty minutes Rolf heard the gun, then later the Indian returned
+with a haunch of venison, and when they left that camp they stopped a
+mile up the river to add the rest of the venison to their cargo. Seven
+other deer were seen, but no more killed; yet Rolf was burning to try
+his hand as a hunter. Many other opportunities he had, and improved some
+of them. On one wood portage he, or rather Skookum, put up a number
+of ruffed grouse. These perched in the trees above their heads and the
+travellers stopped. While the dog held their attention Rolf with blunt
+arrows knocked over five that proved most acceptable as food. But his
+thoughts were now on deer, and his ambition was to go out alone and
+return with a load of venison.
+
+Another and more thrilling experience followed quickly. Rounding a bend
+in the early dawn they sighted a black bear and two cubs rambling along
+the gravelly bank and stopping now and then to eat something that turned
+out to be crayfish.
+
+Quonab had not seen a bear since childhood, when he and his father
+hunted along the hardwood ridges back of Myanos, and now he was excited.
+He stopped paddling, warned Rolf to do the same, and let the canoe drift
+backward until out of sight; then made for the land. Quickly tying up
+the canoe he took his gun and Rolf his hunting arrows, and, holding
+Skookum in a leash, they dashed into the woods. Then, keeping out of
+sight, they ran as fast and as silently as possible in the direction
+of the bears. Of course, the wind was toward the hunters, or they never
+could have got so near. Now they were opposite the family group and
+needed only a chance for a fair shot. Sneaking forward with the utmost
+caution, they were surely within twenty-five yards, but still the bushes
+screened the crab-eaters. As the hunters sneaked, the old bear stopped
+and sniffed suspiciously; the wind changed, she got an unmistakable
+whiff; then gave a loud warning “Koff! Koff! Koff! Koff!” and ran as
+fast as she could. The hunters knowing they were discovered rushed out,
+yelling as loudly as possible, in hopes of making the bears tree. The
+old bear ran like a horse with Skookum yapping bravely in her rear. The
+young ones, left behind, lost sight of her, and, utterly bewildered by
+the noise, made for a tree conveniently near and scrambled up into the
+branches. “Now,” Rolf thought, judging by certain tales he had heard,
+“that old bear will come back and there will be a fight.”
+
+“Is she coming back?” he asked nervously.
+
+The Indian laughed. “No, she is running yet. Black bear always a coward;
+they never fight when they can run away.”
+
+The little ones up the tree were, of course, at the mercy of the
+hunters, and in this case it was not a broken straw they depended on,
+but an ample salvation. “We don't need the meat and can't carry it
+with us; let's leave them,” said Rolf, but added, “Will they find their
+mother?”
+
+“Yes, bime-by; they come down and squall all over woods. She will hang
+round half a mile away and by night all will be together.”
+
+Their first bear hunt was over. Not a shot fired, not a bear wounded,
+not a mile travelled, and not an hour lost. And yet it seemed much more
+full of interesting thrills than did any one of the many stirring bear
+hunts that Rolf and Quonab shared together in the days that were to
+come.
+
+
+
+Chapter 19. The Footprint on the Shore
+
+Jesup's River was a tranquil stream that came from a region of swamps,
+and would have been easy canoeing but for the fallen trees. Some of
+these had been cut years ago, showing that the old trapper had used this
+route. Once they were unpleasantly surprised by seeing a fresh chopping
+on the bank, but their mourning was changed into joy when they found it
+was beaver-work.
+
+Ten miles they made that day. In the evening they camped on the shore of
+Jesup's Lake, proud and happy in the belief that they were the rightful
+owners of it all. That night they heard again and again the howling of
+wolves, but it seemed on the far side of the lake. In the morning they
+went out on foot to explore, and at once had the joy of seeing five
+deer, while tracks showed on every side. It was evidently a paradise for
+deer, and there were in less degree the tracks of other animals--mink in
+fair abundance, one or two otters, a mountain lion, and a cow moose with
+her calf. It was thrilling to see such a feast of possibilities. The
+hunters were led on and on, revelling in the prospect of many joys
+before them, when all at once they came on something that turned their
+joy to grief--the track of a man; the fresh imprint of a cowhide boot.
+It was maddening. At first blush, it meant some other trapper ahead of
+them with a prior claim to the valley; a claim that the unwritten law
+would allow. They followed it a mile. It went striding along the shore
+at a great pace, sometimes running, and keeping down the west shore.
+Then they found a place where he had sat down and broken a lot of clam
+shells, and again had hastened on. But there was no mark of gunstock
+or other weapon where he sat; and why was he wearing boots? The hunters
+rarely did.
+
+For two miles the Indian followed with Rolf, and sometimes found
+that the hated stranger had been running hard. Then they turned back,
+terribly disappointed. At first it seemed a crushing blow. They had
+three courses open to them--to seek a location farther north, to assume
+that one side of the lake was theirs, or to find out exactly who and
+what the stranger was. They decided on the last. The canoe was launched
+and loaded, and they set out to look for what they hoped they would not
+find, a trapper's shanty on the lake.
+
+After skirting the shore for four or five miles and disturbing one or
+two deer, as well as hosts of ducks, the voyagers landed and there still
+they found that fateful bootmark steadily tramping southward. By noon
+they had reached the south end of the west inlet that leads to another
+lake, and again an examination of the shore showed the footmarks, here
+leaving the lake and going southerly. Now the travellers retired to the
+main lake and by noon had reached the south end. At no point had they
+seen any sign of a cabin, though both sides of the lake were in plain
+view all day. The travelling stranger was a mystery, but he did not live
+here and there was no good reason why they should not settle.
+
+Where? The country seemed equally good at all points, but it is usually
+best to camp on an outlet. Then when a storm comes up, the big waves
+do not threaten your canoe, or compel you to stay on land. It is a
+favourite crossing for animals avoiding the lake, and other trappers
+coming in are sure to see your cabin before they enter.
+
+Which side of the outlet? Quonab settled that--the west. He wanted to
+see the sun rise, and, not far back from the water, was a hill with a
+jutting, rocky pinnade. He pointed to this and uttered the one word,
+“Idaho.” Here, then, on the west side, where the lake enters the river,
+they began to clear the ground for their home.
+
+
+
+Chapter 20. The Trappers' Cabin
+
+     It's a smart fellow that knows what he can't do.--Sayings of
+     Si Sylvanne.
+
+I suppose every trapper that ever lived, on first building a cabin,
+said, “Oh, any little thing will do, so long as it has a roof and is
+big enough to lie down in.” And every trapper has realized before spring
+that he made a sad mistake in not having it big enough to live in and
+store goods in. Quonab and Rolf were new at the business, and made the
+usual mistake. They planned their cabin far too small; 10 X 12 ft.,
+instead of 12 X 20 ft. they made it, and 6-ft. walls, instead of 8-ft.
+walls. Both were expert axemen. Spruce was plentiful and the cabin rose
+quickly. In one day the walls were up. An important thing was the roof.
+What should it be? Overlapping basswood troughs, split shingles, also
+called shakes, or clay? By far the easiest to make, the warmest
+in winter and coolest in summer, is the clay roof. It has three
+disadvantages: It leaks in long-continued wet weather; it drops down
+dust and dirt in dry weather; and is so heavy that it usually ends by
+crushing in the log rafters and beams, unless they are further supported
+on posts, which are much in the way. But its advantages were so obvious
+that the builders did not hesitate. A clay roof it was to be.
+
+When the walls were five feet high, the doorway and window were cut
+through the logs, but leaving in each case one half of the log at the
+bottom of the needed opening. The top log was now placed, then rolled
+over bottom up, while half of its thickness was cut away to fit over
+the door: a similar cut out was made over the window. Two flat pieces
+of spruce were prepared for door jambs and two shorter ones for window
+jambs. Auger holes were put through, so as to allow an oak pin to
+be driven through the jamb into each log, and the doorway and window
+opening were done.
+
+In one corner they planned a small fireplace, built of clay and stone.
+Not stone from the lake, as Rolf would have had it, but from the
+hillside; and why? Quonab said that the lake stone was of the water
+spirits, and would not live near fire, but would burst open; while the
+hillside stone was of the sun and fire spirit, and in the fire would add
+its heat.
+
+The facts are that lake stone explodes when greatly heated and hill
+stone does not; and since no one has been able to improve upon Quonab's
+explanation, it must stand for the present.
+
+The plan of the fireplace was simple. Rolf had been present at the
+building of several, and the main point was to have the chimney large
+enough, and the narrowest point just above the fire.
+
+The eaves logs, end logs, and ridge logs were soon in place; then came
+the cutting of small poles, spruce and tamarack, long enough to reach
+from ridge to eaves, and in sufficient number to completely cover the
+roof. A rank sedge meadow near by afforded plenty of coarse grass with
+which the poles were covered deeply; and lastly clay dug out with a
+couple of hand-made, axe-hewn wooden spades was thrown evenly on the
+grass to a depth of six inches; this, when trampled flat, made a roof
+that served them well.
+
+The chinks of the logs when large were filled with split pieces of wood;
+when small they were plugged with moss. A door was made of hewn planks,
+and hinged very simply on two pins; one made by letting the plank
+project as a point, the other by nailing on a pin after the door was
+placed; both pins fitting, of course, into inch auger holes.
+
+A floor was not needed, but bed bunks were, and in making these they
+began already to realize that the cabin was too small. But now after a
+week's work it was done. It had a sweet fragrance of wood and moss, and
+the pleasure it gave to Rolf at least was something he never again could
+expect to find in equal measure about any other dwelling he might make.
+
+Quonab laid the fire carefully, then lighted his pipe, sang a little
+crooning song about the “home spirits,” which we call “household gods,”
+ walked around the shanty, offering the pipestem to each of the four
+winds in turn, then entering lighted the fire from his pipe, threw some
+tobacco and deer hair on the blaze, and the house-warming was ended.
+
+Nevertheless, they continued to sleep in the tent they had used all
+along, for Quonab loved not the indoors, and Rolf was growing daily more
+of his mind.
+
+
+
+Chapter 21. Rolf's First Deer
+
+Anxious to lose no fine day they had worked steadily on the shanty, not
+even going after the deer that were seen occasionally over the lake, so
+that now they were out of fresh meat, and Rolf saw a chance he long had
+looked for. “Quonab, I want to go out alone and get a deer, and I want
+your gun.
+
+“Ugh! you shall go. To-night is good.”
+
+“To-night” meant evening, so Rolf set out alone as soon as the sun was
+low, for during the heat of the day the deer are commonly lying in some
+thicket. In general, he knew enough to travel up wind, and to go as
+silently as possible. The southwest wind was blowing softly, and so he
+quickened his steps southwesterly which meant along the lake. Tracks and
+signs abounded; it was impossible to follow any one trail. His plan was
+to keep on silently, trusting to luck, nor did he have long to wait.
+Across a little opening of the woods to the west he saw a movement in
+the bushes, but it ceased, and he was in doubt whether the creature,
+presumably a deer, was standing there or had gone on. “Never quit till
+you are sure,” was one of Quonab's wise adages. Rolf was bound to know
+what it was that had moved. So he stood still and waited. A minute
+passed; another; many; a long time; and still he waited, but got no
+further sign of life from the bush. Then he began to think he was
+mistaken; yet it was good huntercraft to find out what that was. He
+tried the wind several times, first by wetting his finger, which test
+said “southwest”; second, by tossing up some handfuls of dried grass,
+which said “yes, southwest, but veering southerly in this glade.” So he
+knew he might crawl silently to the north side of that bush. He looked
+to the priming of his gun and began a slow and stealthy stalk, selecting
+such openings as might be passed without effort or movement of bushes or
+likelihood of sound. He worked his way step by step; each time his foot
+was lifted he set it down again only after trying the footing. At each
+step he paused to look and listen. It was only one hundred yards to the
+interesting spot, but Rolf was fifteen minutes in covering the distance,
+and more than once, he got a great start as a chicadee flew out or
+a woodpecker tapped. His heart beat louder and louder, so it seemed
+everything near must hear; but he kept on his careful stalk, and at last
+had reached the thicket that had given him such thrills and hopes. Here
+he stood and watched for a full minute. Again he tried the wind, and
+proceeded to circle slowly to the west of the place.
+
+After a long, tense crawl of twenty yards he came on the track and sign
+of a big buck, perfectly fresh, and again his heart worked harder;
+it seemed to be pumping his neck full of blood, so he was choking. He
+judged it best to follow this hot trail for a time, and holding his gun
+ready cocked he stepped softly onward. A bluejay cried out, “jay, jay!”
+ with startling loudness, and seemingly enjoyed his pent-up excitement. A
+few steps forward at slow, careful stalk, and then behind him he heard
+a loud whistling hiss. Instantly turning he found himself face to face
+with a great, splendid buck in the short blue coat. There not thirty
+yards away he stood, the creature he had been stalking so long, in plain
+view now, broadside on. They gazed each at the other, perfectly still
+for a few seconds, then Rolf without undue movement brought the gun
+to bear, and still the buck stood gazing. The gun was up, but oh, how
+disgustingly it wabbled and shook! and the steadier Rolf tried to bold
+it, the more it trembled, until from that wretched gun the palsy spread
+all over his body; his breath came tremulously, his legs and arms were
+shaking, and at last, as the deer moved its head to get a better view
+and raised its tail, the lad, making an effort at selfcontrol, pulled
+the trigger. Bang! and the buck went lightly bounding out of sight.
+
+Poor Rolf; how disgusted he felt; positively sick with self-contempt.
+Thirty yards, standing, broadside on, full daylight, a big buck, a clean
+miss. Yes, there was the bullet hole in a tree, five feet above the
+deer's head. “I'm no good; I'll never be a hunter,” he groaned, then
+turned and slowly tramped back to camp. Quonab looked inquiringly, for,
+of course, he heard the shot. He saw a glum and sorry-looking youth, who
+in response to his inquiring look gave merely a head-shake, and hung up
+the gun with a vicious bang.
+
+Quonab took down the gun, wiped it out, reloaded it, then turning to the
+boy said: “Nibowaka, you feel pretty sick. Ugh! You know why? You got
+a good chance, but you got buck fever. It is always so, every one the
+first time. You go again to-morrow and you get your deer.”
+
+Rolf made no reply. So Quonab ventured, “You want me to go?” That
+settled it for Rolf; his pride was touched.
+
+“No; I'll go again in the morning.”
+
+In the dew time he was away once more on the hunting trail. There was
+no wind, but the southwest was the likeliest to spring up. So he went
+nearly over his last night's track. He found it much easier to go
+silently now when all the world was dew wet, and travelled quickly. Past
+the fateful glade he went, noted again the tree torn several feet too
+high up, and on. Then the cry of a bluejay rang out; this is often a
+notification of deer at hand. It always is warning of something doing,
+and no wise hunter ignores it.
+
+Rolf stood for a moment listening and peering. He thought he heard a
+scraping sound; then again the bluejay, but the former ceased and the
+jay-note died in the distance. He crept cautiously on again for a few
+minutes; another opening appeared. He studied this from a hiding place;
+then far across he saw a little flash near the ground. His heart gave
+a jump; he studied the place, saw again the flash and then made out the
+head of a deer, a doe that was lying in the long grass. The flash was
+made by its ear shaking off a fly. Rolf looked to his priming, braced
+himself, got fully ready, then gave a short, sharp whistle; instantly
+the doe rose to her feet; then another appeared, a sinal one; then a
+young buck; all stood gazing his way.
+
+Up went the gun, but again its muzzle began to wabble. Rolf lowered it,
+said grimly and savagely to himself, “I will not shake this time.” The
+deer stretched themselves and began slowly walking toward the lake. All
+had disappeared but the buck. Rolf gave another whistle that turned the
+antler-bearer to a statue. Controlling himself with a strong “I
+will,” he raised the gun, held it steadily, and fired. The buck gave
+a gathering spasm, a bound, and disappeared. Rolf felt sick again with
+disgust, but he reloaded, then hastily went forward.
+
+There was the deep imprint showing where the buck had bounded at the
+shot, but no blood. He followed, and a dozen feet away found the next
+hoof marks and on them a bright-red stain; on and another splash; and
+more and shortening bounds, till one hundred yards away--yes, there it
+lay; the round, gray form, quite dead, shot through the heart.
+
+Rolf gave a long, rolling war cry and got an answer from a point that
+was startlingly near, and Quonab stepped from behind a tree.
+
+“I got him,” shouted Rolf.
+
+The Indian smiled. “I knew you would, so I followed; last night I knew
+you must have your shakes, so let you go it alone.”
+
+Very carefully that deer was skinned, and Rolf learned the reason for
+many little modes of procedure.
+
+After the hide was removed from the body (not the hand or legs), Quonab
+carefully cut out the-broad sheath of tendon that cover the muscles,
+beginning at the hip bones on the back and extending up to the
+shoulders; this is the sewing sinew. Then he cut out the two long
+fillets of meat that lie on each side of the spine outside (the loin)
+and the two smaller ones inside (the tenderloin).
+
+These, with the four quarters, the heart, and the kidneys, were put into
+the hide. The entrails, head, neck, legs, feet, he left for the foxes,
+but the hip bone or sacrum he hung in a tree with three little red
+yarns from them, so that the Great Spirit would be pleased and send good
+hunting. Then addressing the head he said: “Little brother, forgive
+us. We are sorry to kill you. Behold! we give you the honour of red
+streamers.” Then bearing the rest they tramped back to camp.
+
+The meat wrapped in sacks to keep off the flies was hung in the shade,
+but the hide he buried in the warm mud of a swamp hole, and three days
+later, when the hair began to slip, he scraped it clean. A broad ash
+wood hoop he had made ready and when the green rawhide was strained on
+it again the Indian had an Indian drum.
+
+It was not truly dry for two or three days and as it tightened on its
+frame it gave forth little sounds of click and shrinkage that told of
+the strain the tensioned rawhide made. Quonab tried it that night as he
+sat by the fire softly singing:
+
+“Ho da ho-he da he.”
+
+But the next day before sunrise he climbed the hill and sitting on the
+sun-up rock he hailed the Day God with the invocation, as he had not
+sung it since the day they left the great rock above the Asalnuk, and
+followed with the song:
+
+“Father, we thank thee; We have found the good hunting. There is meat in
+the wigwam.”
+
+
+
+Chapter 22. The Line of Traps
+
+Now that they had the cabin for winter, and food for the present,
+they must set about the serious business of trapping and lay a line of
+deadfalls for use in the coming cold weather. They were a little ahead
+of time, but it was very desirable to get their lines blazed through the
+woods in all proposed directions in case of any other trapper coming in.
+Most fur-bearing animals are to be found along the little valleys of the
+stream: beaver, otter, mink, muskrat, coon, are examples. Those that
+do not actually live by the water seek these places because of their
+sheltered character and because their prey lives there; of this class
+are the lynx, fox, fisher, and marten that feed on rabbits and mice.
+Therefore a line of traps is usually along some valley and over the
+divide and down some other valley back to the point of beginning.
+
+So, late in September, Rolf and Quonab, with their bedding, a pot, food
+for four days, and two axes, alternately followed and led by Skookum,
+set out along a stream that entered the lake near their cabin. A quarter
+mile up they built their first deadfall for martens. It took them one
+hour and was left unset. The place was under a huge tree on a neck of
+land around which the stream made a loop. This tree they blazed on three
+sides. Two hundred yards up another good spot was found and a deadfall
+made. At one place across a neck of land was a narrow trail evidently
+worn by otters. “Good place for steel trap, bime-by,” was Quonab's
+remark.
+
+From time to time they disturbed deer, and in a muddy place where a
+deer path crossed the creek, they found, among the numerous small hoof
+prints, the track of wolves, bears, and a mountain lion, or panther. At
+these little Skookum sniffed fearsomely, and showed by his bristly mane
+that he was at least much impressed.
+
+After five hours' travel and work they came to another stream joining
+on, and near the angle of the two little valleys they found a small tree
+that was chewed and scratched in a remarkable manner for three to six
+feet up. “Bear tree,” said Quonab, and by degrees Rolf got the facts
+about it.
+
+The bears, and indeed most animals, have a way of marking the range that
+they consider their own. Usually this is done by leaving their personal
+odour at various points, covering the country claimed, but in some cases
+visible marks are added. Thus the beaver leaves a little dab of mud, the
+wolf scratches with his hind feet, and the bear tears the signal tree
+with tooth and claw. Since this is done from time to time, when the bear
+happens to be near the tree, it is kept fresh as long as the region
+is claimed. But it is especially done in midsummer when the bears are
+pairing, and helps them to find suitable companions, nor all are then
+roaming the woods seeking mates; all call and leave their mark on the
+sign post, so the next bear, thanks to his exquisite nose, can tell at
+once the sex of the bear that called last and by its track tell which
+way it travelled afterward.
+
+In this case it was a bear's register, but before long Quonab showed
+Rolf a place where two long logs joined at an angle by a tree that was
+rubbed and smelly, and showed a few marten hairs, indicating that this
+was the sign post of a marten and a good place to make a deadfall.
+
+Yet a third was found in an open, grassy glade, a large, white stone on
+which were pellets left by foxes. The Indian explained:
+
+“Every fox that travels near will come and smell the stone to see who
+of his kind is around, so this is a good place for a fox-trap; a steel
+trap, of course, for no fox will go into a deadfall.”
+
+And slowly Rolf learned that these habits are seen in some measure
+in all animals; yes, down to the mice and shrews. We see little of
+it because our senses are blunt and our attention untrained; but the
+naturalist and the hunter always know where to look for the four-footed
+inhabitants and by them can tell whether or not the land is possessed by
+such and such a furtive tribe.
+
+
+
+Chapter 23. The Beaver Pond
+
+AT THE noon halt they were about ten miles from home and had made
+fifteen deadfalls for marten, for practice was greatly reducing the time
+needed for each.
+
+In the afternoon they went on, but the creek had become a mere rill and
+they were now high up in a more level stretch of country that was
+more or less swampy. As they followed the main course of the dwindling
+stream, looking ever for signs of fur-bearers, they crossed and
+recrossed the water. At length Quonab stopped, stared, and pointed at
+the rill, no longer clear but clouded with mud. His eyes shone as he
+jerked his head up stream and uttered the magic word, “Beaver.”
+
+They tramped westerly for a hundred yards through a dense swamp of
+alders, and came at last to an irregular pond that spread out among the
+willow bushes and was lost in the swampy thickets. Following the stream
+they soon came to a beaver dam, a long, curving bank of willow branches
+and mud, tumbling through the top of which were a dozen tiny streams
+that reunited their waters below to form the rivulet they had been
+following.
+
+Red-winged blackbirds were sailing in flocks about the pond; a number
+of ducks were to be seen, and on a dead tree, killed by the backed up
+water, a great blue heron stood. Many smaller creatures moved or flitted
+in the lively scene, while far out near the middle rose a dome-like pile
+of sticks, a beaver lodge, and farther three more were discovered. No
+beaver were seen, but the fresh cut sticks, the floating branches peeled
+of all the bark, and the long, strong dam in good repair were enough
+to tell a practised eye that here was a large colony of beavers in
+undisturbed possession.
+
+In those days beaver was one of the most valued furs. The creature is
+very easy to trap; so the discovery of the pond was like the finding of
+a bag of gold. They skirted its uncertain edges and Quonab pointed out
+the many landing places of the beaver; little docks they seemed, built
+up with mud and stones with deep water plunge holes alongside. Here and
+there on the shore was a dome-shaped ant's nest with a pathway to it
+from the pond, showing, as the Indian said, that here the beaver came on
+sunny days to lie on the hill and let the swarming ants come forth and
+pick the vermin from their fur. At one high point projecting into the
+still water they found a little mud pie with a very strong smell; this,
+the Indian said, was a “castor cache,” the sign that, among beavers,
+answers the same purpose as the bear tree among bears.
+
+Although the pond seemed small they had to tramp a quarter of a mile
+before reaching the upper end and here they found another dam, with its
+pond. This was at a slightly higher level and contained a single lodge;
+after this they found others, a dozen ponds in a dozen successive rises,
+the first or largest and the second only having lodges, but all were
+evidently part of the thriving colony, for fresh cut trees were seen on
+every side. “Ugh, good; we get maybe fifty beaver,” said the Indian, and
+they knew they had reached the Promised Land.
+
+Rolf would gladly have spent the rest of the day exploring the pond and
+trying for a beaver, when the eventide should call them to come forth,
+but Quonab said, “Only twenty deadfall; we should have one hundred and
+fifty.” So making for a fine sugar bush on the dry ground west of the
+ponds they blazed a big tree, left a deadfall there, and sought the
+easiest way over the rough hills that lay to the east, in hopes of
+reaching the next stream leading down to their lake.
+
+
+
+Chapter 24. The Porcupine
+
+Skookum was a partly trained little dog; he would stay in camp when
+told, if it suited him; and would not hesitate to follow or lead his
+master, when he felt that human wisdom was inferior to the ripe product
+of canine experience covering more than thirteen moons of recollection.
+But he was now living a life in which his previous experience must often
+fail him as a guide. A faint rustling on the leafy ground had sent
+him ahead at a run, and his sharp, angry bark showed that some hostile
+creature of the woods had been discovered. Again and again the angry
+yelping was changed into a sort of yowl, half anger, half distress. The
+hunters hurried forward to find the little fool charging again and
+again a huge porcupine that was crouched with its head under a log, its
+hindquarters exposed but bristling with spines; and its tail lashing
+about, left a new array of quills in the dog's mouth and face each time
+he charged. Skookum was a plucky fighter, but plainly he was nearly sick
+of it. The pain of the quills would, of course, increase every minute
+and with each movement. Quonab took a stout stick and threw the
+porcupine out of its retreat, (Rolf supposed to kill it when the head
+was exposed,) but the spiny one, finding a new and stronger enemy,
+wasted no time in galloping at its slow lumbering pace to the nearest
+small spruce tree and up that it scrambled to a safe place in the high
+branches.
+
+Now the hunters called the dog. He was a sorry-looking object, pawing at
+his muzzle, first with one foot, then another, trying to unswallow the
+quills in his tongue, blinking hard, uttering little painful grunts and
+whines as he rubbed his head upon the ground or on his forelegs. Rolf
+held him while Quonab, with a sharp jerk, brought out quill after quill.
+Thirty or forty of the poisonous little daggers were plucked from his
+trembling legs, head, face, and nostrils, but the dreadful ones were
+those in his lips and tongue. Already they were deeply sunk in the soft,
+quivering flesh. One by one those in the lips were with-drawn by the
+strong fingers of the red man, and Skookum whimpered a little, but he
+shrieked outright when those in the tongue were removed. Rolf had hard
+work to hold him, and any one not knowing the case might have thought
+that the two men were deliberately holding the dog to administer the
+most cruel torture.
+
+But none of the quills had sunk very deep. All were got out at last and
+the little dog set free.
+
+Now Rolf thought of vengeance on the quill-pig snugly sitting in the
+tree near by.
+
+Ammunition was too precious to waste, but Rolf was getting ready to climb
+when Quonab said: “No, no; you must not. Once I saw white man climb
+after the Kahk; it waited till he was near, then backed down, lashing
+its tail. He put up his arm to save his face. It speared his arm in
+fifty places and he could not save his face, so he tried to get down,
+but the Kahk came faster, lashing him; then he lost his hold and
+dropped. His leg was broken and his arm was swelled up for half a year.
+They are very poisonous. He nearly died.”
+
+“Well, I can at least chop him down,” and Rolf took the axe.
+
+“Wah!” Quonab said, “no; my father said you must not kill the Kahk,
+except you make sacrifice and use his quills for household work. It is
+bad medicine to kill the Kahk.”
+
+So the spiny one was left alone in the place he had so ably fought for.
+But Skookum, what of him? He was set free at last. To be wiser? Alas,
+no! before one hour he met with another porcupine and remembering only
+his hate of the creature repeated the same sad mistake, and again had to
+have the painful help, without which he must certainly have died. Before
+night, however, he began to feel his real punishment and next morning
+no one would have known the pudding-headed thing that sadly followed the
+hunters, for the bright little dog that a day before had run so joyously
+through the woods. It was many a long day before he fully recovered and
+at one time his life was in the balance; and yet to the last of his
+days he never fully realized the folly of his insensate attacks on the
+creature that fights with its tail.
+
+“It is ever so,” said the Indian. “The lynx, the panther, the wolf, the
+fox, the eagle, all that attack the Kahk must die. Once my father saw
+a bear that was killed by the quills. He had tried to bite the Kahk;
+it filled his mouth with quills that he could not spit out. They sunk
+deeper and his jaws swelled so he could not open or shut his mouth
+to eat; then he starved. My people found him near a fish pond below a
+rapid. There were many fish. The bear could kill them with his paw but
+not eat, so with his mouth wide open and plenty about him he died of
+starvation in that pool.
+
+“There is but one creature that can kill the Kahk that is the Ojeeg the
+big fisher weasel. He is a devil. He makes very strong medicine; the
+Kahk cannot harm him. He turns it on its back and tears open its smooth
+belly. It is ever so. We not know, but my father said, that it is
+because when in the flood Nana Bojou was floating on the log with Kahk
+and Ojeeg, Kahk was insolent and wanted the highest place, but Ojeeg was
+respectful to Nana Bojou, he bit the Kahk to teach him a lesson and got
+lashed with the tail of many stings. But the Manito drew out the quills
+and said: 'It shall be ever thus; the Ojeeg shall conquer the Kahk and
+the quills of Kahk shall never do Ojeeg any harm.'”
+
+
+
+Chapter 25. The Otter Slide
+
+It was late now and the hunters camped in the high cool woods. Skookum
+whined in his sleep so loudly as to waken them once or twice. Near dawn
+they heard the howling of wolves and the curiously similar hooting of
+a horned owl. There is, indeed, almost no difference between the short
+opening howl of a she-wolf and the long hoot of the owl. As he listened,
+half awake, Rolf heard a whirr of wings which stopped overhead, then
+a familiar chuckle. He sat up and saw Skookum sadly lift his misshapen
+head to gaze at a row of black-breasted grouse partridge on a branch
+above, but the poor doggie was feeling too sick to take any active
+interest. They were not ruffed grouse, but a kindred kind, new to Rolf.
+As he gazed at the perchers, he saw Quonab rise gently, go to nearest
+willow and cut a long slender rod at least two feet long; on the top of
+this he made a short noose of cord. Then he went cautiously under the
+watching grouse, the spruce partridges, and reaching up slipped the
+noose over the neck of the first one; a sharp jerk then tightened noose,
+and brought the grouse tumbling out of the tree while its companions
+merely clucked their puzzlement, made no effort to escape.
+
+A short, sharp blow put the captive out of pain. The rod was reached
+again and a second, the lowest always, was jerked down, and the trick
+repeated till three grouse were secured. Then only did it dawn on the
+others that they were in a most perilous neighbourhood, so they took
+flight.
+
+Rolf sat up in amazement. Quonab dropped the three birds by the fire and
+set about preparing breakfast.
+
+“These are fool hens,” he explained. “You can mostly get them this way;
+sure, if you have a dog to help, but ruffed grouse is no such fool.”
+
+Rolf dressed the birds and as usual threw the entrails Skookum. Poor
+little dog! he was, indeed, a sorry sight. He looked sadly out of his
+bulging eyes, feebly moved swollen jaws, but did not touch the food he
+once would have pounced on. He did not eat because he could not open his
+mouth.
+
+At camp the trappers made a log trap and continued the line with blazes
+and deadfalls, until, after a mile, they came to a broad tamarack swamp,
+and, skirting its edge, found a small, outflowing stream that brought
+them to an eastward-facing hollow. Everywhere there were signs game,
+but they were not prepared for the scene that opened as they cautiously
+pushed through the thickets into a high, hardwood bush. A deer rose
+out of the grass and stared curiously at them; then another and another
+until nearly a dozen were in sight; still farther many others appeared;
+to the left were more, and movements told of yet others to the right.
+Then their white flags went up and all loped gently away on the slope
+that rose to the north. There may have been twenty or thirty deer in
+sight, but the general effect of all their white tails, bobbing away,
+was that the woods were full of deer. They seemed to be there by the
+hundreds and the joy of seeing so many beautiful live things was helped
+in the hunters by the feeling that this was their own hunting-ground.
+They had, indeed, reached the land of plenty.
+
+The stream increased as they marched; many springs and some important
+rivulets joined on. They found some old beaver signs but none new; and
+they left their deadfalls every quarter mile or less.
+
+The stream began to descend more quickly until it was in a long, narrow
+valley with steep clay sides and many pools. Here they saw again and
+again the tracks and signs of otter and coming quietly round a turn that
+opened a new reach they heard a deep splash, then another and another.
+
+The hunters' first thought was to tie up Skookum, but a glance showed
+that this was unnecessary. They softly dropped the packs and the sick
+dog lay meekly down beside them. Then they crept forward with hunter
+caution, favoured by an easterly breeze. Their first thought was of
+beaver, but they had seen no recent sign, nor was there anything that
+looked like a beaver pond. The measured splash, splash, splash--was not
+so far ahead. It might be a bear snatching fish, or--no, that was too
+unpleasant--a man baling out a canoe. Still the slow splash, splash,
+went on at intervals, not quite regular.
+
+Now it seemed but thirty yards ahead and in the creek.
+
+With the utmost care they crawled to the edge of the clay and opposite
+they saw a sight but rarely glimpsed by man. Here were six otters; two
+evidently full-grown, and four seeming young of the pair, engaged in a
+most hilarious and human game of tobogganing down a steep clay hill to
+plump into a deep part at its foot.
+
+Plump went the largest, presumably the father; down he went, to reappear
+at the edge, scramble out and up an easy slope to the top of the
+twenty-foot bank. Splash, splash, splash, came three of the young ones;
+splash, splash, the mother and one of the cubs almost together.
+
+“Scoot” went the big male again, and the wet furslopping and rubbing on
+the long clay chute made it greasier and slipperier every time.
+
+Splash, plump, splash--splash, plump, splash, went the otter family
+gleefully, running up the bank again, eager each to be first, it seemed,
+and to do the chute the oftenest.
+
+The gambolling grace, the obvious good humour, the animal hilarity of
+it all, was absorbingly amusing. The trappers gazed with pleasure that
+showed how near akin are naturalist and hunter. Of course, they had
+some covetous thought connected with those glossy hides, but this
+was September still, and even otter were not yet prime. Shoot, plump,
+splash, went the happy crew with apparently unabated joy and hilarity.
+The slide improved with use and the otters seemed tireless; when all
+at once a loud but muffled yelp was heard and Skookum, forgetting all
+caution, came leaping down the bank to take a hand.
+
+With a succession of shrill, birdy chirps the old otters warned their
+young. Plump, plump, plump, all shot into the pool, but to reappear,
+swimming with heads out, for they were but slightly alarmed. This was
+too much for Quonob; he levelled his flintlock; snap, bang, it went,
+pointed at the old male, but he dived at the snap and escaped. Down the
+bank now rushed the hunters, joined by Skookum, to attack the otters
+in the pool, for it was small and shallow; unless a burrow led from it,
+they were trapped.
+
+But the otters realized the peril. All six dashed out of the pool, down
+the open, gravelly stream the old ones uttering loud chirps that rang
+like screams. Under the fallen logs and brush they glided, dodging
+beneath roots and over banks, pursued by the hunters, each armed with a
+club and by Skookum not armed at all.
+
+The otters seemed to know where they were going and distanced all but
+the dog. Forgetting his own condition Skookum had almost overtaken
+one of the otter cubs when the mother wheeled about and, hissing and
+snarling, charged. Skookum was lucky to get off with a slight nip, for
+the otter is a dangerous fighter. But the unlucky dog was sent howling
+back to the two packs that he never should have left.
+
+The hunters now found an open stretch of woods through which Quonab
+could run ahead and intercept the otters as they bounded on down the
+stream bed, pursued by Rolf, who vainly tried to deal a blow with his
+club. In a few seconds the family party was up to Quonab, trapped it
+seemed, but there is no more desperate assailant than an otter
+fighting for its young. So far from being cowed the two old ones made a
+simultaneous, furious rush at the Indian. Wholly taken by surprise, he
+missed with his club, and sprang aside to escape their jaws. The family
+dashed around then past him, and, urged by the continuous chirps of the
+mother, they plunged under a succession of log jams and into a willow
+swamp that spread out into an ancient beaver lake and were swallowed up
+in the silent wilderness.
+
+
+
+Chapter 26. Back to the Cabin
+
+The far end of the long swamp the stream emerged, now much larger, and
+the trappers kept on with their work. When night fell they had completed
+fifty traps, all told, and again they camped without shelter overhead.
+
+Next day Skookum was so much worse that they began to fear for his life.
+He had eaten nothing since the sad encounter. He could drink a little,
+so Rolf made a pot of soup, and when it was cool the poor doggie managed
+to swallow some of the liquid after half an hour's patient endeavour.
+
+They were now on the home line; from a hill top they got a distant view
+of their lake, though it was at least five miles away. Down the creek
+they went, still making their deadfalls at likely places and still
+seeing game tracks at the muddy spots. The creek came at length to an
+extensive, open, hardwood bush, and here it was joined by another stream
+that came from the south, the two making a small river. From then on
+they seemed in a land of game; trails of deer were seen on the ground
+everywhere, and every few minutes they started one or two deer. The
+shady oak wood itself was flanked and varied with dense cedar swamps
+such as the deer love to winter in, and after they had tramped through
+two miles of it, the Indian said, “Good! now we know where to come in
+winter when we need meat.”
+
+At a broad, muddy ford they passed an amazing number of tracks, mostly
+deer, but a few of panther, lynx, fisher, wolf, otter, and mink.
+
+In the afternoon they reached the lake. The stream, quite a broad one
+here, emptied in about four miles south of the camp. Leaving a deadfall
+near its mouth they followed the shore and made a log trap every quarter
+mile just above the high water mark.
+
+When they reached the place of Rolf's first deer they turned aside to
+see it. The gray jays had picked a good deal of the loose meat. No large
+animal had troubled it, and yet in the neighbourhood they found the
+tracks of both wolves and foxes.
+
+“Ugh,” said Quonab, “they smell it and come near, but they know that a
+man has been here; they are not very hungry, so keep away. This is good
+for trap.”
+
+So they made two deadfalls with the carrion half way between them. Then
+one or two more traps and they reached home, arriving at the camp just
+as darkness and a heavy rainfall began.
+
+“Good,” said Quonab, “our deadfalls are ready; we have done all the work
+our fingers could not do when the weather is very cold, and the ground
+too hard for stakes to be driven. Now the traps can get weathered before
+we go round and set them. Yet we need some strong medicine, some trapper
+charm.”
+
+Next morning he went forth with fish-line and fish-spear; he soon
+returned with a pickerel. He filled a bottle with cut-up shreds of this,
+corked it up, and hung it on the warm, sunny side of the shanty. “That
+will make a charm that every bear will come to,” he said, and left it
+to the action of the sun.
+
+
+
+Chapter 27. Sick Dog Skookum
+
+Getting home is always a joy; but walking about the place in the morning
+they noticed several little things that were wrong. Quonab's lodge was
+down, the paddles that stood against the shanty were scattered on the
+ground, and a bag of venison hung high at the ridge was opened and
+empty.
+
+Quonab studied the tracks and announced “a bad old black bear; he has
+rollicked round for mischief, upsetting things. But the venison he could
+not reach; that was a marten that ripped open the bag.”
+
+“Then that tells what we should do; build a storehouse at the end of the
+shanty,” said Rolf, adding, “it must be tight and it must be cool.”
+
+“Maybe! sometime before winter,” said the Indian; “but now we should
+make another line of traps while the weather is fine.”
+
+“No,” replied the lad, “Skookum is not fit to travel now. We can't leave
+him behind, and we can make a storehouse in three days.”
+
+The unhappy little dog was worse than ever. He could scarcely breathe,
+much less eat or drink, and the case was settled.
+
+First they bathed the invalid's head in water as hot as he could stand
+it. This seemed to help him so much that he swallowed eagerly some soup
+that they poured into his mouth. A bed was made for him in a sunny place
+and the hunters set about the new building.
+
+In three days the storehouse was done, excepting the chinking. It was
+October now, and a sharp night frost warned them of the hard white moons
+to come. Quonab, as he broke the ice in a tin cup and glanced at the
+low-hung sun, said: “The leaves are falling fast; snow comes soon; we
+need another line of traps.”
+
+He stopped suddenly; stared across the lake. Rolf looked, and here came
+three deer, two bucks and a doe, trotting, walking, or lightly clearing
+obstacles, the doe in advance; the others, rival followers. As they kept
+along the shore, they came nearer the cabin. Rolf glanced at Quonab, who
+nodded, then slipped in, got down the gun, and quickly glided unseen to
+the river where the deer path landed. The bucks did not actually fight,
+for the season was not yet on, but their horns were clean, their necks
+were swelling, and they threatened each other as they trotted after the
+leader. They made for the ford as for some familiar path, and splashed
+through, almost without swimming. As they landed, Rolf waited a clear
+view, then gave a short sharp “Hist!” It was like a word of magic, for
+it turned the three moving deer to three stony-still statues. Rolf's
+sights were turned on the smaller buck, and when the great cloud
+following the bang had deared away, the two were gone and the lesser
+buck was kicking on the ground some fifty yards away.
+
+“We have found the good hunting; the deer walk into camp,” said Quonab;
+and the product of the chase was quickly stored, the first of the
+supplies to be hung in the new storehouse.
+
+The entrails were piled up and covered with brush and stones. “That will
+keep off ravens and jays; then in winter the foxes will come and we can
+take their coats.”
+
+Now they must decide for the morning. Skookum was somewhat better, but
+still very sick, and Rolf suggested: “Quonab, you take the gun and axe
+and lay a new line. I will stay behind and finish up the cabin for the
+winter and look after the dog.” So it was agreed. The Indian left the
+camp alone this time and crossed to the east shore of the lake; there to
+follow up another stream as before and to return in three or four days
+to the cabin.
+
+
+
+Chapter 28. Alone in the Wilderness
+
+Rolf began the day by giving Skookum a bath as hot as he could stand it,
+and later his soup. For the first he whined feebly and for the second
+faintly wagged his tail; but clearly he was on the mend.
+
+Now the chinking and moss-plugging of the new cabin required all
+attention. That took a day and looked like the biggest job on hand, but
+Rolf had been thinking hard about the winter. In Connecticut the
+wiser settlers used to bank their houses for the cold weather; in the
+Adirondacks he knew it was far, far colder, and he soon decided to bank
+the two shanties as deeply as possible with earth. A good spade made of
+white oak, with its edge hardened by roasting it brown, was his first
+necessity, and after two days of digging he had the cabin with its annex
+buried up to “the eyes” in fresh, clean earth.
+
+A stock of new, dry wood for wet weather helped to show how much too
+small the cabin was; and now the heavier work was done, and Rolf had
+plenty of time to think.
+
+Which of us that has been left alone in the wilderness does not remember
+the sensations of the first day! The feeling of self-dependency, not
+unmixed with unrestraint; the ending of civilized thought; the total
+reversion to the primitive; the nearness of the wood-folk; a sense of
+intimacy; a recurrent feeling of awe at the silent inexorability of
+all around; and a sweet pervading sense of mastery in the very freedom.
+These were among the feelings that swept in waves through Rolf, and
+when the first night came, he found such comfort--yes, he had to confess
+it--in the company of the helpless little dog whose bed was by his own.
+
+But these were sensations that come not often; in the four days and
+nights that he was alone they lost all force.
+
+The hunter proverb about “strange beasts when you have no gun” was amply
+illustrated now that Quonab had gone with their only firearm. The second
+night before turning in (he slept in the shanty now), he was taking a
+last look at the stars, when a large, dark form glided among the tree
+trunks between him and the shimmering lake; stopped, gazed at him, then
+silently disappeared along the shore. No wonder that he kept the shanty
+door closed that night, and next morning when he studied the sandy
+ridges he read plainly that his night visitor had been not a lynx or a
+fox, but a prowling cougar or panther.
+
+On the third morning as he went forth in the still early dawn he heard
+a snort, and looking toward the spruce woods, was amazed to see towering
+up, statuesque, almost grotesque, with its mulish ears and antediluvian
+horns, a large bull moose.
+
+Rolf was no coward, but the sight of that monster so close to him set
+his scalp a-prickling. He felt so helpless without any firearms. He
+stepped into the cabin, took down his bow and arrows, then gave a
+contemptuous “Humph; all right for partridge and squirrels, but give me
+a rifle for the woods!” He went out again; there was the moose standing
+as before. The lad rushed toward it a few steps, shouting; it stared
+unmoved. But Rolf was moved, and he retreated to the cabin. Then
+remembering the potency of fire he started a blaze on the hearth. The
+thick smoke curled up on the still air, hung low, made swishes through
+the grove, until a faint air current took a wreath of it to the moose.
+The great nostrils drank in a draught that conveyed terror to the
+creature's soul, and wheeling it started at its best pace to the distant
+swamp, to be seen no more.
+
+Five times, during these four days, did deer come by and behave as
+though they knew perfectly well that this young human was harmless,
+entirely without the power of the far-killing mystery.
+
+How intensely Rolf wished for a gun. How vividly came back the scene
+in the trader's store,--when last month he had been offered a beautiful
+rifle for twenty-five dollars, to be paid for in fur next spring, and
+savagely he blamed himself for not realizing what a chance it was. Then
+and there he made resolve to be the owner of a gun as soon as another
+chance came, and to make that chance come right soon.
+
+One little victory he had in that time. The creature that had torn open
+the venison bag was still around the camp; that was plain by the further
+damage on the bag hung in the storehouse, the walls of which were not
+chinked. Mindful of Quonab's remark, he set two marten traps, one on
+the roof, near the hole that had been used as entry; the other on a log
+along which the creature must climb to reach the meat. The method of
+setting is simple; a hollow is made, large enough to receive the trap
+as it lies open; on the pan of the trap some grass is laid smoothly;
+on each side of the trap a piece of prickly brush is placed, so that
+in leaping over these the creature will land on the lurking snare. The
+chain was made fast to a small log.
+
+Although so seldom seen there is no doubt that the marten comes out
+chiefly by day. That night the trap remained unsprung; next morning
+as Rolf went at silent dawn to bring water from the lake, he noticed
+a long, dark line that proved to be ducks. As he sat gazing he heard
+a sound in the tree beyond the cabin. It was like the scratching of
+a squirrel climbing about. Then he saw the creature, a large, dark
+squirrel, it seemed. It darted up this tree and down that, over logs and
+under brush, with the lightning speed of a lightning squirrel, and from
+time to time it stopped still as a bump while it gazed at some far and
+suspicious object. Up one trunk it went like a brown flash, and a moment
+later, out, cackling from its top, flew two partridges. Down to the
+ground, sinuous, graceful, incessantly active flashed the marten. Along
+a log it raced in undulating leaps; in the middle it stopped as though
+frozen, to gaze intently into a bed of sedge; with three billowy bounds
+its sleek form reached the sedge, flashed in and out again with a
+mouse in its snarling jaws; a side leap now, and another squeaker was
+squeakless, and another. The three were slain, then thrown aside, as the
+brown terror scanned a flight of ducks passing over. Into a thicket of
+willow it disappeared and out again like an eel going through the mud,
+then up a tall stub where woodpecker holes were to be seen. Into the
+largest it went so quickly Rolf could scarcely see how it entered,
+and out in a few seconds bearing a flying squirrel whose skull it had
+crushed. Dropping the squirrel it leaped after it, and pounced again on
+the quivering form with a fearsome growl; then shook it savagely, tore
+it apart, cast it aside. Over the ground it now undulated, its shining
+yellow breast like a target of gold. Again it stopped. Now in pose like
+a pointer, exquisitely graceful, but oh, so wicked! Then the snaky
+neck swung the cobra head in the breeze and the brown one sniffed and
+sniffed, advanced a few steps, tried the wind and the ground. Still
+farther and the concentrated interest showed in its outstretched neck
+and quivering tail. Bounding into a thicket it went, when out of the
+other side there leaped a snowshoe rabbit, away and away for dear life.
+Jump, jump, jump; twelve feet at every stride, and faster than the eye
+could follow, with the marten close behind. What a race it was, and
+how they twinkled through the brush! The rabbit is, indeed, faster, but
+courage counts for much, and his was low; but luck and his good stars
+urged him round to the deer trail crossing of the stream; once there he
+could not turn. There was only one course. He sprang into the open river
+and swam for his life. And the marten--why should it go in? It hated the
+water; it was not hungry; it was out for sport, and water sport is not
+to its liking. It braced its sinewy legs and halted at the very brink,
+while bunny crossed to the safe woods.
+
+Back now came Wahpestan, the brown death, over the logs like a winged
+snake, skimming the ground like a sinister shadow, and heading for the
+cabin as the cabin's owner watched. Passing the body of the squirrel it
+paused to rend it again, then diving into the brush came out so far away
+and so soon that the watcher supposed at first that this was another
+marten. Up the shanty corner it flashed, hardly appearing to climb,
+swung that yellow throat and dark-brown muzzle for a second, then made
+toward the entry.
+
+Rolf sat with staring eyes as the beautiful demon, elegantly
+spurning the roof sods, went at easy, measured bounds toward the open
+chink--toward its doom. One, two, three--clearing the prickly cedar
+bush, its forefeet fell on the hidden trap; clutch, a savage shriek, a
+flashing,--a struggle baffling the eyes to follow, and the master of the
+squirrels was himself under mastery.
+
+Rolf rushed forward now. The little demon in the trap was frothing with
+rage and hate; it ground the iron with its teeth; it shrieked at the
+human foeman coming.
+
+The scene must end, the quicker the better, and even as the marten
+itself had served the flying squirrel and the mice, and as Quonab served
+the mink, so Rolf served the marten and the woods was still.
+
+
+
+Chapter 29. Snowshoes
+
+“That's for Annette,” said Rolf, remembering his promise as he hung the
+stretched marten skin to dry.
+
+“Yi! Yi! Yi!” came three yelps, just as he had heard them the day he
+first met Quonab, and crossing the narrow lake he saw his partner's
+canoe.
+
+“We have found the good hunting,” he said, as Rolf steadied the canoe at
+the landing and Skookum, nearly well again, wagged his entire ulterior
+person to welcome the wanderer home. The first thing to catch the boy's
+eye was a great, splendid beaver skin stretched on a willow hoop.
+
+“Ho, ho!” he exclaimed.
+
+“Ugh; found another pond.”
+
+“Good, good,” said Rolf as he stroked the first beaver skin he had ever
+seen in the woods.
+
+“This is better,” said Quonab, and held up the two barkstones, castors,
+or smell-glands that are found in every beaver and which for some hid
+reason have an irresistible attraction for all wild animals. To us the
+odour is slight, but they have the power of intensifying, perpetuating,
+and projecting such odorous substances as may be mixed with them.
+No trapper considers his bait to be perfect without a little of the
+mysterious castor. So that that most stenchable thing they had already
+concocted of fish-oil, putrescence, sewer-gas, and sunlight, when
+commingled and multiplied with the dried-up powder of a castor, was
+intensified into a rich, rancid, gas-exhaling hell-broth as rapturously
+bewitching to our furry brothers as it is poisonously nauseating to
+ourselves--seductive afar like the sweetest music, inexorable as fate,
+insidious as laughing-gas, soothing and numbing as absinthe--this, the
+lure and caution-luller, is the fellest trick in all the trappers' code.
+As deadly as inexplicable, not a few of the states have classed it with
+black magic and declared its use a crime.
+
+But no such sentiment prevailed in the high hills of Quonab's time, and
+their preparations for a successful trapping season were nearly perfect.
+Thirty deadfalls made by Quonab, with the sixty made on the first trip
+and a dozen steel traps, were surely promise of a good haul. It was
+nearly November now; the fur was prime; then why not begin? Because
+the weather was too fine. You must have frosty weather or the creatures
+taken in the deadfalls are spoiled before the trapper can get around.
+
+Already a good, big pile of wood was cut; both shanty and storeroom
+were chinked, plugged, and banked for the winter. It was not safe yet to
+shoot and store a number of deer, but there was something they could do.
+Snowshoes would soon be a necessary of life; and the more of this finger
+work they did while the weather was warm, the better.
+
+Birch and ash are used for frames; the former is less liable to split,
+but harder to work. White ash was plentiful on the near flat, and a
+small ten-foot log was soon cut and split into a lot of long laths.
+Quonab of course took charge; but Rolf followed in everything. Each took
+a lath and shaved it down evenly until an inch wide and three quarters
+of an inch thick. The exact middle was marked, and for ten inches at
+each side of that it was shaved down to half an inch in thickness. Two
+flat crossbars, ten and twelve inches long, were needed and holes to
+receive these made half through the frame. The pot was ready boiling and
+by using a cord from end to end of each lath they easily bent it in the
+middle and brought the wood into touch with the boiling water. Before an
+hour the steam had so softened the wood, and robbed it of spring, that
+it was easy to make it into any desired shape. Each lath was cautiously
+bent round; the crossbars slipped into their prepared sockets; a
+temporary lashing of cord kept all in place; then finally the frames
+were set on a level place with the fore end raised two inches and a
+heavy log put on the frame to give the upturn to the toe.
+
+Here they were left to dry and the Indian set about preparing the
+necessary thongs. A buckskin rolled in wet, hard wood ashes had been
+left in the mud hole. Now after a week the hair was easily scraped off
+and the hide, cleaned and trimmed of all loose ends and tags, was spread
+out--soft, white, and supple. Beginning outside, and following round and
+round the edge, Quonab cut a thong of rawhide as nearly as possible a
+quarter inch wide. This he carried on till there were many yards of it,
+and the hide was all used up. The second deer skin was much smaller and
+thinner. He sharpened his knife and cut it much finer, at least half the
+width of the other. Now they were ready to lace the shoes, the finer for
+the fore and back parts, the heavy for the middle on which the wearer
+treads. An expert squaw would have laughed at the rude snowshoes that
+were finished that day, but they were strong and serviceable.
+
+Naturally the snowshoes suggested a toboggan. That was easily made by
+splitting four thin boards of ash, each six inches wide and ten feet
+long. An up-curl was steamed on the prow of each, and rawhide lashings
+held all to the crossbars.
+
+
+
+Chapter 30. Catching a Fox
+
+     “As to wisdom, a man ain't a spring; he's a tank, an' gives
+     out only what he gathers”--Sayings of Si Sylvanne
+
+Quonab would not quit his nightly couch in the canvas lodge so Rolf and
+Skookum stayed with him. The dog was himself again, and more than once
+in the hours of gloom dashed forth in noisy chase of something which
+morning study of the tracks showed to have been foxes. They were
+attracted partly by the carrion of the deer, partly by the general
+suitability of the sandy beach for a gambolling place, and partly by a
+foxy curiosity concerning the cabin, the hunters, and their dog.
+
+One morning after several night arousings and many raids by Skookum,
+Rolf said: “Fox is good now; why shouldn't I add some fox pelts to
+that?” and he pointed with some pride to the marten skin.
+
+“Ugh, good; go ahead; you will learn,” was the reply.
+
+So getting out the two fox traps Rolf set to work. Noting where chiefly
+the foxes ran or played he chose two beaten pathways and hid the traps
+carefully, exactly as he did for the marten; then selecting a couple of
+small cedar branches he cut these and laid them across the path, one on
+each side of the trap, assuming that the foxes following the usual route
+would leap over the boughs and land in disaster. To make doubly sure he
+put a piece of meat by each trap and half-way between them set a large
+piece on a stone.
+
+Then he sprinkled fresh earth over the pathways and around each trap and
+bait so he should have a record of the tracks.
+
+Foxes came that night, as he learned by the footprints along the beach,
+but never one went near his traps. He studied the marks; they slowly
+told him all the main facts. The foxes had come as usual, and frolicked
+about. They had discovered the bait and the traps at once--how could
+such sharp noses miss them--and as quickly noted that the traps were
+suspicious-smelling iron things, that manscent, hand, foot, and body,
+were very evident all about; that the only inducement to go forward was
+some meat which was coarse and cold, not for a moment to be compared
+with the hot juicy mouse meat that abounded in every meadow. The foxes
+were well fed and unhungry. Why should they venture into such evident
+danger? In a word, walls of stone could not have more completely
+protected the ground and the meat from the foxes than did the obvious
+nature of the traps; not a track was near, and many afar showed how
+quickly they had veered off.
+
+“Ugh, it is always so,” said Quonab. “Will you try again?”
+
+“Yes, I will,” replied Rolf, remembering now that he had omitted to
+deodorize his traps and his boots.
+
+He made a fire of cedar and smoked his traps, chains, and all. Then
+taking a piece of raw venison he rubbed it on his leather gloves and
+on the soles of his boots, wondering how he had expected to succeed the
+night before with all these man-scent killers left out. He put fine,
+soft moss under the pan of each trap, then removed the cedar brush, and
+gently sprinkled all with fine, dry earth. The set was perfect; no human
+eye could have told that there was any trap in the place. It seemed a
+foregone success.
+
+“Fox don't go by eye,” was all the Indian said, for he reckoned it best
+to let the learner work it out.
+
+In the morning Rolf was up eager to see the results. There was nothing
+at all. A fox had indeed, come within ten feet at one place, but behaved
+then as though positively amused at the childishness of the whole smelly
+affair. Had a man been there on guard with a club, he could not have
+kept the spot more wholly clear of foxes. Rolf turned away baffled and
+utterly puzzled. He had not gone far before he heard a most terrific
+yelping from Skookum, and turned to see that trouble-seeking pup caught
+by the leg in the first trap. It was more the horrible surprise than the
+pain, but he did howl.
+
+The hunters came quickly to the rescue and at once he was freed, none
+the worse, for the traps have no teeth; they merely hold. It is the
+long struggle and the starvation chiefly that are cruel, and these every
+trapper should cut short by going often around his line.
+
+Now Quonab took part. “That is a good setting for some things. It would
+catch a coon, a mink, or a marten,--or a dog--but not a fox or a wolf.
+They are very clever. You shall see.”
+
+The Indian got out a pair of thick leather gloves, smoked them in cedar,
+also the traps. Next he rubbed his moccasin soles with raw meat and
+selecting a little bay in the shore he threw a long pole on the sand,
+from the line of high, dry shingle across to the water's edge. In
+his hand he carried a rough stake. Walking carefully on the pole and
+standing on it, he drove the stake in at about four feet from the shore;
+then split it, and stuffed some soft moss into the split. On this he
+poured three or four drops of the “smell-charm.” Now he put a lump of
+spruce gum on the pan of the trap, holding a torch under it till the gum
+was fused, and into this he pressed a small, flat stone. The chain of
+the trap he fastened to a ten-pound stone of convenient shape, and sank
+the stone in the water half-way between the stake and the shore. Last
+he placed the trap on this stone, so that when open everything would be
+under water except the flat stone on the pan. Now he returned along the
+pole and dragged it away with him.
+
+Thus there was now no track or scent of human near the place.
+
+The setting was a perfect one, but even then the foxes did not go near
+it the following night; they must become used to it. In their code, “A
+strange thing is always dangerous.” In the morning Rolf was inclined to
+scoff. But Quonab said: “Wah! No trap goes first night.”
+
+They did not need to wait for the second morning. In the middle of the
+night Skookum rushed forth barking, and they followed to see a wild
+struggle, the fox leaping to escape and fast to his foot was the trap
+with its anchor stone a-dragging.
+
+Then was repeated the scene that ended the struggle of mink and marten.
+The creature's hind feet were tied together and his body hung from a
+peg in the shanty. In the morning they gloated over his splendid fur and
+added his coat to their store of trophies.
+
+
+
+Chapter 31. Following the Trap Line
+
+That night the moon changed. Next day came on with a strong north wind.
+By noon the wild ducks had left the lake. Many long strings of geese
+passed southeastward, honking as they flew. Colder and colder blew the
+strong wind, and soon the frost was showing on the smaller ponds. It
+snowed a little, but this ceased. With the clearing sky the wind fell
+and the frost grew keener.
+
+At daybreak, when the hunters rose, it was very cold. Everything but the
+open lake was frozen over, and they knew that winter was come; the time
+of trapping was at hand. Quonab went at once to the pinnacle on the
+hill, made a little fire, then chanting the “Hunter's Prayer,” he cast
+into the fire the whiskers of the fox and the marten, some of the
+beaver castor, and some tobacco. Then descended to prepare for the
+trail--blankets, beaver traps, weapons, and food for two days, besides
+the smell-charm and some fish for bait.
+
+Quickly the deadfalls were baited and set; last the Indian threw into
+the trap chamber a piece of moss on which was a drop of the “smell,” and
+wiped another drop on each of his moccasins. “Phew,” said Rolf.
+
+“That make a trail the marten follow for a month,” was the explanation.
+Skookum seemed to think so too, and if he did not say “phew,” it was
+because he did not know how.
+
+Very soon the little dog treed a flock of partridge and Rolf with blunt
+arrows secured three. The breasts were saved for the hunters' table, but
+the rest with the offal and feathers made the best of marten baits and
+served for all the traps, till at noon they reached the beaver pond.
+It was covered with ice too thin to bear, but the freshly used
+landing places were easily selected. At each they set a strong, steel
+beaver-trap, concealing it amid some dry grass, and placing in a split
+stick a foot away a piece of moss in which were a few drops of the magic
+lure. The ring on the trap chain was slipped over a long, thin, smooth
+pole which was driven deep in the mud, the top pointing away from
+the deep water. The plan was old and proven. The beaver, eager
+to investigate that semifriendly smell, sets foot in the trap;
+instinctively when in danger he dives for the deep water; the ring slips
+along the pole till at the bottom and there it jams so that the beaver
+cannot rise again and is drowned.
+
+In an hour the six traps were set for the beavers; presently the
+hunters, skirmishing for more partridges, had much trouble to save
+Skookum from another porcupine disaster.
+
+They got some more grouse, baited the traps for a couple of miles, then
+camped for the night.
+
+Before morning it came on to snow and it was three inches deep when they
+arose. There is no place on earth where the first snow is more beautiful
+than in the Adirondacks. In early autumn nature seems to prepare for
+it. Green leaves are cleared away to expose the berry bunches in red;
+rushbeds mass their groups, turn golden brown and bow their heads to
+meet the silver load; the low hills and the lines of various Christmas
+trees are arrayed for the finest effect: the setting is perfect and the
+scene, but it lacks the lime light yet. It needs must have the lavish
+blaze of white. And when it comes like the veil on a bride, the silver
+mountings on a charger's trappings, or the golden fire in a sunset, the
+shining crystal robe is the finishing, the crowning glory, without which
+all the rest must fail, could have no bright completeness. Its beauty
+stirred the hunters though it found no better expression than Rolf's
+simple words, “Ain't it fine,” while the Indian gazed in silence.
+
+There is no other place in the eastern woods where the snow has
+such manifold tales to tell, and the hunters that day tramping found
+themselves dowered over night with the wonderful power of the hound
+to whom each trail is a plain record of every living creature that has
+passed within many hours. And though the first day after a storm has
+less to tell than the second, just as the second has less than the
+third, there was no lack of story in the snow. Here sped some antlered
+buck, trotting along while yet the white was flying. There went a
+fox, sneaking across the line of march, and eying distrustfully that
+deadfall. This broad trail with many large tracks not far apart was
+made by one of Skookum's friends, a knight of many spears. That bounding
+along was a marten. See how he quartered that thicket like a hound, here
+he struck our odour trail. Mark, how he paused and whiffed it; now away
+he goes; yes, straight to our trap.
+
+“It's down; hurrah!” Rolf shouted, for there, dead under the log, was
+an exquisite marten, dark, almost black, with a great, broad, shining
+breast of gold.
+
+They were going back now toward the beaver lake. The next trap was
+sprung and empty; the next held the body of a red squirrel, a nuisance
+always and good only to rebait the trap he springs. But the next held a
+marten, and the next a white weasel. Others were unsprung, but they
+had two good pelts when they reached the beaver lake. They were in high
+spirits with their good luck, but not prepared for the marvellous haul
+that now was theirs. Each of the six traps held a big beaver, dead,
+drowned, and safe. Each skin was worth five dollars, and the hunters
+felt rich. The incident had, moreover, this pleasing significance: It
+showed that these beavers were unsophisticated, so had not been hunted.
+Fifty pelts might easily be taken from these ponds.
+
+The trappers reset the traps; then dividing the load, sought a remote
+place to camp, for it does not do to light a fire near your beaver pond.
+One hundred and fifty pounds of beaver, in addition, to their packs, was
+not a load to be taken miles away; within half a mile on a lower level
+they selected a warm place, made a fire, and skinned their catch. The
+bodies they opened and hung in a tree with a view to future use, but the
+pelts and tails they carried on.
+
+They made a long, hard tramp that day, baiting all the traps and reached
+home late in the night.
+
+
+
+Chapter 32. The Antler-bound Bucks
+
+IN THE man-world, November is the month of gloom, despair, and many
+suicides. In the wild world, November is the Mad Moon. Many and diverse
+the madnesses of the time, but none more insane than the rut of the
+white-tailed deer. Like some disease it appears, first in the swollen
+necks of the antler-bearers, and then in the feverish habits of all.
+Long and obstinate combats between the bucks now, characterize the time;
+neglecting even to eat, they spend their days and nights in rushing
+about and seeking to kill.
+
+Their horns, growing steadily since spring, are now of full size, sharp,
+heavy, and cleaned of the velvet; in perfection. For what? Has Nature
+made them to pierce, wound, and destroy? Strange as it may seem, these
+weapons of offence are used for little but defence; less as spears than
+as bucklers they serve the deer in battles with its kind. And the long,
+hard combats are little more than wrestling and pushing bouts; almost
+never do they end fatally. When a mortal thrust is given, it is rarely a
+gaping wound, but a sudden springing and locking of the antlers, whereby
+the two deer are bound together, inextricably, hopelessly, and so suffer
+death by starvation. The records of deer killed by their rivals and left
+on the duel-ground are few; very few and far between. The records of
+those killed by interlocking are numbered by the scores.
+
+There were hundreds of deer in this country that Rolf and Quonab
+claimed. Half of them were bucks, and at least half of these engaged in
+combat some times or many times a day, all through November; that is to
+say, probably a thousand duels were fought that month within ten miles
+of the cabin. It was not surprising that Rolf should witness some of
+them, and hear many more in the distance.
+
+They were living in the cabin now, and during the still, frosty nights,
+when he took a last look at the stars, before turning in, Rolf formed
+the habit of listening intently for the voices of the gloom. Sometimes
+it was the “hoo-hoo” of the horned-owl, once or twice it was the long,
+smooth howl of the wolf; but many times it was the rattle of antlers
+that told of two bucks far up in the hardwoods, trying out the
+all-important question, “Which is the better buck?”
+
+One morning he heard still an occasional rattle at the same place as the
+night before. He set out alone, after breakfast, and coming cautiously
+near, peered into a little, open space to see two bucks with heads
+joined, slowly, feebly pushing this way and that. Their tongues were
+out; they seemed almost exhausted, and the trampled snow for an acre
+about plainly showed that they had been fighting for hours; that indeed
+these were the ones he had heard in the night. Still they were evenly
+matched, and the green light in their eyes told of the ferocious spirit
+in each of these gentle-looking deer.
+
+Rolf had no difficulty in walking quite near. If they saw him, they gave
+slight heed to the testimony of their eyes, for the unenergetic struggle
+went on until, again pausing for breath, they separated, raised their
+heads a little, sniffed, then trotted away from the dreaded enemy so
+near. Fifty yards off, they turned, shook their horns, seemed in doubt
+whether to run away, join battle again, or attack the man. Fortunately
+the first was their choice, and Rolf returned to the cabin.
+
+Quonab listened to his account, then said: “You might have been killed.
+Every buck is crazy now. Often they attack man. My father's brother was
+killed by a Mad Moon buck. They found only his body, torn to rags. He
+had got a little way up a tree, but the buck had pinned him. There were
+the marks, and in the snow they could see how he held on to the deer's
+horns and was dragged about till his strength gave out. He had no gun.
+The buck went off. That was all they knew. I would rather trust a bear
+than a deer.”
+
+The Indian's words were few, but they drew a picture all too realistic.
+The next time Rolf heard the far sound of a deer fight, it brought back
+the horror of that hopeless fight in the snow, and gave him a new and
+different feeling for the antler-bearer of the changing mood.
+
+It was two weeks after this, when he was coming in from a trip alone on
+part of the line, when his ear caught some strange sounds in the
+woods ahead; deep, sonorous, semi-human they were. Strange and weird
+wood-notes in winter are nearly sure to be those of a raven or a jay; if
+deep, they are likely to come from a raven.
+
+“Quok, quok, ha, ha, ha-hreww, hrrr, hooop, hooop,” the diabolic noises
+came, and Rolf, coming gently forward, caught a glimpse of sable pinions
+swooping through the lower pines.
+
+“Ho, ho, ho yah--hew--w--w--w” came the demon laughter of the death
+birds, and Rolf soon glimpsed a dozen of them in the branches, hopping
+or sometimes flying to the ground. One alighted on a brown bump. Then
+the bump began to move a little. The raven was pecking away, but
+again the brown bump heaved and the raven leaped to a near perch.
+“Wah--wah--wah--wo--hoo--yow--wow--rrrrrr-rrrr-rrrr”--and the other
+ravens joined in.
+
+Rolf had no weapons but his bow, his pocket knife, and a hatchet. He
+took the latter in his hand and walked gently forward; the hollow-voiced
+ravens “haw--hawed,” then flew to safe perches where they chuckled like
+ghouls over some extra-ghoulish joke.
+
+The lad, coming closer, witnessed a scene that stirred him with mingled
+horror and pity. A great, strong buck--once strong, at least--was
+standing, staggering, kneeling there; sometimes on his hind legs,
+spasmodically heaving and tugging at a long gray form on the ground,
+the body of another buck, his rival, dead now, with a broken neck, as
+it proved, but bearing big, strong antlers with which the antlers of the
+living buck were interlocked as though riveted with iron, bolted with
+clamps of steel. With all his strength, the living buck could barely
+move his head, dragging his adversary's body with him. The snow marks
+showed that at first he had been able to haul the carcass many yards;
+had nibbled a little at shoots and twigs; but that was when he was
+stronger, was long before. How long? For days, at least, perhaps a week,
+that wretched buck was dying hopelessly a death that would not come. His
+gaunt sides, his parched and lolling tongue, less than a foot from the
+snow and yet beyond reach, the filmy eye, whose opaque veil of death was
+illumined again with a faint fire of fighting green as the new foe came.
+The ravens had picked the eyes out of the dead buck and eaten a hole in
+its back. They had even begun on the living buck, but he had been able
+to use one front foot to defend his eyes; still his plight could scarce
+have been more dreadful. It made the most pitiful spectacle Rolf had
+ever seen in wild life; yes, in all his life. He was full of compassion
+for the poor brute. He forgot it as a thing to be hunted for food;
+thought of it only as a harmless, beautiful creature in dire and
+horrible straits; a fellow-being in distress; and he at once set about
+being its helper. With hatchet in hand he came gently in front, and
+selecting an exposed part at the base of the dead buck's antler he
+gave a sharp blow with the hatchet. The effect on the living buck was
+surprising. He was roused to vigorous action that showed him far from
+death as yet. He plunged, then pulled backward, carrying with him the
+carcass and the would-be rescuer. Then Rolf remembered the Indian's
+words: “You can make strong medicine with your mouth.” He spoke to
+the deer, gently, softly. Then came nearer, and tapped o'n the horn he
+wished to cut; softly speaking and tapping he increased his force, until
+at last he was permitted to chop seriously at that prison bar. It took
+many blows, for the antler stuff is very thick and strong at this time,
+but the horn was loose at last. Rolf gave it a twist and the strong buck
+was free. Free for what?
+
+Oh, tell it not among the folk who have been the wild deer's friend!
+Hide it from all who blindly believe that gratitude must always follow
+good-will! With unexpected energy, with pent-up fury, with hellish
+purpose, the ingrate sprang on his deliverer, aiming a blow as deadly as
+was in his power.
+
+Wholly taken by surprise, Rolf barely had time to seize the murderer's
+horns and ward them off his vitals. The buck made a furious lunge. Oh!
+what foul fiend was it gave him then such force?--and Rolf went down.
+Clinging for dear life to those wicked, shameful horns, he yelled as he
+never yelled before: “Quonab, Quonabi help me, oh, help me!” But he
+was pinned at once, the fierce brute above him pressing on his chest,
+striving to bring its horns to bear; his only salvation had been that
+their wide spread gave his body room between. But the weight on his
+chest was crushing out his force, his life; he had no breath to call
+again. How the ravens chuckled, and “haw-hawed” in the tree!
+
+The buck's eyes gleamed again with the emerald light of murderous
+hate, and he jerked his strong neck this way and that with the power of
+madness. It could not last for long. The boy's strength was going fast;
+the beast was crushing in his chest.
+
+“Oh, God, help me!” he gasped, as the antlered fiend began again
+struggling for the freedom of those murderous horns. The brute was
+almost free, when the ravens rose with loud croaks, and out of the woods
+dashed another to join the fight. A smaller deer? No; what? Rolf knew
+not, nor how, but in a moment there was a savage growl and Skookum
+had the murderer by the hind leg. Worrying and tearing he had not the
+strength to throw the deer, but his teeth were sharp, his heart was in
+his work, and when he transferred his fierce attack to parts more tender
+still, the buck, already spent, reared, wheeled, and fell. Before he
+could recover Skookum pounced upon him by the nose and hung on like a
+vice. The buck could swing his great neck a little, and drag the
+dog, but he could not shake him off. Rolf saw the chance, rose to his
+tottering legs, seized his hatchet, stunned the fierce brute with a
+blow. Then finding on the snow his missing knife he gave the hunter
+stroke that spilled the red life-blood and sank on the ground to know no
+more till Quonab stood beside him.
+
+
+
+Chapter 33. A Song of Praise
+
+ROLF was lying by a fire when he came to, Quonab bending over him with a
+look of grave concern. When he opened his eyes, the Indian smiled; such
+a soft, sweet smile, with long, ivory rows in its background.
+
+Then he brought hot tea, and Rolf revived so he could sit up and tell
+the story of the morning.
+
+“He is an evil Manito,” and he looked toward the dead buck; “we must not
+eat him. You surely made medicine to bring Skookum.”
+
+“Yes, I made medicine with my mouth,” was the answer, “I called, I
+yelled, when he came at me.”
+
+“It is a long way from here to the cabin,” was Quonab's reply. “I could
+not hear you; Skookum could not hear you; but Cos Cob, my father, told
+me that when you send out a cry for help, you send medicine, too, that
+goes farther than the cry. May be so; I do not know: my father was very
+wise.”
+
+“Did you see Skookum come, Quonab?”
+
+“No; he was with me hours after you left, but he was restless and
+whimpered. Then he left me and it was a long time before I heard him
+bark. It was the 'something-wrong' bark. I went. He brought me here.”
+
+“He must have followed my track all 'round the line.”
+
+After an hour they set out for the cabin. The ravens “Ha-ha-ed” and
+“Ho-ho-ed” as they went. Quonab took the fateful horn that Rolf had
+chopped off, and hung it on a sapling with a piece of tobacco and a red
+yam streamer ', to appease the evil spirit that surely was near. There
+it hung for years after, until the sapling grew to a tree that swallowed
+the horn, all but the tip, which rotted away.
+
+Skookum took a final sniff at his fallen enemy, gave the body the
+customary expression of a dog's contempt, then led the procession
+homeward.
+
+Not that day, not the next, but on the first day of calm, red, sunset
+sky, went Quonab to his hill of worship; and when the little fire that
+he lit sent up its thread of smoke, like a plumb-line from the red cloud
+over him, he burnt a pinch of tobacco, and, with face and arms upraised
+in the red light, he sang a new song:
+
+     “The evil one set a trap for my son,
+     But the Manito saved him;
+     In the form of a Skookum he saved him.”
+
+
+
+Chapter 34. The Birch-bark Vessels
+
+Rolf was sore and stiff for a week afterward; so was Skookum. There were
+times when Quonab was cold, moody, and silent for days. Then some milder
+wind would blow in the region of his heart and the bleak ice surface
+melted into running rills of memory or kindly emanation.
+
+Just before the buck adventure, there had been an unpleasant time of
+chill and aloofness. It arose over little. Since the frost had come,
+sealing the waters outside, Quonab would wash his hands in the vessel
+that was also the bread pan. Rolf had New England ideas of propriety
+in cooking matters, and finally he forgot the respect due to age and
+experience. That was one reason why he went out alone that day. Now,
+with time to think things over, the obvious safeguard would be to have
+a wash bowl; but where to get it? In those days, tins were scarce and
+ex-pensive. It was the custom to look in the woods for nearly all the
+necessaries of life; and, guided by ancient custom and experience, they
+seldom looked in vain. Rolf had seen, and indeed made, watering troughs,
+pig troughs, sap troughs, hen troughs, etc., all his life, and he now
+set to work with the axe and a block of basswood to hew out a trough
+for a wash bowl. With adequate tools he might have made a good one; but,
+working with an axe and a stiff arm, the result was a very heavy, crude
+affair. It would indeed hold water, but it was almost impossible to dip
+it into the water hole, so that a dipper was needed.
+
+When Quonab saw the plan and the result, he said: “In my father's lodge
+we had only birch bark. See; I shall make a bowl.” He took from the
+storehouse a big roll of birch bark, gathered in warm weather (it can
+scarcely be done in cold), for use in repairing the canoe. Selecting a
+good part he cut out a square, two feet each way, and put it in the big
+pot which was full of boiling water. At the same time he soaked with
+it a bundle of wattap, or long fibrous roots of the white spruce, also
+gathered before the frost came, with a view to canoe repairs in the
+spring.
+
+While these were softening in the hot water, he cut a couple of long
+splints of birch, as nearly as possible half an inch wide and an eighth
+of an inch thick, and put them to steep with the bark. Next he made two
+or three straddle pins or clamps, like clothes pegs, by splitting the
+ends of some sticks which had a knot at one end.
+
+Now he took out the spruce roots, soft and pliant, and selecting a lot
+that were about an eighth of an inch in diameter, scraped off the bark
+and roughness, until he had a bundle of perhaps ten feet of soft, even,
+white cords.
+
+The bark was laid flat and cut as below.
+
+The rounding of A and B is necessary, for the holes of the sewing would
+tear the piece off if all were on the same line of grain. Each corner
+was now folded and doubled on itself (C), then held so with a straddle
+pin (D). The rim was trimmed so as to be flat where it crossed the fibre
+of the bark, and arched where it ran along. The pliant rods of birch
+were bent around this, and using the large awl to make holes, Quonab
+sewed the rim rods to the bark with an over-lapping stitch that made
+a smooth finish to the edge, and the birch-bark wash pan was complete.
+(E.) Much heavier bark can be used if the plan F G be followed, but it
+is hard to make it water-tight.
+
+So now they had a wash pan and a cause of friction was removed. Rolf
+found it amusing as well as useful to make other bark vessels of varying
+sizes for dippers and dunnage. It was work that he could do now while he
+was resting and recovering and he became expert. After watching a fairly
+successful attempt at a box to hold fish-hooks and tackle, Quonab said:
+“In my father's lodge these would bear quill work in colours.”
+
+“That's so,” said Rolf, remembering the birch-bark goods often sold by
+the Indians. “I wish we had a porcupine now.”
+
+“Maybe Skookum could find one,” said the Indian, with a smile.
+
+“Will you let me kill the next Kahk we find?”
+
+“Yes, if you use the quills and burn its whiskers.”
+
+“Why burn its whiskers?”
+
+“My father said it must be so. The smoke goes straight to the All-above;
+then the Manito knows we have killed, but we have remembered to kill
+only for use and to thank Him.”
+
+It was some days before they found a porcupine, and when they did,
+it was not necessary for them to kill it. But that belongs to another
+chapter.
+
+They saved its skin with all its spears and hung it in the storehouse.
+The quills with the white bodies and ready-made needle at each end are
+admirable for embroidering, but they are white only.
+
+“How can we dye them, Quonab?
+
+“In the summer are many dyes; in winter they are hard to get. We can get
+some.”
+
+So forth he went to a hemlock tree, and cut till he could gather the
+inner pink bark, which, boiled with the quills, turned them a dull pink;
+similarly, alder bark furnished rich orange, and butternut bark a brown.
+Oak chips, with a few bits of iron in the pot, dyed black.
+
+“Must wait till summer for red and green,” said the Indian. “Red comes
+only from berries; the best is the blitum. We call it squaw-berry and
+mis-caw-wa, yellow comes from the yellow root (Hydrastis).”
+
+But black, white, orange, pink, brown, and a dull red made by a double
+dip of orange and pink, are a good range of colour. The method in using
+the quills is simple. An awl to make holes in the bark for each;
+the rough parts behind are concealed afterward with a lining of bark
+stitched over them; and before the winter was over, Rolf had made a
+birch-bark box, decorated lid and all, with porcupine quill work, in
+which he kept the sable skin that was meant to buy Annette's new
+dress, the costume she had dreamed of, the ideal and splendid, almost
+unbelievable vision of her young life, ninety-five cents' worth of
+cotton print.
+
+There was one other point of dangerous friction. Whenever it fell to
+Quonab to wash the dishes, he simply set them on the ground and let
+Skookum lick them off. This economical arrangement was satisfactory to
+Quonab, delightful to Skookum, and apparently justified by the finished
+product, but Rolf objected. The Indian said: “Don't he eat the same food
+as we do? You cannot tell if you do not see.”
+
+Whenever he could do so, Rolf washed the doubtful dishes over again, yet
+there were many times when this was impossible, and the situation became
+very irritating. But he knew that the man who loses his temper has
+lost the first round of the fight, so, finding the general idea of
+uncleanness without avail, he sought for some purely Indian argument.
+As they sat by the evening fire, one day, he led up to talk of his
+mother--of her power as a medicine woman, of the many evil medicines
+that harmed her. “It was evil medicine for her if a dog licked her hand
+or touched her food. A dog licked her hand and the dream dog came to her
+three days before she died.” After a long pause, he added, “In some ways
+I am like my mother.”
+
+Two days later, Rolf chanced to see his friend behind the shanty give
+Skookum the pan to clean off after they had been frying deer fat. The
+Indian had no idea that Rolf was near, nor did he ever learn the truth
+of it.
+
+That night, after midnight, the lad rose quietly, lighted the pine
+splints that served them for a torch, rubbed some charcoal around each
+eye to make dark rings that should supply a horror-stricken look. Then
+he started in to pound on Quonab's tom-tom, singing:
+
+     “Evil spirit leave me;
+     Dog-face do not harm me.”
+
+Quonab sat up in amazement. Rolf paid no heed, but went on, bawling
+and drumming and staring upward into vacant space. After a few minutes
+Skookum scratched and whined at the shanty door. Rolf rose, took his
+knife, cut a bunch of hair from Skookum's neck and burned it in the
+torch, then went on singing with horrid solemnity:
+
+     “Evil spirit leave me;
+     Dog-face do not harm me.”
+
+At last he turned, and seeming to discover that Quonab was looking on,
+said:
+
+“The dream dog came to me. I thought I saw him lick deer grease from the
+frying pan behind the shanty. He laughed, for he knew that he made evil
+medicine for me. I am trying to drive him away, so he cannot harm me. I
+do not know. I am like my mother. She was very wise, but she died after
+it.”
+
+Now Quonab arose, cut some more hair from Skookum, added a pinch of
+tobacco, then, setting it ablaze, he sang in the rank odour of the
+burning weed and hair, his strongest song to kill ill magic; and Rolf,
+as he chuckled and sweetly sank to sleep, knew that the fight was won.
+His friend would never, never more install Skookum in the high and
+sacred post of pot-licker, dishwasher, or final polisher.
+
+
+
+Chapter 35. Snaring Rabbits
+
+The deepening snow about the cabin was marked in all the thickets by
+the multitudinous tracks of the snowshoe rabbits or white hares.
+Occasionally the hunters saw them, but paid little heed. Why should they
+look at rabbits when deer were plentiful?
+
+“You catch rabbit?” asked Quonab one day when Rolf was feeling fit
+again.
+
+“I can shoot one with my bow,” was the answer, “but why should I, when
+we have plenty of deer?”
+
+“My people always hunted rabbits. Sometimes no deer were to be found;
+then the rabbits were food. Sometimes in the enemy's country it was not
+safe to hunt, except rabbits, with blunt arrows, and they were food.
+Sometimes only squaws and children in camp--nothing to eat; no guns;
+then the rabbits were food.”
+
+“Well, see me get one,” and Rolf took his bow and arrow. He found many
+white bunnies, but always in the thickest woods. Again and again he
+tried, but the tantalizing twigs and branches muffled the bow and
+turned the arrow. It was hours before he returned with a fluffy snowshoe
+rabbit.
+
+“That is not our way.” Quonab led to the thicket and selecting a place
+of many tracks he cut a lot of brush and made a hedge across with half a
+dozen openings. At each of these openings he made a snare of strong cord
+tied to a long pole, hung on a crotch, and so arranged that a tug at the
+snare would free the pole which in turn would hoist the snare and the
+creature in it high in the air.
+
+Next morning they went around and found that four of the snares had
+each a snow-white rabbit hanging by the neck. As he was handling these,
+Quonab felt a lump I on the hind leg of one. He carefully cut it open
+and turned out a curious-looking object about the size of an acorn,
+flattened, made of flesh and covered with hair, and nearly the shape of
+a large bean. He gazed at it, and, turning to Rolf, said with intense
+meaning:
+
+“Ugh! we have found the good hunting. This is the Peeto-wab-oos-once,
+the little medicine rabbit. Now we have strong medicine in the lodge.
+You shall see.”
+
+He went out to the two remaining snares and passed the medicine rabbit
+through each. An hour later, when they returned, they found a rabbit
+taken in the first snare.
+
+“It is ever so,” said the Indian. “We can always catch rabbits now. My
+father had the Peeto-wab-i-ush once, the little medicine deer, and so
+he never failed in hunting but twice. Then he found that his papoose,
+Quonab, had stolen his great medicine. He was a very wise papoose. He
+killed a chipmunk each of those days.”
+
+“Hark! what is that?” A faint sound of rustling branches, and some short
+animal noises in the woods had caught Rolf's ear, and Skookum's, too,
+for he was off like one whose life is bound up in a great purpose.
+
+“Yap, yap, yap,” came the angry sound from Skookum. Who can say that
+animals have no language? His merry “yip, yip, yip,” for partridge up a
+tree, or his long, hilarious, “Yow, yow, yow,” when despite all orders
+he chased some deer, were totally distinct from the angry “Yap, yap,”
+ he gave for the bear up the tree, or the “Grrryapgrryap,” with which he
+voiced his hatred of the porcupine.
+
+But now it was the “Yap, yap,” as when he had treed the bears.
+
+“Something up a tree,” was the Indian's interpretation, as they followed
+the sound. Something up a tree! A whole menagerie it seemed to Rolf when
+they got there. Hanging by the neck in the remaining snare, and limp
+now, was a young lynx, a kit of the year. In the adjoining tree, with
+Skookum circling and yapping 'round the base, was a savage old lynx.
+In the crotch above her was another young one, and still higher was a
+third, all looking their unutterable disgust at the noisy dog below;
+the mother, indeed, expressing it in occasional hisses, but none of them
+daring to come down and face him. The lynx is very good fur and very
+easy prey. The Indian brought the old one down with a shot; then, as
+fast as he could reload, the others were added to the bag, and, with the
+one from the snare, they returned laden to the cabin.
+
+The Indian's eyes shone with a peculiar light. “Ugh! Ugh! My father told
+me; it is great medicine. You see, now, it does not fail.”
+
+
+
+Chapter 36. Something Wrong at the Beaver Traps
+
+Once they had run the trap lines, and their store of furs was increasing
+finely. They had taken twenty-five beavers and counted on getting two
+or three each time they went to the ponds. But they got an unpleasant
+surprise in December, on going to the beaver grounds, to find all the
+traps empty and unmistakable signs that some man had been there and had
+gone off with the catch. They followed the dim trail of his snowshoes,
+half hidden by a recent wind, but night came on with more snow, and all
+signs were lost.
+
+The thief had not found the line yet, for the haul of marten and mink
+was good. But this was merely the beginning.
+
+The trapper law of the wilderness is much like all primitive laws; first
+come has first right, provided he is able to hold it. If a strong rival
+comes in, the first must fight as best he can. The law justifies him
+in anything he may do, if he succeeds. The law justifies the second in
+anything he may do, except murder. That is, the defender may shoot to
+kill; the offender may not.
+
+But the fact of Quonab's being an Indian and Rolf supposedly one, would
+turn opinion against them in the Adirondacks, and it was quite likely
+that the rival considered them trespassers on his grounds, although the
+fact that he robbed their traps without removing them, and kept out of
+sight, rather showed the guilty conscience of a self-accused poacher.
+
+He came in from the west, obviously; probably the Racquet River
+country; was a large man, judging by his foot and stride, and understood
+trapping; but lazy, for he set no traps. His principal object seemed to
+be to steal.
+
+And it was not long before he found their line of marten traps, so his
+depredations increased. Primitive emotions are near the surface at all
+times, and under primitive conditions are very ready to appear. Rolf and
+Quonab felt that now it was war.
+
+
+
+Chapter 37. The Pekan or Fisher
+
+There was one large track in the snow that they saw several times--it
+was like that of a marten, but much larger. “Pekan,” said the Indian,
+“the big marten; the very strong one, that fights without fear.”
+
+“When my father was a papoose he shot an arrow at a pekan. He did not
+know what it was; it seemed only a big black marten. It was wounded, but
+sprang from the tree on my father's breast. It would have killed him,
+but for the dog; then it would have killed the dog, but my grandfather
+was near.
+
+“He made my father eat the pekan's heart, so his heart might be like it.
+It sought no fight, but it turned, when struck, and fought without fear.
+That is the right way; seek peace, but fight without fear. That was my
+father's heart and mine.” Then glancing toward the west he continued in
+a tone of menace: “That trap robber will find it so. We sought no fight,
+but some day I kill him.”
+
+The big track went in bounds, to be lost in a low, thick woods. But they
+met it again.
+
+They were crossing a hemlock ridge a mile farther on, when they came to
+another track which was first a long, deep furrow, some fifteen inches
+wide, and in this were the wide-spread prints of feet as large as those
+of a fisher.
+
+“Kahk,” said Quonab, and Skookum said “Kahk,” too, but he did it
+by growling and raising his back hair, and doubtless also by sadly
+remembering. His discretion seemed as yet embryonic, so Rolf slipped
+his sash through the dog's collar, and they followed the track, for the
+porcupine now stood in Rolf's mind as a sort of embroidery outfit.
+
+They had not followed far before another track joined on--the track
+of the fisher-pekan; and soon after they heard in the woods ahead
+scratching sounds, as of something climbing, and once or twice a faint,
+far, fighting snarl.
+
+Quickly tying the over-valiant Skookum to a tree, they crept forward,
+ready for anything, and arrived on the scene of a very peculiar action.
+
+Action it was, though it was singularly devoid of action. First, there
+was a creature, like a huge black marten or a short-legged black fox,
+standing at a safe distance, while, partly hidden under a log, with hind
+quarters and tail only exposed, was a large porcupine. Both were
+very still, but soon the fisher snarled and made a forward lunge. The
+porcupine, hearing the sounds or feeling the snow dash up on that side,
+struck with its tail; but the fisher kept out of reach. Next a feint was
+made on the other side, with the same result; then many, as though the
+fisher were trying to tire out the tail or use up all its quills.
+
+Sometimes the assailant leaped on the log and teased the quill-pig to
+strike upward, while many white daggers already sunk in the bark showed
+that these tactics had been going on for some time.
+
+Now the two spectators saw by the trail that a similar battle had
+been fought at another log, and that the porcupine trail from that was
+spotted with blood. How the fisher had forced it out was not then clear,
+but soon became so.
+
+After feinting till the Kahk would not strike, the pekan began a new
+manceuvre. Starting on the opposite side of the log that protected the
+spiny one's nose, he burrowed quickly through the snow and leaves. The
+log was about three inches from the ground, and before the porcupine
+could realize it, the fisher had a space cleared and seized the spiny
+one by its soft, unspiny nose. Grunting and squealing it pulled back and
+lashed its terrible tail. To what effect? Merely to fill the log around
+with quills. With all its strength the quill-pig pulled and writhed, but
+the fisher was stronger. His claws enlarged the hole and when the victim
+ceased from exhaustion, the fisher made a forward dash and changed
+his hold from the tender nose to the still more tender throat of the
+porcupine. His hold was not deep enough and square enough to seize the
+windpipe, but he held on. For a minute or two the struggles of Kahk were
+of desperate energy and its lashing tail began to be short of spines,
+but a red stream trickling from the wound was sapping its strength.
+Protected by the log, the fisher had but to hold on and play a waiting
+game.
+
+The heaving and backward pulling of Kahk were very feeble at length; the
+fisher had nearly finished the fight. But he was impatient of further
+delay and backing out of the hole he mounted the log, displaying a much
+scratched nose; then reaching down with deft paw, near the quill-pig's
+shoulder, he gave a sudden jerk that threw the former over on its back,
+and before it could recover, the fisher's jaws closed on its ribs, and
+crushed and tore. The nerveless, almost quilless tail could not harm him
+there. The red blood flowed and the porcupine lay still. Again and again
+as he uttered chesty growls the pekan ground his teeth into the warm
+flesh and shook and worried the unconquerable one he had conquered. He
+was licking his bloody chops for the twentieth time, gloating in gore,
+when “crack” went Quonab's gun, and the pekan had an opportunity of
+resuming the combat with Kahk far away in the Happy Hunting.
+
+“Yap, yap, yap!” and in rushed Skookum, dragging the end of Rolf's sash
+which he had gnawed through in his determination to be in the fight,
+no matter what it cost; and it was entirely due to the fact that the
+porcupine was belly up, that Skookum did not have another hospital
+experience.
+
+This was Rolf's first sight of a fisher, and he examined it as one does
+any animal--or man--that one has so long heard described in superlative
+terms that it has become idealized into a semi-myth. This was the
+desperado of the woods; the weird black cat that feared no living thing.
+This was the only one that could fight and win against Kahk.
+
+They made a fire at once, and while Rolf got the mid-day meal of tea and
+venison, Quonab skinned the fisher. Then he cut out its heart and liver.
+When these were cooked he gave the first to Rolf and the second to
+Skookum, saying to the one, “I give you a pekan heart;” and to the
+dog, “That will force all of the quills out of you if you play the fool
+again, as I think you will.”
+
+In the skin of the fisher's neck and tail they found several quills,
+some of them new, some of them dating evidently from another fight
+of the same kind, but none of them had done any damage. There was no
+inflammation or sign of poisoning. “It is ever so,” said Quonab, “the
+quills cannot hurt him.” Then, turning to the porcupine, he remarked, as
+he prepared to skin it:
+
+“Ho, Kahk! you see now it was a big mistake you did not let Nana Bojou
+sit on the dry end of that log.”
+
+
+
+Chapter 38. The Silver Fox
+
+They were returning to the cabin, one day, when Quonab stopped and
+pointed. Away off on the snow of the far shore was a moving shape to be
+seen.
+
+“Fox, and I think silver fox; he so black. I think he lives there.”
+
+“Why?” “I have seen many times a very big fox track, and they do not go
+where they do not live. Even in winter they keep their own range.”
+
+“He's worth ten martens, they say?” queried Rolf.
+
+“Ugh! fifty.”
+
+“Can't we get him?”
+
+“Can try. But the water set will not work in winter; we must try
+different.”
+
+This was the plan, the best that Quonab could devise for the snow:
+Saving the ashes from the fire (dry sand would have answered), he
+selected six open places in the woods on the south of the lake, and in
+each made an ash bed on which he scattered three or four drops of the
+smell-charm. Then, twenty-five yards from each, on the north or west
+side (the side of the prevailing wind) he hung from some sapling a few
+feathers, a partridge wing or tail with some red yarns to it. He left
+the places unvisited for two weeks, then returned to learn the progress
+of act one.
+
+Judging from past experience of fox nature and from the few signs that
+were offered by the snow, this is what had happened: A fox came along
+soon after the trappers left, followed the track a little way, came to
+the first opening, smelled the seductive danger-lure, swung around it,
+saw the dangling feathers, took alarm, and went off. Another of the
+places had been visited by a marten. He had actually scratched in the
+ashes. A wolf had gone around another at a safe distance.
+
+Another had been shunned several times by a fox or by foxes, but they
+had come again and again and at last yielded to the temptation to
+investigate the danger-smell; finally had rolled in it, evidently
+wallowing in an abandon of delight. So far, the plan was working there.
+
+The next move was to set the six strong fox traps, each thoroughly
+smoked, and chained to a fifteen-pound block of wood.
+
+Approaching the place carefully and using his blood-rubbed glove, Quonab
+set in each ash pile a trap. Under its face he put a wad of white rabbit
+fur. Next he buried all in the ashes, scattered a few bits of rabbit and
+a few drops of smell-charm, then dashed snow over the place, renewed
+the dangling feathers to lure the eye; and finally left the rest to the
+weather.
+
+Rolf was keen to go the next day, but the old man said: “Wah! no good!
+no trap go first night; man smell too strong.” The second day there
+was a snowfall, and the third morning Quonab said, “Now seem like good
+time.”
+
+The first trap was untouched, but there was clearly the track of a large
+fox within ten yards of it.
+
+The second was gone. Quonab said, with surprise in his voice, “Deer!”
+ Yes, truly, there was the record. A deer--a big one--had come wandering
+past; his keen nose soon apprised him of a strong, queer appeal near
+by. He had gone unsuspiciously toward it, sniffed and pawed the
+unaccountable and exciting nose medicine; then “snap!” and he had sprung
+a dozen feet, with that diabolic smell-thing hanging to his foot. Hop,
+hop, hop, the terrified deer had gone into a slashing windfall. Then the
+drag had caught on the logs, and, thanks to the hard and taper hoofs,
+the trap had slipped off and been left behind, while the deer had sought
+safer regions.
+
+In the next trap they found a beautiful marten dead, killed at once
+by the clutch of steel. The last trap was gone, but the tracks and the
+marks told a tale that any one could read; a fox had been beguiled and
+had gone off, dragging the trap and log. Not far did they need to go;
+held in a thicket they found him, and Rolf prepared the mid-day meal
+while Quonab gathered the pelt. After removing the skin the Indian cut
+deep and carefully into the body of the fox and removed the bladder. Its
+contents sprinkled near each of the traps was good medicine, he said; a
+view that was evidently shared by Skookum.
+
+More than once they saw the track of the big fox of the region,
+but never very near the snare. He was too clever to be fooled by
+smell-spells or kidney products, no matter how temptingly arrayed. The
+trappers did, indeed, capture three red foxes; but it was at cost of
+great labour. It was a venture that did not pay. The silver fox was
+there, but he took too good care of his precious hide. The slightest
+hint of a man being near was enough to treble his already double
+wariness. They would never have seen him near at hand, but for a
+stirring episode that told a tale of winter hardship.
+
+
+
+Chapter 39. The Humiliation of Skookum
+
+If Skookum could have been interviewed by a newspaper man, he would
+doubtless have said: “I am a very remarkable dog. I can tree partridges.
+I'm death on porcupines. I am pretty good in a dog fight; never was
+licked in fact: but my really marvellous gift is my speed; I'm a terror
+to run.”
+
+Yes, he was very proud of his legs, and the foxes that came about in the
+winter nights gave him many opportunities of showing what he could do.
+Many times over he very nearly caught a fox. Skookum did not know that
+these wily ones were playing with him; but they were, and enjoyed it
+immensely.
+
+The self-sufficient cur never found this out, and never lost a chance of
+nearly catching a fox. The men did not see those autumn chases because
+they were by night; but foxes hunt much by day in winter, perforce, and
+are often seen; and more than once they witnessed one of these farcical
+races.
+
+And now the shining white furnished background for a much more important
+affair.
+
+It was near sundown one day when a faint fox bark was heard out on the
+snow-covered ice of the lake.
+
+“That's for me,” Skookum seemed to think, and jumping up, with a very
+fierce growl, he trotted forth; the men looked first from the window.
+Out on the snow, sitting on his haunches, was their friend, the big,
+black silver fox.
+
+Quonab reached for his gun and Rolf tried to call Skookum, but it was
+too late. He was out to catch that fox; their business was to look on
+and applaud. The fox sat on his haunches, grinning apparently, until
+Skookum dashed through the snow within twenty yards. Then, that shining,
+black fox loped gently away, his huge tail level out behind him, and
+Skookum, sure of success, raced up, within six or seven yards. A few
+more leaps now, and the victory would be won. But somehow he could not
+close that six or seven yard gap. No matter how he strained and leaped,
+the great black brush was just so far ahead. At first they had headed
+for the shore, but the fox wheeled back to the ice and up and down.
+Skookum felt it was because escape was hopeless, and he redoubled
+his effort. But all in vain. He was only wearing himself out, panting
+noisily now. The snow was deep enough to be a great disadvantage,
+more to dog than to fox, since weight counted as such a handicap.
+Unconsciously Skookum slowed up. The fox increased his headway; then
+audaciously turned around and sat down in the snow.
+
+This was too much for the dog. He wasted about a lungful of air in an
+angry bark, and again went after the enemy. Again the chase was round
+and round, but very soon the dog was so wearied that he sat down, and
+now the black fox actually came back and barked at him.
+
+It was maddening. Skookum's pride was touched.
+
+He was in to win or break. His supreme effort brought him within five
+feet of that white-tipped brush. Then, strange to tell, the big black
+fox put forth his large reserve of speed, and making for the woods,
+left Skookum far behind. Why? The cause was clear. Quonab, after vainly
+watching for a chance to shoot, that would not endanger the dog, had,
+under cover, crept around the lake and now was awaiting in a thicket.
+But the fox's keen nose had warned him. He knew that the funny part was
+over, so ran for the woods and disappeared as a ball tossed up the snow
+behind him.
+
+Poor Skookum's tongue was nearly a foot long as he walked meekly ashore.
+He looked depressed; his tail was depressed; so were his ears; but there
+was nothing to show whether he would have told that reporter that he
+“wasn't feeling up to his usual, to-day,” or “Didn't you see me get the
+best of him?”
+
+
+
+Chapter 40. The Rarest of Pelts
+
+They saw that silver fox three or four times during the winter, and once
+found that he had had the audacity to jump from a high snowdrift onto
+the storehouse and thence to the cabin roof, where he had feasted on
+some white rabbits kept there for deadfall baits. But all attempts to
+trap or shoot him were vain, and their acquaintance might have ended as
+it began, but for an accident.
+
+It proved a winter of much snow. Heavy snow is the worst misfortune that
+can befall the wood folk in fur. It hides their food beyond reach, and
+it checks their movements so they can neither travel far in search of
+provender nor run fast to escape their enemies. Deep snow then means
+fetters, starvation, and death. There are two ways of meeting the
+problem: stilts and snowshoes. The second is far the better. The
+caribou, and the moose have stilts; the rabbit, the panther, and the
+lynx wear snowshoes. When there are three or four feet of soft snow, the
+lynx is king of all small beasts, and little in fear of the large ones.
+Man on his snowshoes has most wild four-foots at his mercy.
+
+Skookum, without either means of meeting the trouble was left much alone
+in the shanty. Apparently, it was on one of these occasions that the
+silver fox had driven him nearly frantic by eating rabbits on the roof
+above him.
+
+The exasperating robbery of their trap line had gone on irregularly all
+winter, but the thief was clever enough or lucky enough to elude them.
+
+They were returning to the cabin after a three days' round, when they
+saw, far out on the white expanse of the lake, two animals, alternately
+running and fighting. “Skookum and the fox,” was the first thought that
+came, but on entering the cabin Skookum greeted them in person.
+
+Quonab gazed intently at the two running specks and said: “One has no
+tail. I think it is a peeshoo (lynx) and a fox.”
+
+Rolf was making dinner. From time to time he glanced over the lake and
+saw the two specks, usually running. After dinner was over, he said,
+“Let's sneak 'round and see if we can get a shot.”
+
+So, putting on their snowshoes and keeping out of sight, they skimmed
+over the deer crossing and through the woods, till at a point near the
+fighters, and there they saw something that recalled at once the day of
+Skookum's humiliation.
+
+A hundred yards away on the open snow was a huge lynx and their
+old friend, the black and shining silver fox, face to face; the fox
+desperate, showing his rows of beautiful teeth, but sinking belly deep
+in the snow as he strove to escape. Already he was badly wounded. In
+any case he was at the mercy of the lynx who, in spite of his greater
+weight, had such broad and perfect snowshoes that he skimmed on the
+surface, while the fox's small feet sank deep. The lynx was far from
+fresh, and still stood in some awe of those rows of teeth that snapped
+like traps when he came too near. He was minded, of course, to kill his
+black rival, but not to be hurt in doing so. Again and again there was
+in some sort a closing fight, the wearied fox plunging breathlessly
+through the treacherous, relentless snow. If he could only get back to
+cover, he might find a corner to protect his rear and have some fighting
+chance for life. But wherever he turned that huge cat faced him, doubly
+armed, and equipped as a fox can never be for the snow.
+
+No one could watch that plucky fight without feeling his sympathies go
+out to the beautiful silver fox. Rolf, at least, was for helping him to
+escape, when the final onset came. In another dash for the woods the fox
+plunged out of sight in a drift made soft by sedge sticking through, and
+before he could recover, the lynx's jaws closed on the back of his neck
+and the relentless claws had pierced his vitals.
+
+The justification of killing is self-preservation, and in this case the
+proof would have been the lynx making a meal of the fox. Did he do
+so? Not at all. He shook his fur, licked his chest and paws in a
+self-congratulatory way, then giving a final tug at the body, walked
+calmly over the snow along the shore.
+
+Quonab put the back of his hand to his mouth and made a loud squeaking,
+much like a rabbit caught in a snare. The lynx stopped, wheeled, and
+came trotting straight toward the promising music. Unsuspectingly he
+came within twenty yards of the trappers. The flint-lock banged and the
+lynx was kicking in the snow.
+
+The beautiful silver fox skin was very little injured and proved of
+value almost to double their catch so far; while the lynx skin was as
+good as another marten.
+
+They now had opportunity of studying the tracks and learned that the fox
+had been hunting rabbits in a thicket when he was set on by the lynx.
+At first he had run around in the bushes and saved himself from serious
+injury, for the snow was partly packed by the rabbits. After perhaps an
+hour of this, he had wearied and sought to save himself by abandoning
+the lynx's territory, so had struck across the open lake. But here the
+snow was too soft to bear him at all, and the lynx could still skim
+over. So it proved a fatal error. He was strong and brave. He fought at
+least another hour here before the much stronger, heavier lynx had
+done him to death. There was no justification. It was a clear case of
+tyrannical murder, but in this case vengeance was swift and justice came
+sooner than its wont.
+
+
+
+Chapter 41. The Enemy's Fort
+
+     It pays 'bout once in  a hundred times to git mad, but there
+     ain't any  way o' tellin' beforehand which is the time.
+     --Sayings of Si Sylvanne.
+
+It generally took two days to run the west line of traps. At a
+convenient point they had built a rough shack for a half-way house. On
+entering this one day, they learned that since their last visit it had
+been occupied by some one who chewed tobacco. Neither of them had this
+habit. Quonab's face grew darker each time fresh evidence of the enemy
+was discovered, and the final wrong was added soon.
+
+Some trappers mark their traps; some do not bother. Rolf had marked all
+of theirs with a file, cutting notches on the iron. Two, one, three, was
+their mark, and it was a wise plan, as it turned out.
+
+On going around the west beaver pond they found that all six traps had
+disappeared. In some, there was no evidence of the thief; in some, the
+tracks showed clearly that they were taken by the same interloper that
+had bothered them all along, and on a jagged branch was a short blue
+yarn.
+
+“Now will I take up his trail and kill him,” said the Indian.
+
+Rolf had opposed extreme measures, and again he remonstrated. To his
+surprise, the Indian turned fiercely and said: “You know it is white
+man. If he was Indian would you be patient? No!”
+
+“There is plenty of country south of the lake; maybe he was here first.”
+
+“You know he was not. You should eat many pekan hearts. I have sought
+peace, now I fight.”
+
+He shouldered his pack, grasped his gun, and his snowshoes went “tssape,
+tssape, tssape,” over the snow.
+
+Skookum was sitting by Rolf. He rose to resume the march, and trotted
+a few steps on Quonab's trail. Rolf did not move; he was dazed by the
+sudden and painful situation. Mutiny is always worse than war. Skookum
+looked back, trotted on, still Rolf sat staring. Quonab's figure was
+lost in the distance; the dog's was nearly so. Rolf moved not. All the
+events of the last year were rushing through his mind; the refuge he
+had found with the Indian; the incident of the buck fight and the tender
+nurse the red man proved. He wavered. Then he saw Skookum coming back
+on the trail. The dog trotted up to the boy and dropped a glove, one of
+Quonab's. Undoubtedly the Indian had lost it; Skookum had found it on
+the trail and mechanically brought it to the nearest of his masters.
+Without that glove Quonab's hand would freeze. Rolf rose and sped along
+the other's trail. Having taken the step, he found it easy to send a
+long halloo, then another and another, till an answer came. In a few
+minutes Rolf came up. The Indian was sitting on a log, waiting. The
+glove was handed over in silence, and received with a grunt.
+
+After a minute or two, Rolf said “Let's get on,” and started on the dim
+trail of the robber.
+
+For an hour or two they strode in silence. Then their course rose as
+they reached a rocky range. Among its bare, wind-swept ridges all sign
+was lost, but the Indian kept on till they were over and on the other
+side. A far cast in the thick, windless woods revealed the trail again,
+surely the same, for the snowshoe was two fingers wider on every side,
+and a hand-breadth longer than Quonab's; besides the right frame had
+been broken and the binding of rawhide was faintly seen in the snow
+mark. It was a mark they had seen all winter, and now it was headed as
+before for the west.
+
+When night came down, they camped in a hollow. They were used to snow
+camps. In the morning they went on, but wind and snow had hidden their
+tell-tale guide.
+
+What was the next move? Rolf did not ask, but wondered.
+
+Quonab evidently was puzzled.
+
+At length Rolf ventured: “He surely lives by some river--that way--and
+within a day's journey. This track is gone, but we may strike a fresh
+one. We'll know it when we see it.”
+
+The friendly look came back to the Indian's face. “You are Nibowaka.”
+
+They had not gone half a mile before they found a fresh track--their old
+acquaintance. Even Skookum showed his hostile recognition. And in a few
+minutes it led them to a shanty. They slipped off their snowshoes,
+and hung them in a tree. Quonab opened the door without knocking. They
+entered, and in a moment were face to face with a lanky, ill-favoured
+white man that all three, including Skookum, recognized as Hoag, the man
+they had met at the trader's.
+
+That worthy made a quick reach for his rifle, but Quonab covered him and
+said in tones that brooked no discussion, “Sit down!”
+
+Hoag did so, sullenly, then growled: “All right; my partners will be
+here in ten minutes.”
+
+Rolf was startled. Quonab and Skookum were not.
+
+“We settled your partners up in the hills,” said the former, knowing
+that one bluff was as good as another. Skookum growled and sniffed at
+the enemy's legs. The prisoner made a quick move with his foot.
+
+“You kick that dog again and it's your last kick,” said the Indian.
+
+“Who's kicked yer dog, and what do you mean coming here with yer
+cutthroat ways? You'll find there's law in this country before yer
+through,” was the answer.
+
+“That's what we're looking for, you trap robber, you thief. We're here
+first to find our traps; second to tell you this: the next time you come
+on our line there'll be meat for the ravens. Do you suppose I don't
+know them?” and the Indian pointed to a large pair of snowshoes with long
+heels and a repair lashing on the right frame. “See that blue yarn,” and
+the Indian matched it with a blue sash hanging to a peg.
+
+“Yes, them belongs to Bill Hawkins; he'll be 'round in five minutes
+now.”
+
+The Indian made a gesture of scorn; then turning to Rolf said: “look
+'round for our traps.” Rolf made a thorough search in and about the
+shanty and the adjoining shed. He found some traps but none with his
+mark; none of a familiar make even.
+
+“Better hunt for a squaw and papoose,” sneered Hoag, who was utterly
+puzzled by the fact that now Rolf was obviously a white lad.
+
+But all the search was vain. Either Hoag had not stolen the traps or had
+hidden them elsewhere. The only large traps they found were two of the
+largest size for taking bear.
+
+Hoag's torrent of bad language had been quickly checked by the threat of
+turning Skookum loose on his legs, and he looked such a grovelling beast
+that presently the visitors decided to leave him with a warning.
+
+The Indian took the trapper's gun, fired it off out of doors, not in
+the least perturbed by the possibility of its being heard by Hoag's
+partners. He knew they were imaginary. Then changing his plan, he said
+“Ugh! You find your gun in half a mile on our trail. But don't come
+farther and don't let me see the snowshoe trail on the divide again.
+Them ravens is awful hungry.”
+
+Skookum, to his disappointment, was called off and, talking the
+trapper's gun for a time, they left it in a bush and made for their own
+country.
+
+
+
+Chapter 42. Skookum's Panther
+
+“Why are there so few deer tracks now?”
+
+“Deer yarded for winter,” replied the Indian; “no travel in deep snow.”
+
+“We'll soon need another,” said Rolf, which unfortunately was true. They
+could have killed many deer in early winter, when the venison was in
+fine condition, but they had no place to store it. Now they must get it
+as they could, and of course it was thinner and poorer every week.
+
+They were on a high hill some days later. There was a clear view and
+they noticed several ravens circling and swooping.
+
+“Maybe dead deer; maybe deer yard,” said the Indian.
+
+It was over a thick, sheltered, and extensive cedar swamp near the woods
+where last year they had seen so many deer, and they were not surprised
+to find deer tracks in numbers, as soon as they got into its dense
+thicket.
+
+A deer yard is commonly supposed to be a place in which the deer have a
+daily “bee” at road work all winter long and deliberately keep the snow
+hammered down so they can run on a hard surface everywhere within its
+limits. The fact is, the deer gather in a place where there is plenty
+of food and good shelter. The snow does not drift here, so the deer,
+by continually moving about, soon make a network of tracks in all
+directions, extending them as they must to seek more food. They may,
+of course, leave the yard at any time, but at once they encounter the
+dreaded obstacle of deep, soft snow in which they are helpless.
+
+Once they reached the well-worn trails, the hunters took off their
+snowshoes and went gently on these deer paths. They saw one or two
+disappearing forms, which taught them the thick cover was hiding many
+more. They made for the sound of the ravens, and found that the feast of
+the sable birds was not a deer but the bodies of three, quite recently
+killed.
+
+Quonab made a hasty study of the signs and said, “Panther.”
+
+Yes, a panther, cougar, or mountain lion also had found the deer yard;
+and here he was living, like a rat in a grocer shop with nothing to do
+but help himself whenever he felt like feasting.
+
+Pleasant for the panther, but hard on the deer; for the killer is
+wasteful and will often kill for the joy of murder.
+
+Not a quarter of the carcasses lying here did he eat; he was feeding at
+least a score of ravens, and maybe foxes, martens, and lynxes as well.
+
+Before killing a deer, Quonab thought it well to take a quiet prowl
+around in hopes of seeing the panther. Skookum was turned loose and
+encouraged to display his talents.
+
+Proud as a general with an ample and obedient following, he dashed
+ahead, carrying fresh dismay among the deer, if one might judge from the
+noise. Then he found some new smell of excitement, and voiced the new
+thrill in a new sound, one not unmixed with fear. At length his barking
+was far away to the west in a rocky part of the woods. Whatever the
+prey, it was treed, for the voice kept one place.
+
+The hunters followed quickly and found the dog yapping furiously under
+a thick cedar. The first thought was of porcupine; but a nearer view
+showed the game to be a huge panther on the ground, not greatly excited,
+disdaining to climb, and taking little notice of the dog, except to
+curl his nose and utter a hissing kind of snarl when the latter came too
+near.
+
+But the arrival of the hunters gave a new colour to the picture. The
+panther raised his head, then sprang up a large tree and ensconced
+himself on a fork, while the valorous Skookum reared against the trunk,
+threatening loudly to come up and tear him to pieces.
+
+This was a rare find and a noble chance to conserve their stock of deer,
+so the hunters went around the tree seeking for a fair shot. But
+every point of view had some serious obstacle. It seemed as though the
+branches had been told off to guard the panther's vitals, for a big one
+always stood in the bullet's way.
+
+After vainly going around, Quonab said to Rolf: “Hit him with something,
+so he'll move.”
+
+Rolf always was a good shot with stones, but he found none to throw.
+Near where they stood, however, was an unfreezing spring, and the soggy
+snow on it was easily packed into a hard, heavy snowball. Rolf threw it
+straight, swift, and by good luck it hit the panther square on the nose
+and startled him so that he sprang right out of the tree and flopped
+into the snow.
+
+Skookum was on him at once, but got a slap on the ear that changed
+his music, and the panther bounded away out of sight with the valiant
+Skookum ten feet behind, whooping and yelling like mad.
+
+It was annoyance rather than fear that made that panther take to a low
+tree while Skookum boxed the compass, and made a beaten dog path all
+around him. The hunters approached very carefully now, making little
+sound and keeping out of sight. The panther was wholly engrossed with
+observing the astonishing impudence of that dog, when Quonab came
+quietly up, leaned his rifle against a tree and fired. The smoke cleared
+to show the panther on his back, his legs convulsively waving in the
+air, and Skookum tugging valiantly at his tail.
+
+“My panther,” he seemed to say; “whatever would you do without me?”
+
+A panther in a deer yard is much like a wolf shut up in a sheepfold. He
+would probably have killed all the deer that winter, though there were
+ten times as many as he needed for food; and getting rid of him was a
+piece of good luck for hunters and deer, while his superb hide made a
+noble trophy that in years to come had unexpected places of honour.
+
+
+
+Chapter 43. Sunday in the Woods
+
+Rolf still kept to the tradition of Sunday, and Quonab had in a manner
+accepted it. It was a curious fact that the red man had far more
+toleration for the white man's religious ideas than the white man had
+for the red's.
+
+Quonab's songs to the sun and the spirit, or his burning of a tobacco
+pinch, or an animal's whiskers were to Rolf but harmless nonsense. Had
+he given them other names, calling them hymns and incense, he would
+have been much nearer respecting them. He had forgotten his mother's
+teaching: “If any man do anything sincerely, believing that thereby he
+is worshipping God, he is worshipping God.” He disliked seeing Quonab
+use an axe or a gun on Sunday, and the Indian, realizing that such
+action made “evil medicine” for Rolf, practically abstained. But Rolf
+had not yet learned to respect the red yarns the Indian hung from a
+deer's skull, though he did come to understand that he must let them
+alone or produce bad feeling in camp.
+
+Sunday had become a day of rest and Quonab made it also a day of song
+and remembrance.
+
+They were sitting one Sunday night by the fire in the cabin, enjoying
+the blaze, while a storm rattled on the window and door. A white-footed
+mouse, one of a family that lived in the shanty, was trying how close he
+could come to Skookum's nose without being caught, while Rolf looked
+on. Quonab was lying back on a pile of deer skins, with his pipe in his
+mouth, his head on the bunk, and his hands clasped back of his neck.
+
+There was an atmosphere of content and brotherly feeling; the evening
+was young, when Rolf broke silence:
+
+“Were you ever married, Quonab?”
+
+“Ugh,” was the Indian's affirmative.
+
+“Where?”
+
+“Myanos.”
+
+Rolf did not venture more questions, but left the influence of the hour
+to work. It was a moment of delicate poise, and Rolf knew a touch would
+open the door or double bar it. He wondered how he might give that touch
+as he wished it. Skookum still slept. Both men watched the mouse, as,
+with quick movements it crept about. Presently it approached a long
+birch stick that stood up against the wall. High hanging was the
+song-drum. Rolf wished Quonab would take it and let it open his heart,
+but he dared not offer it; that might have the exact wrong effect. Now
+the mouse was behind the birch stick. Then Rolf noticed that the stick
+if it were to fall would strike a drying line, one end of which was
+on the song-drum peg. So he made a dash at the mouse and displaced the
+stick; the jerk it gave the line sent the song-drum with hollow bumping
+to the ground. The boy stooped to replace it; as he did, Quonab grunted
+and Rolf turned to see his hand stretched for the drum. Had Rolf
+officiously offered it, it would have been refused; now the Indian took
+it, tapped and warmed it at the fire, and sang a song of the Wabanaki.
+It was softly done, and very low, but Rolf was close, for almost the
+first time in any long rendition, and he got an entirely new notion of
+the red music. The singer's face brightened as he tummed and sang with
+peculiar grace notes and throat warbles of “Kaluscap's war with the
+magi,” and the spirit of his people, rising to the sweet magic of
+melody, came shining in his eyes. He sang the lovers' song, “The Bark
+Canoe.” (See F. R. Burton's “American Primitive Music.)
+
+“While the stars shine and falls the dew, I seek my love in bark canoe.”
+
+And then the cradle song,
+
+     “The Naked Bear Shall Never Catch Thee.”
+
+When he stopped, he stared at the fire; and after a long pause Rolf
+ventured, “My mother would have loved your songs.”
+
+Whether he heard or not, the warm emanation surely reached the Indian,
+and he began to answer the question of an hour before:
+
+“Her name was Gamowini, for she sang like the sweet night bird at
+Asamuk. I brought her from her father's house at Saugatuck. We lived at
+Myanos. She made beautiful baskets and moccasins. I fished and trapped;
+we had enough. Then the baby came. He had big round eyes, so we called
+him Wee-wees, 'our little owl,' and we were very happy. When Gamowini
+sang to her baby, the world seemed full of sun. One day when Wee-wees
+could walk she left him with me and she went to Stamford with some
+baskets to sell. A big ship was in the harbour. A man from the ship told
+her that his sailors would buy all her baskets. She had no fear. On the
+ship they seized her for a runaway slave, and hid her till they sailed
+away.
+
+“When she did not come back I took Wee-wees on my shoulder and went
+quickly to Stamford. I soon found out a little, but the people did not
+know the ship, or whence she came, or where she went, they said. They
+did not seem to care. My heart grew hotter and wilder. I wanted to
+fight. I would have killed the men on the dock, but they were many. They
+bound me and put me in jail for three months. 'When I came out Wee-wees
+was dead. They did not care. I have heard nothing since. Then I went to
+live under the rock, so I should not see our first home. I do not know;
+she may be alive. But I think it killed her to lose her baby.”
+
+The Indian stopped; then rose quickly. His face was hard set. He stepped
+out into the snowstorm and the night. Rolf was left alone with Skookum.
+
+Sad, sad, everything seemed sad in his friend's life, and Rolf, brooding
+over it with wisdom beyond his years, could not help asking: “Had Quonab
+and Gamowini been white folk, would it have happened so? Would his agony
+have been received with scornful indifference?” Alas! he knew it would
+not. He realized it would have been a very different tale, and the
+sequent questions that would not down, were, “Will this bread cast
+on the waters return after many days?” “Is there a God of justice and
+retribution?” “On whom will the flail of vengeance fall for all these
+abominations?”
+
+Two hours later the Indian returned. No word was spoken as he entered.
+He was not cold. He must have walked far. Rolf prepared for bed. The
+Indian stooped, picked up a needle from the dusty ground, one that had
+been lost the day before, silently handed it to his companion, who gave
+only a recognizant “Hm,” and dropped it into the birch-bark box.
+
+
+
+Chapter 44. The Lost Bundle of Furs
+
+There had been a significant cessation of robbery on their trap line
+after the inconclusive visit to the enemy's camp. But a new and extreme
+exasperation arose in the month of March, when the alternation of thaw
+and frost had covered the snow with a hard crust that rendered snowshoes
+unnecessary and made it easy to run anywhere and leave no track.
+
+They had gathered up a fisher and some martens before they reached the
+beaver pond. They had no beaver traps now, but it was interesting to
+call and see how many of the beavers were left, and what they were
+doing.
+
+Bubbling springs on the bank of the pond had made open water at several
+places, now that the winter frost was weakening. Out of these the
+beavers often came, as was plainly seen in the tracks, so the trappers
+approached them carefully.
+
+They were scrutinizing one of them from behind a log, Quonab with ready
+gun, Rolf holding the unwilling Skookum, when the familiar broad, flat
+head appeared. A large beaver swam around the hole, sniffed and looked,
+then silently climbed the bank, evidently making for a certain aspen
+tree that he had already been cutting. He was in easy range, and the
+gunner was about to fire when Rolf pressed his arm and pointed. Here,
+wandering through the wood, came a large lynx. It had not seen or smelt
+any of the living creatures ahead, as yet, but speedily sighted the
+beaver now working away to cut down his tree.
+
+As a pelt, the beaver was worth more than the lynx, but the naturalist
+is strong in most hunters, and they watched to see what would happen.
+
+The lynx seemed to sink into the ground, and was lost to sight as soon
+as he knew of a possible prey ahead. And now he began his stalk. The
+hunters sighted him once as he crossed a level opening in the snow. He
+seemed less than four inches high as he crawled. Logs, ridges, trees,
+or twigs, afforded ample concealment, till his whiskers appeared in a
+thicket within fifteen feet of the beaver.
+
+All this was painfully exciting to Skookum, who, though he could not
+see, could get some thrilling whiffs, and he strained forward to improve
+his opportunities. The sound of this slight struggle caught the beaver's
+ear. It stopped work, wheeled, and made for the water hole. The lynx
+sprang from his ambush, seized the beaver by the back, and held on;
+but the beaver was double the lynx's weight, the bank was steep and
+slippery, the struggling animals kept rolling down hill, nearer and
+nearer the hole. Then, on the very edge, the beaver gave a great plunge,
+and splashed into the water with the lynx clinging to its back. At once
+they disappeared, and the hunters rushed to the place, expecting them to
+float up and be an easy prey; but they did not float. At length it was
+clear that the pair had gone under the ice, for in water the beaver was
+master.
+
+After five minutes it was certain that the lynx must be dead. Quonab cut
+a sapling and made a grappler. He poked this way and that way under the
+ice, until at length he felt something soft. With the hatchet they cut
+a hole over the place and then dragged out the body of the lynx. The
+beaver, of course, escaped and was probably little the worse.
+
+While Quonab skinned the catch, Rolf prowled around the pond and soon
+came running back to tell of a remarkable happening.
+
+At another open hole a beaver had come out, wandered twenty yards to a
+mound which he had castorized, then passed several hard wood trees to
+find a large poplar or aspen, the favourite food tree. This he had begun
+to fell with considerable skill, but for some strange reason, perhaps
+because alone, he had made a miscalculation, and when the tree came
+crashing down, it had fallen across his back, killed him, and pinned him
+to the ground.
+
+It was an easy matter for the hunters to remove the log and secure his
+pelt, so they left the beaver pond, richer than they had expected.
+
+Next night, when they reached their half-way shanty, they had the best
+haul they had taken on this line since the memorable day when they got
+six beavers.
+
+The morning dawned clear and bright. As they breakfasted, they noticed
+an extraordinary gathering of ravens far away to the north, beyond any
+country they had visited. At least twenty or thirty of the birds were
+sailing in great circles high above a certain place, uttering a deep,
+sonorous croak, from time to time. Occasionally one of the ravens would
+dive down out of sight.
+
+“Why do they fly above that way?”
+
+“That is to let other ravens know there is food here. Their eyes are
+very good. They can see the signal ten miles away, so all come to the
+place. My father told me that you can gather all the ravens for twenty
+miles by leaving a carcass so they can see it and signal each other.”
+
+“Seems as if we should look into that. Maybe another panther,” was
+Rolf's remark.
+
+The Indian nodded; so leaving the bundle of furs in a safe place with
+the snowshoes, that they carried on a chance, they set out over the
+hard crust. It was two or three miles to the ravens' gathering, and, as
+before, it proved to be over a cedar brake where was a deer yard.
+
+Skookum knew all about it. He rushed into the woods, filled with the
+joy of martial glory. But speedily came running out again as hard as
+he could, yelling “yow, yow, yowl” for help, while swiftly following,
+behind him were a couple of gray wolves. Quonab waited till they were
+within forty yards; then, seeing the men, the wolves slowed up and
+veered; Quonab fired; one of the wolves gave a little, doglike yelp.
+Then they leaped into the bushes and were lost to view.
+
+A careful study of the snow showed one or two trifling traces of blood.
+In the deer yard they found at least a dozen carcasses of deer killed by
+the wolves, but none very recent. They saw but few deer and nothing more
+of the wolves, for the crust had made all the country easy, and both
+kinds fled before the hunters.
+
+Exploring a lower level of willow country in hopes of finding beaver
+delayed them, and it was afternoon when they returned to the half-way
+shanty, to find everything as they left it, except that their Pack of
+furs had totally disappeared.
+
+Of course, the hard crust gave no sign of track. Their first thought
+was of the old enemy, but, seeking far and near for evidence, they found
+pieces of an ermine skin, and a quarter mile farther, the rest of it,
+then, at another place, fragments of a muskrat's skin. Those made it
+look like the work of the trapper's enemy, the wolverine, which, though
+rare, was surely found in these hills. Yes! there was a wolverine
+scratch mark, and here another piece of the rat skin. It was very clear
+who was the thief.
+
+“He tore up the cheapest ones of the lot anyway,” said Rolf.
+
+Then the trappers stared at each other significantly--only the cheap
+ones destroyed; why should a wolverine show such discrimination? There
+was no positive sign of wolverine; in fact, the icy snow gave no sign of
+anything. There was little doubt that the tom furs and the scratch marks
+were there to mislead; that this was the work of a human robber, almost
+certainly Hoag.
+
+He had doubtless seen them leave in the morning, and it was equally
+sure, since he had had hours of start, he would now be far away.
+
+“Ugh! Give him few days to think he safe, then I follow and settle all,”
+ and this time the Indian clearly meant to end the matter.
+
+
+
+Chapter 45. The Subjugation of Hoag
+
+     A feller as weeps for pity and never does a finger-tap to
+     help is 'bout as much use as an overcoat on a drowning man.
+     --Sayings of Si Sylvanne.
+
+SOME remarkable changes of weather made some remarkable changes in their
+plan and saved their enemy from immediate molestation. For two weeks it
+was a succession of thaws and there was much rain. The lake was covered
+with six inches of water; the river had a current above the ice, that
+was rapidly eating, the latter away. Everywhere there were slush and wet
+snow that put an end to travel and brought on the spring with a rush.
+
+Each night there was, indeed, a trifling frost, but each day's sun
+seemed stronger, and broad, bare patches of ground appeared on all sunny
+slopes.
+
+On the first crisp day the trappers set out to go the rounds, knowing
+full well that this was the end of the season. Henceforth for six months
+deadfall and snare would lie idle and unset.
+
+They went their accustomed line, carrying their snowshoes, but rarely
+needing them. Then they crossed a large track to which Quonab pointed,
+and grunted affirmatively as Rolf said “Bear?” Yes! the bears were about
+once more; their winter sleep was over. Now they were fat and the fur
+was yet prime; in a month they would be thin and shedding. Now is the
+time for bear hunting with either trap or dog.
+
+Doubtless Skookum thought the party most fortunately equipped in the
+latter respect, but no single dog is enough to bay a bear. There must
+be three or four to bother him behind, to make him face about and fight;
+one dog merely makes him run faster.
+
+They had no traps, and knowing that a spring bear is a far traveller,
+they made no attempt to follow.
+
+The deadfalls yielded two martens, but one of them was spoiled by the
+warm weather. They learned at last that the enemy had a trap-line, for
+part of which he used their deadfalls. He had been the rounds lately and
+had profited at least a little by their labours.
+
+The track, though two days old, was not hard to follow, either on snow
+or ground. Quonab looked to the lock of his gun; his lower lip tightened
+and he strode along.
+
+“What are you going to do, Quonab? Not shoot?”
+
+“When I get near enough,” and the dangerous look in the red man's eye
+told Rolf to be quiet and follow.
+
+In three miles they passed but three of his marten traps--very lazy
+trapping--and then found a great triangle of logs by a tree with a bait
+and signs enough to tell the experienced eye that, in that corner, was
+hidden a huge steel trap for bear.
+
+They were almost too late in restraining the knowledge-hunger of
+Skookum. They went on a mile or two and realized in so doing that,
+however poor a trapper the enemy might be, he was a good tramper and
+knew the country.
+
+At sundown they came to their half-way shelter and put up there for the
+night. Once when Rolf went out to glimpse the skies before turning in,
+he heard a far tree creaking and wondered, for it was dead calm. Even
+Skookum noticed it. But it was not repeated. Next morning they went on.
+
+There are many quaint sounds in the woods at all times, the rasping
+of trees, at least a dozen different calls by jays, twice as many by
+ravens, and occasional notes from chicadees, grouse, and owls. The
+quadrupeds in general are more silent, but the red squirrel is ever
+about and noisy, as well as busy.
+
+Far-reaching sounds are these echoes of the woods--some of them very
+far. Probably there were not five minutes of the day or night when some
+weird, woodland chatter, scrape, crack, screech, or whistle did not
+reach the keen ears of that ever-alert dog. That is, three hundred times
+a day his outer ear submitted to his inner ear some report of things
+a-doing, which same report was as often for many days disregarded as of
+no interest or value. But this did not mean that he missed anything; the
+steady tramp, tramp of their feet, while it dulled all sounds for the
+hunter, seemed to have no effect on Skookum. Again the raspy squeal of
+some far tree reached his inmost brain, and his hair rose as he stopped
+and gave a low “woof.”
+
+The hunters held still; the wise ones always do, when a dog says “Stop!”
+ They waited. After a few minutes it came again--merely the long-drawn
+creak of a tree bough, wind-rubbed on its neighbour.
+
+And yet, “Woof, woof, woof,” said Skookum, and ran ahead.
+
+“Come back, you little fool!” cried Rolf.
+
+But Skookum had a mind of his own. He trotted ahead, then stopped,
+paused, and sniffed at something in the snow. The Indian picked it up.
+It was the pocket jackscrew that every bear trapper carries to set the
+powerful trap, and without which, indeed, one man cannot manage the
+springs.
+
+He held it up with “Ugh! Hoag in trouble now.” Clearly the rival trapper
+had lost this necessary tool.
+
+But the finding was an accident. Skookum pushed on. They came along a
+draw to a little hollow. The dog, far forward, began barking and angrily
+baying at something. The men hurried to the scene to find on the snow,
+fast held in one of those devilish engines called a bear trap--the body
+of their enemy--Hoag, the trapper, held by a leg, and a hand in the gin
+he himself had been setting.
+
+A fierce light played on the Indian's face. Rolf was stricken with
+horror. But even while they contemplated the body, the faint cry was
+heard again coming from it.
+
+“He's alive; hurry!” cried Rolf. The Indian did not hurry, but he came.
+He had vowed vengeance at sight; why should he haste to help?
+
+The implacable iron jaws had clutched the trapper by one knee and the
+right hand. The first thing was to free him. How? No man has power
+enough to force that spring. But the jackscrew!
+
+“Quonab, help him! For God's sake, come!” cried Rolf in agony,
+forgetting their feud and seeing only tortured, dying man.
+
+The Indian gazed a moment, then rose quickly, and put on the jackscrew.
+Under his deft fingers the first spring went down, but what about the
+other? They had no other screw. The long buckskin line they always
+carried was quickly lashed round and round the down spring to hold it.
+Then the screw was removed and put on the other spring; it bent, and the
+jaws hung loose. The Indian forced them wide open, drew out the mangled
+limbs, a the trapper was free, but so near death, it seemed they were
+too late.
+
+Rolf spread his coat. The Indian made a fire. In fifteen minutes they
+were pouring hot tea between victim's lips. Even as they did, his feeble
+throat gave out again the long, low moan.
+
+The weather was mild now. The prisoner was not actually frozen, but
+numbed and racked. Heat, hot tea, kindly rubbing, and he revived a
+little.
+
+At first they thought him dying, but in an hour recovered enough to
+talk. In feeble accents and broken phrases they learned the tale:
+
+“Yest--m-m-m. Yesterday--no; two or three days back--m-m-m-m-m--I dunno;
+I was a goin'--roun' me traps--me bear traps. Didn't have no luck m-m-m
+(yes, I'd like another sip; ye ain't got no whiskey no?) m-m-m. Nothing
+in any trap, and when I come to this un--oh-h--m-m; I seen--the bait
+was stole by birds, an' the pan--m-m-m; an' the pan, m-m-m--(yes, that's
+better)--an' the pan laid bare. So I starts to cover it with--ce-ce-dar;
+the ony thing I c'd get--m-m-m-w---wuz leanin' over--to fix tother
+side--me foot slipped on--the--ice--ev'rything was icy--an'--m-m-m-m--I
+lost--me balance--me knee the pan--O Lord--how I suffer!--m-m-m it
+grabbed me--knee an'--h-h-hand--” His voice died to a whisper and
+ceased; he seemed sinking.
+
+Quonab got up to hold him. Then, looking at Rolf, Indian shook his
+head as though to say all was over; the poor wretch had a woodman's
+constitution, and in spite of a mangled, dying body, he revived again.
+They gave him more hot tea, and again he began in a whisper:
+
+“I hed one arm free an'--an'--an'--I might--a--got out--m-m--but I hed
+no wrench--I lost it some place--m-m-m-m.
+
+“Then--I yelled--I dun--no--maybe some un might hear--it kin-kin-kinder
+eased me--to yell m-m-m.
+
+“Say--make that yer dog keep--away--will yer I dunno--it seems like a
+week--must a fainted some M-m-m--I yelled--when I could.”
+
+There was a long pause. Rolf said, “Seems to me I heard you last night,
+when we were up there. And dog heard you, too. Do you want me to move
+that leg around?”
+
+“M-m-m--yeh--that's better--say, you air white--ain't ye? Ye won't leave
+me--cos--I done some mean things--m-m-m. Ye won't, will ye?”
+
+“No, you needn't worry--we'll stay by ye.”
+
+Then he muttered, they could not tell what. He closed his eyes. After
+long silence he looked around wildly and began again:
+
+“Say--I done you dirt--but don't leave me--don't leave me.” Tears ran
+down his face and he moaned piteously. “I'll--make it--right--you're
+white, ain't ye?”
+
+Quonab rose and went for more firewood. The trapper whispered, “I'm
+scared o' him--now--he'll do me--say, I'm jest a poor ole man. If I do
+live--through--this--m-m-m-m--I'll never walk again. I'm crippled sure.”
+
+It was long before he resumed. Then he began: “Say, what day is
+it--Friday!--I must--been two days in there--m-m-m--I reckoned it was a
+week. When--the--dog came I thought it was wolves. Oh--ah, didn't care
+much--m-m-m. Say, ye won't leave me--coz--coz--I treated--ye mean.
+I--ain't had no l-l-luck.” He went off into a stupor, but presently let
+out a long, startling cry, the same as that they had heard in the night.
+The dog growled; the men stared. The wretch's eyes were rolling again.
+He seemed delirious.
+
+Quonab pointed to the east, made the sun-up sign, and shook his head at
+the victim. And Rolf understood it to mean that he would never see the
+sunrise. But they were wrong.
+
+The long night passed in a struggle between heath and the tough make-up
+of a mountaineer. The waiting light of dawn saw death defeated,
+retiring from the scene. As the sun rose high, the victim seemed to gain
+considerably in strength. There was no immediate danger of an end.
+
+Rolf said to Quonab: “Where shall we take him? Guess you better go home
+for the toboggan, and we'll fetch him to the shanty.”
+
+But the invalid was able to take part in the conversation. “Say, don't
+take me there. Ah--want to go home. 'Pears like--I'd be better at home.
+My folks is out Moose River way. I'd never get out if I went in
+there,” and by “there” he seemed to mean the Indian's lake, and glanced
+furtively at the unchanging countenance of the red man.
+
+“Have you a toboggan at your shanty?” asked Rolf.
+
+“Yes--good enough--it's on the roof--say,” and he beckoned feebly to
+Rolf, “let him go after it--don't leave me--he'll kill me,” and he wept
+feebly in his self pity.
+
+So Quonab started down the mountain--a sinewy man--a striding form, a
+speck in the melting distance.
+
+
+
+Chapter 46. Nursing Hoag
+
+In two hours the red man reached the trapper's shanty, and at once,
+without hesitation or delicacy, set about a thorough examination of its
+contents. Of course there was the toboggan on the roof, and in fairly
+good condition for such a shiftless owner.
+
+There were bunches of furs hanging from the rafters, but not many, for
+fur taking is hard work; and Quonab, looking suspiciously over them,
+was 'not surprised to see the lynx skin he had lost, easily known by the
+absence of wound and the fur still in points as it had dried from the
+wetting. In another bundle, he discovered the beaver that had killed
+itself, for there was the dark band across its back.
+
+The martens he could not be sure of, but he had a strong suspicion that
+most of this fur came out of his own traps.
+
+He tied Hoag's blankets on the toboggan, and hastened back to where he
+left the two on the mountain.
+
+Skookum met him long before he was near. Skookum did not enjoy Hoag's
+company.
+
+The cripple had been talking freely to Rolf, but the arrival of the
+Indian seemed to suppress him.
+
+With the wounded man on the toboggan, they set out, The ground was bare
+in many places, so that the going was hard; but, fortunately, it was all
+down hill, and four hours' toil brought them to the cabin.
+
+They put the sick man in his bunk, then Rolf set about preparing a meal,
+while Quonab cut wood.
+
+After the usual tea, bacon, and flour cakes, all were feeling refreshed.
+Hoag seemed much more like himself. He talked freely, almost cheerfully,
+while Quonab, with Skookum at his feet, sat silently smoking and staring
+into the fire.
+
+After a long silence, the Indian turned, looked straight at the trapper,
+and, pointing with his pipestem to the furs, said, “How many is ours?”
+
+Hoag looked scared, then sulky, and said; “I dunno what ye mean. I'm a
+awful sick man. You get me out to Lyons Falls all right, and ye can have
+the hull lot,” and he wept.
+
+Rolf shook his head at Quonab, then turned to the sufferer and said:
+“Don't you worry; we'll get you out all right. Have you a good canoe?”
+
+“Pretty fair; needs a little fixing.”
+
+The night passed with one or two breaks, when the invalid asked for a
+drink of water. In the morning he was evidently recovering, and they
+began to plan for the future.
+
+He took the first chance of wispering to Rolf, “Can't you send him away?
+I'll be all right with you.” Rolf said nothing.
+
+“Say,” he continued, “say, young feller, what's yer name?”
+
+“Rolf Kittering.”
+
+“Say, Rolf, you wait a week or ten days, and the ice 'll be out; then
+I'll be fit to travel. There ain't on'y a few carries between here an'
+Lyons Falls.”
+
+After a long pause, due to Quonab's entry, he continued again: “Moose
+River's good canoeing; ye can get me out in five days; me folks is at
+Lyons Falls.” He did not say that his folks consisted of a wife and boy
+that he neglected, but whom he counted on to nurse him now.
+
+Rolf was puzzled by the situation.
+
+“Say! I'll give ye all them furs if ye git me out.” Rolf gave him a
+curious look--as much as to say, “Ye mean our furs.”
+
+Again the conversation was ended by the entry of Quonab.
+
+Rolf stepped out, taking the Indian with him. They had a long talk,
+then, as Rolf reentered, the sick man began:
+
+“You stay by me, and git me out. I'll give ye my rifle”--then, after a
+short silence--“an' I'll throw in all the traps an' the canoe.”
+
+“I'll stay by you,” said Rolf, “and in about two weeks we'll take you
+down to Lyons Falls. I guess you can guide us.”
+
+“Ye can have all them pelts,” and again the trapper presented the spoils
+he had stolen, “an' you bet it's your rifle when ye get me out.”
+
+So it was arranged. But it was necessary for Quonab to go back to their
+own cabin. Now what should he do? Carry the new lot of fur there, or
+bring the old lot here to dispose of all at Lyons Falls?
+
+Rolf had been thinking hard. He had seen the evil side of many men,
+including Hoag. To go among Hoag's people with a lot of stuff that Hoag
+might claim was running risks, so he said:
+
+“Quonab, you come back in not more than ten days. We'll take a few furs
+to Lyons Falls so we can get supplies. Leave the rest of them in good
+shape, so we can go out later to Warren's. We'll get a square deal
+there, and we don't know what at Lyon's.”
+
+So they picked out the lynx, the beaver, and a dozen martens to leave,
+and making the rest into a pack, Quonab shouldered them, and followed by
+Skookum, trudged up the mountain and was lost to view in the woods.
+
+The ten days went by very slowly. Hoag was alternately querulous,
+weeping, complaining, unpleasantly fawning, or trying to insure good
+attention by presenting again and again the furs, the gun, and the
+canoe.
+
+Rolf found it pleasant to get away from the cabin when the weather was
+fine. One day, taking Hoag's gun, he travelled up the nearest stream for
+a mile, and came on a big beaver pond. Round this he scouted and soon
+discovered a drowned beaver, held in a trap which he recognized at once,
+for it had the (” ' “') mark on the frame. Then he found an empty trap
+with a beaver leg in it, and another, till six traps were found. Then
+he gathered up the six and the beaver, and returned to the cabin to be
+greeted with a string of complaints:
+
+“Ye didn't ought to leave me like this. I'm paying ye well enough. I
+don't ax no favours,” etc.
+
+“See what I got,” and Rolf showed the beaver. “An' see what I found;”
+ then he showed the traps. “Queer, ain't it,” he went on, “we had six
+traps just like them, and I marked the face just like these, and they
+all disappeared, and there was a snowshoe trail pointing this way. You
+haven't got any crooked neighbours about here, have you?”
+
+The trapper looked sulky and puzzled, and grumbled, “I bet it was Bill
+Hawkins done it”; then relapsed into silence.
+
+
+
+Chapter 47. Hoag's Home-coming
+
+     When it comes to personal feelin's better let yer friends
+     do the talkin' and jedgin'.  A man can't handle his own
+     case any more than a delirious doctor kin give hisself the
+     right physic--Sayings of Si Sylvanne.
+
+The coming of springtime in the woods is one of the gentlest, sweetest
+advents in the world. Sometimes there are heavy rains which fill all the
+little rivers with an overflood that quickly eats away the ice and snow,
+but usually the woodland streams open, slowly and gradually. Very rarely
+is there a spate, an upheaval, and a cataclysmal sweep that bursts the
+ice and ends its reign in an hour or two. That is the way of the large
+rivers, whose ice is free and floating. The snow in the forest melts
+slowly, and when the ice is attacked, it goes gradually, gently, without
+uproar. The spring comes in the woods with swelling of buds and a
+lengthening of drooping catkins, with honking of wild geese, and cawing
+of crows coming up from the lower countries to divide with their larger
+cousins, the ravens, the spoils of winter's killing.
+
+The small birds from the South appear with a few short notes of spring,
+and the pert chicadees that have braved it all winter, now lead the
+singing with their cheery “I told you so” notes, till robins and
+blackbirds join in, and with their more ambitious singing make all the
+lesser roundelays forgot.
+
+Once the winter had taken a backward step--spring found it easy to turn
+retreat into panic and rout; and the ten days Quonab stayed away were
+days of revolutionary change. For in them semi-winter gave place to
+smiling spring, with all the snow-drifts gone, except perhaps in the
+shadiest hollows of the woods.
+
+It was a bright morning, and a happy one for Rolf, when he heard the
+Indian's short “Ho,” outside, and a minute later had Skookum dancing and
+leaping about him. On Hoag the effect was quite different. He was well
+enough to be up, to hobble about painfully on a stick; to be exceedingly
+fault-finding, and to eat three hearty meals a day; but the moment the
+Indian appeared, he withdrew into himself, and became silent and uneasy.
+Before an hour passed, he again presented the furs, the gun, the canoe,
+and the traps to Rolf, on condition that he should get him out to his
+folks.
+
+All three were glad to set out that very day on the outward trip to
+Lyons Falls.
+
+Down Little Moose River to Little Moose Lake and on to South Branch of
+Moose, then by the Main Moose, was their way. The streams were flush;
+there was plenty of water, and this fortunately reduced the number of
+carries; for Hoag could not walk and would not hobble. They sweat and
+laboured to carry him over every portage; but they covered the fifty
+miles in three days, and on the evening of the third, arrived at the
+little backwoods village of Lyons Falls.
+
+The change that took place in Hoag now was marked and unpleasant. He
+gave a number of orders, where, the day before, he would have made
+whining petitions. He told them to “land easy, and don't bump my canoe.”
+ He hailed the loungers about the mill with an effusiveness that they did
+not respond to. Their cool, “Hello, Jack, are you back?” was little but
+a passing recognition. One of them was persuaded to take Rolf's place in
+carrying Hoag to his cabin. Yes, his folks were there, but they did not
+seem overjoyed at his arrival. He whispered to the boy, who sullenly
+went out to the river and returned with the rifle, Rolf's rifle now, the
+latter supposed, and would have taken the bundle of furs had not Skookum
+sprung on the robber and driven him away from the canoe.
+
+And now Hoag showed his true character. “Them's my furs and my canoe,”
+ he said to one of the mill hands, and turning to the two who had saved
+him, he said: “An' you two dirty, cutthroat, redskin thieves, you can
+get out of town as fast as ye know how, or I'll have ye jugged,” and all
+the pent-up hate of his hateful nature frothed out in words insulting
+and unprintable.
+
+“Talks like a white man,” said Quonab coldly. Rolf was speechless.
+To toil so devotedly, and to have such filthy, humiliating words for
+thanks! He wondered if even his Uncle Mike would have shown so vile a
+spirit.
+
+Hoag gave free rein to his tongue, and found in his pal, Bill Hawkins,
+one with ready ears to hear his tale of woe. The wretch began to feel
+himself frightfully ill-used. So, fired at last by the evermore lurid
+story of his wrongs, the “partner” brought the magistrate, so they could
+swear out a warrant, arrest the two “outlaws,” and especially secure the
+bundle of “Hoag's furs” in the canoe.
+
+Old Silas Sylvanne, the mill-owner and pioneer of the place, was also
+its magistrate. He was tall, thin, blacklooking, a sort of Abe Lincoln
+in type, physically, and in some sort, mentally. He heard the harrowing
+tale of terrible crime, robbery, and torture, inflicted on poor harmless
+Hoag by these two ghouls in human shape; he listened, at first shocked,
+but little by little amused.
+
+“You don't get no warrant till I hear from the other side,” he said.
+Roff and Quonab came at call. The old pioneer sized up the two, as they
+stood, then, addressing Rolf, said:
+
+“Air you an Injun?” “No, sir.” “Air you half-breed?” “No, sir.” “Well,
+let's hear about this business,” and he turned his piercing eyes full on
+the lad's face.
+
+Rolf told the simple, straight story of their acquaintance with Hoag,
+from the first day at Warren's to their arrival at the Falls. There is
+never any doubt about the truth of a true story, if it be long enough,
+and this true story, presented in its nakedness to the shrewd and kindly
+old hunter, trader, mill-owner and magistrate, could have only one
+effect.
+
+“Sonny,” he said, slowly and kindly, “I know that ye have told me the
+truth. I believe every word of it. We all know that Hoag is the meanest
+cuss and biggest liar on the river. He's a nuisance, and always was.
+He only promised to give ye the canoe and the rifle, and since he don't
+want to, we can't help it. About the trouble in the woods, you got two
+witnesses to his one, and ye got the furs and the traps; it's just as
+well ye left the other furs behind, or ye might have had to divide 'em;
+so keep them and call the hull thing square. We'll find ye a canoe to
+get out of this gay metropolis, and as to Hoag, ye needn't a-worry; his
+travelling days is done.”
+
+A man with a bundle of high-class furs is a man of means in any frontier
+town. The magistrate was trader, too, so they set about disposing of
+their furs and buying the supplies they needed.
+
+The day was nearly done before their new canoe was gummed and ready with
+the new supplies. When dealing, old Sylvanne had a mild, quiet manner,
+and a peculiar way of making funny remarks that led some to imagine he
+was “easy” in business; but it was usual to find at the end that he had
+lost nothing by his manners, and rival traders shunned an encounter with
+Long Sylvanne of the unruffled brow.
+
+When business was done--keen and complete--he said: “Now, I'm a goin' to
+give each of ye a present,” and handed out two double-bladed jackknives,
+new things in those days, wonderful things, precious treasures in their
+eyes, sources of endless joy; and even had they known that one marten
+skin would buy a quart of them, their pleasant surprise and childish joy
+would not have been in any way tempered or alloyed.
+
+“Ye better eat with me, boys, an' start in the morning.” So they joined
+the miller's long, continuous family, and shared his evening meal.
+Afterward as they sat for three hours and smoked on the broad porch that
+looked out on the river, old Sylvanne, who had evidently taken a
+fancy to Rolf, regaled them with a long, rambling talk on “fellers and
+things,” that was one of the most interesting Rolf had ever listened to.
+At the time it was simply amusing; it was not till years after that the
+lad realized by its effect on himself, its insight, and its hold on his
+memory, that Si Sylvanne's talk was real wisdom. Parts of it would not
+look well in print; but the rugged words, the uncouth Saxonism, the
+obscene phrase, were the mere oaken bucket in which the pure and
+precious waters were hauled to the surface.
+
+“Looked like he had ye pinched when that shyster got ye in to Lyons
+Falls. Wall, there's two bad places for Jack Hoag; one is where they
+don't know him at all, an' take him on his looks; an' t'other is where
+they know him through and through for twenty years, like we hev. A smart
+rogue kin put up a false front fer a year or maybe two, but given twenty
+year to try him, for and bye, summer an' winter, an' I reckon a man's
+make is pretty well showed up, without no dark corners left unexplored.
+
+“Not that I want to jedge him harsh, coz I don't know what kind o'
+maggots is eatin' his innards to make him so ornery. I'm bound to
+suppose he has 'em, or he wouldn't act so dum like it. So I says, go
+slow and gentle before puttin' a black brand on any feller; as my mother
+used to say, never say a bad thing till ye ask, 'Is it true, is it kind,
+is it necessary?' An' I tell you, the older I git, the slower I jedge;
+when I wuz your age, I wuz a steel trap on a hair trigger, an' cocksure.
+I tell you, there ain't anythin' wiser nor a sixteen-year-old boy, 'cept
+maybe a fifteen-year-old girl.
+
+“Ye'll genilly find, lad, jest when things looks about as black as they
+kin look, that's the sign of luck a-comin' your way, pervidin' ye hold
+steady, keep cool and kind; something happens every time to make it all
+easy. There's always a way, an' the stout heart will find it.
+
+“Ye may be very sure o' this, boy, yer never licked till ye think ye air
+an' if ye won't think it, ye can't be licked. It's just the same as
+being sick. I seen a lot o' doctorin' in my day, and I'm forced to
+believe there ain't any sick folks 'cept them that thinks they air sick.
+
+“The older I git, the more I'm bound to consider that most things is
+inside, anyhow, and what's outside don't count for much.
+
+“So it stands to reason when ye play the game for what's inside, ye win
+over all the outside players. When ye done kindness to Hoag, ye mightn't
+a meant it, but ye was bracin' up the goodness in yerself, or bankin' it
+up somewher' on the trail ahead, where it was needed. And he was
+simply chawin' his own leg off, when he done ye dirt. I ain't much o'
+a prattlin' Christian, but I reckon as a cold-blooded, business
+proposition it pays to lend the neighbour a hand; not that I go much on
+gratitude. It's scarcer'n snowballs in hell--which ain't the point;
+but I take notice there ain't any man'll hate ye more'n the feller that
+knows he's acted mean to ye. An' there ain't any feller more ready to
+fight yer battles than the chap that by some dum accident has hed the
+luck to help ye, even if he only done it to spite some one else--which
+'minds me o' McCarthy's bull pup that saved the drowning kittens by
+mistake, and ever after was a fightin' cat protector, whereby he lost
+the chief joy o' his life, which had been cat-killin'. An' the way they
+cured the cat o' eatin' squirrels was givin' her a litter o' squirrels
+to raise.
+
+“I tell ye there's a lot o' common-sense an' kindness in the country,
+only it's so dum slow to git around; while the cussedness and meanness
+always acts like they felt the hell fire sizzlin' their hind-end
+whiskers, an' knowed they had jest so many minutes to live an' make a
+record. There's where a man's smart that fixes things so he kin hold out
+a long time, fer the good stuff in men's minds is what lasts; and the
+feller what can stay with it hez proved hisself by stayin'. How'd ye
+happen to tie up with the Injun, Rolf?”
+
+“Do ye want me to tell it long or short?” was the reply. “Wall, short,
+fer a start,” and Silas Sylvanne chuckled.
+
+So Rolf gave a very brief account of his early life.
+
+“Pretty good,” said the miller; “now let's hear it long.”
+
+And when he had finished, the miller said: “I've seen yer tried fer most
+everything that goes to make a man, Rolf, an' I hev my own notion of the
+results. You ain't goin' to live ferever in them hills. When ye've hed
+yer fling an' want a change, let me know.”
+
+Early next day the two hunters paddled up the Moose River with a good
+canoe, an outfit of groceries, and a small supply of ready cash.
+
+“Good-bye, lad, good-bye! Come back again and ye'll find we improve on
+acquaintance; an' don't forget I'm buying fur,” was Si Sylvanne's last
+word. And as they rounded the point, on the home way, Rolf turned in
+the canoe, faced Quonab, and said: “Ye see there are some good white men
+left;” but the Indian neither blinked, nor moved, nor made a sound.
+
+
+
+Chapter 48. Rolf's Lesson in Trailing
+
+The return journey was hard paddling against strong waters, but
+otherwise uneventful. Once over any trail is enough to fix it in the
+memory of a woodman. They made no mistakes and their loads were light,
+so the portages were scarcely any loss of time, and in two days they
+were back at Hoag's cabin.
+
+Of this they took possession. First, they gathered all things of value,
+and that was little since the furs and bedding were gone, but there were
+a few traps and some dishes. The stuff was made in two packs; now it
+was an overland journey, so the canoe was hidden in a cedar thicket,
+a quarter of a mile inland. The two were about to shoulder the packs,
+Quonab was lighting his pipe for a start, when Rolf said:
+
+“Say, Quonab! that fellow we saw at the Falls claimed to be Hoag's
+partner. He may come on here and make trouble if we don't head him off.
+Let's burn her,” and he nodded toward the shanty.
+
+“Ugh!” was the reply.
+
+They gathered some dry brush and a lot of birch bark, piled them up
+against the wall inside, and threw plenty of firewood on this. With
+flint and steel Quonab made the vital spark, the birch bark sputtered,
+the dry, resinous logs were easily set ablaze, and soon great volumes
+of smoke rolled from the door, the window, and the chimney; and Skookum,
+standing afar, barked pleasantly aloud.
+
+The hunters shouldered their packs and began the long, upward slope. In
+an hour they had reached a high, rocky ridge. Here they stopped to rest,
+and, far below them, marked with grim joy a twisted, leaning column of
+thick black smoke.
+
+That night they camped in the woods and next day rejoiced to be back
+again at their own cabin, their own lake, their home.
+
+Several times during the march they had seen fresh deer tracks, and now
+that the need of meat was felt, Rolf proposed a deer hunt.
+
+Many deer die every winter; some are winter-killed; many are devoured
+by beasts of prey, or killed by hunters; their numbers are at low ebb in
+April, so that now one could not count on finding a deer by roaming at
+random. It was a case for trailing.
+
+Any one can track a deer in the snow. It is not very hard to follow a
+deer in soft ground, when there are no other deer about. But it is very
+hard to take one deer trail and follow it over rocky ground and dead
+leaves, never losing it or changing off, when there are hundreds of deer
+tracks running in all directions.
+
+Rolf's eyes were better than Quonab's, but experience counts for as much
+as eyes, and Quonab was leading. They picked out a big buck track that
+was fresh--no good hunter kills a doe at this season. They knew it for a
+buck, because of its size and the roundness of the toes.
+
+Before long, Rolf said: “See, Quonab, I want to learn this business; let
+me do the trailing, and you set me right if I get off the line.”
+
+Within a hundred yards, Quonab gave a grunt and shook his head. Rolf
+looked surprised, for he was on a good, fresh track.
+
+Quonab said but one word, “Doe.”
+
+Yes, a closer view showed the tracks to be a little narrower, a little
+closer together, and a little sharper than those he began with.
+
+Back went Rolf to the last marks that he was sure of, and plainly read
+where the buck had turned aside. For a time, things went along smoothly,
+Quonab and Skookum following Rolf. The last was getting very familiar
+with that stub hoof on the left foot. At length they came to the “fumet”
+ or “sign”; it was all in one pile. That meant the deer had stood, so was
+unalarmed; and warm; that meant but a few minutes ahead. Now, they must
+use every precaution for this was the crux of the hunt. Of this much
+only they were sure--the deer was within range now, and to get him they
+must see him before he saw them.
+
+Skookum was leashed. Rolf was allowed to get well ahead, and crawling
+cautiously, a step at a time, he went, setting down his moccasined foot
+only after he had tried and selected a place. Once or twice he threw
+into the air a tuft of dry grass to make sure that the wind was right,
+and by slow degrees he reached the edge of a little opening.
+
+Across this he peered long, without entering it. Then he made a sweep
+with his hand and pointed, to let Quonab know the buck had gone across
+and he himself must go around. But he lingered still and with his eyes
+swept the near woods. Then, dim gray among the gray twigs, he saw a
+slight movement, so slight it might have been made by the tail of a
+tomtit. But it fixed his attention, and out of this gray haze he slowly
+made out the outline of a deer's head, antlers, and neck. A hundred
+yards away, but “take a chance when it comes” is hunter wisdom. Rolf
+glanced at the sight, took steady aim, fired, and down went the buck
+behind a log. Skookum whined and leaped high in his eagerness to see.
+Rolf restrained his impatience to rush forward, at once reloaded, then
+all three went quickly to the place. Before they were within fifty
+yards, the deer leaped up and bounded off. At seventy-five yards, it
+stood for a moment to gaze. Rolf fired again; again the buck fell down,
+but jumped to its feet and bounded away.
+
+They went to the two places, but found no blood. Utterly puzzled, they
+gave it up for the day, as already the shades of night were on the
+woods, and in spite of Skookum's voluble offer to solve and settle
+everything, they returned to the cabin.
+
+“What do you make of it, Quonab?'
+
+The Indian shook his head, then: “Maybe touched his head and stunned
+him, first shot; second, wah! I not know.”
+
+“I know this,” said Rolf. “I touched him and I mean to get him in the
+morning.”
+
+True to this resolve, he was there again at dawn, but examined the place
+in vain for a sign of blood. The red rarely shows up much on leaves,
+grass, or dust; but there are two kinds of places that the hunter can
+rely on as telltales--stones and logs. Rolf followed the deer track, now
+very dim, till at a bare place he found a speck of blood on a pebble.
+Here the trail joined onto a deer path, with so many tracks that it was
+hard to say which was the right one. But Rolf passed quickly along to a
+log that crossed the runway, and on that log he found a drop of dried-up
+blood that told him what he wished to know.
+
+Now he had a straight run of a quarter of a mile, and from time to time
+he saw a peculiar scratching mark that puzzled him. Once he found a
+speck of blood at one of these scratches but no other evidence that the
+buck was touched.
+
+A wounded deer is pretty sure to work down hill, and Quonab, leaving
+Skookum with Rolf, climbed a lookout that might show whither the deer
+was heading.
+
+After another half mile, the deer path forked; there were buck trails on
+both, and Rolf could not pick out the one he wanted. He went a few yards
+along each, studying the many marks, but was unable to tell which was
+that of the wounded buck.
+
+Now Skookum took a share in it. He had always been forbidden to run
+deer and knew it was a contraband amusement, but he put his nose to that
+branch of the trail that ran down hill, followed it for a few yards,
+then looked at Rolf, as much as to say: “You poor nose-blind creature;
+don't you know a fresh deer track when you smell it? Here it is; this is
+where he went.”
+
+Rolf stared, then said, “I believe he means it”; and followed the lower
+trail. Very soon he came to another scrape, and, just beyond it, found
+the new, velvet-covered antler of a buck, raw and bloody, and splintered
+at the base.
+
+From this on, the task was easier, as there were no other tracks, and
+this was pointing steadily down hill.
+
+Soon Quonab came striding along. He had not seen the buck, but a couple
+of jays and a raven were gathered in a thicket far down by the stream.
+The hunters quit the trail and made for that place. As they drew near,
+they found the track again, and again saw those curious scrapes.
+
+Every hunter knows that the bluejay dashing about a thicket means that
+hidden there is game of some kind, probably deer. Very, very slowly and
+silently they entered that copse. But nothing appeared until there was a
+rush in the thickest part and up leaped the buck. This was too much for
+Skookum. He shot forward like a wolf, fastened on one hind leg, and the
+buck went crashing head over heels. Before it could rise, another shot
+ended its troubles. And now a careful study shed the light desired.
+Rolf's first shot had hit the antler near the base, breaking it, except
+for the skin on one side, and had stunned the buck. The second shot had
+broken a hind leg. The scratching places he had made were efforts to
+regain the use of this limb, and at one of them the deer had fallen and
+parted the rag of skin by which the antler hung.
+
+It was Rolf's first important trailing on the ground; it showed how
+possible it was, and how quickly he was learning the hardest of all the
+feats of woodcraft.
+
+
+
+Chapter 49. Rolf Gets Lost
+
+Every one who lives in the big woods gets lost at some time. Yes, even
+Daniel Boone did sometimes go astray. And whether it is to end as a joke
+or a horrible tragedy depends entirely on the way in which the person
+takes it. This is, indeed, the grand test of a hunter and scout, the
+trial of his knowledge, his muscle, and, above everything, his courage;
+and, like all supreme trials, it comes without warning.
+
+The wonderful flocks of wild pigeons had arrived. For a few days in May
+they were there in millions, swarming over the ground in long-reaching
+hordes, walking along, pecking and feeding, the rearmost flying on
+ahead, ever to the front. The food they sought so eagerly now was
+chiefly the seeds of the slippery elm, tiny nuts showered down on wings
+like broad-brimmed hats. And when the flock arose at some alarm, the
+sound was like that of the sea beach in a storm.
+
+There seemed to be most pigeons in the low country southeast of the
+lake, of course, because, being low, it had most elms. So Rolf took
+his bow and arrows, crossed in the canoe, and confidently set about
+gathering in a dozen or two for broilers.
+
+It is amazing how well the game seems to gauge the range of your weapon
+and keep the exact safe distance. It is marvellous how many times you
+may shoot an arrow into a flock of pigeons and never kill one. Rolf went
+on and on, always in sight of the long, straggling flocks on the ground
+or in the air, but rarely within range of them. Again and again he fired
+a random shot into the distant mass, without success for two hours.
+Finally a pigeon was touched and dropped, but it rose as he ran forward,
+and flew ten yards, to drop once more. Again he rushed at it, but it
+fluttered out of reach and so led him on and on for about half an hour's
+breathless race, until at last he stopped, took deliberate aim, and
+killed it with an arrow.
+
+Now a peculiar wailing and squealing from the woods far ahead attracted
+him. He stalked and crawled for many minutes before he found out, as he
+should have known, that it was caused by a mischievous bluejay.
+
+At length he came to a spring in a low hollow, and leaving his bow and
+arrows on a dry log, he went down to get a drink.
+
+As he arose, he found himself face to face with a doe and a fat,
+little yearling buck, only twenty yards away. They stared at him, quite
+unalarmed, and, determining to add the yearling to his bag, Rolf went
+back quietly to his bow and arrows.
+
+The deer were just out of range now, but inclined to take a curious
+interest in the hunter. Once when he stood still for a long time,
+they walked forward two or three steps; but whenever he advanced, they
+trotted farther away.
+
+To kill a deer with an arrow is quite a feat of woodcraft, and Rolf was
+keen to show his prowess; so he kept on with varying devices, and was
+continually within sight of the success that did not actually arrive.
+
+Then the deer grew wilder and loped away, as he entered another valley
+that was alive with pigeons.
+
+He was feeling hungry now, so he plucked the pigeon he had secured, made
+a fire with the flint and steel he always carried, then roasted the bird
+carefully on a stick, and having eaten it, felt ready for more travel.
+
+The day was cloudy, so he could not see the sun; but he knew it was
+late, and he made for camp.
+
+The country he found himself in was entirely strange to him, and the
+sun's whereabouts doubtful; but he knew the general line of travel and
+strode along rapidly toward the place where he had left the canoe.
+
+After two hours' tramping, he was surprised at not seeing the lake
+through the trees, and he added to his pace.
+
+Three hours passed and still no sign of the water.
+
+He began to think he had struck too far to the north; so corrected his
+course and strode along with occasional spells of trotting. But another
+hour wore away and no lake appeared.
+
+Then Rolf knew he was off his bearings. He climbed a tree and got a
+partial view of the country. To the right was a small hill. He made for
+that. The course led him through a hollow. In this he recognized two
+huge basswood trees, that gave him a reassuring sense. A little farther
+he came on a spring, strangely like the one he had left some hours
+ago. As he stooped to drink, he saw deer tracks, then a human track. He
+studied it. Assuredly it was his own track, though now it seemed on the
+south side instead of the north. He stared at the dead gray sky, hoping
+for sign of sun, but it gave no hint. He tramped off hastily toward the
+hill that promised a lookout. He went faster and faster. In half an hour
+the woods opened a little, then dipped. He hastened down, and at the
+bottom found himself standing by the same old spring, though again it
+had changed its north bearing.
+
+He was stunned by this succession of blows. He knew now he was lost in
+the woods; had been tramping in a circle.
+
+The spring whirled around him; it seemed now north and now south. His
+first impulse was to rush madly northwesterly, as he understood it. He
+looked at all the trees for guidance. Most moss should be on the north
+side. It would be so, if all trees were perfectly straight and evenly
+exposed, but alas! none are so. All lean one way or another, and by
+the moss he could prove any given side to be north. He looked for the
+hemlock top twigs. Tradition says they always point easterly; but now
+they differed among themselves as to which was east.
+
+Rolf got more and more worried. He was a brave boy, but grim fear came
+into his mind as he realized that he was too far from camp to be heard;
+the ground was too leafy for trailing him; without help he could not get
+away from that awful spring. His head began to swim, when all at once he
+remembered a bit of advice his guide had given him long ago: “Don't get
+scared when you're lost. Hunger don't kill the lost man, and it ain't
+cold that does it; it's being afraid. Don't be afraid, and everything
+will come out all right.”
+
+So, instead of running, Rolf sat down to think it over.
+
+“Now,” said he, “I went due southeast all day from the canoe.” Then he
+stopped; like a shock it came to him that he had not seen the sun all
+day. Had he really gone southeast? It was a devastating thought, enough
+to unhinge some men; but again Rolf said to himself “Never mind, now;
+don't get scared, and it'll be all right. In the morning the sky will be
+clear.”
+
+As he sat pondering, a red squirrel chippered and scolded from a near
+tree; closer and closer the impudent creature came to sputter at the
+intruder.
+
+Rolf drew his bow, and when the blunt arrow dropped to the ground, there
+also dropped the red squirrel, turned into acceptable meat. Rolf put
+this small game into his pocket, realizing that this was his supper.
+
+It would soon be dark now, so he prepared to spend the night.
+
+While yet he could see, he gathered a pile of dry wood into a sheltered
+hollow. Then he made a wind-break and a bed of balsam boughs. Flint,
+steel, tinder, and birch bark soon created a cheerful fire, and there is
+no better comforter that the lone lost man can command.
+
+The squirrel roasted in its hide proved a passable supper, and Rolf
+curled up to sleep. The night would have been pleasant and uneventful,
+but that it turned chilly, and when the fire burnt low, the cold
+awakened him, so he had a succession of naps and fire-buildings.
+
+Soon after dawn, he heard a tremendous roaring, and in a few minutes the
+wood was filled again with pigeons.
+
+Rolf was living on the country now, so he sallied forth with his bow.
+Luck was with him; at the first shot he downed a big, fat cock. At the
+second he winged another, and as it scrambled through the brush, he
+rushed headlong in pursuit. It fluttered away beyond reach, half-flying,
+half-running, and Rolf, in reckless pursuit, went sliding and tumbling
+down a bank to land at the bottom with a horrid jar. One leg was twisted
+under him; he thought it was broken, for there was a fearful pain in
+the lower part. But when he pulled himself together he found no broken
+bones, indeed, but an ankle badly sprained. Now his situation was truly
+grave, for he was crippled and incapable of travelling.
+
+He had secured the second bird, and crawling painfully and slowly back
+to the fire, he could not but feel more and more despondent and gloomy
+as the measure of his misfortune was realized.
+
+“There is only one thing that can shame a man, that is to be afraid.”
+ And again, “There's always a way out.” These were the sayings that came
+ringing through his head to his heart; one was from Quonab, the other
+from old Sylvanne. Yes, there's always a way, and the stout heart can
+always find it.
+
+Rolf prepared and cooked the two birds, made a breakfast of one and put
+the other in his pocket for lunch, not realizing at the time that his
+lunch would be eaten on this same spot. More than once, as he sat, small
+flocks of ducks flew over the trees due northward. At length the sky,
+now clear, was ablaze with the rising sun, and when it came, it was in
+Rolf's western sky.
+
+Now he comprehended the duck flight. They were really heading southeast
+for their feeding grounds on the Indian Lake, and Rolf, had he been able
+to tramp, could have followed, but his foot was growing worse. It was
+badly swollen, and not likely to be of service for many a day--perhaps
+weeks--and it took all of his fortitude not to lie down and weep over
+this last misfortune.
+
+Again came the figure of that grim, kindly, strong old pioneer, with the
+gray-blue eyes and his voice was saying: “Jest when things looks about
+as black as they can look, if ye hold steady, keep cool and kind,
+something sure happens to make it all easy. There's always a way and the
+stout heart will find it.”
+
+What way was there for him? He would die of hunger and cold before
+Quonab could find him, and again came the spectre of fear. If only he
+could devise some way of letting his comrade know. He shouted once or
+twice, in the faint hope that the still air might carry the sound, but
+the silent wood was silent when he ceased.
+
+Then one of his talks with Quonab came to mind. He remembered how the
+Indian, as a little papoose, had been lost for three days. Though, then
+but ten years old, he had built a smoke fire that brought him help.
+Yes, that was the Indian way; two smokes means “I am lost”; “double for
+trouble.”
+
+Fired by this new hope, Rolf crawled a little apart from his camp
+and built a bright fire, then smothered it with rotten wood and green
+leaves. The column of smoke it sent up was densely white and towered
+above the trees.
+
+Then painfully he hobbled and crawled to a place one hundred yards away,
+and made another smoke. Now all he could do was wait.
+
+A fat pigeon, strayed from its dock, sat on a bough above his camp, in
+a way to tempt Providence. Rolf drew a blunt arrow to the head and
+speedily had the pigeon in hand for some future meal.
+
+As he prepared it, he noticed that its crop was crammed with the winged
+seed of the slippery elm, so he put them all back again into the body
+when it was cleaned, knowing well that they are a delicious food and in
+this case would furnish a welcome variant to the bird itself.
+
+An hour crawled by. Rolf had to go out to the far fire, for it was
+nearly dead. Instinctively he sought a stout stick to help him; then
+remembered how Hoag had managed with one leg and two crutches. “Ho!” he
+exclaimed. “That is the answer--this is the 'way.”'
+
+Now his attention was fixed on all the possible crutches. The trees
+seemed full of them, but all at impossible heights. It was long before
+he found one that he could cut with his knife. Certainly he was an hour
+working at it; then he heard a sound that made his blood jump.
+
+From far away in the north it came, faint but reaching;
+
+“Ye-hoo-o.”
+
+Rolf dropped his knife and listened with the instinctively open mouth
+that takes all pressure from the eardrums and makes them keen. It came
+again: “Ye-hoo-o.” No mistake now, and Rolf sent the ringing answer
+back:
+
+“Ye-hoo-o, ye-hoo-o.”
+
+In ten minutes there was a sharp “yap, yap,” and Skookum bounded out of
+the woods to leap and bark around Rolf, as though he knew all about it;
+while a few minutes later, came Quonab striding.
+
+“Ho, boy,” he said, with a quiet smile, and took Rolf's hand. “Ugh!
+That was good,” and he nodded to the smoke fire. “I knew you were in
+trouble.”
+
+“Yes,” and Rolf pointed to the swollen ankle.
+
+The Indian picked up the lad in his arms and carried him back to the
+little camp. Then, from his light pack, he took bread and tea and made a
+meal for both. And, as they ate, each heard the other's tale.
+
+“I was troubled when you did not come back last night, for you had no
+food or blanket. I did not sleep. At dawn I went to the hill, where
+I pray, and looked away southeast where you went in the canoe. I saw
+nothing. Then I went to a higher hill, where I could see the northeast,
+and even while I watched, I saw the two smokes, so I knew my son was
+alive.”
+
+“You mean to tell me I am northeast of camp?”
+
+“About four miles. I did not come very quickly, because I had to go for
+the canoe and travel here.
+
+“How do you mean by canoe?” said Rolf, in surprise.
+
+“You are only half a mile from Jesup River,” was the reply. “I soon bring
+you home.”
+
+It was incredible at first, but easy of proof. With the hatchet they
+made a couple of serviceable crutches and set out together.
+
+In twenty minutes they were afloat in the canoe; in an hour they
+were safely home again.
+
+And Rolf pondered it not a little. At the very moment of blackest
+despair, the way had opened, and it had been so simple, so natural, so
+effectual. Surely, as long as he lived, he would remember it. “There is
+always a way, and the stout heart will find it.”
+
+
+
+Chapter 50. Marketing the Fur
+
+If Rolf had been at home with his mother, she would have rubbed his
+black and swollen ankle with goose grease. The medical man at Stamford
+would have rubbed it with a carefully prepared and secret ointment. His
+Indian friend sang a little crooning song and rubbed it with deer's fat.
+All different, and all good, because each did something to reassure the
+patient, to prove that big things were doing on his behalf, and each
+helped the process of nature by frequent massage.
+
+Three times a day, Quonab rubbed that blackened ankle. The grease saved
+the skin from injury, and in a week Rolf had thrown his crutches away.
+
+The month of May was nearly gone; June was at hand; that is, the spring
+was over.
+
+In all ages, man has had the impulse, if not the habit, of spring
+migration. Yielding to it he either migrated or made some radical change
+in his life. Most of the Adirondack men who trapped in the winter sought
+work on the log drives in spring; some who had families and a permanent
+home set about planting potatoes and plying the fish nets. Rolf and
+Quonab having neither way open, yet feeling the impulse, decided to go
+out to Warren's with the fur.
+
+Quonab wanted tobacco--and a change.
+
+Rolf wanted a rifle, and to see the Van Trumpers--and a change.
+
+So June 1st saw them all aboard, with Quonab steering at the stern, and
+Skookum bow-wowing at the bow, bound for the great centre of Warren's
+settlement--one store and three houses, very wide apart.
+
+There was a noble flush of water in the streams, and, thanks to their
+axe work in September, they passed down Jesup's River without a pause,
+and camped on the Hudson that night, fully twenty-five miles from home.
+
+Long, stringing flocks of pigeons going north were the most numerous
+forms of life. But a porcupine on the bank and a bear in the water
+aroused Skookum to a pitch of frightful enthusiasm and vaulting ambition
+that he was forced to restrain.
+
+On the evening of the third day they landed at Warren's and found a
+hearty welcome from the trader, who left a group of loafers and came
+forward:
+
+“Good day to ye, boy. My, how ye have growed.”
+
+So he had. Neither Rolf nor Quonab had remarked it, but now they
+were much of the same height. “Wall, an' how'd ye make out with yer
+hunt?--Ah, that's fine!” as each of them dropped a fur pack on the
+counter. “Wall, this is fine; we must have a drink on the head of it,”
+ and the trader was somewhat nonplussed when both the trappers refused.
+He was disappointed, too, for that refusal meant that they would get
+much better prices for their fun But he concealed his chagrin and
+rattled on: “I reckon I'll sell you the finest rifle in the country this
+time,” and he knew by Rolf's face that there was business to do in that
+line.
+
+Now came the listing of the fur, and naturally the bargaining was
+between the shrewd Yankee boy and the trader. The Indian stood shyly
+aside, but he did not fail to help with significant grunts and glances.
+
+“There, now,” said Warren, as the row of martens were laid out side
+by side, “thirty martens--a leetle pale--worth three dollars and fifty
+cents each, or, to be generous, we'll say four dollars.” Rolf glanced
+at Quonab, who, unseen by the trader shook his head, held his right hand
+out, open hollow up, then raised it with a jerk for two inches.
+
+Quickly Rolf caught the idea and said; “No, I don't reckon them pale.
+I call them prime dark, every one of them.” Quonab spread his hand with
+all five fingers pointed up, and Rolf continued, “They are worth five
+dollars each, if they're worth a copper.”
+
+“Phew!” said the trader. “you forget fur is an awful risky thing; what
+with mildew, moth, mice, and markets, we have a lot of risk. But I
+want to please you, so let her go; five each. There's a fine black fox;
+that's worth forty dollars.”
+
+“I should think it is,” said Rolf, as Quonab, by throwing to his right
+an imaginary pinch of sand, made the sign “refuse.”
+
+They had talked over the value of that fox skin and Rolf said, “Why, I
+know of a black fox that sold for two hundred dollars.”
+
+“Where?”
+
+“Oh, down at Stamford.”
+
+“Why, that's near New York.”
+
+“Of course; don't you send your fur to New York?”
+
+“Yes, but it costs a lot to get it there.
+
+“Now,” said Warren, “if you'll take it in trade, I'll meet you half-way
+and call it one hundred dollars.”
+
+“Make it one hundred and twenty-five dollars and I'll take a rifle,
+anyway.”
+
+“Phew!” whistled the trader. “Where do ye get such notions?”
+
+“Nothing wrong about the notion; old Si Sylvanne offered me pretty near
+that, if I'd come out his way with the stuff.”
+
+This had the desired effect of showing that there were other traders. At
+last the deal was closed. Besides the fox skin, they had three hundred
+dollars' worth of fur. The exchange for the fox skin was enough to buy
+all the groceries and dry goods they needed. But Rolf had something else
+in mind.
+
+He had picked out some packages of candies, some calico prints and
+certain bright ribbons, when the trader grasped the idea. “I see; yer
+goin' visitin'. Who is it? Must be the Van Trumpers!”
+
+Rolf nodded and now he got some very intelligent guidance. He did not
+buy Annette's dress, because part of her joy was to be the expedition
+in person to pick it out; but he stocked up with some gorgeous pieces
+of jewellery that were ten cents each, and ribbons whose colours were
+as far beyond expression as were the joys they could create in the
+backwoods female heart.
+
+Proudly clutching his new rlile, and carrying in his wallet a memorandum
+of three hundred dollars for their joint credit, Rolf felt himself a
+person of no little importance. As he was stepping out of the store, the
+trader said, “Ye didn't run across Jack Hoag agin, did ye?”
+
+“Did we? Hmph!” and Rolf told briefly of their experience with that
+creature.
+
+“Just like him, just like him; served him right; he was a dirty cuss.
+But, say; don't you be led into taking your fur out Lyons Falls way.
+They're a mean lot in there, and it stands to reason I can give you
+better prices, being a hundred miles nearer New York.”
+
+And that lesson was not forgotten. The nearer New York the better the
+price; seventy-five dollars at Lyons Falls; one hundred and twenty-five
+dollars at Warren's; two hundred dollars at New York. Rolf pondered long
+and the idea was one which grew and bore fruit.
+
+
+
+Chapter 51. Back at Van Trumper's
+
+“Nibowaka”--Quonab always said “Nibowaka” when he was impressed with
+Rolf's astuteness--“What about the canoe and stuff?”
+
+“I think we better leave all here. Callan will lend us a canoe.” So they
+shouldered the guns, Rolf clung to his, and tramped across the portage,
+reaching Callan's in less than two hours.
+
+“Why, certainly you can have the canoe, but come in and eat first,” was
+the kindly backwoods greeting. However, Rolf was keen to push on; they
+launched the canoe at once and speedily were flashing their paddles on
+the lake.
+
+The place looked sweetly familiar as they drew near. The crops in the
+fields were fair; the crop of chickens at the barn was good; and the
+crop of children about the door was excellent.
+
+“Mein Hemel! mein Hemel!” shouted fat old Hendrik, as they walked up
+to the stable door. In a minute he was wringing their hands and smiling
+into great red, white, and blue smiles. “Coom in, coom in, lad. Hi,
+Marta, here be Rolf and Quonab. Mein Hemel! mein Hemel! what am I now so
+happy.”
+
+“Where's Annette?” asked Rolf.
+
+“Ach, poor Annette, she fever have a little; not mooch, some,” and he
+led over to a corner where on a low cot lay Annette, thin, pale, and
+listless.
+
+She smiled faintly, in response, when Rolf stooped and kissed her.
+
+“Why, Annette, I came back to see you. I want to take you over to
+Warren's store, so you can pick out that dress. See, I brought you my
+first marten and I made this box for you; you must thank Skookum for the
+quills on it.”
+
+“Poor chile; she bin sick all spring,” and Marta used a bunch of sedge
+to drive away the flies and mosquitoes that, bass and treble, hovered
+around the child.
+
+“What ails her?” asked Rolf anxiously.
+
+“Dot ve do not know,” was the reply.
+
+“Maybe there's some one here can tell,” and Roll glanced at the Indian.
+
+“Ach, sure! Have I you that not always told all-vays--eet is so.
+All-vays, I want sumpin bad mooch. I prays de good Lord and all-vays,
+all-vays, two times now, He it send by next boat. Ach, how I am spoil,”
+ and the good Dutchman's eyes filled with tears of thankfulness.
+
+Quonab knelt by the sufferer. He felt her hot, dry hand; he noticed her
+short, quick breathing, her bright eyes, and the untouched bowl of mush
+by her bed.
+
+“Swamp fever,” he said. “I bring good medicine.” He passed quietly out
+into the woods. When he returned, he carried a bundle of snake-root
+which he made into tea.
+
+Annette did not wish to touch it, but her mother persuaded her to take a
+few sips from a cup held by Rolf.
+
+“Wah! this not good,” and Quonab glanced about the close, fly-infested
+room. “I must make lodge.” He turned up the cover of the bedding; three
+or four large, fiat brown things moved slowly out of the light. “Yes, I
+make lodge.”
+
+It was night now, and all retired; the newcomers to the barn. They had
+scarcely entered, when a screaming of poultry gave a familiar turn
+to affairs. On running to the spot, it proved not a mink or coon, but
+Skookum, up to his old tricks. On the appearance of his masters, he fled
+with guilty haste, crouched beneath the post that he used to be, and
+soon again was, chained to.
+
+In the morning Quonab set about his lodge, and Rolf said: “I've got to
+go to Warren's for sugar.” The sugar was part truth and part blind. As
+soon as he heard the name swamp fever, Rolf remembered that, in Redding,
+Jesuit's bark (known later as quinine) was the sovereign remedy. He had
+seen his mother administer it many times, and, so far as he knew, with
+uniform success. Every frontier (or backwoods, it's the same) trader
+carries a stock of medicine, and in two hours Rolf left Warren's counter
+with twenty-five pounds of maple sugar and a bottle of quinine extract
+in his pack.
+
+“You say she's bothered with the flies; why don't you take some of
+this new stuff for a curtain?” and the trader held up a web of mosquito
+gauze, the first Rolf had seen. That surely was a good idea, and ten
+yards snipped off was a most interesting addition to his pack. The
+amount was charged against him, and in two hours more he was back at Van
+Trumper's.
+
+On the cool side of the house, Quonab had built a little lodge, using
+a sheet for cover. On a low bed of pine boughs lay the child. Near the
+door was a smouldering fire of cedar, whose aromatic fumes on the lazy
+wind reached every cranny of the lodge.
+
+Sitting by the bed head, with a chicken wing to keep off the few
+mosquitoes, was the Indian. The child's eyes were closed; she was
+sleeping peacefully. Rolf crept gently forward, laid his hand on hers,
+it was cool and moist. He went into the house with his purchases; the
+mother greeted him with a happy look: Yes, Annette was a little better;
+she had slept quietly ever since she was taken outdoors. The mother
+could not understand. Why should the Indian want to have her surrounded
+by pine boughs? why cedar-smoke? and why that queer song? Yes, there it
+was again. Rolf went out to see and hear. Softly summing on a tin
+pan, with a mudded stick, the Indian sang a song. The words which Rolf
+learned in the after-time were:
+
+“Come, Kaluskap, drive the witches; Those who came to harm the dear
+one.”
+
+Annette moved not, but softly breathed, as she slept a sweet, restful
+slumber, the first for many days.
+
+“Vouldn't she be better in de house?” whispered the anxious mother.
+
+“No, let Quonab do his own way,” and Rolf wondered if any white man had
+sat by little Wee-wees to brush away the flies from his last bed.
+
+
+
+Chapter 52. Annette's New Dress
+
+     Deep feelin's ain't any count by themselves; work 'em off,
+     an' ye're somebody; weep 'em off an' you'd be more use with
+     a heart o' stone--Sayings of Si Sylvanne.
+
+“Quonab, I am going out to get her a partridge.” “Ugh, good.”
+
+So Rolf went off. For a moment he was inclined to grant Skookom's prayer
+for leave to, follow, but another and better plan came in mind. Skookum
+would most likely find a mother partridge, which none should kill in
+June, and there was a simple way to find a cock; that was, listen. It
+was now the evening calm, and before Rolf had gone half a mile he
+heard the distant “Thump, thump, thump, thump--rrrrrrr” of a partridge,
+drumming. He went quickly and cautiously toward the place, then waited
+for the next drumming. It was slow in coming, so he knelt down by a
+mossy, rotten log, and struck it with his hands to imitate the thump and
+roll of the partridge. At once this challenge procured response.
+
+“Thump--thump--thump,, thump rrrrrrrrrrrr” it came, with martial swing
+and fervour, and crawling nearer, Rolf spied the drummer, pompously
+strutting up and down a log some forty yards away. He took steady aim,
+not for the head--a strange gun, at forty yards--for the body. At the
+crack, the bird fell dead, and in Rolf's heart there swelled up a little
+gush of joy, which he believed was all for the sake of the invalid, but
+which a finer analysis might have proved to be due quite as much to
+pride in himself and his newly bought gun.
+
+Night was coming on when he got back, and he found the Dutch parents
+in some excitement. “Dot Indian he gay no bring Annette indoors for de
+night. How she sleep outdoors--like dog--like Bigger--like tramp? Yah
+it is bad, ain't it?” and poor old Hendrik looked sadly upset and
+mystified.
+
+“Hendrik, do you suppose God turns out worse air in the night than in
+the day?”
+
+“Ach, dunno.”
+
+“Well, you see Quonab knows what he's doing.”
+
+“Yah.”
+
+“Well, let him do it. He or I'll sleep alongside the child she'll be
+all right,” and Rolf thought of those horrible brown crawlers under the
+bedding indoors.
+
+Rolf had much confidence in the Indian as a doctor, but he had more in
+his own mother. He was determined to give Annette the quinine, yet he
+hesitated to interfere. At length, he said: “It is cool enough now; I
+will put these thin curtains round her bed.”
+
+“Ugh, good!” but the red man sat there while it was being done.
+
+“You need not stay now; I'll watch her, Quonab.”
+
+“Soon, give more medicine,” was the reply that Rolf did not want. So he
+changed his ruse. “I wish you'd take that partridge and make soup of it.
+I've had my hands in poison ivy, so I dare not touch it.”
+
+“Ach, dot shall I do. Dot kin myself do,” and the fat mother, laying the
+recent baby in its cradle, made cumbrous haste to cook the bird.
+
+“Foiled again,” was Rolf's thought, but his Yankee wit was with him. He
+laid one hand on the bowl of snake-root tea. It was lukewarm. “Do you
+give it hot or cold, Quonab?”
+
+“Hot.”
+
+“I'll take it in and heat it.” He carried it off, thinking, “If Quonab
+won't let me give the bark extract, I'll make him give it.” In the gloom
+of the kitchen he had no difficulty in adding to the tea, quite unseen,
+a quarter of the extract; when heated, he brought it again, and the
+Indian himself gave the dose.
+
+As bedtime drew near, and she heard the red man say he would sleep
+there, the little one said feebly, “Mother, mother,” then whispered in
+her mother's ear, “I want Rolf.”
+
+Rolf spread his blanket by the cot and slept lightly. Once or twice he
+rose to look at Annette. She was moving in her sleep, but did not awake.
+He saw to it that the mosquito bar was in place, and slept till morning.
+
+There was no question that the child was better. The renewed interest in
+food was the first good symptom, and the partridge served the end of its
+creation. The snakeroot and the quinine did noble work, and thenceforth
+her recovery was rapid. It was natural for her mother to wish the child
+back indoors. It was a matter of course that she should go. It was
+accepted as an unavoidable evil that they should always have those brown
+crawlers about the bed.
+
+But Rolf felt differently. He knew what his mother would have thought
+and done. It meant another visit to Warren's, and the remedy he brought
+was a strong-smelling oil, called in those days “rock oil”--a crude
+petroleum. When all cracks in the bed and near wall were treated with
+this, it greatly mitigated, if it did not quite end, the nuisance of the
+“plague that walks in the dark.”
+
+Meanwhile, Quonab had made good his welcome by working on the farm. But
+when a week had flown, he showed signs of restlessness. “We have enough
+money, Nibowaka, why do we stay?”
+
+Rolf was hauling a bucket of water from the well at the time. He stopped
+with his burden on the well-sweep, gazed into the well, and said slowly:
+“I don't know.” If the truth were set forth, it would be that this was
+the only home circle he knew. It was the clan feeling that held him, and
+soon it was clearly the same reason that was driving Quonab to roam.
+
+“I have heard,” said the Indian, “that my people still dwell in Canada,
+beyond Rouse's Point. I would see them. I will come again in the Red
+Moon (August).”
+
+So they hired a small canoe, and one bright morning, with Skookum in the
+bow, Quonab paddled away on his voyage of 120 miles on the plead waters
+of Lakes George and Champlain. His canoe became a dark spot on the
+water; slowly it faded till only the flashing paddle was seen, and that
+was lost around a headland.
+
+The next day Rolf was sorry he let Quonab go alone, for it was evident
+that Van Trumper needed no help for a month yet; that is, he could not
+afford to hire, and while it was well enough for Rolf to stay a few days
+and work to equalize his board, the arrangement would not long continue
+satisfactory to both.
+
+Yet there was one thing he must do before leaving, take Annette to pick
+out her dress. She was well again now, and they set off one morning
+in the canoe, she and Rolf. Neither father nor mother could leave the
+house. They had their misgivings, but what could they do? She was
+bright and happy, full of the childish joy that belongs to that age, and
+engaged on such an important errand for the first time in her life.
+
+There was something more than childish joy showing in her face, an older
+person would have seen that, but it was largely lost on Rolf. There was
+a tendency to blush when she laughed, a disposition to tease her “big
+brother,” to tyrannize over him in little things.
+
+“Now, you tell me some more about 'Robinson Crusoe,'” she began, as soon
+as they were in the canoe, and Rolf resumed the ancient, inspiring tale
+to have it listened to eagerly, but criticized from the standpoint of
+a Lake George farm. “Where was his wife?” “How could he have a farm
+without hens?” “Dried grapes must be nice, but I'd rather have pork than
+goat,” etc.
+
+Rolf, of course, took the part of Robinson Crusoe, and it gave him a
+little shock to hear Quonab called his man Friday.
+
+At the west side they were to invite Mrs. Callan to join their shopping
+trip, but in any case they were to borrow a horse and buckboard. Neither
+Mrs. Callan nor the buckboard was available, but they were welcome to
+the horse. So Annette was made comfortable on a bundle of blankets,
+and chattered incessantly while Rolf walked alongside with the grave
+interest and superiority of a much older brother. So they crossed the
+five-mile portage and came to Warren's store. Nervous and excited,
+with sparkling eyes, Annette laid down her marten skin, received five
+dollars, and set about the tremendous task of selecting her first dress
+of really, truly calico print; and Rolf realized that the joy he had
+found in his new rifle was a very small affair, compared with the
+epoch-making, soul-filling, life-absorbing, unspeakable, and cataclysmal
+bliss that a small girl can have in her first chance of unfettered
+action in choice of a cotton print.
+
+“Beautiful?” How can mere words do justice to masses of yellow corn,
+mixed recklessly with green and scarlet poppies on a bright blue ground.
+No, you should have seen Annette's dress, or you cannot expect to get
+the adequate thrill. And when they found that there was enough cash left
+over to add a red cotton parasol to the glorious spoils, every one there
+beamed in a sort of friendly joy, and the trader, carried away by the
+emotions of the hour, contributed a set of buttons of shining brass.
+
+Warren kept a “meal house,” which phrase was a ruse that saved him from
+a burdensome hospitality. Determined to do it all in the best style,
+Rolf took Annette to the meal-house table. She was deeply awed by the
+grandeur of a tablecloth and white plates, but every one was kind.
+
+Warren, talking to a stranger opposite, and evidently resuming a subject
+they had discussed, said:
+
+“Yes, I'd like to send the hull lot down to Albany this week, if I could
+get another man for the canoe.”
+
+Rolf was interested at once and said: “What wages are you offering?”
+
+“Twenty-five dollars and board.”
+
+“How will I do?”
+
+“Well,” said Warren, as though thinking it over: “I dunno but ye would.
+Could ye go to-morrow?”
+
+“Yes, indeed, for one month.”
+
+“All right, it's a bargain.”
+
+And so Rolf took the plunge that influenced his whole life.
+
+But Annette whispered gleefully and excitedly, “May I have some of that,
+and that?” pointing to every strange food she could see, and got them
+all.
+
+After noon they set out on their return journey, Annette clutching her
+prizes, and prattling incessantly, while Rolf walked alongside, thinking
+deeply, replying to her chatter, but depressed by the thought of
+good-bye tomorrow. He was aroused at length by a scraping sound overhead
+and a sharp reprimand, “Rolf, you'll tear my new parasol, if you don't
+lead the horse better.”
+
+By two o'clock they were at Callan's. Another hour and they had crossed
+the lake, and Annette, shrill with joy, was displaying her treasures to
+the wonder and envy of her kin.
+
+Making a dress was a simple matter in those and Marta promised: “Yah,
+soom day ven I one have, shall I it sew.” Meanwhile, Annette was
+quaffing deep, soul-satisfying draughts in the mere contempt of the
+yellow, red, green, and blue glories in which was soon to appear in
+public. And when the bed came, she fell asleep holding the dress-goods
+stuff in arms, and with the red parasol spread above her head, tired
+out, but inexpressibly happy.
+
+
+
+Chapter 53. Travelling to the Great City
+
+     He's a bad failure that ain't king in some little corner.
+     --Sayings of Sylvanne Sylvanne
+
+The children were not astir when Rolf was off in the morning. He caught
+a glimpse of Annette, still asleep under the red parasol, but the dress
+goods and the brass buttons had fallen to the floor. He stepped into the
+canoe. The dead calm of early morning was on the water, and the little
+craft went skimming and wimpling across. In half an hour it was beached
+at Callan's. In a little more than an hour's jog and stride he was at
+Warren's, ready for work. As he marched in, strong and brisk, his colour
+up, his blue eyes kindled with the thought of seeing Albany, the trader
+could not help being struck by him, especially when he remembered each
+of their meetings--meetings in which he discerned a keen, young mind of
+good judgment, one that could decide quickly.
+
+Gazing at the lithe, red-checked lad, he said: “Say, Rolf, air ye an
+Injun??”
+
+“No, sir.”
+
+“Air ye a half-breed?”
+
+“No, I'm a Yank; my name is Kittering; born and bred in Redding,
+Connecticut.”
+
+“Well, I swan, ye look it. At fust I took ye fur an Injun; ye did look
+dark (and Rolf laughed inside, as he thought of that butternut dye), but
+I'm bound to say we're glad yer white.”
+
+“Here, Bill, this is Rolf, Rolf Kittering, he'll go with ye to
+Albany.” Bill, a loose-jointed, middle-aged, flat-footed, large-handed,
+semi-loafer, with keen gray eyes, looked up from a bundle he was roping.
+
+Then Warren took Rolf aside and explained: “I'm sending down all my fur
+this trip. There's ten bales of sixty pounds each, pretty near my hull
+fortune. I want it took straight to Vandam's, and, night or day, don't
+leave it till ye git it there. He's close to the dock. I'm telling ye
+this for two reasons: The river's swarming with pirates and sneaks.
+They'd like nothing better than to get away with a five-hundred-dollar
+bundle of fur; and, next, while Bill is A1 on the river and true as
+steel, he's awful weak on the liquor; goes crazy, once it's in him. And
+I notice you've always refused it here. So don't stop at Troy, an'
+when ye get to Albany go straight past there to Vandam's. You'll have
+a letter that'll explain, and he'll supply the goods yer to bring back.
+He's a sort of a partner, and orders from him is same as from me.
+
+“I suppose I ought to go myself, but this is the time all the fur is
+coming in here, an' I must be on hand to do the dickering, and there's
+too much much to risk it any longer in the storehouse.”
+
+“Suppose,” said Rolf, “Bill wants to stop at Troy?”
+
+“He won't. He's all right, given he's sober. I've give him the letter.”
+
+“Couldn't you give me the letter, in case?”
+
+“Law, Bill'd get mad and quit.”
+
+“He'll never know.”
+
+“That's so; I will.” So when they paddled away, Bill had an important
+letter of instructions ostentatiously tucked in his outer pocket.
+Rolf, unknown to any one else but Warren, had a duplicate, wrapped in
+waterproof, hidden in an inside pocket.
+
+Bill was A1 on the river; a kind and gentle old woodman, much stronger
+than he looked. He knew the value of fur and the danger of wetting it,
+so he took no chances in doubtful rapids. This meant many portages and
+much hard labour.
+
+I wonder if the world realizes the hard labour of the portage or carry?
+Let any man who seeks for light, take a fifty-pound sack of flour on his
+shoulders and walk a quarter of a mile on level ground in cool weather.
+Unless he is in training, he will find it a heavy burden long before
+he is half-way. Suppose, instead of a flour sack, the burden has sharp
+angles; the bearer is soon in torture. Suppose the weight carried be
+double; then the strain is far more than doubled. Suppose, finally,
+the road be not a quarter mile but a mile, and not on level but through
+swamps, over rocks, logs, and roots, and the weather not cool, but
+suffocating summer weather in the woods, with mosquitoes boring into
+every exposed part, while both hands are occupied, steadying the burden
+or holding on to branches for help up steep places--and then he will
+have some idea of the horror of the portage; and there were many of
+these, each one calling for six loaded and five light trips for each
+canoe-man. What wonder that men will often take chances in some fierce
+rapid, rather than to make a long carry through the fly-infested woods.
+
+It was weighty evidence of Bill's fidelity that again and again they
+made a portage around rapids he had often run, because in the present
+case he was in sacred trust of that much prized commodity--fur.
+
+Eighty miles they called it from Warren's to Albany, but there were many
+halts and carries which meant long delay, and a whole week was covered
+before Bill and Rolf had passed the settlements of Glens Falls, Fort
+Edward, and Schuylerville, and guided their heavily laden canoe on the
+tranquil river, past the little town of Troy. Loafers hailed them from
+the bank, but Bill turned a deaf ear to all temptation; and they pushed
+on happy in the thought that now their troubles were over; the last
+rapid was past; the broad, smooth waters extended to their port.
+
+
+
+Chapter 54. Albany
+
+Only a man who in his youth has come at last in sight of some great city
+he had dreamed of all his life and longed to see, can enter into Rolf's
+feelings as they swept around the big bend, and Albany--Albany, hove in
+view. Albany, the first chartered city of the United States; Albany, the
+capital of all the Empire State; Albany, the thriving metropolis with
+nearly six thousand living human souls; Albany with its State House,
+beautiful and dignified, looking down the mighty Hudson highway that led
+to the open sea.
+
+Rolf knew his Bible, and now he somewhat realized the feelings of St.
+Paul on that historic day when his life-long dream came true, when
+first he neared the Eternal City--when at last he glimpsed the towers of
+imperial, splendid Rome.
+
+The long-strung docks were massed and webbed with ship rigging; the
+water was livened with boats and canoes; the wooden warehouses back of
+the docks were overtopped by wooden houses in tiers, until high above
+them all the Capitol itself was the fitting climax.
+
+Rolf knew something of shipping, and amid all the massed boats his eyes
+fell on a strange, square-looking craft with a huge water-wheel on each
+side. Then, swinging into better view, he read her name, the Clermont,
+and knew that this was the famous Fulton steamer, the first of the
+steamboat age.
+
+But Bill was swamped by no such emotion. Albany, Hudson, Clermont, and
+all, were familiar stories to him and he stolidly headed the canoe for
+the dock he knew of old.
+
+Loafers roosting on the snubbing posts hailed him, at first with
+raillery; but, coming nearer, he was recognized. “Hello, Bill; back
+again? Glad to see you,” and there was superabundant help to land the
+canoe.
+
+“Wall, wall, wall, so it's really you,” said the touter of a fur house,
+in extremely friendly voice; “come in now and we'll hev a drink.”
+
+“No, sir-ree,” said Bill decisively, “I don't drink till business is
+done.”
+
+“Wall, now, Bill, here's Van Roost's not ten steps away an' he hez
+tapped the finest bar'l in years.”
+
+“No, I tell ye, I'm not drinking--now.”
+
+“Wall, all right, ye know yer own business. I thought maybe ye'd be glad
+to see us.”
+
+“Well, ain't I?”
+
+“Hello, Bill,” and Bill's fat brother-in-law came up. “Thus does me good,
+an' yer sister is spilin' to see ye. We'll hev one on this.”
+
+“No, Sam, I ain't drinkin'; I've got biz to tend.”
+
+“Wall, hev just one to clear yer head. Then settle yer business and come
+back to us.”
+
+So Bill went to have one to clear his head. “I'll be back in two
+minutes, Rolf,” but Rolf saw him no more for many days.
+
+“You better come along, cub,” called out a red-nosed member of the
+group. But Rolf shook his head.
+
+“Here, I'll help you git them ashore,” volunteered an effusive stranger,
+with one eye.
+
+“I don't want help.”
+
+“How are ye gain' to handle 'em alone?”
+
+“Well, there's one thing I'd be glad to have ye do; that is, go up there
+and bring Peter Vandam.”
+
+“I'll watch yer stuff while you go.”
+
+“No, I can't leave.” “Then go to blazes; d'yte take me for yer errand
+boy?” And Rolf was left alone.
+
+He was green at the business, but already he was realizing the power of
+that word fur and the importance of the peltry trade. Fur was the one
+valued product of the wilderness that only the hunter could bring. The
+merchants of the world were as greedy for fur as for gold, and far more
+so than for precious stones.
+
+It was a commodity so light that, even in those days, a hundred weight
+of fur might range in value from one hundred to five thousand dollars,
+so that a man with a pack of fine furs was a capitalist. The profits
+of the business were good for trapper, very large for the trader, who
+doubled his first gain by paying in trade; but they were huge for the
+Albany middleman, and colossal for the New Yorker who shipped to London.
+
+With such allurements, it was small wonder that more country was
+explored and opened for fur than for settlement or even for gold; and
+there were more serious crimes and high-handed robberies over the right
+to trade a few furs than over any other legitimate business. These
+things were new to Rolf within the year, but he was learning the lesson,
+and Warren's remarks about fur stuck in his memory with growing value.
+Every incident since the trip began had given them new points.
+
+The morning passed without sign of Bill; so, when in the afternoon, some
+bare-legged boys came along, Rolf said to them: “Do any of ye know where
+Peter Vandam's house is?”
+
+“Yeh, that's it right there,” and they pointed to a large log house less
+than a hundred yards away.
+
+“Do ye know him?”
+
+“Yeh, he's my paw,” said a sun-bleached freckle-face.
+
+“If you bring him here right away, I'll give you a dime. Tell him I'm
+from Warren's with a cargo.”
+
+The dusty stampede that followed was like that of a mustang herd, for a
+dime was a dime in those days. And very soon, a tall, ruddy man appeared
+at the dock. He was a Dutchman in name only. At first sight he was much
+like the other loafers, but was bigger, and had a more business-like air
+when observed near at hand.
+
+“Are you from Warren's?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“Alone?”
+
+“No, sir. I came with Bill Bymus. But he went off early this morning; I
+haven't seen him since. I'm afraid he's in trouble.”
+
+“Where'd he go?”
+
+“In there with some friends.”
+
+“Ha, just like him; he's in trouble all right. He'll be no good for a
+week. Last time he came near losing all our stuff. Now let's see what
+ye've got.”
+
+“Are you Mr. Peter Vandam?”
+
+“Of course I am.”
+
+Still Rolf looked doubtful. There was a small group around, and Rolf
+heard several voices, “Yes, this is Peter; ye needn't a-worry.” But Rolf
+knew none of the speakers. His look of puzzlement at first annoyed then
+tickled the Dutchman, who exploded into a hearty guffaw.
+
+“Wall, wall, you sure think ill of us. Here, now look at that,” and he
+drew out a bundle of letters addressed to Master Peter Vandam. Then he
+displayed a gold watch inscribed on the back “Peter Vandam”; next he
+showed a fob seal with a scroll and an inscription, “Petrus Vandamus”;
+then he turned to a youngster and said, “Run, there is the Reverend
+Dr. Powellus, he may help us”; so the black-garbed, knee-breached,
+shovel-hatted clergyman came and pompously said: “Yes, my young friend,
+without doubt you may rest assured that this is our very estimable
+parishioner, Master Peter Vandam; a man well accounted in the world of
+trade.”
+
+“And now,” said Peter, “with the help of my birth-register and
+marriage-certificate, which will be placed at your service with all
+possible haste, I hope I may win your recognition.” The situation, at
+first tense, had become more and more funny, and the bystanders laughed
+aloud. Rolf rose to it, and smiling said slowly, “I am inclined to think
+that you must be Master Peter Vandam, of Albany. If that's so, this
+letter is for you, also this cargo.” And so the delivery was made.
+
+Bill Bymus has not delivered the other letter to this day. Presumably he
+went to stay with his sister, but she saw little of him, for his stay at
+Albany was, as usual, one long spree. It was clear that, but for
+Rolf, there might have been serious loss of fur, and Vandam showed his
+appreciation by taking the lad to his own home, where the story of
+the difficult identification furnished ground for gusty laughter and
+primitive jest on many an after day.
+
+The return cargo for Warren consisted of stores that the Vandam
+warehouse had in stock, and some stuff that took a day or more to
+collect in town.
+
+As Rolf was sorting and packing next day, a tall, thin, well-dressed
+young man walked in with the air of one much at home.
+
+“Good morrow, Peter.”
+
+“Good day to ye, sir,” and they talked of crops and politics.
+
+Presently Vandam said, “Rolf, come over here.”
+
+He came and was presented to the tall man, who was indeed very thin,
+and looked little better than an invalid. “This,” said Peter, “is Master
+Henry van Cortlandt the son of his honour, the governor, and a very
+learned barrister. He wants to go on a long hunting trip for his health.
+I tell him that likely you are the man he needs.”
+
+This was so unexpected that Rolf turned red and gazed on the ground. Van
+Cortlandt at once began to clear things by interjecting: “You see, I'm
+not strong. I want to live outdoors for three months, where I can have
+some hunting and be beyond reach of business. I'll pay you a hundred
+dollars for the three months, to cover board and guidance. And providing
+I'm well pleased and have good hunting, I'll give you fifty dollars more
+when I get back to Albany.”
+
+“I'd like much to be your guide,” said Rolf, “but I have a partner. I
+must find out if he's willing.”
+
+“Ye don't mean-that drunken Bill Bymus?”
+
+“No! my hunting partner; he's an Indian.” Then, after a pause, he added,
+“You wouldn't go in fly-time, would you?”
+
+“No, I want to be in peace. But any time after the first of August.”
+
+“I am bound to help Van Trumper with his harvest; that will take most of
+August.”
+
+As he talked, the young lawyer sized him up and said to himself, “This
+is my man.”
+
+And before they parted it was agreed that Rolf should come to Albany
+with Quonab as soon as he could return in August, to form the camping
+party for the governor's son.
+
+
+
+Chapter 55. The Rescue of Bill
+
+Bales were ready and the canoe newly gummed three days after
+their arrival, but still no sign of Bill. A messengers sent to the
+brother-in-law's home reported that he had not been seen for two days.
+In spite of the fact that Albany numbered nearly “six thousand living
+human souls,” a brief search by the docksharps soon revealed the
+sinner's retreat. His worst enemy would have pitied him; a red-eyed
+wreck; a starved, sick and trembling weakling; conscience-stricken,
+for the letter intrusted to him was lost; the cargo stolen--so his
+comforters had said--and the raw country lad murdered and thrown out
+into the river. What wonder that he should shun the light of day! And
+when big Peter with Rolf in the living flesh, instead of the sheriff,
+stood before him and told him to come out of that and get into the
+canoe, he wept bitter tears of repentance and vowed that never, never,
+never, as long as he lived would he ever again let liquor touch his
+lips. A frame of mind which lasted in strength for nearly one day and a
+half, and did not entirely varnish for three.
+
+They passed Troy without desiring to stop, and began their fight with
+the river. It was harder than when coming, for their course was against
+stream when paddling, up hill when portaging, the water was lower, the
+cargo was heavier, and Bill not so able. Ten days it took them to cover
+those eighty miles. But they came out safely, cargo and all, and landed
+at Warren's alive and well on the twenty-first day since leaving.
+
+Bill had recovered his usual form. Gravely and with pride he marched
+up to Warren and handed out a large letter which read outside, “Bill of
+Lading,” and when opened, read: “The bearer of this, Bill Bymus, is no
+good. Don't trust him to Albany any more. (Signed) Peter Vandam.”
+
+Warren's eyes twinkled, but he said nothing. He took
+
+Rolf aside and said, “Let's have it.” Rolf gave him the real letter
+that, unknown to Bill, he had carried, and Warren learned some things
+that he knew before.
+
+Rolf's contract was for a month; it had ten days to run, and those ten
+days were put in weighing sugar, checking accounts, milking cows, and
+watching the buying of fur. Warren didn't want him to see too much of
+the fur business, but Rolf gathered quickly that these were the main
+principles: Fill the seller with liquor, if possible; “fire water for
+fur” was the idea; next, grade all fur as medium or second-class, when
+cash was demanded, but be easy as long as payment was to be in trade.
+That afforded many loopholes between weighing, grading, charging, and
+shrinkage, and finally he noticed that Albany prices were 30 to 50 per
+cent. higher than Warren prices. Yet Warren was reckoned a first-class
+fellow, a good neighbour, and a member of the church. But it was
+understood everywhere that fur, like horseflesh, was a business with
+moral standards of its own.
+
+A few days before their contract was up, Warren said: “How'd ye like to
+renew for a month?”
+
+“Can't; I promised to help Van Trumper with his harvest.”
+
+“What does he pay ye?”
+
+“Seventy-five cents a day and board.”
+
+“I'll make it a dollar.”
+
+“I've given my word,” said Rolf, in surprise.
+
+“Hey ye signed papers?”
+
+“They're not needed. The only use of signed papers is to show ye
+have given your word,” said Rolf, quoting his mother, with rising
+indignation.
+
+The trader sniffed a little contemptuously and said nothing. But he
+realized the value of a lad who was a steady, intelligent worker,
+wouldn't drink, and was absolutely bound by a promise; so, after awhile,
+he said: “Wall, if Van don't want ye now, come back for a couple of
+weeks.”
+
+Early in the morning Rolf gathered the trifles he had secured for the
+little children and the book he had bought for Annette, a sweet story of
+a perfect girl who died and went to heaven, the front embellished with a
+thrilling wood-cut. Then he crossed the familiar five-mile portage at a
+pace that in an hour brought him to the lake.
+
+The greeting at Van's was that of a brother come home.
+
+“Vell, Rolf, it's goood to see ye back. It's choost vat I vented. Hi,
+Marta, I told it you, yah. I say, now I hope ze good Gott send Rolf.
+Ach, how I am shpoil!”
+
+Yes, indeed. The hay was ready; the barley was changing. So Rolf took
+up his life on the farm, doing work that a year before was beyond his
+strength, for the spirit of the hills was on him, with its impulse of
+growth, its joy in effort, its glory in strength. And all who saw the
+longlegged, long-armed, flat-backed youth plying fork or axe or hoe, in
+some sort ventured a guess: “He'll be a good 'un some day; the kind o'
+chap to keep friendly with.
+
+
+
+Chapter 56. The Sick Ox
+
+The Thunder Moon passed quickly by; the hay was in; the barley partly
+so. Day by day the whitefaced oxen toiled at the creaking yoke, as the
+loads of hay and grain were jounced cumbrously over roots and stumps of
+the virgin fields. Everything was promising well, when, as usual, there
+came a thunderbolt out of the clear sky. Buck, the off ox, fell sick.
+
+Those who know little about cattle have written much of the meek and
+patient ox. Those who know them well tell us that the ox is the “most
+cussedest of all cussed” animals; a sneak, a bully, a coward, a thief,
+a shirk, a schemer; and when he is not in mischief he is thinking
+about it. The wickedest pack mule that ever bucked his burden is a
+pinfeathered turtle-dove compared with an average ox. There are
+some gentle oxen, but they are rare; most are treacherous, some are
+dangerous, and these are best got rid of, as they mislead their yoke
+mates and mislay their drivers. Van's two oxen, Buck and Bright,
+manifested the usual variety and contrariety of disposition. They were
+all right when well handled, and this Rolf could do better than Van,
+for he was “raised on oxen,” and Van's over voluble, sputtering,
+Dutch-English seemed ill comprehended of the massive yoke beasts. The
+simpler whip-waving and fewer orders of the Yankee were so obviously
+successful that Van had resigned the whip of authority and Rolf was
+driver.
+
+Ordinarily, an ox driver walks on the hew (nigh or left) side, near
+the head of his team, shouting “gee” (right), “haw” (left), “get up,”
+ “steady,” or “whoa” (stop), accompanying the order with a waving of the
+whip. Foolish drivers lash the oxen on the haw side when they wish them
+to gee--and vice versa; but it is notorious that all good drivers do
+little lashing. Spare the lash or spoil your team. So it was not long
+before Rolf could guide them from the top of the load, as they travelled
+from shook to shook in the field. This voice of command saved his life,
+or at least his limb, one morning, for he made a misstep that tumbled
+him down between the oxen and the wagon. At once the team started, but
+his ringing “Whoa!” brought them to a dead stop, and saved him; whereas,
+had it been Van's “Whoa!” it would have set them off at a run, for every
+shout from him meant a whip lick to follow.
+
+Thus Rolf won the respect, if not the love, of the huge beasts; more and
+more they were his charge, and when, on that sad morning, in the last of
+the barley, Van came in, “Ach, vot shall I do! Vot shall I do! Dot Buck
+ox be nigh dead.”
+
+Alas! there he lay on the ground, his head sometimes raised, sometimes
+stretched out flat, while the huge creature uttered short moans at
+times.
+
+Only four years before, Rolf had seen that same thing at Redding.
+The rolling eye, the working of the belly muscles, the straining and
+moaning. “It's colic; have you any ginger?”
+
+“No, I hat only dot soft soap.”
+
+What soft soap had to do with ginger was not clear, and Rolf wondered if
+it had some rare occult medical power that had escaped his mother.
+
+“Do you know where there's any slippery elm?”
+
+“Yah.”
+
+“Then bring a big boiling of the bark, while I get some peppermint.”
+
+The elm bark was boiled till it made a kettleful of brown slime. The
+peppermint was dried above the stove till it could be powdered,
+and mixed with the slippery slush. Some sulphur and some soda were
+discovered and stirred in, on general principles, and they hastened to
+the huge, helpless creature in the field.
+
+Poor Buck seemed worse than ever. He was flat on his side, with his
+spine humped up, moaning and straining at intervals. But now relief was
+in sight--so thought the men. With a tin dipper they tried to pour
+some relief into the open mouth of the sufferer, who had so little
+appreciation that he simply taxed his remaining strength to blow it out
+in their faces. Several attempts ended the same way. Then the brute, in
+what looked like temper, swung his muzzle and dashed the whole dipper
+away. Next they tried the usual method, mixing it with a bran mash,
+considered a delicacy in the bovine world, but Buck again took notice,
+under pressure only, to dash it away and waste it all.
+
+It occurred to them they might force it down his throat if they could
+raise his head. So they used a hand lever and a prop to elevate the
+muzzle, and were about to try another inpour, when Buck leaped to his
+feet, and behaving like one who has been shamming, made at full gallop
+for the stable, nor stopped till safely in his stall, where at once he
+dropped in all the evident agony of a new spasm.
+
+It is a common thing for oxen to sham sick, but this was the real thing,
+and it seemed they were going to lose the ox, which meant also lose a
+large part of the harvest.
+
+In the stable, now, they had a better chance; they tied him, then raised
+his head with a lever till his snout was high above his shoulders. Now
+it seemed easy to pour the medicine down that long, sloping passage. But
+his mouth was tightly closed, any that entered his nostrils was blown
+afar, and the suffering beast strained at the rope till he seemed likely
+to strangle.
+
+Both men and ox were worn out with the struggle; the brute was no
+better, but rather worse.
+
+“Wall,” said Rolf, “I've seen a good many ornery steers, but that's the
+orneriest I ever did handle, an' I reckon we'll lose him if he don't get
+that poison into him pretty soon.”
+
+Oxen never were studied as much as horses, for they were considered a
+temporary shift, and every farmer looked forward to replacing them with
+the latter. Oxen were enormously strong, and they could flourish without
+grain when the grass was good; they never lost their head in a swamp
+hole, and ploughed steadily among all kinds of roots and stumps; but
+they were exasperatingly slow and eternally tricky. Bright, being the
+trickier of the two, was made the nigh ox, to be more under control.
+Ordinarily Rolf could manage Buck easily, but the present situation
+seemed hopeless. In his memory he harked back to Redding days, and he
+recalled old Eli Gooch, the ox expert, and wondered what he would have
+done. Then, as he sat, he caught sight of the sick ox reaching out its
+head and deftly licking up a few drops of bran mash that had fallen from
+his yoke fellow's portion. A smile spread over Rolf's face. “Just like
+you; you think nothing's good except it's stolen. All right; we'll see.”
+ He mixed a big dose of medicine, with bran, as before. Then he tied
+Bright's head so that he could not reach the ground, and set the bucket
+of mash half way between the two oxen. “Here ye are, Bright,” he said,
+as a matter of form, and walked out of the stable; but, from a crack, he
+watched. Buck saw a chance to steal Bright's bran; he looked around; Oh,
+joy! his driver was away. He reached out cautiously; sniffed; his long
+tongue shot forth for a first taste, when Rolf gave a shout and ran in.
+“Hi, you old robber! Let that alone; that's for Bright.”
+
+The sick ox was very much in his own stall now, and stayed there for
+some time after Rolf went to resume his place at the peephole. But
+encouraged by a few minutes of silence, he again reached out, and
+hastily gulped down a mouthful of the mixture before Rolf shouted and
+rushed in armed with a switch to punish the thief. Poor Bright, by his
+efforts to reach the tempting mash, was unwittingly playing the game,
+for this was proof positive of its desirableness.
+
+After giving Buck a few cuts with the switch, Rolf retired, as before.
+Again the sick ox waited for silence, and reaching out with greedy
+haste, he gulped down the rest and emptied the bucket; seeing which,
+Rolf ran in and gave the rogue a final trouncing for the sake of
+consistency.
+
+Any one who knows what slippery elm, peppermint, soda, sulphur, colic,
+and ox do when thoroughly interincorporated will not be surprised to
+learn that in the morning the stable needed special treatment, and of
+all the mixture the ox was the only ingredient left on the active list.
+He was all right again, very thirsty, and not quite up to his usual
+standard, but, as Van said, after a careful look, “Ah, tell you vot, dot
+you vas a veil ox again, an' I t'ink I know not vot if you all tricky
+vas like Bright.”
+
+
+
+Chapter 57. Rolf and Skookum at Albany
+
+The Red Moon (August) follows the Thunder Moon, and in the early part of
+its second week Rolf and Van, hauling in the barley and discussing the
+fitness of the oats, were startled by a most outrageous clatter among
+the hens. Horrid murder evidently was stalking abroad, and, hastening
+to the rescue, Rolf heard loud, angry barks; then a savage beast with
+a defunct “cackle party” appeared, but dropped the victim to bark and
+bound upon the “relief party” with ecstatic expressions of joy, in spite
+of Rolf's--“Skookum! you little brute!”
+
+Yes! Quonab was back; that is, he was at the lake shore, and Skookum had
+made haste to plunge into the joys and gayeties of this social centre,
+without awaiting the formalities of greeting or even of dry-shod
+landing.
+
+The next scene was--a big, high post, a long, strong chain and a small,
+sad dog.
+
+“Ho, Quonab, you found your people? You had a good time?”
+
+“Ugh,” was the answer, the whole of it, and all the light Rolf got for
+many a day on the old man's trip to the North. The prospect of going to
+Albany for Van Cortlandt was much more attractive to Quonab than that of
+the harvest field, so a compromise was agreed on. Callan's barley was in
+the stock; if all three helped Callan for three days, Callan would owe
+them for nine, and so it was arranged.
+
+Again “good-bye,” and Rolf, Quonab, and little dog Skookum went sailing
+down the Schroon toward the junction, where they left a cache of their
+supplies, and down the broadening Hudson toward Albany.
+
+Rolf had been over the road twice; Quonab never before, yet his nose for
+water was so good and the sense of rapid and portage was so strong in
+the red man, that many times he was the pilot. “This is the way, because
+it must be”; “there it is deep because so narrow”; “that rapid is
+dangerous, because there is such a well-beaten portage trail”; “that
+we can run, because I see it,” or, “because there is no portage trail,”
+ etc. The eighty miles were covered in three sleeps, and in the mid-moon
+days of the Red Moon they landed at the dock in front of Peter Vandam's.
+If Quonab had any especial emotions for the occasion, he cloaked
+them perfectly under a calm and copper-coloured exterior of absolute
+immobility.
+
+Their Albany experiences included a meeting with the governor and an
+encounter with a broad and burly river pirate, who, seeing a lone and
+peaceable-looking red man, went out of his way to insult him; and when
+Quonab's knife flashed out at last, it was only his recently established
+relations with the governor's son that saved him from some very sad
+results, for there were many loafers about. But burly Vandam appeared in
+the nick of time to halt the small mob with the warning: “Don't you know
+that's Mr. Van Cortlandt's guide?” With the governor and Vandam to back
+him, Quonab soon had the mob on his side, and the dock loafer's own
+friends pelted him with mud as he escaped. But not a little credit
+is due to Skookum, for at the critical moment he had sprung on the
+ruffian's bare and abundant leg with such toothsome effect that the
+owner fell promptly backward and the knife thrust missed. It was quickly
+over and Quonab replaced his knife, contemptuous of the whole crowd
+before, during and after the incident. Not at the time, but days later,
+he said of his foe: “He was a talker; he was full of fear.”
+
+With the backwoods only thirty miles away, and the unbroken wilderness
+one hundred, it was hard to believe how little Henry van Cortlandt knew
+of the woods and its life. He belonged to the ultra-fashionable set, and
+it was rather their pose to affect ignorance of the savage world and
+its ways. But he had plenty of common-sense to fan back on, and the
+inspiring example of Washington, equally at home in the nation's
+Parliament, the army intrenchment, the glittering ball room, or the
+hunting lodge of the Indian, was a constant reminder that the perfect
+man is a harmonious development of mind, morals, and physique.
+
+His training had been somewhat warped by the ultraclassic fashion of
+the times, so he persisted in seeing in Quonab a sort of discoloured,
+barbaric clansman of Alaric or a camp follower of Xenophon's host,
+rather than an actual living, interesting, native American, exemplifying
+in the highest degree the sinewy, alert woodman, and the saturated
+mystic and pantheist of an age bygone and out of date, combined with
+a middle-measure intelligence. And Rolf, tall, blue-eyed with brown,
+curling hair, was made to pose as the youthful Achilles, rather than
+as a type of America's best young manhood, cleaner, saner, and of far
+higher ideals and traditions than ever were ascribed to Achilles by his
+most blinded worshippers. It recalled the case of Wordsworth and Southey
+living side by side in England; Southey, the famous, must needs seek in
+ancient India for material to write his twelve-volume romance that no
+one ever looks at; Wordsworth, the unknown, wrote of the things of his
+own time, about his own door? and produced immortal verse.
+
+What should we think of Homer, had he sung his impressions of the
+ancient Egyptians? or of Thackeray, had he novelized the life of the
+Babylonians? It is an ancient blindness, with an ancient wall to bruise
+one's head. It is only those who seek ointment of the consecrated clay
+that gives back sight, who see the shining way at their feet, who beat
+their face against no wall, who safely climb the heights. Henry van
+Cortlandt was a man of rare parts, of every advantage, but still he had
+been taught steadfastly to live in the past. His eyes were yet to be
+opened. The living present was not his--but yet to be.
+
+The young lawyer had been assembling his outfit at Vandam's warehouse,
+for, in spite of scoffing friends, he knew that Rolf was coming back to
+him.
+
+When Rolf saw the pile of stuff that was gathered for that outfit, he
+stared at it aghast, then looked at Vandam, and together they roared.
+There was everything for light housekeeping and heavy doctoring, even
+chairs, a wash stand, a mirror, a mortar, and a pestle. Six canoes could
+scarcely have carried the lot.
+
+“'Tain't so much the young man as his mother,” explained Big Pete; “at
+first I tried to make 'em understand, but it was no use; so I says, 'All
+right, go ahead, as long as there's room in the warehouse.' I reckon
+I'll set on the fence and have some fun seein' Rolf ontangle the
+affair.”
+
+“Phew, pheeeww--ph-e-e-e-e-w,” was all Rolf could say in answer. But
+at last, “Wall, there's always a way. I sized him up as pretty level
+headed. We'll see.”
+
+There was a way and it was easy, for, in a secret session, Rolf, Pete,
+and Van Cortlandt together sorted out the things needed. A small tent,
+blankets, extra clothes, guns, ammunition, delicate food for three
+months, a few medicines and toilet articles--a pretty good load for one
+canoe, but a trifle compared with the mountain of stuff piled up on the
+floor.
+
+“Now, Mr. van Cortlandt,” said Rolf, “will you explain to your mother
+that we are going on with this so as to travel quickly, and will send
+back for the rest as we need it?”
+
+A quiet chuckle was now heard from Big Pete. “Good! I wondered how he'd
+settle it.”
+
+The governor and his lady saw them off; therefore, there was a crowd.
+The mother never before had noted what a frail and dangerous thing a
+canoe is. She cautioned her son never to venture out alone, and to be
+sure that he rubbed his chest with the pectoral balm she had made from
+such and such a famous receipt, the one that saved the life but not
+the limb of old Governor Stuyvesant, and come right home if you catch a
+cold; and wait at the first camp till the other things come, and (in a
+whisper) keep away from that horrid red Indian with the knife, and never
+fail to let every one know who you are, and write regularly, and don't
+forget to take your calomel Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, alternating
+with Peruvian bark Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, and squills on
+Sunday, except every other week, when he should devote Tuesdays,
+Fridays, and Sundays to rhubarb and catnip tea, except in the full
+moon, when the catnip was to be replaced with graveyard bergamot and the
+squills with opodeldoc in which an iron nail had been left for a week.
+
+So Henry was embraced, Rolf was hand-shaken, Quonab was nodded at,
+Skookum was wisely let alone, and the trim canoe swung from the dock.
+Amid hearty cheers, farewells, and “God speed ye's” it breasted the
+flood for the North.
+
+And on the dock, with kerchief to her eyes, stood the mother, weeping to
+think that her boy was going far, far away from his home and friends in
+dear, cultured, refined Albany, away, away, to that remote and barbarous
+inaccessible region almost to the shore land of Lake Champlain.
+
+
+
+Chapter 58. Back to Indian Lake
+
+Young Van Cortlandt, six feet two in his socks and thirty-four inches
+around the chest, was, as Rolf long afterward said, “awful good raw
+material, but awful raw.” Two years out of college, half of which had
+been spent at the law, had done little but launch him as a physical
+weakling and a social star. But his mental make-up was more than good;
+it was of large promise. He lacked neither courage nor sense, and the
+course he now followed was surely the best for man-making.
+
+Rolf never realized how much a farmer-woodman-canoeman-hunter-camper had
+to know, until now he met a man who did not know anything, nor dreamed
+how many wrong ways there were of doing a job, till he saw his new
+companion try it.
+
+There is no single simple thing that is a more complete measure of one's
+woodcraft than the lighting of a fire. There are a dozen good ways and
+a thousand wrong ones. A man who can light thirty fires on thirty
+successive days with thirty matches or thirty sparks from flint and
+steel is a graduated woodman, for the feat presupposes experience of
+many years and the skill that belongs to a winner.
+
+When Quonab and Rolf came back from taking each a load over the first
+little portage, they found Van Cortlandt getting ready for a fire with a
+great, solid pile of small logs, most of them wet and green. He knew how
+to use flint and steel, because that was the established household way
+of the times. Since childhood had he lighted the candle at home by this
+primitive means. When his pile of soggy logs was ready, he struck his
+flint, caught a spark on the tinder that is always kept on hand, blew
+it to a flame, thrust in between two of the wet logs, waited for all to
+blaze up, and wondered why the tiny blaze went out at once, no matter
+how often he tried.
+
+When the others came back, Van Cortlandt remarked: “It doesn't seem to
+burn.” The Indian turned away in silent contempt. Rolf had hard work to
+keep the forms of respect, until the thought came: “I suppose I looked
+just as big a fool in his world at Albany.”
+
+“See,” said he, “green wood and wet wood won't do, but yonder is some
+birch bark and there's a pine root.” He took his axe and cut a few
+sticks from the root, then used his knife to make a sliver-fuzz of each;
+one piece, so resinous that it would not whittle, he smashed with
+the back of the axe into a lot of matchwood. With a handful of finely
+shredded birch bark he was now quite ready. A crack of the flint a
+blowing of the spark caught on the tinder from the box, a little flame
+that at once was magnified by the birch bark, and in a minute the pine
+splinters made a sputtering fire. Quonab did not even pay Van Cortlandt
+the compliment of using one of his logs. He cut a growing poplar, built
+a fireplace of the green logs around the blaze that Rolf had made, and
+the meal was ready in a few minutes.
+
+Van Cortlandt was not a fool; merely it was all new to him. But his
+attention was directed to fire-making now, and long before they reached
+their cabin he had learned this, the first of the woodman's arts--he
+could lay and light a fire. And when, weeks later, he not only made the
+flint fire, but learned in emergency to make the rubbing stick spark,
+his cup of joy was full. He felt he was learning.
+
+Determined to be in everything, now he paddled all day; at first with
+vigour, then mechanically, at last feebly and painfully. Late in the
+afternoon they made the first long portage; it was a quarter mile. Rolf
+took a hundred pounds, Quonab half as much more, Van Cortlandt tottered
+slowly behind with his pill-kit and his paddle. That night, on his ample
+mattress, he slept the sleep of utter exhaustion. Next day he did little
+and said nothing. It came on to rain; he raised a huge umbrella and
+crouched under it till the storm was over. But the third day he began to
+show signs of new life, and before they reached the Schroon's mouth, on
+the fifth day, his young frame was already responding to the elixir of
+the hills.
+
+It was very clear that they could not take half of the stuff that they
+had cached at the Schroon's mouth, so that a new adjustment was needed
+and still a cache to await another trip.
+
+That night as they sat by their sixth camp fire, Van Cortlandt pondered
+over the recent days, and they seemed many since he had left home.
+He felt much older and stronger. He felt not only less strange, but
+positively intimate with the life, the river, the canoe, and his
+comrades; and, pleased with his winnings, he laid his hand on Skookum,
+slumbering near, only to arouse in response a savage growl, as that
+important animal arose and moved to the other side of the fire. Never
+did small dog give tall man a more deliberate snub. “You can't do that
+with Skookum; you must wait till he's ready,” said Rolf.
+
+The journey up the Hudson with its “mean” waters and its “carries” was
+much as before. Then they came to the eagle's nest and the easy waters
+of Jesup's River, and without important incident they landed at the
+cabin. The feeling of “home again” spread over the camp and every one
+was gay.
+
+
+
+Chapter 59. Van Cortlandt's Drugs
+
+“AIN'T ye feelin' all right?” said Rolf, one bright, calomel morning, as
+he saw Van Cortlandt preparing his daily physic.
+
+“Why, yes; I'm feeling fine; I'm better every day,” was the jovial
+reply.
+
+“Course I don't know, but my mother used to say: 'Med'cine's the stuff
+makes a sick man well, an' a well man sick.”'
+
+“My mother and your mother would have fought at sight, as you may judge.
+B-u-t,” he added with reflective slowness, and a merry twinkle in his
+eye, “if things were to be judged by their product, I am afraid your
+mother would win easily,” and he laid his long, thin, scrawny hand
+beside the broad, strong hand of the growing youth.
+
+“Old Sylvanne wasn't far astray when he said: 'There aren't any sick,
+'cept them as thinks they are,”' said Rolf. “I suppose I ought to begin
+to taper off,” was the reply. But the tapering was very sudden. Before a
+week went by, it seemed desirable to go back for the stuff left in cache
+on the Schroon, where, of course, it was subject to several risks. There
+seemed no object in taking Van Cortlandt back, but they could not
+well leave him alone. He went. He had kept time with fair
+regularity--calomel, rhubarb; calomel, rhubarb; calomel, rhubarb,
+squills--but Rolf's remarks had sunk into his intelligence, as a
+red-hot shot will sink through shingles, letting in light and creating
+revolution.
+
+This was a rhubarb morning. He drank his potion, then, carefully
+stoppering the bottle, he placed it with its companions in a box and
+stowed that near the middle of the canoe. “I'll be glad when it's
+finished,” he said reflectively; “I don't believe I need it now. I wish
+sometimes I could run short of it all.”
+
+That was what Rolf had been hoping for. Without such a remark, he would
+not have dared do as he did. He threw the tent cover over the canoe
+amidships, causing the unstable craft to cant: “That won't do,” he
+remarked, and took out several articles, including the medicine chest,
+put them ashore under the bushes, and, when he replaced them, contrived
+that the medicine should be forgotten.
+
+Next morning Van Cortlandt, rising to prepare his calomel, got a shock
+to find it not.
+
+“It strikes me,” says Rolf, “the last time I saw that, it was on the
+bank when we trimmed the canoe.” Yes, there could be no doubt of it.
+Van must live his life in utter druglessness for a time. It gave him
+somewhat of a scare, much like that a young swimmer gets when he finds
+he has drifted away from his floats; and, like that same beginner, it
+braced him to help himself. So Van found that he could swim without
+corks.
+
+They made a rapid journey down, and in a week they were back with the
+load.
+
+There was the potion chest where they had left it. Van Cortlandt
+picked it up with a sheepish smile, and they sat down for evening meal.
+Presently Rolf said: “I mind once I seen three little hawks in a nest
+together. The mother was teaching them to fly. Two of them started off
+all right, and pretty soon were scooting among the treetops. The other
+was scared. He says: 'No, mother, I never did fly, and I'm scared I'd
+get killed if I tried.' At last the mother got mad and shoved him over.
+As soon as he felt he was gone, he spread out his wings to save himself.
+The wings were all right enough, and long before he struck the ground,
+he was flying.”
+
+
+
+Chapter 60. Van Cortlandt's Adventure
+
+The coming of Van had compelled the trappers to build a new and much
+larger cabin. When they were planning it, the lawyer said: “If I were,
+you, I'd make it twenty by thirty, with a big stone fireplace.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“I might want to come back some day and bring a friend.”
+
+Rolf looked at him keenly. Here was an important possibility, but it
+was too difficult to handle such large logs without a team; so the new
+cabin was made fifteen by twenty, and the twenty-foot logs were very
+slim indeed. Van Cortlandt took much trouble to fix it up inside with
+two white birch bedsteads, balsam beds, and basswood mats on the floor.
+
+After the first depression, he had recovered quickly since abandoning
+his apothecary diet, and now he was more and more in their life, one of
+themselves. But Quonab never liked him. The incident of the fire-making
+was one of many which reduced him far below zero in the red man's
+esteem. When he succeeded with the rubbing-stick fire, he rose a few
+points; since then he had fallen a little, nearly every day, and now an
+incident took place which reduced him even below his original low level.
+
+In spite of his admirable perseverance, Van Cortlandt failed in his
+attempts to get a deer. This was depressing and unfortunate because of
+the Indian's evident contempt, shown, not in any act, but rather in his
+avoiding Van and never noticing him; while Van, on his part, discovered
+that, but for this, that, and the other negligence on Quonab's part, he
+himself might have done thus and so.
+
+To relieve the situation, Rolf said privately to the Indian, “Can't we
+find some way of giving him a deer?”
+
+“Humph,” was the voluble reply.
+
+“I've heard of that jack-light trick.    Can ye work it?”
+
+“Ugh!”
+
+So it was arranged.
+
+Quonab prepared a box which he filled with sand. On three sides of it
+he put a screen of bark, eighteen inches high, and in the middle he
+made a good torch of pine knots with a finely frizzled lighter of birch
+bark. Ordinarily this is placed on the bow of the canoe, and, at the
+right moment, is lighted by the sportsman. But Quonab distrusted Van as
+a lighter, so placed this ancient search-light on the after thwart in
+front of himself and pointing forward, but quartering.
+
+The scheme is to go along the lake shore about dark, as the deer come
+to the water to drink or eat lily pads. As soon as a deer is located by
+the sound, the canoe is silently brought to the place, the torch is
+lighted, the deer stops to gaze at this strange sunrise; its body is
+not usually visible in the dim light, but the eyes reflect the glare
+like two lamps; and now the gunner, with a volley of buckshot, plays
+his part. It is the easiest and most unsportsmanlike of all methods. It
+has long been declared illegal; and was especially bad, because it
+victimized chiefly the does and fawns.
+
+But now it seemed the proper way to “save Van Cortlandt's face.”
+
+So forth they went; Van armed with his double-barrelled shotgun and
+carrying in his belt a huge and ornamental hunting knife, the badge of
+woodcraft or of idiocy, according as yon took Van's view or Quonab's.
+Rolf stayed in camp.
+
+At dusk they set out, a slight easterly breeze compelling them to take
+the eastern shore, for the deer must not smell them. As they silently
+crossed the lake, the guide's quick eye caught sight of a long wimple
+on the surface, across the tiny ripples of the breeze--surely the wake
+of some large animal, most likely a deer. Good luck. Putting on all
+speed, he sent the canoe flying after it, and in three or four minutes
+they sighted a large, dark creature moving fast to escape, but it was
+low on the water, and had no horns. They could not make out what it
+was. Van sat tensely gazing, with gun in hand, but the canoe overran
+the swimmer; it disappeared under the prow, and a moment later there
+scrambled over the gunwale a huge black fisher.
+
+“Knife,” cried Quonab, in mortal fear that Van would shoot and blow a
+hole throught the canoe.
+
+The fisher went straight at the lawyer hissing and snarling with voice
+like a bear.
+
+Van grasped his knife, and then and there began A most extraordinary
+fight; holding his assailant off as best he could, he stabbed again and
+again with that long blade. But the fisher seemed cased in iron. The
+knife glanced off or was solidly stopped again and again, while the
+fierce, active creature, squirming, struggling, clawing, and tearing
+had wounded the lawyer in a dozen places. Jab, jab went the knife in
+vain. The fisher seemed to gain in strength and fury. It fastened on
+Van's leg just below the knee, and grow/ed and tore like a bulldog. Van
+seized its throat in both hands and choked with all his strength. The
+brute at length let go and sprang back to attack again, when Quonab saw
+his chance and felled it with a blow of the paddle across the nose. It
+tumbled forward; Van lunged to avoid what seemed a new attack, and in a
+moment the canoe upset, and all were swimming for their lives.
+
+As luck would have it, they had drifted to the west side and the water
+was barely six feet deep. So Quonab swam ashore holding onto a paddle,
+and hauling the canoe, while Van waded ashore, hauling the dead fisher
+by the tail.
+
+Quonab seized a drift pole and stuck it in the mud as near the place as
+possible, so they could come again in daylight to get the guns; then
+silently paddled back to camp.
+
+Next day, thanks to the pole, they found the place and recovered first
+Van's gun, second, that mighty hunting knife; and learned to the
+amazement and disgust of all that it had not been out of its sheath:
+during all that stabbing and slashing, the keen edge was hidden and the
+knife was wearing its thick, round scabbard of leather and studs of
+brass.
+
+
+
+Chapter 61. Rolf Learns Something from Van
+
+     A man can't handle his own case, any more than a delirious
+     doctor kin give himself the right physic.--Saying of Si
+     Sylvanne.
+
+However superior Rolf might feel in the canoe or the woods, there was
+one place where Van Cortlandt took the lead, and that was in the long
+talks they had by the campfire or in Van's own shanty which Quonab
+rarely entered.
+
+The most interesting subjects treated in these were ancient Greece and
+modern Albany. Van Cortlandt was a good Greek scholar, and, finding an
+intelligent listener, he told the stirring tales of royal Ilion, Athens,
+and Pergamos, with the loving enthusiasm of one whom the teachers found
+it easy to instruct in classic lore. And when he recited or intoned
+the rolling Greek heroics of the siege of Troy, Rolf listened with an
+interest that was strange, considering that he knew not a word of it.
+But he said, “It sounded like real talk, and the tramp of men that were
+all astir with something big a-doing.”
+
+Albany and politics, too, were vital strains, and life at the Government
+House, with the struggling rings and cabals, social and political. These
+were extraordinarily funny and whimsical to Rolf. No doubt because Van
+Cortlandt presented them that way. And he more than once wondered how
+rational humans could waste their time in such tomfoolery and childish
+things as all conventionalities seemed to be. Van Cortlandt smiled at
+his remarks, but made no answer for long.
+
+One day, the first after the completion of Van Cortlandt's cabin, as the
+two approached, the owner opened the door and stood aside for Rolf to
+enter.
+
+“Go ahead,” said Rolf.
+
+“After you,” was the polite reply.
+
+“Oh, go on,” rejoined the lad, in mixed amusement and impatience.
+
+Van Cortlandt touched his hat and went in.
+
+Inside, Rolf turned squarely and said: “The other day you said there was
+a reason for all kinds o' social tricks; now will you tell me what the
+dickens is the why of all these funny-do's? It 'pears to me a free-born
+American didn't ought to take off his hat to any one but God.”
+
+Van Cortlandt chuckled softly and said: “You may be very sure that
+everything that is done in the way of social usage is the result
+of common-sense, with the exception of one or two things that have
+continued after the reason for them has passed, like the buttons you
+have behind on your coat; they were put there originally to button the
+tails out of the way of your sword. Sword wearing and using have passed
+away, but still you see the buttons.
+
+“As to taking off your hat to no man: it depends entirely on what you
+mean by it; and, being a social custom, you must accept its social
+meaning.
+
+“In the days of knight errantry, every one meeting a stranger had to
+suppose him an enemy; ten to one he was. And the sign and proof of
+friendly intention was raising the right hand without a weapon in it.
+The hand was raised high, to be seen as far as they could shoot with
+a bow, and a further proof was added when they raised the vizor and
+exposed the face. The danger of the highway continued long after knights
+ceased to wear armour; so, with the same meaning, the same gesture was
+used, but with a lifting of the hat. If a man did not do it, he was
+either showing contempt, or hostility for the other, or proving himself
+an ignorant brute. So, in all civilized countries, lifting the hat is a
+sign of mutual confidence and respect.”
+
+“Well! that makes it all look different. But why should you touch your
+hat when you went ahead of me just now?”
+
+“Because this is my house; you are my guest. I am supposed to serve you
+in reasonable ways and give you precedence. Had I let you open my door
+for me, it would have been putting you in the place of my servant; to
+balance that, I give you the sign of equality and respect.”
+
+“H'm,” said Rolf, “'it just shows,' as old Sylvanne sez, 'this yer
+steel-trap, hair-trigger, cocksure jedgment don't do. An' the more a
+man learns, the less sure he gits. An' things as hez lasted a long time
+ain't liable to be on a rotten foundation.'”
+
+
+
+Chapter 62. The Charm of Song
+
+With a regular tum ta tum ta, came a weird sound from the sunrise rock
+one morning, as Van slipped out of his cabin.
+
+     “Ag-aj-way-o-say
+     Pem-o-say
+     Gezhik-om era-bid ah-keen
+     Ena-bid ah-keen”
+
+“What's he doing, Rolf?”
+
+“That's his sunrise prayer,” was the answer.
+
+“Do you know what it means?”
+
+“Yes, it ain't much; jest 'Oh, thou that walkest in the sky in the
+morning, I greet thee.”'
+
+“Why, I didn't know Indians had such performances; that's exactly like
+the priests of Osiris. Did any one teach him? I mean any white folk.”
+
+“No, it's always been the Indian way. They have a song or a prayer
+for most every big event, sunrise, sunset, moonrise, good hunting, and
+another for when they're sick, or when they're going on a journey, or
+when their heart is bad.”
+
+“You astonish me. I had no idea they were so human. It carries me back
+to the temple of Delphi. It is worthy of Cassandra of Ilion. I supposed
+all Indians were just savage Indians that hunted till their bellies were
+full, and slept till they were empty again.”
+
+“H'm,” rejoined Rolf, with a gentle laugh. “I see you also have been
+doing some 'hair-trigger, steel-trap, cocksure jedgin'.'”
+
+“I wonder if he'd like to hear some of my songs?”
+
+“It's worth trying; anyway, I would,” said Rolf.
+
+That night, by the fire, Van sang the “Gay Cavalier,” “The Hunting of
+John Peel,” and “Bonnie Dundee.” He had a fine baritone voice. He was
+most acceptable in the musical circles of Albany. Rolf was delighted,
+Skookum moaned sympathetically, and Quonab sat nor moved till the music
+was over. He said nothing, but Rolf felt that it was a point gained,
+and, trying to follow it up, said:
+
+“Here's your drum, Quonab; won't you sing 'The Song of the Wabanaki?'”
+ But it was not well timed, and the Indian shook his head.
+
+“Say, Van,” said Rolf, (Van Cortlandt had suggested this abbreviation)
+“you'll never stand right with Quonab till you kill a deer.”
+
+“I've done some trying.”
+
+“Well, now, we'll go out to-morrow evening and try once more. What do
+you think of the weather, Quonab?”
+
+“Storm begin noon and last three days,” was the brief answer, as the red
+man walked away.
+
+“That settles it,” said Rolf; “we wait.”
+
+Van was surprised, and all the more so when in an hour the sky grew
+black and heavy rain set in, with squalls.
+
+“How in the name of Belshazzar's weather bugler does he tell?”
+
+“I guess you better not ask him, if you want to know. I'll find out and
+tell you later.”
+
+Rolf learned, not easily or at single talk:
+
+“Yesterday the chipmunks worked hard; to-day there are none to be seen.
+
+“Yesterday the loons were wailing; now they are still, and no small
+birds are about.
+
+“Yesterday it was a yellow sunrise; to-day a rosy dawn.
+
+“Last night the moon changed and had a thick little ring.
+
+“It has not rained for ten days, and this is the third day of easterly
+winds.
+
+“There was no dew last night. I saw Tongue Mountain at daybreak; my
+tom-tom will not sing.
+
+“The smoke went three ways at dawn, and Skookum's nose was hot.”
+
+So they rested, not knowing, but forced to believe, and it was not till
+the third day that the sky broke; the west wind began to pay back its
+borrowings from the east, and the saying was proved that “three days'
+rain will empty any sky.”
+
+That evening, after their meal, Rolf and Van launched the canoe and
+paddled down the lake. A mile from camp they landed, for this was a
+favourite deer run. Very soon Rolf pointed to the ground. He had found a
+perfectly fresh track, but Van seemed not to comprehend. They went along
+it, Rolf softly and silently, Van with his long feet and legs making a
+dangerous amount of clatter. Rolf turned and whispered, “That won't
+do. You must not stand on dry sticks.” Van endeavoured to move more
+cautiously and thought he was doing well, but Rolf found it very trying
+to his patience and began to understand how Quonab had felt about
+himself a year ago. “See,” said Rolf, “lift your legs so; don't turn
+your feet out that way. Look at the place before you put it down again;
+feel with your toe to make sure there is no dead stick, then wriggle it
+down to the solid ground. Of course, you'd do better in moccasins. Never
+brush past any branches; lift them aside and don't let them scratch;
+ease them back to the place; never try to bend a dry branch; go around
+it,” etc. Van had not thought of these things, but now he grasped them
+quickly, and they made a wonderful improvement in his way of going.
+
+They came again to the water's edge; across a little bay Rolf sighted at
+once the form of a buck, perfectly still, gazing their way, wondering,
+no doubt, what made those noises.
+
+“Here's your chance,” he whispered.
+
+“Where?” was the eager query.
+
+“There; see that gray and white thing?”
+
+“I can't see him.”
+
+For five minutes Rolf tried in vain to make his friend see that
+statuesque form; for five minutes it never moved. Then, sensing danger,
+the buck gave a bound and was lost to view.
+
+It was disheartening. Rolf sat down, nearly disgusted; then one of
+Sylvanne's remarks came to him: “It don't prove any one a fool, coz he
+can't play your game.”
+
+Presently Rolf said, “Van, hev ye a book with ye?”
+
+“Yes, I have my Virgil.”
+
+“Read me the first page.”
+
+Van read it, holding the book six inches from his nose.
+
+“Let's see ye read this page there,” and Rolf held it up four feet away.
+
+“I can't; it's nothing but a dim white spot.”
+
+“Well, can ye see that loon out there?”
+
+“You mean that long, dark thing in the bay?”
+
+“No, that's a pine log close to,” said Rolf, with a laugh, “away out
+half a mile.”
+
+“No, I can't see anything but shimmers.”
+
+“I thought so. It's no use your trying to shoot deer till ye get a pair
+of specs to fit yer eyes. You have brains enough, but you haven't got
+the eyesight of a hunter. You stay here till I go see if I have any
+luck.”
+
+Rolf melted into the woods. In twenty minutes Van heard a shot and very
+soon Rolf reappeared, carrying a two-year-old buck, and they returned
+to their camp by nightfall. Quonab glanced at their faces as they passed
+carrying the little buck. They tried to look inscrutable. But the Indian
+was not deceived. He gave out nothing but a sizzling “Humph!”
+
+
+
+Chapter 63. The Redemption of Van
+
+“WHEN things is looking black as black can be, it's a sure sign of luck
+coming your way.” so said Si Sylvanne, and so it proved to Van Cortlandt
+The Moon of the Falling Leaves was waning, October was nearly over, the
+day of his return to Albany was near, as he was to go out in time for
+the hunters to return in open water. He was wonderfully improved in
+strength and looks. His face was brown and ruddy. He had abandoned all
+drugs, and had gained fully twenty pounds in weight. He had learned to
+make a fire, paddle a canoe, and go through the woods in semi-silence.
+His scholarly talk had given him large place in Rolf's esteem, and
+his sweet singing had furnished a tiny little shelf for a modicum of
+Quonab's respect. But his attempts to get a deer were failures. “You
+come back next year with proper, farsight glasses and you'll all right,”
+ said Rolf; and that seemed the one ray of hope.
+
+The three days' storm had thrown so many trees that the hunters decided
+it would be worth while making a fast trip down to Eagle's Nest, to cut
+such timber as might have fallen across the stream, and so make an easy
+way for when they should have less time.
+
+The surmise was quite right. Much new-fallen timber was now across
+the channel. They chopped over twenty-five trunks before they reached
+Eagle's Nest at noon, and, leaving the river in better shape than ever
+it was, they turned, for the swift, straight, silent run of ten miles
+home.
+
+As they rounded the last point, a huge black form in the water loomed to
+view. Skookum's bristles rose. Quonab whispered, “Moose! Shoot quick!”
+ Van was the only one with a gun. The great black beast stood for a
+moment, gazing at them with wide-open eyes, ears, and nostrils, then
+shook his broad horns, wheeled, and dashed for the shore. Van fired
+and the bull went down with a mighty splash among the lilies. Rolf and
+Skookum let off a succession of most unhunterlike yells of triumph. But
+the giant sprang up again and reached the shore, only to fall to Van
+Cortlandt's second barrel. Yet the stop was momentary; he rose and
+dashed into the cover. Quonab turned the canoe at once and made for the
+land.
+
+A great sob came from the bushes, then others at intervals. Quonab
+showed his teeth and pointed. Rolf seized his rifle, Skookum sprang from
+the boat, and a little later was heard letting off his war-cry in the
+bushes not far away.
+
+The men rushed forward, guns in hand, but Quonab called, “Look out!
+Maybe he waiting.”
+
+“If he is, he'll likely get one of us.” said Rolf, with a light laugh,
+for he had some hearsay knowledge of moose.
+
+Covered each by a tree, they waited till Van had reloaded his
+double-barrelled, then cautiously approached. The great frothing sobs
+had resounded from time to time.
+
+Skookum's voice also was heard in the thicket, and when they neared and
+glimpsed the place, it was to see the monster on the ground, lying at
+full length, dinging up his head at times when he uttered that horrid
+sound of pain.
+
+The Indian sent a bullet through the moose's brain; then all was still,
+the tragedy was over.
+
+But now their attention was turned to Van Cortlandt. He reeled,
+staggered, his knees trembled, his face turned white, and, to save
+himself from falling, he sank onto a log. Here he covered his face with
+his hands, his feet beat the ground, and his shoulders heaved up and
+down.
+
+The others said nothing. They knew by the signs and the sounds that it
+was only through a mighty effort that young Van Cortlandt, grown man as
+he was, could keep himself from hysterical sobs and tears.
+
+Not then, but the next day it was that Quonab said: “It comes to some
+after they kill, to some before, as it came to you, Rolf; to me it came
+the day I killed my first chipmunk, that time when I stole my father's
+medicine.”
+
+They had ample work for several hours now, to skin the game and save the
+meat. It was fortunate they were so near home. A marvellous change there
+was in the atmosphere of the camp. Twice Quonab spoke to Van Cortlandt,
+as the latter laboured with them to save and store the meat of his
+moose. He was rubbed, doped, soiled, and anointed with its flesh, hair,
+and blood, and that night, as they sat by their camp fire, Skookum
+arose, stretched, yawned, walked around deliberately, put his nose
+in the lawyer's hand, gave it a lick, then lay down by his feet. Van
+Cortlandt glanced at Rolf, a merry twinkle was in the eyes of both.
+“It's all right. You can pat Skookum now, without risk of being
+crippled. He's sized you up. You are one of us at last;” and Quonab
+looked on with two long ivory rows a-gleaming in his smile.
+
+
+
+Chapter 64. Dinner at the Governor's
+
+Was ever there a brighter blazing sunrise after such a night of gloom?
+Not only a deer, but the biggest of all deer, and Van himself the only
+one of the party that had ever killed a moose. The skin was removed and
+afterward made into a hunting coat for the victor. The head and horns
+were carefully preserved to be carried back to Albany, where they were
+mounted and still hang in the hall of a later generation of the name.
+The final days at the camp were days of happy feeling; they passed too
+soon, and the long-legged lawyer, bronzed and healthy looking, took his
+place in their canoe for the flying trip to Albany. With an empty canoe
+and three paddles (two and one half, Van said), they flew down the open
+stretch of Jesup's River in something over two hours and camped that
+night fully thirty-five miles from their cabin. The next day they nearly
+reached the Schroon and in a week they rounded the great bend, and
+Albany hove in view.
+
+How Van's heart did beat! How he did exult to come in triumph home,
+reestablished in health and strengthened in every way. They were sighted
+and recognized. Messengers were seen running; a heavy gun was fired,
+the flag run up on the Capitol, bells set a-ringing, many people came
+running, and more flags ran up on vessels.
+
+A great crowd gathered by the dock.
+
+“There's father, and mother too!” shouted Van, waving his hat.
+
+“Hurrah,” and the crowd took it up, while the bells went jingle, jangle,
+and Skookum in the bow sent back his best in answer.
+
+The canoe was dragged ashore. Van seized his mother in his arms, as
+she cried: “My boy, my boy, my darling boy! how well you look. Oh, why
+didn't you write? But, thank God, you are back again, and looking so
+healthy and strong. I know you took your squills and opodeldoc. Thank
+God for that! Oh, I'm so happy! my boy, my boy! There's nothing like
+squills and God's blessing.”
+
+Rolf and Quonab were made to feel that they had a part in it all. The
+governor shook them warmly by the hand, and then a friendly voice was
+heard: “Wall, boy, here ye air agin; growed a little, settin' up and
+sassin' back, same as ever.” Rolf turned to see the gigantic, angular
+form and kindly face of grizzly old Si Sylvanne and was still more
+surprised to hear him addressed “senator.”
+
+“Yes,” said the senator, “one o' them freak elections that sometimes
+hits right; great luck for Albany, wa'nt it?”
+
+“Ho,” said Quonab, shaking the senator's hand, while Skookum looked
+puzzled and depressed.
+
+“Now, remember,” said the governor, addressing the Indian, the lad,
+and the senator, “we expect you to dine tonight at the mansion; seven
+o'clock.”
+
+Then the terror of the dragon conventionality, that guards the gate
+and hovers over the feast, loomed up in Rolf's imagination. He sought a
+private word with Van. “I'm afraid I have no fit clothes; I shan't know
+how to behave,” he said.
+
+“Then I'll show you. The first thing is to be perfectly clean and get a
+shave; put on the best clothes you have, and be sure they're clean; then
+you come at exactly seven o'clock, knowing that every one is going to
+be kind to you and you're bound to have a good time. As to any other
+'funny-do' you watch me, and you'll have no trouble.”
+
+So when the seven o'clock assemblage came, and guests were ascending the
+steps of the governor's mansion, there also mounted a tall, slim
+youth, an easy-pacing Indian, and a prick-eared, yellow dog. Young Van
+Cortlandt was near the door, on watch to save them any embarrassment.
+But what a swell he looked, cleanshaven, ruddy, tall, and handsome in
+the uniform of an American captain, surrounded by friends and immensely
+popular. How different it all was from that lonely cabin by the lake.
+
+A butler who tried to remove Skookum was saved from mutilation by the
+intervention first of Quonab and next of Van; and when they sat down,
+this uncompromising four-legged child of the forest ensconced himself
+under Quonab's chair and growled whenever the silk stockings of the
+footman seemed to approach beyond the line of true respect.
+
+Young Van Cortlandt was chief talker at the dinner, but a pompous
+military man was prominent in the company. Once or twice Rolf was
+addressed by the governor or Lady Van Cortlandt, and had to speak to the
+whole table; his cheeks were crimson, but he knew what he wanted to say
+and stopped when it was said, so suffered no real embarrassment.
+
+After what seemed an interminable feast of countless dishes and hours'
+duration, an extraordinary change set in. Led by the hostess, all stood
+up, the chairs were lifted out of their way, and the ladies trooped into
+another room; the doors were closed, and the men sat down again at the
+end next the governor.
+
+Van stayed by Rolf and explained: “This is another social custom that
+began with a different meaning. One hundred years ago, every man got
+drunk at every formal dinner, and carried on in a way that the ladies
+did not care to see, so to save their own feelings and give the men
+a free rein, the ladies withdrew. Nowadays, men are not supposed to
+indulge in any such orgy, but the custom continues, because it gives the
+men a chance to smoke, and the ladies a chance to discuss matters that
+do not interest the men. So again you see it is backed by common sense.”
+
+This proved the best part of the dinner to Rolf. There was a peculiar
+sense of over-politeness, of insincerity, almost, while the ladies were
+present; the most of the talking had been done by young Van Cortlandt
+and certain young ladies, assisted by some very gay young men and the
+general. Their chatter was funny, but nothing more. Now a different air
+was on the group; different subjects were discussed, and by different
+men, in a totally different manner.
+
+“We've stood just about all we can stand,” said the governor, alluding
+to an incident newly told, of a British frigate boarding an American
+merchant vessel by force and carrying off half her crew, under presence
+that they were British seamen in disguise. “That's been going on for
+three years now. It's either piracy or war, and, in either case, it's
+our duty to fight.”
+
+“Jersey's dead against war,” said a legislator from down the river.
+
+“Jersey always was dead against everything that was for the national
+good, sir,” said a red-faced, puffy, military man, with a husky voice, a
+rolling eye, and a way of ending every sentence in “sir.”
+
+“So is Connecticut,” said another; “they say, 'Look at all our
+defenceless coasts and harbour towns.'”
+
+“They're not risking as much as New York,” answered the governor,
+“with her harbours all the way up the Hudson and her back door open to
+invasion from Canada.”
+
+“Fortunately, sir, Pennyslvania, Maryland, and the West have not
+forgotten the glories of the past. All I ask--is a chance to show what
+we can do, sir. I long for the smell of powder once more, sir.”
+
+“I understand that President Madison has sent several protests, and, in
+spite of Connecticut and New Jersey, will send an ultimatum within three
+months. He believes that Britain has all she can manage, with Napoleon
+and his allies battering at her doors, and will not risk a war.
+
+“It's my opinion,” said Sylvanne; “that these English men is too
+pig-headed an' ornery to care a whoop in hell whether we get mad or not.
+They've a notion Paul Jones is dead, but I reckon we've got plenty of
+the breed only waitin' a chance. Mor'n twenty-five of our merchantmen
+wrecked each year through being stripped of their crews by a 'friendly
+power.' 'Pears to me we couldn't be worse off going to war, an' might be
+a dum sight better.”
+
+“Your home an' holdings are three hundred safe miles from the seacoast,”
+ objected the man from Manhattan.
+
+“Yes, and right next Canada,” was the reply.
+
+“The continued insults to our flag, sir, and the personal indignities
+offered to our people are even worse than the actual loss in ships and
+goods. It makes my blood fairly boil,” and the worthy general looked the
+part as his purple jowl quivered over his white cravat.
+
+“Gosh all hemlock! the one pricks, but t'other festers, it's tarnal sure
+you steal a man's dinner and tell him he's one o' nature's noblemen,
+he's more apt to love you than if you give him five dollars to keep out
+o' your sight,” said Sylvanne, with slow emphasis.
+
+“There's something to be said on the other side,” said the timid one.
+“You surely allow that the British government is trying to do right,
+and after all we must admit that that Jilson affair resected very little
+credit on our own administration.”
+
+“A man ken make one awful big mistake an' still be all right, but he
+can't go on making a little mistake every day right along an' be fit
+company for a clean crowd,” retorted the new senator.
+
+At length the governor rose and led the way to the drawing-room, where
+they rejoined the ladies and the conversation took on a different colour
+and weight, by which it lost all value for those who knew not the art
+of twittering persiflage and found less joy in a handkerchief flirtation
+than in the nation's onward march. Rolf and Quonab enjoyed it now about
+as much as Skookum had done all the time.
+
+
+
+Chapter 65. The Grebes and the Singing Mouse
+
+Quonab puzzled long over the amazing fact that young Van Cortlandt had
+evident high standing “in his own tribe.” “He must be a wise counsellor,
+for I know he cannot fight and is a fool at hunting,” was the ultimate
+decision.
+
+They had a final interview with the governor and his son before they
+left. Rolf received for himself and his partner the promised one hundred
+and fifty dollars, and the hearty thanks of all in the governor's home.
+Next, each was presented with a handsome hunting knife, not unlike
+the one young Van had carried, but smaller. Quonab received his with
+“Ho--” then, after a pause, “He pull out, maybe, when I need him.”--“Ho!
+good!” he exclaimed, as the keen blade appeared.
+
+“Now, Rolf,” said the lawyer, “I want to come back next year and bring
+three companions, and we will pay you at the same rate per month for
+each. What do you say?”
+
+“Glad to have you again,” said Rolf: “we'll come for you on August
+fifteenth; but remember you should bring your guitar and your
+spectacles.”
+
+“One word,” said the governor, “do you know the canoe route through
+Champlain to Canada?”
+
+“Quonab does.”
+
+“Could you undertake to render scout service in that region?”
+
+The Indian nodded.
+
+“In case of war, we may need you both, so keep your ears open.”
+
+And once more the canoe made for the north, with Quonab in the stern and
+Skookum in the bow.
+
+In less than a week they were home, and none too soon; for already the
+trees were bare, and they had to break the ice on the river before they
+ended their trip.
+
+Rolf had gathered many ideas the last two-months. He did not propose to
+continue all his life as a trapper. He wanted to see New York. He wanted
+to plan for the future. He needed money for his plans. He and Quonab had
+been running a hundred miles of traps, but some men run more than that
+single handed. They must get out two new lines at once, before the frost
+came. One of these they laid up the Hudson, above Eagle's Nest; the
+other northerly on Blue Mountain, toward Racquet River. Doing this was
+hard work, and when they came again to their cabin the robins had gone
+from the bleak and leafless woods; the grouse were making long night
+flights; the hollows had tracks of racing deer; there was a sense of
+omen, a length of gloom, for the Mad Moon was afloat in the shimmering
+sky; its wan light ghasted all the hills.
+
+Next day the lake was covered with thin, glare ice; on the glassy
+surface near the shore were two ducks floundering. The men went as near
+as they could, and Quonab said, “No, not duck, but Shingebis, divers.
+They cannot rise except from water. In the night the new ice looks like
+water; they come down and cannot rise. I have often seen it.” Two days
+after, a harder frost came on. The ice was safe for a dog; the divers or
+grebes were still on its surface. So they sent Skookum. He soon returned
+with two beautiful grebes, whose shining, white breast feathers are as
+much prized as some furs.
+
+Quonab grunted as he held them up. “Ugh, it is often so in this Mad
+Moon. My father said it is because of Kaluskap's dancing.”
+
+“I don't remember that one.”
+
+“Yes, long ago. Kaluskap felt lazy. He wanted to eat, but did not wish
+to hunt, so he called the bluejay and said: 'Tell all the woods that
+to-morrow night Kaluskap gives a new dance and teaches a new song,'
+and he told the hoot owl to do the same, so one kept it up all
+day--'Kaluskap teaches a new dance to-morrow night,' and the other kept
+it up all night: 'Kaluskap teaches a new song at next council.'
+
+“Thus it came about that all the woods and waters sent their folk to the
+dance.
+
+“Then Kaluskap took his song-drum and said: 'When I drum and sing you
+must dance in a circle the same way as the sun, close your eyes tightly,
+and each one shout his war whoop, as I cry “new songs”!'
+
+“So all began, with Kaluskap drumming in the middle, singing:
+
+“'New songs from the south, brothers, Close your eyes tightly, brothers,
+Dance and learn a new song.
+
+“As they danced around, he picked out the fattest, and, reaching out
+one hand, seized them and twisted their necks, shouting out, 'More
+war-cries, more poise! that's it; now you are learning!'
+
+“At length Shingebis the diver began to have his doubts and he
+cautiously opened one eye, saw the trick, and shouted: 'Fly, brothers,
+fly! Kaluskap is killing us!'
+
+“Then all was confusion. Every one tried to escape, and Kaluskap, in
+revenge, tried to kill the Shingebis. But the diver ran for the water
+and, just as he reached the edge, Kaluskap gave him a kick behind that
+sent him half a mile, but it knocked off all his tail feathers and
+twisted his shape so that ever since his legs have stuck out where his
+tail was, and he cannot rise from the land or the ice. I know it is so,
+for my father, Cos Cob, told me it was true, and we ourselves have seen
+it. It is ever so. To go against Kaluskap brings much evil to brood
+over.”
+
+A few nights later, as they sat by their fire in the cabin, a curious
+squeaking was heard behind the logs. They had often heard it before, but
+never so much as now. Skookum turned his head on one side, set his ears
+at forward cock. Presently, from a hole 'twixt logs and chimney, there
+appeared a small, white breasted mouse.
+
+Its nose and ears shivered a little; its black eyes danced in the
+firelight. It climbed up to a higher log, scratched its ribs, then
+rising on its hind legs, uttered one or two squeaks like those they had
+heard so often, but soon they became louder and continuous:
+
+“Peg, peo, peo, peo, peo, peo, peo, oo. Tree, tree, tree, tree,
+trrrrrrr, Turr, turr, turr, tur, tur, Wee, wee, wee, we”--
+
+The little creature was sitting up high on its hind legs, its belly
+muscles were working, its mouth was gaping as it poured out its music.
+For fully half a minute this went on, when Skookum made a dash; but the
+mouse was quick and it flashed into the safety of its cranny.
+
+Rolf gazed at Quonab inquiringly.
+
+“That is Mish-a-boh-quas, the singing mouse. He always comes to tell of
+war. In a little while there will be fighting.”
+
+
+
+Chapter 66. A Lesson in Stalking
+
+“Did you ever see any fighting, Quonab?”
+
+“Ugh! In Revolution, scouted for General Gates.”
+
+“Judging by the talk, we're liable to be called on before a year. What
+will you do?”
+
+“Fight.”
+
+“As soldier?”
+
+“No! scout.”
+
+“They may not want us.”
+
+“Always want scouts,” replied the Indian.
+
+“It seems to me I ought to start training now.”
+
+“You have been training.”
+
+“How is that?”
+
+“A scout is everything that an army is, but it's all in one man. An' he
+don't have to keep step.”
+
+“I see, I see,” replied Rolf, and he realized that a scout is merely
+a trained hunter who is compelled by war to hunt his country's foes
+instead of the beasts of the woods.
+
+“See that?” said the Indian, and he pointed to a buck that was nosing
+for cranberries in the open expanse across the river where it left the
+lake. “Now, I show you scouting.” He glanced at the smoke from the fire,
+found it right for his plan, and said: “See! I take my bow. No cover,
+yet I will come close and kill that deer.”
+
+Then began a performance that was new to Rolf, and showed that the
+Indian had indeed reached the highest pitch of woodcraft. He took his
+bow and three good arrows, tied a band around his head, and into this
+stuck a lot of twigs and vines, so that his head looked like a tussock
+of herbage. Then he left the shanty door, and, concealed by the last
+bushes on the edge, he reached the open plain. Two hundred yards off was
+the buck, nosing among the herbage, and, from time to time, raising its
+superb head and columnar neck to look around. There was no cover but
+creeping herbage. Rolf suspected that the Indian would decoy the buck by
+some whistle or challenge, for the thickness of its neck showed the deer
+to be in fighting humour.
+
+Flat on his breast the Indian lay. His knees and elbow seemed to develop
+centipedic power; his head was a mere clump of growing stuff. He snaked
+his way quietly for twenty-five yards, then came to the open, sloping
+shore, with the river forty yards wide of level shining ice, all in
+plain view of the deer; how was this to be covered?
+
+There is a well-known peculiarity of the white tail that the Indian was
+counting on; when its head is down grazing, even though not hidden, the
+deer does not see distant objects; before the head is raised, its tail
+is raised or shaken. Quonab knew that if he could keep the tail in view,
+he could avoid being viewed by the head. In a word, only an ill-timed
+movement or a whiff could betray him.
+
+The open ice was, of course, a hard test, and the hunter might have
+failed, but that his long form looked like one of the logs that were
+lying about half stranded or frozen in the stream.
+
+Watching ever the alert head and tail, he timed his approach, working
+hard and moving East when the head was down; but when warned by a
+tail-jerk he turned to a log nor moved a muscle. Once the ice was
+crossed, the danger of being seen was less, but of being smelt was
+greater, for the deer was moving about, and Quonab watched the smoke
+from the cabin for knowledge of the wind. So he came within fifty yards,
+and the buck, still sniffing along and eagerly champing the few red
+cranberries it found above the frozen moss, was working toward a
+somewhat higher cover. The herbage was now fully eighteen inches high,
+and Quonab moved a little faster. The buck found a large patch of
+berries under a tussock and dropped on its knees to pick them out, while
+Quonab saw the chance and gained ten yards before the tail gave warning.
+After so long a feeding-spell, the buck took an extra long lookout,
+and then walked toward the timber, whereby the Indian lost all he had
+gained. But the browser's eye was drawn by a shining bunch of red, then
+another; and now the buck swung until there was danger of betrayal by
+the wind; then down went its head and Quonab retreated ten yards to keep
+the windward. Once the buck raised its muzzle and sniffed with flaring
+nostrils, as though its ancient friend had brought a warning. But soon
+he seemed reassured, for the landscape showed no foe, and nosed back and
+forth, while Quonab regained the yards he had lost. The buck worked now
+to the taller cover, and again a tempting bunch of berries under a low,
+dense bush caused it to kneel for farther under-reaching. Quonab glided
+swiftly forward, reached the twenty-five-yard limit, rose to one knee,
+bent the stark cedar bow. Rolf saw the buck bound in air, then make for
+the wood with great, high leaps; the dash of disappointment was on him,
+but Quonab stood erect, with right hand raised, and shouted:
+
+“Ho--ho.”
+
+He knew that those bounds were unnecessarily high, and before the woods
+had swallowed up the buck, it fell--rose--and fell again, to rise not.
+The arrow had pierced its heart.
+
+Then Rolf rushed up with kindled eye and exultant pride to slap his
+friend on the back, and exclaim:
+
+“I never thought it possible; the greatest feat in hunting I ever saw;
+you are a wonder!”
+
+To which the Indian softly replied, as he smiled:
+
+“Ho! it was so I got eleven British sentries in the war. They gave me a
+medal with Washington's head.”
+
+“They did! how is it I never heard of it? Where is it?”
+
+The Indian's face darkened. “I threw it after the ship that stole my
+Gamowini.”
+
+
+
+Chapter 67. Rolf Meets a Canuck
+
+The winter might have been considered eventful, had not so many of the
+events been repetitions of former experience. But there were several
+that by their newness deserve a place on these pages, as they did in
+Rolf's memory.
+
+One of them happened soon after the first sharp frost. It had been an
+autumn of little rain, so that many ponds had dried up, with the
+result that hundreds of muskrats were forced out to seek more habitable
+quarters. The first time Rolf saw one of these stranded mariners on its
+overland journey, he gave heedless chase. At first it made awkward haste
+to escape; then a second muskrat was discovered just ahead, and a third.
+This added to Rolf's interest. In a few bounds he was among them, but it
+was to get a surprise. Finding themselves overtaken, the muskrats turned
+in desperation and attacked the common enemy with courage and fury. Rolf
+leaped over the first, but the second sprang, caught him by the slack
+of the trouser leg, and hung on. The third flung itself on his foot and
+drove its sharp teeth through the moccasin. Quickly the first rallied
+and sprang on his other leg with all the force of its puny paws, and
+powerful jaws.
+
+Meanwhile Quonab was laughing aloud and holding back Skookum, who,
+breathing fire and slaughter, was mad to be in the fight.
+
+“Ho! a good fight! good musquas! Ho, Skookum, you must not always take
+care of him, or he will not learn to go alone.
+
+“Ugh, good!” as the third muskrat gripped Rolf by the calf.
+
+There could be but one finish, and that not long delayed. A well-placed
+kick on one, the second swung by the tail, the third crushed under
+his heel, and the affair ended. Rolf had three muskrats and five cuts.
+Quonab had much joy and Skookum a sense of lost opportunity.
+
+“This we should paint on the wigwam,” said Quonab. “Three great warriors
+attacked one Sagamore. They were very brave, but he was Nibowaka and
+very strong; he struck them down as the Thunderbird, Hurakan, strikes
+the dead pines the fire has left on the hilltop against the sky. Now
+shall you eat their hearts, for they were brave. My father told me a
+fighting muskrat's heart is great medicine; for he seeks peace while it
+is possible, then he turns and fights without fear.”
+
+A few days later, they sighted a fox. In order to have a joke on
+Skookum, they put him on its track, and away he went, letting off his
+joy-whoops at every jump. The men sat down to wait, knowing full well
+that after an hour Skookum would come back with a long tongue and an
+air of depression. But they were favoured with an unexpected view of
+the chase. It showed a fox bounding over the snow, and not twenty yards
+behind was their energetic four-legged colleague.
+
+And, still more unexpected, the fox was overtaken in the next thicket,
+shaken to limpness, and dragged to be dropped at Quonab's feet.
+This glorious victory by Skookum was less surprising, when a closer
+examination showed that the fox had been in a bad way. Through some sad,
+sudden indiscretion, he had tackled a porcupine and paid the penalty.
+His mouth, jaws and face, neck and legs, were bristling with quills. He
+was sick and emaciated. He could not have lasted many days longer, and
+Skookum's summary lynching was a blessing in disguise.
+
+The trappers' usual routine was varied by a more important happening.
+One day of deep snow in January, when they were running the northern
+line on Racquet River, they camped for the night at their shelter
+cabin, and were somewhat surprised at dusk to hear a loud challenge from
+Skookum replied to by a human voice, and a short man with black whiskers
+appeared. He raised one hand in token of friendliness and was invited to
+come in.
+
+He was a French Canadian from La Colle Mills. He had trapped here for
+some years. The almost certainty of war between Canada and the States
+had kept his usual companions away. So he had trapped alone, always a
+dangerous business, and had gathered a lot of good fur, but had fallen
+on the ice and hurt himself inwardly, so that he had no strength. He
+could tramp out on snowshoes, but could not carry his pack of furs. He
+had long known that he had neighbours on the south; the camp fire smoke
+proved that, and he had come now to offer all his furs for sale.
+
+Quonab shook his head, but Rolf said, “We'll come over and see them.”
+
+A two-hours' tramp in the morning brought them to the Frenchman's cabin.
+He opened out his furs; several otter, many sable, some lynx, over
+thirty beaver--the whole lot for two hundred dollars. At Lyons Falls
+they were worth double that.
+
+Rolf saw a chance for a bargain. He whispered, “We can double our money
+on it, Quonab. What do ye say?”
+
+The reply was simply, “Ugh! you are Nibowaka.”
+
+“We'll take your offer, if we can fix it up about payment, for I have no
+money with me and barely two hundred dollars at the cabin.”
+
+“You half tabac and grosairs?”
+
+“Yes, plenty.”
+
+“You can go 'get 'em? Si?”
+
+Rolf paused, looked down, then straight at the Frenchman.
+
+“Will you trust me to take half the fur now; when I come back with the
+pay I can get the rest.”
+
+The Frenchman looked puzzled, then, “By Gar you look de good look. I let
+um go. I tink you pretty good fellow, parbleu!”
+
+So Rolf marched away with half the furs and four days later he was back
+and paid the pale-faced but happy Frenchman the one hundred and fifty
+dollars he had received from Van Cortlandt, with other bills making one
+hundred and ninety-five dollars and with groceries and tobacco enough to
+satisfy the trapper. The Frenchman proved a most amiable character.
+He and Rolf took to each other greatly, and when they shook hands at
+parting, it was in the hope of an early and happier meeting.
+
+Francois la Colle turned bravely for the ninety-mile tramp over the snow
+to his home, while Rolf went south with the furs that were to prove
+a most profitable investment, shaping his life in several ways, and
+indirectly indeed of saving it on one occasion.
+
+
+
+Chapter 68. War
+
+Eighteen hundred and twelve had passed away. President Madison, driven
+by wrongs to his countrymen and indignities that no nation should meekly
+accept, had in the midsummer declared war on Great Britain. Unfitted to
+cope with the situation and surrounded by unfit counsellors, his little
+army of heroic men led by unfit commanders had suffered one reverse
+after another.
+
+The loss of Fort Mackinaw, Chicago, Detroit, Brownstown, and the total
+destruction of the American army that attacked Queenstown were but
+poorly offset by the victory at Niagara and the successful defence of
+Ogdensburg.
+
+Rolf and Quonab had repaired to Albany as arranged, but they left it
+as United States scouts, not as guides to the four young sportsmen who
+wished to hark back to the primitive.
+
+Their first commission had been the bearing of despatches to Plattsburg.
+
+With a selected light canoe and a minimum of baggage they reached
+Ticonderoga in two days, and there renewed their acquaintance
+with General Hampton, who was fussing about, and digging useless
+entrenchments as though he expected a mighty siege. Rolf was called
+before him to receive other despatches for Colonel Pike at Plattsburg.
+He got the papers and learned their destination, then immediately made a
+sad mistake. “Excuse me, sir,” he began, “if I meet with--”
+
+“Young man,” said the general, severely, “I don't want any of your 'ifs'
+or 'buts'; your orders are 'go.' 'How' and 'if' are matters for you to
+find out; that's what you are paid for.”
+
+Rolf bowed; his cheeks were tingling. He was very angry at what he
+thought a most uncalled for rebuke, but he got over it, and he never
+forgot the lesson. It was Si Sylvanne that put it into rememberable
+form.
+
+“A fool horse kin follow a turnpike, but it takes a man with wits to
+climb, swim, boat, skate, run, hide, go it blind, pick a lock, take the
+long way, round, when it's the short way across, run away at the right
+time, or fight when it's wise--all in one afternoon.” Rolf set out for
+the north carrying a bombastic (meant to be reassuring) message from
+Hampton that he would annihilate any enemy who dared to desecrate the
+waters of the lake.
+
+It was on this trip that Rolf learned from Quonab the details of the
+latter's visit to his people on the St. Regis. Apparently the joy of
+meeting a few of his own kin, with whom he could talk his own language,
+was offset by meeting with a large number of his ancient enemies the
+Mohawks. There had been much discussion of the possible war between the
+British and the Yankees. The Mohawks announced their intention to fight
+for the British, which was a sufficient reason for Quonab as a Sinawa
+remaining with the Americans; and when he left the St. Regis reserve the
+Indian was without any desire to reenter it.
+
+At Plattsburg Rolf and Quonab met with another Albany acquaintance in
+General Wilkinson, and from him received despatches which they brought
+back to Albany, having covered the whole distance in eight days.
+
+When 1812 was gone Rolf had done little but carry despatches up and down
+Lake Champlain. Next season found the Americans still under command of
+Generals Wilkinson and Hampton, whose utter incompetence was becoming
+daily more evident.
+
+The year 1813 saw Rolf, eighteen years old and six feet one in his
+socks, a trained scout and despatch bearer.
+
+By a flying trip on snowshoes in January he took letters, from General
+Hampton at Ticonderoga to Sackett's Harbour and back in eight days,
+nearly three hundred miles. It made him famous as a runner, but the
+tidings that he brought were sad. Through him they learned in detail of
+the total defeat and capture of the American army at Frenchtown. After a
+brief rest he was sent across country on snowshoes to bear a reassuring
+message to Ogdensburg. The weather was much colder now, and the single
+blanket bed was dangerously slight; so “Flying Kittering,” as they named
+him, took a toboggan and secured Quonab as his running mate. Skookum
+was given into safe keeping. Blankets, pots, cups, food, guns, and
+despatches were strapped on the toboggan, and they sped away at dawn
+from Ticonderoga on the 18th of February 1813, headed northwestward,
+guided by little but the compass. Thirty miles that day they made in
+spite of piercing blasts and driving snow. But with the night there
+began a terrible storm with winds of zero chill. The air was filled
+with stinging, cutting snow. When they rose at daylight they were nearly
+buried in drifts, although their camp was in a dense, sheltered thicket.
+Guided wholly by the compass they travelled again, but blinded by the
+whirling white they stumbled and blundered into endless difficulties
+and made but poor headway. After dragging the toboggan for three hours,
+taking turns at breaking the way, they were changing places when Rolf
+noticed a large gray patch on Quonab's cheek and nose.
+
+“Quonab, your face is frozen,” he said.
+
+“So is yours,” was the reply.
+
+Now they turned aside, followed a hollow until they reached a spruce
+grove, where they camped and took an observation, to learn that the
+compass and they held widely different views about the direction of
+travel. It was obviously useless to face the storm. They rubbed out
+their frozen features with dry snow and rested by the fire.
+
+No good scout seeks for hardship; he avoids the unnecessary trial of
+strength and saves himself for the unavoidable. With zero weather about
+them and twenty-four hours to wait in the storm, the scouts set about
+making themselves thoroughly comfortable.
+
+With their snowshoes they dug away the snow in a circle a dozen feet
+across, piling it up on the outside so as to make that as high as
+possible. When they were down to the ground, the wall of snow around
+them was five feet high. Now they went forth with the hatchets, cut many
+small spruces, and piled them against the living spruces about the camp
+till there was a dense mass of evergreen foliage ten feet high around
+them, open only at the top, where was a space five feet across. With
+abundance of dry spruce wood, a thick bed of balsam boughs, and plenty
+of blankets they were in what most woodmen consider comfort complete.
+
+They had nothing to do now but wait. Quonab sat placidly smoking, Rolf
+was sewing a rent in his coat, the storm hissed, and the wind-driven ice
+needles rattled through the trees to vary the crackle of the fire with a
+“siss” as they fell on the embers. The low monotony of sound was lulling
+in its evenness, when a faint crunch of a foot on the snow was heard.
+Rolf reached for his gun, the fir tree screen was shaken a little, and a
+minute later there bounded in upon them the snow covered form of little
+dog Skookum, expressing his good-will by excessive sign talk in which
+every limb and member had a part. They had left him behind, indeed, but
+not with his consent, so the bargain was incomplete.
+
+There was no need to ask now, What shall we do with him? Skookum had
+settled that, and why or how he never attempted to explain.
+
+He was wise who made it law that “as was his share who went forth to
+battle, so shall his be that abode with the stuff,” for the hardest of
+all is the waiting. In the morning there was less doing in the elemental
+strife. There were even occasional periods of calm and at length it grew
+so light that surely the veil was breaking.
+
+Quonab returned from a brief reconnoitre to say, “Ugh!--good going.”
+
+The clouds were broken and flying, the sun came out at times, but the
+wind was high, the cold intense, and the snow still drifting. Poor
+Skookum had it harder than the men, for they wore snowshoes; but he kept
+his troubles to himself and bravely trudged along behind. Had he been
+capable of such reflection he might have said, “What delightful weather,
+it keeps the fleas so quiet.”
+
+That day there was little to note but the intense cold, and again both
+men had their cheeks frost-bitten on the north side. A nook under an
+overhanging rock gave a good camp that night. Next day the bad weather
+resumed, but, anxious to push on they faced it, guided chiefly by the
+wind. It was northwest, and as long as they felt this fierce, burning
+cold mercilessly gnawing on their hapless tender right cheek bones, they
+knew they were keeping their proper main course.
+
+They were glad indeed to rest at dusk and thaw their frozen faces. Next
+day at dawn they were off; at first it was calm, but the surging of the
+snow waves soon began again, and the air was filled with the spray of
+their lashing till it was hard to see fifty yards in any direction. They
+were making very bad time. The fourth day should have brought them to
+Ogdensburg, but they were still far off; how far they could only guess,
+for they had not come across a house or a settler.
+
+
+
+Chapter 69. Ogdensburg
+
+The same blizzard was raging on the next day when Skookum gave
+unequivocal sign talk that he smelled something.
+
+It is always well to find out what stirs your dog. Quonab looked hard at
+Skookum. That sagacious mongrel was sniffing vigorously, up in the air,
+not on the ground; his mane was not bristling, and the patch of dark
+hair that every gray or yellow dog has at the base of his tail, was not
+lifted.
+
+“He smells smoke,” was the Indian's quick diagnosis. Rolf pointed Up the
+wind and made the sign-talk query. Quonab nodded.
+
+It was their obvious duty to find out who was their smoky neighbour.
+They were now not so far from the St. Lawrence; there was a small chance
+of the smoke being from a party of the enemy; there was a large chance
+of it being from friends; and the largest chance was that it came from
+some settler's cabin where they could get necessary guidance.
+
+They turned aside. The wind now, instead of on the right cheek, was
+square in their faces. Rolf went forward increasing his pace till he was
+as far ahead as was possible without being out of sight. After a mile
+their way led downward, the timber was thicker, the wind less, and the
+air no more befogged with flying snow. Rolf came to a long, deep trench
+that wound among the trees; the snow at the bottom of it was very hard.
+This was what he expected; the trail muffled under new, soft snow, but
+still a fresh trail and leading to the camp that Skookum had winded.
+
+He turned and made the sign for them to halt and wait. Then strode
+cautiously along the winding guide line.
+
+In twenty minutes the indications of a settlement increased, and the
+scout at length was peering from the woods across the open down to a
+broad stream on whose bank was a saw mill, with the usual wilderness of
+ramshackle shanties, sheds, and lumber piles about.
+
+There was no work going on, which was a puzzle till Rolf remembered
+it was Sunday. He went boldly up and asked for the boss. His whole
+appearance was that of a hunter and as such the boss received him.
+
+He was coming through from the other side and had missed his way in the
+storm, he explained.
+
+“What are ye by trade?”
+
+“A trapper.”
+
+“Where are ye bound now?”
+
+“Well, I'll head for the nearest big settlement, whatever that is.”
+
+“It's just above an even thing between Alexandria Bay and Ogdensburg.”
+
+So Rolf inquired fully about the trail to Alexandria Bay that he did not
+want to go to. Why should he be so careful? The mill owner was clearly
+a good American, but the scout had no right to let any outsider know his
+business. This mill owner might be safe, but he might be unwise and blab
+to some one who was not all right.
+
+Then in a casual way he learned that this was the Oswegatchie River and
+thirty miles down he would find the town of Ogdensburg.
+
+No great recent events did he hear of, but evidently the British
+troops across the river were only awaiting the springtime before taking
+offensive measures.
+
+For the looks of it, Rolf bought some tea and pork, but the hospitable
+mill man refused to take payment and, leaving in the direction of
+Alexandria Bay, Rolf presently circled back and rejoined his friends in
+the woods.
+
+A long detour took them past the mill. It was too cold for outdoor
+idling. Every window was curtained with frost, and not a soul saw them
+as they tramped along past the place and down to continue on the ice of
+the Oswegatchie.
+
+Pounded by the ceaseless wind, the snow on the ice was harder, travel
+was easier, and the same tireless blizzard wiped out the trail as soon
+as it was behind them.
+
+Crooked is the river trail, but good the footing, and good time was
+made. When there was a north reach, the snow was extra hard or the ice
+clear and the scouts slipped off their snow shoes, and trotted at a good
+six-mile gait. Three times they halted for tea and rest, but the fact
+that they were the bearers of precious despatches, the bringers of
+inspiring good news, and their goal ever nearer, spurred them on and
+on. It was ten o'clock that morning when they left the mill, some thirty
+miles from Ogdensburg. It was now near sundown, but still they figured
+that by an effort they could reach the goal that night. It was their
+best day's travel, but they were nerved to it by the sense of triumph as
+they trotted; and the prospective joy of marching up to the commandant
+and handing over the eagerly looked for, reassuring documents, gave
+them new strength and ambition. Yes! they must push on at any price that
+night. Day was over now; Rolf was leading at a steady trot. In his hand
+he held the long trace of his toboggan, ten feet behind was Quonab with
+the short trace, while Skookum trotted before, beside, or behind, as was
+dictated by his general sense of responsibility.
+
+It was quite dark now. There was no moon, the wooded shore was black.
+Their only guide was the broad, wide reach of the river, sometimes swept
+bare of snow by the wind, but good travelling at all times. They were
+trotting and walking in spells, going five miles an hour; Quonab was
+suffering, but Rolf was young and eager to finish. They rounded another
+reach, they were now on the last big bend, they were reeling off the
+miles; only ten more, and Rolf was so stirred that, instead of dropping
+to the usual walk on signal at the next one hundred yards spell, he
+added to his trot. Quonab, taken unawares, slipped and lost his hold of
+the trace. Rolf shot ahead and a moment later there was the crash of a
+breaking air-hole, and Rolf went through the ice, clutched at the broken
+edge and disappeared, while the toboggan was dragged to the hole.
+
+Quonab sprung to his feet, and then to the lower side of the hole.
+The toboggan had swung to the same place and the long trace was tight;
+without a moment's delay the Indian hauled at it steadily, heavily, and
+in a few seconds the head of his companion reappeared; still clutching
+that long trace he was safely dragged from the ice-cold flood, blowing
+and gasping, shivering and sopping, but otherwise unhurt.
+
+Now here a new danger presented itself. The zero wind would soon turn
+his clothes to boards. They stiffened in a few minutes, and the Indian
+knew that frozen hands and feet were all too easy in frozen clothes.
+
+He made at once for the shore, and, seeking the heart of a spruce
+thicket, lost no time in building two roaring fires between which Rolf
+stood while the Indian made the bed, in which, as soon as he could be
+stripped, the lad was glad to hide. Warm tea and warm blankets made
+him warm, but it would take an hour or two to dry his clothes. There is
+nothing more damaging than drying them too quickly. Quonab made racks of
+poles and spent the next two hours in regulating the fire, watching the
+clothes, and working the moccasins.
+
+It was midnight when they were ready and any question of going on at
+once was settled by Quonab. “Ogdensburg is under arms,” he said. “It is
+not wise to approach by night.”
+
+At six in the morning they were once more going, stiff with travel,
+sore-footed, face-frozen, and chafed by delay; but, swift and keen,
+trotting and walking, they went. They passed several settlements, but
+avoided them. At seven-thirty they had a distant glimpse of Ogdensburg
+and heard the inspiring roll of drums, and a few minutes later from
+the top of a hill they had a complete view of the heroic little town to
+see--yes! plainly enough--that the British flag was flying from the flag
+pole.
+
+
+
+Chapter 70. Saving the Despatches
+
+Oh, the sickening shock of it! Rolf did not know till now how tired he
+was, how eager to deliver the heartening message, and to relax a little
+from the strain. He felt weak through and through. There could be no
+doubt that a disaster had befallen his country's arms.
+
+His first care was to get out of sight with his sled and those precious
+despatches.
+
+Now what should he do? Nothing till he had fuller information. He sent
+Quonab back with the sled, instructing him to go to a certain place two
+miles off, there camp out of sight and wait.
+
+Then he went in alone. Again and again he was stung by the thought, “If
+I had come sooner they might have held out.”
+
+A number of teams gathered at the largest of a group of houses on the
+bank suggested a tavern. He went in and found many men sitting down
+to breakfast. He had no need to ask questions. It was the talk of the
+table. Ogdensburg had been captured the day before. The story is well
+known. Colonel MacDonnell with his Glengarry Highlanders at Prescott
+went to drill daily on the ice of the St. Lawrence opposite Ogdensburg.
+Sometimes they marched past just out of range, sometimes they charged
+and wheeled before coming too near. The few Americans that held the
+place watched these harmless exercises and often cheered some clever
+manceuvre. They felt quite safe behind their fortification. By an
+unwritten agreement both parties refrained from firing random shots at
+each other. There was little to suggest enemies entrenched; indeed, many
+men in each party had friends in the other, and the British had several
+times trotted past within easy range, without provoking a shot.
+
+On February 22d, the day when Rolf and Quonab struck the Oswegatchie,
+the British colonel directed his men as usual, swinging them ever nearer
+the American fort, and then, at the nearest point, executed a very
+pretty charge. The Americans watched it as it neared, but instead of
+wheeling at the brink the little army scrambled up with merry shouts,
+and before the garrison could realize that this was war, they were
+overpowered and Ogdensburg was taken.
+
+The American commander was captured. Captain Forsyth, the second in
+command, had been off on a snowshoe trip, so had escaped. All the
+rest were prisoners, and what to do with the despatches or how to get
+official instructions was now a deep problem. “When you don't know a
+thing to do, don't do a thing,” was one of Si Sylvanne's axioms; also,
+“In case of doubt lay low and say nothing.” Rolf hung around the town
+all day waiting for light. About noon a tall, straight, alert man in a
+buffalo coat drove up with a cutter. He had a hasty meal in an inside
+room. Rolf sized him up for an American officer, but there was a
+possibility of his being a Canadian. Rolf tried in vain to get light on
+him but the inner door was kept closed; the landlord was evidently in
+the secret. When he came out he was again swaddled in the buffalo coat.
+Rolf brushed past him--here was something hard and long in the right
+pocket of the big coat.
+
+The landlord, the guest, and the driver had a whispered conference.
+Rolf went as near as he dared, but got only a searching look. The driver
+spoke to another driver and Rolf heard the words “Black Lake.” Yes,
+that was what he suspected. Black Lake was on the inland sleigh route to
+Alexandria Bay and Sackett's Harbour.
+
+The driver, a fresh young fellow, was evidently interested in the
+landlord's daughter; the stranger was talking with the landlord. As soon
+as they had parted, Rolf went to the latter and remarked quietly: “The
+captain is in a hurry.” The only reply was a cold look and: “Guess
+that's his business.” So it was the captain. The driver's mitts were on
+the line back of the stove. Rolf shook them so that they fell in a dark
+corner. The driver missed his mitts, and glad of a chance went back in,
+leaving the officer alone. “Captain Forsyth,” whispered Rolf, “don't go
+till I have talked with you. I'll meet you a mile down the road.”
+
+“Who are you and what do you want?” was the curt and hostile reply,
+evidently admitting the identification correct however.
+
+Rolf opened his coat and showed his scout badge.
+
+“Why not talk now if you have any news--come in side.” So the two went
+to the inner room. “Who is this?” asked Rolf cautiously as the landlord
+came in.
+
+“He's all right. This is Titus Flack, the landlord.”
+
+“How am I to know that?”
+
+“Haven't you heard him called by name all day?” said the captain.
+
+Flack smiled, went out and returned with his license to sell liquor, and
+his commission as a magistrate of New York State. The latter bore his
+own signature. He took a pen and reproduced it. Now the captain threw
+back his overcoat and stood in the full uniform of an army officer.
+He opened his satchel and took out a paper, but Rolf caught sight of
+another packet addressed to General Hampton. The small one was merely a
+map. “I think that packet in there is meant for me,” remarked Rolf.
+
+“We haven't seen your credentials yet,” said the officer. “I have them
+two miles back there,” and Rolf pointed to the woods.
+
+“Let's go,” said the captain and they arose. Kittering had a way of
+inspiring confidence, but in the short, silent ride of two miles the
+captain began to have his doubts. The scout badge might have been
+stolen; Canadians often pass for Americans, etc. At length they stopped
+the sleigh, and Rolf led into the woods. Before a hundred yards the
+officer said, “Stop,” and Rolf stopped to find a pistol pointed at his
+head. “Now, young fellow, you've played it pretty slick, and I don't
+know yet what to make of it. But I know this; at the very first sign of
+treachery I'll blow your brains out anyway.” It gave Rolf a jolt. This
+was the first time he had looked down a pistol barrel levelled at him.
+He used to think a pistol a little thing, an inch through and a foot
+long, but he found now it seemed as big as a flour barrel and long
+enough to reach eternity. He changed colour but quickly recovered,
+smiled, and said: “Don't worry; in five minutes you will know it's all
+right.”
+
+Very soon a sharp bark was heard in challenge, and the two stepped into
+camp to meet Quonab and little dog Skookum.
+
+“Doesn't look much like a trap,” thought the captain after he had cast
+his eyes about and made sure that no other person was in the camp; then
+aloud, “Now what have you to show me?”
+
+“Excuse me, captain, but how am I to know you are Captain Forsyth? It is
+possible for a couple of spies to give all the proof you two gave me.”
+
+The captain opened his bag and showed first his instructions given
+before he left Ogdensburg four days ago; he bared his arm and showed a
+tattooed U. S. A., a relic of Academy days, then his linen marked J. F.,
+and a signet ring with similar initials, and last the great packet of
+papers addressed to General Hampton. Then he said: “When you hand over
+your despatches to me I will give mine to you and we shall have good
+guarantee each of the other.”
+
+Rolf rose, produced his bundle of papers, and exchanged them for those
+held by Forsyth; each felt that the other was safe. They soon grew
+friendly, and Rolf heard of some stirring doings on the lake and
+preparations for a great campaign in the spring.
+
+After half an hour the tall, handsome captain left them and strode away,
+a picture of manly vigour. Three hours later they were preparing their
+evening meal when Skookum gave notice of a stranger approaching. This
+was time of war; Rolf held his rifle ready, and a moment later in burst
+the young man who had been Captain Forsyth's driver.
+
+His face was white; blood dripped from his left arm, and in his other
+hand was the despatch bag. He glanced keenly at Rolf. “Are you General
+Hampton's scout?” Rolf nodded and showed the badge on his breast.
+“Captain Forsyth sent this back,” he gasped. “His last words were, 'Burn
+the despatches rather than let the British get them.' They got him--a
+foraging party--there was a spy at the hotel. I got away, but my tracks
+are easy to follow unless it drifts. Don't wait.”
+
+Poor boy, his arm was broken, but he carried out the dead officer's
+command, then left them to seek for relief in the settlement.
+
+Night was near, but Rolf broke camp at once and started eastward with
+the double packet. He did not know it then, but learned afterward that
+these despatches made clear the weakness of Oswego, Rochester, and
+Sackett's Harbour, their urgent need of help, and gave the whole plan
+for an American counter attack on Montreal. But he knew they were
+valuable, and they must at once be taken to General Hampton.
+
+It was rough, hard going in the thick woods and swamps away from the
+river, for he did not dare take the ice route now, but they pushed on
+for three hours, then, in the gloom, made a miserable camp in a cedar
+swamp.
+
+At dawn they were off again. To their disgust the weather now was dead
+calm; there was no drift to hide their tracks; the trail was as plain as
+a highway wherever they went. They came to a beaten road, followed that
+for half a mile, then struck off on the true line. But they had no idea
+that they were followed until, after an hour of travel, the sun came up
+and on a far distant slope, full two miles away, they saw a thin black
+line of many spots, at least a dozen British soldiers in pursuit.
+
+The enemy was on snowshoes, and without baggage evidently, for they
+travelled fast. Rolf and Quonab burdened with the sled were making
+a losing race. But they pushed on as fast as possible--toiling and
+sweating at that precious load. Rolf was pondering whether the time had
+not yet come to stop and burn the packet, when, glancing back from a
+high ridge that gave an outlook, he glimpsed a row of heads that dropped
+behind some rocks half a mile away, and a scheme came into his mind. He
+marched boldly across the twenty feet opening that was in the enemy's
+view, dropped behind the spruce thickets, called Quonab to follow, ran
+around the thicket, and again crossed the open view. So he and Quonab
+continued for five minutes, as fast as they could go, knowing perfectly
+well that they were watched. Round and round that bush they went,
+sometimes close together, carrying the guns, sometimes dragging the
+sled, sometimes with blankets on their shoulders, sometimes with a short
+bag or even a large cake of snow on their backs. They did everything
+they could to vary the scene, and before five minutes the British
+officer in charge had counted fifty-six armed Americans marching in
+single file up the bank with ample stores, accompanied by five yellow
+dogs. Had Skookum been allowed to carry out his ideas, there would have
+been fifty or sixty yellow dogs, so thoroughly did he enter into the
+spirit of the game.
+
+The track gave no hint of such a troop, but of course not, how could it?
+since the toboggan left all smooth after they had passed, or maybe this
+was a reinforcement arriving. What could he do with his ten men against
+fifty of the enemy? He thanked his stars that he had so cleverly evaded
+the trap, and without further attempt to gauge the enemy's strength, he
+turned and made all possible haste back to the shelter of Ogdensburg.
+
+
+
+Chapter 71. Sackett's Harbour
+
+It was hours before Rolf was sure that he had stopped the pursuit, and
+the thing that finally set his mind at rest was the rising wind that
+soon was a raging and drifting snow storm. “Oh, blessed storm!” he said
+in his heart, as he marked all trail disappear within a few seconds
+of its being made. And he thought: “How I cursed the wind that held me
+back--really from being made prisoner. How vexed I was at that ducking
+in the river, that really saved my despatches from the enemy. How
+thankful I am now for the storm that a little while back seemed so
+bitterly cruel.”
+
+That forenoon they struck the big bend of the river and now did not
+hesitate to use the easy travel on the ice as far as Rensselaer Falls,
+where, having got their bearings from a settler, they struck across the
+country through the storm, and at night were encamped some forty miles
+from Ogdensburg.
+
+Marvellously few signs of game had they seen in this hard trip;
+everything that could hide away was avoiding the weather. But in a cedar
+bottom land near Cranberry Lake they found a “yard” that seemed to be
+the winter home of hundreds of deer. It extended two or three miles one
+way a half a mile the other; in spite of the deep snow this was nearly
+all in beaten paths. The scouts saw at least fifty deer in going
+through, so, of course, had no difficulty in selecting a young buck for
+table use.
+
+The going from there on was of little interest. It was the same old
+daily battle with the frost, but less rigorous than before, for now the
+cold winds were behind, and on the 27th of February, nine days after
+leaving, they trotted into Ticonderoga and reported at the commandant's
+headquarters.
+
+The general was still digging entrenchments and threatening to
+annihilate all Canada. But the contents of the despatches gave him new
+topics for thought and speech. The part he must play in the proposed
+descent on Montreal was flattering, but it made the Ticonderoga
+entrenchments ridiculous.
+
+For three days Rolf was kept cutting wood, then he went with despatches
+to Albany.
+
+Many minor labours, from hog-killing to stable-cleaning and trenching,
+varied the month of March. Then came the uncertain time of April when
+it was neither canoeing nor snow-shoeing and all communication from the
+north was cut off.
+
+But May, great, glorious May came on, with its inspiring airs and
+livening influence. Canoes were afloat, the woods were brown beneath and
+gold above.
+
+Rolf felt like a young stag in his strength. He was spoiling for a run
+and volunteered eagerly to carry despatches to Sackett's Harbour. He
+would go alone, for now one blanket was sufficient bed, and a couple of
+pounds of dry meat was enough food for each day. A small hatchet would
+be useful, but his rifle seemed too heavy to carry; as he halted in
+doubt, a junior officer offered him a pistol instead, and he gladly
+stuck it in his belt.
+
+Taller than ever, considerably over six feet now, somewhat lanky, but
+supple of joint and square of shoulder, he strode with the easy stride
+of a strong traveller. His colour was up, his blue-gray eyes ablaze
+as he took the long trail in a crow line across country for Sackett's
+Harbour. The sentry saluted, and the officer of the day, struck by his
+figure and his glowing face as much as by the nature of his errand,
+stopped to shake hands and say, “Well, good luck, Kittering, and may you
+bring us better news than the last two times.”
+
+Rolf knew how to travel now; he began softly. At a long, easy stride he
+went for half an hour, then at a swinging trot for a mile or two. Five
+miles an hour he could make, but there was one great obstacle to speed
+at this season--every stream was at flood, all were difficult to cross.
+The brooks he could wade or sometimes could fell a tree across them, but
+the rivers were too wide to bridge, too cold and dangerous to swim. In
+nearly every case he had to make a raft. A good scout takes no chances.
+A slight raft means a risky passage; a good one, a safe crossing but
+loss of time in preparations. Fifteen good rafts did Rolf make in that
+cross-country journey of three days: dry spruce logs he found each time
+and bound them together with leather-wood and withes of willow. It meant
+a delay of at least an hour each time; that is five hours each day. But
+the time was wisely spent. The days were lengthening; he could travel
+much at dusk. Soon he was among settlements. Rumours he got at a
+settler's cabin of Sir George Prevost's attack on Sackett's Harbour and
+the gallant repulse and at morning of the fourth day he came on the hill
+above Sackett's Harbour--the same hill where he had stood three months
+before. It was with something like a clutching of his breath that he
+gazed; his past experiences suggested dreadful thoughts but no--thank
+God, “Old Glory” floated from the pole. He identified himself to the
+sentinels and the guard, entered the fort at a trot, and reported at
+headquarters.
+
+There was joy on every side. At last the tide had turned. Commodore
+Chauncey, after sweeping Lake Ontario, had made a sudden descent on York
+(Toronto now) the capital of Upper Canada, had seized and destroyed
+it. Sir George Prevost, taking advantage of Chauncey's being away, had
+attacked Sackett's Harbour, but, in spite of the absence of the fleet,
+the resistance had been so vigorous that in a few days the siege was
+abandoned.
+
+There were shot holes in walls and roofs, there were a few wounded
+in the hospital, the green embankments were torn, and the flag-pole
+splintered; but the enemy was gone, the starry flag was floating on the
+wind, and the sturdy little garrison filled with a spirit that grows
+only in heroes fighting for their homes.
+
+How joyfully different from Ogdensburg.
+
+
+
+Chapter 72. Scouting Across Country
+
+That very night, Rolf turned again with the latest news and the
+commandant's reports.
+
+He was learning the country well now, and, with the wonderful
+place-memory of a woodman, he was able to follow his exact back trail.
+It might not have been the best way, but it gave him this advantage--in
+nearly every case he was able to use again the raft he had made in
+coming, and thereby saved many hours of precious time.
+
+On the way out he had seen a good many deer and one bear, and had heard
+the howling of wolves every night; but always at a distance. On the
+second night, in the very heart of the wilderness, the wolves were noisy
+and seemed very near. Rolf was camping in the darkness. He made a small
+fire with such stuff as he could find by groping, then, when the fire
+blazed, he discovered by its light a dead spruce some twenty yards away.
+Taking his hatchet he went toward this, and, as he did so, a wolf rose
+up, with its forefeet on a log, only five yards beyond the tree and
+gazed curiously at him. Others were heard calling; presently this wolf
+raised its muzzle and uttered a long smooth howl.
+
+Rolf had left his pistol back at the fire; he dared not throw his
+hatchet, as that would have left him unarmed. He stooped, picked up a
+stick, and threw that; the wolf ducked so that it passed over, then,
+stepping back from the log, stood gazing without obvious fear or menace.
+The others were howling; Rolf felt afraid. He backed cautiously to the
+fire, got his pistol and came again to the place, but nothing more did
+he see of the wolf, though he heard them all night and kept up two great
+fires for a protection.
+
+In the morning he started as usual, and before half an hour he was aware
+of a wolf, and later of two, trotting along his trail, a few hundred
+yards behind. They did not try to overtake him; indeed, when he stopped,
+they did the same; and when he trotted, they, true to their dog-like
+nature, ran more rapidly in pursuit. How Rolf did wish for his long
+rifle; but they gave no opportunity for a shot with the pistol. They
+acted, indeed, as though they knew their safe distance and the exact
+range of the junior gun. The scout made a trap for them by stealing back
+after he had crossed a ridge, and hiding near his own trail. But the
+wind conveyed a warning, and the wolves merely sat down and waited
+till he came out and went on. All day long these two strange ban dogs
+followed him and gave no sign of hunger or malice; then, after he
+crossed a river, at three in the afternoon, he saw no more of them.
+Years after, when Rolf knew them better, he believed they followed him
+out of mild curiosity, or possibly in the hope that he would kill a deer
+in which they might share. And when they left him, it was because they
+were near the edge of their own home region; they had seen him off their
+hunting grounds.
+
+That night he camped sixty miles from Ticonderoga, but he was resolved
+to cover the distance in one day. Had he not promised to be back in a
+week? The older hands had shaken their heads incredulously, and he, in
+the pride of his legs, was determined to be as good as his promise. He
+scarcely dared sleep lest he should oversleep. At ten he lay down. At
+eleven the moon was due to rise; as soon as that was three hours high
+there would be light enough, and he proposed to go on. At least half
+a dozen times he woke with a start, fearing he had overslept, but
+reassured by a glance at the low-hung moon, he had slumbered again.
+
+At last the moon was four hours high, and the woods were plain in the
+soft light. A horned owl “hoo-hoo-ed,” and a far-off wolf uttered
+a drawn-out, soft, melancholy cry, as Rolf finished his dried meat,
+tightened his belt, and set out on a long, hard run that, in the days of
+Greece, would have furnished the theme of many a noble epic poem.
+
+No need to consult his compass. The blazing lamp of the dark sky was his
+guide, straight east his course, varied a little by hills and lakes, but
+nearly the crow-flight line. At first his pace was a steady, swinging
+stride; then after a mile he came to an open lake shore down which he
+went at a six-mile trot; and then an alder thicket through which his
+progress was very slow; but that soon passed, and for half a mile he
+splashed through swamps with water a foot deep: nor was he surprised
+at length to see it open into a little lake with a dozen beaver huts in
+view. “Splash, prong” their builders went at his approach, but he made
+for the hillside; the woods were open, the moonlight brilliant now, and
+here he trotted at full swing as long as the way was level or down,
+but always walked on the uphill. A sudden noise ahead was followed by
+a tremendous crashing and crackling of the brush. For a moment it
+continued, and what it meant, Rolf never knew or guessed.
+
+“Trot, trot,” he went, reeling off six miles in the open, two or perhaps
+three in the thickets, but on and on, ever eastward. Hill after hill,
+swamp after swamp, he crossed, lake after lake he skirted round, and,
+when he reached some little stream, he sought a log bridge or prodded
+with a pole till he found a ford and crossed, then ran a mile or two to
+make up loss of time.
+
+Tramp, tramp, tramp, and his steady breath and his steady heart kept
+unremitting rhythm.
+
+
+
+Chapter 73. Rolf Makes a Record
+
+Twelve miles were gone when the foreglow--the first cold dawn-light
+showed, and shining across his path ahead was a mighty rolling stream.
+Guided by the now familiar form of Goodenow Peak he made for this, the
+Hudson's lordly flood. There was his raft securely held, with paddle and
+pole near by, and he pushed off with all the force of his young vigour.
+Jumping and careening with the stream in its freshet flood, the raft and
+its hardy pilot were served with many a whirl and some round spins, but
+the long pole found bottom nearly everywhere, and not ten minutes passed
+before the traveller sprang ashore, tied up his craft, then swung and
+tramped and swung.
+
+Over the hills of Vanderwhacker, under the woods of Boreas. Tramp,
+tramp, splash, tramp, wringing and sopping, but strong and hot, tramp,
+tramp, tramp, tramp. The partridge whirred from his path, the gray deer
+snorted, and the panther sneaked aside. Tramp, tramp, trot, trot, and
+the Washburn Ridge was blue against the sunrise. Trot, trot, over the
+low, level, mile-long slope he went, and when the Day-god burnt the
+upper hill-rim he was by brown Tahawus flood and had covered eighteen
+miles.
+
+By the stream he stopped to drink. A partridge cock, in the pride of
+spring, strutted arrogantly on a log. Rolf drew his pistol, fired, then
+hung the headless body while he made a camper's blaze: an oatcake, the
+partridge, and river water were his meal. His impulse was to go on at
+once. His reason, said “go slow.” So he waited for fifteen minutes. Then
+again, beginning with a slow walk, he ere long added to his pace. In
+half an hour he was striding and in an hour the steady “trot, trot,”
+ that slackened only for the hills or swamps. In an hour more he was
+on the Washburn Ridge, and far away in the east saw Schroon Lake that
+empties in the river Schroon; and as he strode along, exulting in his
+strength, he sang in his heart for joy. Again a gray wolf cantered on
+his trail, and the runner laughed, without a thought of fear. He seemed
+to know the creature better now; knew it as a brother, for it gave
+no hostile sound, but only seemed to trot, trot, for the small joy of
+running with a runner, as a swallow or an antelope will skim along by
+a speeding train. For an hour or more it matched his pace, then left as
+though its pleasant stroll was done, and Rolf kept on and on and on.
+
+The spring sun soared on high, the day grew warm at noon. Schroon River
+just above the lake was in his path, and here he stopped to rest. Here,
+with the last of his oatcake and a little tea, he made his final meal;
+thirty eight miles had he covered since he rose; his clothes were torn,
+his moccasins worn, but his legs were strong, his purpose sure; only
+twenty-two miles now, and his duty would be done; his honours won. What
+should he do, push on at once? No, he meant to rest an hour. He made a
+good fire by a little pool, and using a great mass of caribou moss as a
+sponge, he had a thorough rub-down. He got out his ever-ready needle
+and put his moccasins in good shape; he dried his clothes and lay on his
+back till the hour was nearly gone. Then he girded himself for this the
+final run. He was weary, indeed, but he was far from spent, and the iron
+will that had yearly grown in force was there with its unconquerable
+support.
+
+Slowly at start, soon striding, and at last in the famous jog trot of
+the scout he went. The sky was blackened with clouds at length, and the
+jealous, howling east wind rolled up in rain; the spindrift blurred the
+way; the heavy showers of spring came down and drenched him; but his
+pack was safe and he trotted on and on. Then long, deep swamps of alder
+barred his path, and, guided only by the compass, Rolf pushed in and
+through and ever east. Barely a mile an hour in the thickest part
+he made, but lagged not; drenched and footsore, warm and torn, but
+doggedly, steadily on. At three he had made a scant seven miles; then
+the level, open wood of Thunderbolt was reached and his stride became a
+run; trot, trot, trot, at six-mile gait, for but fifteen miles remained.
+Sustained, inspired, the bringer of good news, he halted not and
+faltered not, but on and on.
+
+Tramp tramp, tramp tramp--endless, tireless, hour by hour. At five he
+was on Thunder Creek, scarce eight miles more to the goal; his limbs
+were sore, his feet were sore; bone tired was he, but his heart was
+filled with joy.
+
+“News of battle, news of victory” he was bringing, and the thought lent
+strength; the five mires passed, the way was plain with good roads now,
+but the runner was so weary. He was striding, his running was done, the
+sun was low in the west, his feet were bleeding, the courier was brain
+worn and leg worn, but he strode and strode. He passed by homes but
+heeded them not.
+
+“Come in and rest,” called one who saw nothing but a weary traveller.
+Rolf shook his head, but gave no word and strode along. A mile--a short
+mile now; he must hold out; if he sat down he feared he could not rise.
+He came at last in sight of the fort; then, gathering all his force, he
+broke into a trot, weak, so weak that had he fallen, he could scarcely
+have got up, and slow, but faster than a walk: and so, as the red sun
+sank, he passed the gate. He had no right to give tidings to any but the
+general, yet they read it in his eyes. The guard broke into a cheer,
+and trotting still, though reeling, Rolf had kept his word, had made his
+run, had brought the news, and had safely reached his goal.
+
+
+
+Chapter 74. Van Trumper's Again
+
+Why should the scout bringing good news be differently received from the
+one that brings the ill? He did not make, the news, he simply did his
+duty; the same in both cases. He is merely the telegraph instrument.
+Yet it is so ever. King Pharaoh slew the bearer of ill-tidings; that was
+human nature. And General Hampton brought in the tall stripling to his
+table, to honour him, to get the fullest details, to glory in every
+item as though it all were due to himself. Rolf's wonderful journey was
+dilated on, and in the reports to Albany he was honourably mentioned for
+exceptionally meritorious service as a bearer of despatches.
+
+For three days Flying Kittering was hero of the post; then other runners
+came with other news and life went on.
+
+Hitherto the scouts had worn no uniform, but the execution of one of
+their number, who was captured by the British and treated as a spy,
+resulted in orders that all be formally enlisted and put in uniform.
+
+Not a few withdrew from the service; some, like Quonab, reluctantly
+consented, but Rolf was developing the fighting spirit, and was proud to
+wear the colours.
+
+The drill was tedious enough, but it was of short duration for him.
+Despatches were to go to Albany. The general, partly to honour Rolf,
+selected him.
+
+“Are you ready for another run, Kittering?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“Then prepare to start as soon as possible for Fort George and Albany.
+Do you want a mate?”
+
+“I should like a paddler as far as Fort George.”
+
+“Well, pick your man.”
+
+“Quonab.”
+
+And when they set out, for the first time Rolf was in the stern, the
+post of guidance and command. So once more the two were travelling again
+with Skookum in the bow. It was afternoon when they started and the
+four-mile passage of the creek was slow, but down the long, glorious
+vista of the noble George they went at full canoe-flight, five miles an
+hour, and twenty-five miles of the great fair-way were reeled and past
+when they lighted their nightly fire.
+
+At dawn-cry of the hawk they sped away, and in spite of a rising wind
+they made six miles in two hours.
+
+As they approached the familiar landing of Van Trumper's farm, Skookum
+began to show a most zestful interest that recalled the blackened pages
+of his past. “Quonab, better use that,” and Rolf handed a line with
+which Skookum was secured and thus led to make a new record, for this
+was the first time in his life that he landed at Van Trumper's without
+sacrificing a chicken in honour of the joyful occasion.
+
+They entered the house as the family were sitting down to breakfast.
+
+“Mein Hemel! mein Hemel! It is Rolf and Quonab; and vere is dot tam dog?
+Marta, vere is de chickens? Vy, Rolf, you bin now a giant, yah. Mein
+Gott, it is I am glad! I did tink der cannibals you had eat; is it dem
+Canadian or cannibal? I tink it all one the same, yah!”
+
+Marta was actually crying, the little ones were climbing over Rolf's
+knee, and Annette, tall and sixteen now, stood shyly by, awaiting a
+chance to shake hands. Home is the abiding place of those we love; it
+may be a castle or a cave, a shanty or a chateau, a moving van, a tepee,
+or a canal boat, a fortress or the shady side of a bush, but it is home,
+if there indeed we meet the faces that are ever in the heart, and find
+the hands whose touch conveys the friendly glow. Was there any other
+spot on earth where he could sit by the fire and feel that “hereabout
+are mine own, the people I love?” Rolf knew it now--Van Trumper's was
+his home.
+
+Talks of the war, of disasters by land, and of glorious victories on
+the sea, where England, long the unquestioned mistress of the waves,
+had been humbled again and again by the dauntless seamen of her Western
+blood; talks of big doings by the nation, and, yet more interesting,
+small doings by the travellers, and the breakfast passed all too soon.
+The young scout rose, for he was on-duty, but the long rollers on the
+lake forbade the going forth. Van's was a pleasant place to wait, but
+he chafed at the delay; his pride would have him make a record on every
+journey. But wait he must. Skookum tied safely to his purgatorial post
+whined indignantly--and with head cocked on one side, picked out
+the very hen he would like to utilize--as soon as released from his
+temporary embarrassment. Quonab went out on a rock to bum some tobacco
+and pray for calm, and Rolf, ever active, followed Van to look over
+the stock and buildings, and hear of minor troubles. The chimney was
+unaccountably given to smoking this year. Rolf took an axe and with two
+blows cut down a vigorous growth shrubbery that stood above the chimney
+on the west, and the smoking ceased. Buck ox had a lame foot and would
+allow no one even to examine it. But a skilful ox-handler easily hobbles
+an ox, throws him near some small tree, and then, by binding the lame
+foot to the tree, can have a free hand. It proved a simple matter, a
+deep-sunk, rusty nail. And when the nail was drawn and the place washed
+clean with hot brine, kind nature was left in confidence to do the
+rest. They drifted back to the house now. Tomas met them shouting out a
+mixture of Dutch and English and holding by the cover Annette's book of
+the “Good Girl.” But its rightful owner rescued the precious volume and
+put it on the shelf.
+
+“Have you read it through, Annette?”
+
+“Yes,” was the reply, for she had learned to read before they left
+Schuylerville.
+
+“How do you like it?”
+
+“Didn't like it a bit; I like 'Robinson Crusoe',” was the candid reply.
+
+The noon hour came, still the white rollers were pounding the shore.
+
+“If it does not calm by one o'clock I'll go on afoot.”
+
+So off he went with the packet, leaving Quonab to follow and await his
+return at Fort George. In Schuyler settlement he spent the night and at
+noon next day was in Albany.
+
+How it stirred his soul to see the busy interest, the marching of men,
+the sailing of vessels, and above all to hear of more victories on the
+high seas. What mattered a few frontier defeats in the north, when the
+arrogant foe that had spurned and insulted them before the world had now
+been humbled again and again.
+
+Young Van Cortlandt was away, but the governor's reception of him
+reflected the electric atmosphere--the country's pride in her sons.
+
+Rolf had a matter of his own to settle. At the bookseller's he asked for
+and actually secured a copy of the great book--“Robinson Crusoe.” It was
+with a thrilling feeling of triumph that he wrote Annette's name in it
+and stowed it in his bag.
+
+He left Albany next day in the gray dawn. Thanks to his uniform, he got
+a twenty-five mile lift with a traveller who drove a fast team, and the
+blue water was glinting back the stars when he joined Quonab at Fort
+George, some sixty miles away.
+
+In the calm betwixt star-peep and sun-up they were afloat. It was a
+great temptation to stop at Hendrik's for a spell, but breakfast was
+over, the water was calm, and duty called him. He hallooed, then they
+drew near enough to hand the book ashore. Skookum growled, probably at
+the hens, and the family waved their aprons as he sped on. Thirty miles
+of lake and four miles of Ticonderoga Creek they passed and the packet
+was delivered in four days and three hours since leaving.
+
+The general smiled and his short but amply sufficient praise was merely,
+“You're a good 'un.”
+
+
+
+Chapter 75. Scouting in Canada
+
+“Thar is two things,” said Si Sylvanne to the senate, “that every
+national crisis is bound to show up: first, a lot o' dum fools in
+command; second a lot o great commanders in the ranks. An' fortunately
+before the crisis is over the hull thing is sure set right, and the men
+is where they oughter be.”
+
+How true this was the nation was just beginning to learn. The fools in
+command were already demonstrated, and the summer of 1813 was replete
+with additional evidence. May, June, and July passed with many
+journeyings for Rolf and many times with sad news. The disasters at
+Stony Creek, Beaver Dam, and Niagara were severe blows to the army on
+the western frontier. In June on Lake Champlain the brave but reckless
+Lieutenant Sidney Smith had run his two sloops into a trap. Thus the
+Growler and the Eagle were lost to the Americans, and strengthened by
+that much the British navy on the lake.
+
+Encouraged by these successes, the British north of Lake Champlain made
+raid after raid into American territory, destroying what they could not
+carry off.
+
+Rolf and Quonab were sent to scout in that country and if possible give
+timely notice of raiders in force.
+
+The Americans were averse to employing Indians in warfare; the British
+entertained no such scruples and had many red-skinned allies. Quonab's
+case, however, was unusual, since he was guaranteed by his white
+partner, and now he did good service, for he knew a little French and
+could prowl among the settlers without anyone suspecting him of being an
+American scout.
+
+Thus he went alone and travelled far. He knew the country nearly to
+Montreal and late in July was lurking about Odletown, when he overheard
+scattered words of a conversation that made him eager for more. “Colonel
+Murray--twelve hundred men--four hundred men--”
+
+Meanwhile Rolf was hiding in the woods about La Colle Mill. Company
+after company of soldiers he saw enter, until at least five hundred were
+there. When night came down, he decided to risk a scarer approach. He
+left the woods and walked cautiously across the open lands about.
+
+The hay had been cut and most of it drawn in, but there was in the
+middle of the field a hay-cock. Rolf was near this when he heard sounds
+of soldiers from the mill. Soon large numbers came out, carrying their
+blankets. Evidently there was not room for them in the mill, and they
+were to camp on the field.
+
+The scout began to retreat when sounds behind showed that another
+body of soldiers was approaching from that direction and he was caught
+between the two. There was only one place to hide and that was beneath
+the haycock. He lifted its edge and crawled under, but it was full of
+thistles and brambles; indeed, that was why it was left, and he had the
+benefit of all the spines about him.
+
+His heart beat fast as he heard the clank of arms and the trampling;
+they came nearer, then the voices became more distinct. He heard
+unmistakable evidence too that both bodies were camping for the night,
+and that he was nearly surrounded. Not knowing what move was best he
+kept quiet. The men were talking aloud, then they began preparing their
+beds and he heard some one say, “There's a hay-cock; bring some of
+that.”
+
+A soldier approached to get an armful of the hay, but sputtered out a
+chapter of malediction as his bare hands touched the masses of thistle
+and briers. His companions laughed at his mishap. He went to the fire
+and vowed he'd stick a brand in it and back he came with a burning
+stick.
+
+Rolf was all ready to make a dash for his life as soon as the cover
+should take fire, and he peered up into the soldier's face as the latter
+blew on the brand; but the flame had died, the thistles were not dry,
+and the fire was a failure; so, growling again, the soldier threw down
+the smoking stick and went away. As soon as he was safely afar, Rolf
+gathered a handful of soil and covered the red embers.
+
+It was a critical moment and his waiting alone had saved him.
+
+Two soldiers came with their blankets and spread them near. For a time
+they smoked and talked. One of them was short of tobacco; the other
+said, “Never mind, we'll get plenty in Plattsburg,” and they guffawed.
+
+Then he heard, “As soon as the colonel” and other broken phrases.
+
+It was a most difficult place for Rolf; he was tormented with thistles
+in his face and down his neck; he dared not change his position; and
+how long he must stay was a problem. He would try to escape when all was
+still.
+
+The nearer soldiers settled to rest now. All was very quiet when Rolf
+cautiously peeped forth to see two dreadful things: first, a couple
+of sentries pacing up and down the edges of the camp; second, a broad,
+brilliant, rising moon. How horrible that lovely orb could be Rolf never
+before knew.
+
+Now, what next? He was trapped in the middle of a military camp
+and undoubtedly La Colle Mill was the rendezvous for some important
+expedition.
+
+He had ample time to think it all over. Unless he could get away before
+day he would surely be discovered. His uniform might save his life,
+but soldiers have an awkward, hasty way of dealing summarily with a
+spy--then discovering too late that he was in uniform.
+
+From time to time he peered forth, but the scene was unchanged--the
+sleeping regiment, the pacing sentries, the ever-brightening moon. Then
+the guard was changed, and the sentries relieved selected of all places
+for their beds, the bank beside the hay-cock. Again one of them went to
+help himself to some hay for a couch; and again the comic anger as he
+discovered it to be a bed of thorns. How thankful Rolf was for those
+annoying things that pricked his face and neck.
+
+He was now hemmed in on every side and, not knowing what to do, did
+nothing. For a couple of hours he lay still, then actually fell asleep.
+He was awakened by a faint rustling near his head and peered forth to
+see a couple of field mice playing about.
+
+The moon was very bright now, and the movements of the mice were plain;
+they were feeding on the seeds of plants in the hay-cock, and from time
+to time dashed under--the hay. Then they gambolled farther off and were
+making merry over a pod of wild peas when a light form came skimming
+noiselessly over the field. There was a flash, a hurried rush, a clutch,
+a faint squeak, and one of the mice was borne away in the claws of its
+feathered foe. The survivor scrambled under the hay over Rolf's face and
+somewhere into hiding.
+
+The night passed in many short naps. The bugle sounded at daybreak and
+the soldiers arose to make breakfast. Again one approached to use a
+handful of hay for fire-kindler, and again the friendly thistles did
+their part. More and more now his ear caught suggestive words and
+sounds--“Plattsburg”--“the colonel”--etc.
+
+The breakfast smelt wonderfully captivating--poor Rolf was famished. The
+alluring aroma of coffee permeated the hay-cock. He had his dried meat,
+but his need was water; he was tormented with thirst, and stiff and
+tortured; he was making the hardest fight of his life. It seemed long,
+though doubtless it was less than half an hour before the meal was
+finished, and to Rolf's relief there were sounds of marching and the
+noises were drowned in the distance.
+
+By keeping his head covered with hay and slowly raising it, he was safe
+to take a look around. It was a bright, sunny morning. The hay-cock,
+or thistle-cock, was one of several that had been rejected. It was a
+quarter-mile from cover; the soldiers were at work cutting timber and
+building a stockade around the mill; and, most dreadful to relate, a
+small dog was prowling about, looking for scraps on the scene of the
+soldiers' breakfast. If that dog came near his hiding-place, he knew the
+game was up. At such close quarters, you can fool a man but not a dog.
+
+Fortunately the breakfast tailings proved abundant, and the dog went off
+to assist a friend of his in making sundry interesting smell analyses
+along the gate posts of the stockade.
+
+
+
+Chapter 76. The Duel
+
+This was temporary relief, but left no suggestion of complete escape.
+He lay there till nearly noon suffering more and more from the cramped
+position and thirst, and utterly puzzled as to the next move.
+
+“When ye don't like whar ye air, git up without any fuss, and go whar
+ye want to be,” was what Sylvanne once said to him, and it came to Rolf
+with something like a comic shock. The soldiers were busy in the woods
+and around the forges. In half an hour it would be noon and they might
+come back to eat.
+
+Rolf rose without attempting any further concealment, then stopped, made
+a bundle of the stuff that had sheltered him and, carrying this on his
+shoulder, strode boldly across the field toward the woods.
+
+His scout uniform was inconspicuous; the scouts on duty at the mill saw
+only one of themselves taking a bundle of hay round to the stables.
+
+He reached the woods absolutely unchallenged. After a few yards in its
+friendly shade, he dropped the thorny bundle and strode swiftly toward
+his own camp. He had not gone a hundred yards before a voice of French
+type cried “'Alt,” and he was face to face with a sentry whose musket
+was levelled at him.
+
+A quick glance interchanged, and each gasped out the other's name.
+
+“Francois la Colle!”
+
+“Rolf Kittering! Mon Dieu! I ought to shoot you, Rolf; I cannot, I
+cannot! But run, run! I'll shoot over your head,” and his kindly eyes
+filled with tears.
+
+Rolf needed no second hint; he ran like a deer, and the musket ball
+rattled the branches above his shoulders.
+
+In a few minutes other soldiers came running and from La Colle they
+heard of the hostile spy in camp.
+
+“I shoot; I t'ink maybe I not hit eem; maybe some brood dere? No, dat
+netting.”
+
+There were both runners and trackers in camp. They were like bloodhounds
+and they took up the trail of the fugitive. But Rolf was playing his own
+game now; he was “Flying Kittering.” A crooked trail is hard to follow,
+and, going at the long stride that had made his success, he left many
+a crook and turn. Before two miles I they gave it up and the fugitive
+coming to the river drank a deep and cooling draught, the first he had
+had that day. Five miles through is the dense forest that lies between
+La Colle and the border. He struck a creek affluent of the Richelieu
+River and followed to its forks, which was the place of rendezvous with
+Quonab.
+
+It was evening as he drew near and after long, attentive listening he
+gave the cry of the barred owl:
+
+The answer came: a repetition of the last line, and a minute later the
+two scouts were together.
+
+As they stood, they were startled by a new, sudden answer, an exact
+repetition of the first call. Rolf had recovered his rifle from its
+hiding place and instantly both made ready for some hostile prowler;
+then after a long silence he gave the final wail line “hoooo-aw” and
+that in the woods means, “Who are you?”
+
+Promptly the reply came:
+
+“Wa wah wa wah Wa wah wa hoooo-aw.”
+
+But this was the wrong reply. It should have been only the last half.
+The imitation was perfect, except, perhaps, on the last note, which
+was a trifle too human. But the signal was well done; it was an expert
+calling, either an Indian or some thoroughly seasoned scout; yet Quonab
+was not deceived into thinking it an owl. He touched his cheek and
+his coat, which, in the scout sign language, means “red coat,” i. e.,
+Britisher.
+
+Rolf and his partner got silently out of sight, each with his rlile
+cocked and ready to make a hole in any red uniform or badge that might
+show itself. Then commenced a very peculiar duel, for evidently the
+enemy was as clever as themselves and equally anxious to draw them out
+of cover.
+
+Wa-wah-wa hooo-aw called the stranger, giving the right answer in the
+wrong place. He was barely a hundred yards off, and, as the two strained
+their senses to locate him, they heard a faint click that told of his
+approach.
+
+Rolf turned his head and behind a tree uttered again the Wa-wah-a--hoo
+which muffled by his position would convince the foe that he was
+retreating. The answer came promptly and much nearer:
+
+Wa--wah--wa--hoooo-aw.
+
+Good! the medicine was working. So Rolf softened his voice still more,
+while Quonab got ready to shoot.
+
+The Wa--wa--hooo-aw that came in answer this time was startlingly clear
+and loud and nearly perfect in intonation, but again betrayed by the
+human timbre of the aw. A minute or two more and they would reach a
+climax.
+
+After another wait, Rolf muffled his voice and gave the single hooo-aw,
+and a great broad-winged owl came swooping through the forest, alighted
+on a tree overhead, peered about, then thrilled them with his weird:
+
+Wa--hoo--wa--boo
+
+Wa--hoo--wa--hooooooooo-aw, the last note with the singular human
+quality that had so completely set them astray.
+
+
+
+Chapter 77. Why Plattsburg Was Raided
+
+     The owl's hull reputation for wisdom is built up on lookin'
+     wise and keepin' mum.--Sayings of St Sylvanne
+
+THE owl incident was one of the comedies of their life, now they had
+business on hand. The scraps of news brought by Quonab pieced out with
+those secured by Rolf, spelt clearly this: that Colonel Murray with
+about a thousand men was planning a raid on Plattsburg.
+
+Their duty was to notify General Hampton without delay.
+
+Burlington, forty miles away, was headquarters. Plattsburg, twenty miles
+away, was marked for spoil.
+
+One more item they must add: Was the raid to baby land or water? If the
+latter, then they must know what preparations were being made at the
+British naval station, Isle au Noix. They travelled all night through
+the dark woods, to get there, though it was but seven miles away, and in
+the first full light they saw the gallant array of two warships, three
+gunboats, and about fifty long boats, all ready, undoubtedly waiting
+only for a change in the wind, which at this season blew on Champlain
+almost steadily form the south.
+
+A three-hour, ten-mile tramp through ways now familiar brought Rolf and
+his partner to the north of the Big Chazy where the canoe was hidden,
+and without loss of time they pushed off for Burlington, thirty miles
+away. The wind was head on, and when four hours later they stopped for
+noon, they had made not more than a dozen miles.
+
+All that afternoon they had to fight a heavy sea; this meant they must
+keep near shore in case of an upset, and so lengthened the course; but
+it also meant that the enemy would not move so long as this wind kept
+up.
+
+It was six at night before the scouts ran into Burlington Harbour and
+made for Hampton's headquarters.
+
+His aide received them and, after learning that they had news, went in
+to the general. From the inner room now they heard in unnecessarily loud
+tones the great man's orders to, “Bring them in, sah.”
+
+The bottles on the table, his purple visage, and thick tongued speech
+told how well-founded were the current whispers.
+
+“Raid on Plattsburg? Ha! I hope so. I only hope so. Gentlemen,” and
+he turned to his staff, “all I ask is a chance to get at them--Ha, Ha!
+Here, help yourself, Macomb,” and the general pushed the decanter to a
+grave young officer who was standing by.
+
+“No, thank you, sir,” was the only reply.
+
+The general waved his hand, the scouts went out, puzzled and ashamed.
+Was this the brains of the army? No wonder our men are slaughtered.
+
+Now Macomb ventured to suggest: “Have you any orders, sir? These scouts
+are considered quite reliable. I understand from them that the British
+await only a change of wind. They have between one thousand and two
+thousand men.”
+
+“Plenty of time in the morning, sah. Plattsburg will be the bait of my
+trap, not one of them shall return alive,” and the general dismissed his
+staff that he might fortify himself against a threatened cold.
+
+Another young man, Lieut. Thomas MacDonough, the naval commandant, now
+endeavoured to stir him by a sense of danger. First he announced that
+his long boats, and gunboats were ready and in six hours he could
+transfer three thousand troops from Burlington to Plattsburg. Then he
+ventured to urge the necessity for action.
+
+Champlain is a lake of two winds. It had brown from the south for two
+weeks; now a north wind was likely to begin any day. MacDonough urged
+this point, but all in vain, and, shocked and humiliated, the young man
+obeyed the order “to wait till his advice was asked.”
+
+The next day Hampton ordered a review, not an embarkation, and was not
+well enough to appear in person.
+
+The whole army knew now of the situation of affairs, and the militia in
+particular were not backward in expressing their minds.
+
+Next day, July 30th, the wind changed. Hampton did nothing. On the
+morning of July 31st they heard the booming of guns in the north, and at
+night their scouts came with the news that the raid was on. Plattsburg
+was taken and pillaged by a force less than one third of those held at
+Burlington.
+
+There were bitter, burning words on the lips of the rank and file, and
+perfunctory rebukes on the lips of the young officers when they chanced
+to overhear. The law was surely working out as set forth by Si Sylvanne:
+“The fools in command, the leaders in the ranks.”
+
+And now came news of fresh disasters--the battles of Beaverdam,
+Stony Creek, and Niagara River. It was the same story in nearly every
+case--brave fighting men, ill-drilled, but dead shots, led into traps by
+incompetent commanders.
+
+In September Lieutenant Macomb was appointed to command at Plattsburg.
+This proved as happy an omen as it was a wise move. Immediately after,
+in all this gloom, came the news of Perry's famous victory on Lake Erie,
+marking a new era for the American cause, followed by the destruction of
+Moraviantown and the British army which held it.
+
+Stirred at last to action General Wilkinson sent despatches to Hampton
+to arrange an attack on Montreal. There was no possibility of failure,
+he said, for the sole defence of Montreal was 600 marines. His army
+consisted of 8000 men. Hampton's consisted of 4000. By a union of these
+at the mouth of Chateaugay River, they would form an invincible array.
+
+So it seemed. Rolf had not yet seen any actual fighting and began to
+long for the front. But his powers as a courier kept him ever busy
+bearing despatches. The road to Sackett's Harbour and thence to
+Ogdensburg and Covington, and back to Plattsburg he knew thoroughly, and
+in his canoe he had visited every port on Lakes Champlain and George.
+
+He was absent at Albany in the latter half of October and first of
+November, but the ill news travelled fast. Hampton requested MacDonough
+to “swoop down on Isle au Noix”--an insane request, compliance with
+which would have meant certain destruction to the American fleet.
+MacDonough's general instructions were: “Cooperate with the army, but
+at any price retain supremacy of the lake,” and he declined to receive
+Hampton's order.
+
+Threatening court-martials and vengeance on his return, Hampton now set
+out by land; but at Chateaugay he was met by a much smaller force of
+Canadians who resisted him so successfully that he ordered a retreat and
+his army retired to Plattsburg.
+
+Meanwhile General Wilkinson had done even worse. His army numbered 8000.
+Of these the rear guard were 2500. A body of 800 Canadians harassed
+their line of march. Turning to brush away this annoyance, the Americans
+were wholly defeated at Chrystler's farm and, giving up the attack on
+Montreal, Wilkinson crossed the St. Lawrence and settled for the winter
+at Chateaugay.
+
+In December, America scored an important advance by relieving Hampton of
+his command.
+
+As the spring drew near, it was clearly Wilkinson's first play to
+capture La Colle Mill, which had been turned into a fortress of
+considerable strength and a base for attack on the American border, some
+five miles away.
+
+Of all the scouts Rolf best knew that region, yet he was the one left
+out of consideration and despatched with papers to Plattsburg. The
+attack was bungled from first to last, and when Wilkinson was finally
+repulsed, it was due to Macomb that the retreat was not a rout.
+
+But good came out of this evil, for Wilkinson was recalled and the law
+was nearly fulfilled--the incompetents were gone. General Macomb was in
+command of the land force and MacDonough of the Lake.
+
+
+
+Chapter 78. Rumours and Papers
+
+MacDonough's orders were to hold control of the Lake. How he did it will
+be seen. The British fleet at Isle au Noix was slightly stronger than
+his own, therefore he established a navy yard at Vergennes, in Vermont,
+seven miles up the Otter River, and at the mouth erected earthworks
+and batteries. He sent for Brown (of the firm of Adam and Noah Brown)
+a famous New York shipbuilder. Brown agreed to launch a ship of
+twenty-four guns in sixty days. The trees were standing in the forest on
+March 2d the keel was laid March 7th, and on April 11th the Saratoga was
+launched--forty days after the timbers were green standing trees on the
+hills.
+
+Other vessels were begun and pushed as expeditiously. And now
+MacDonough's wisdom in choice of the navy yard was seen, for a British
+squadron was sent to destroy his infant fleet, or at least sink
+stone-boats across the exit so as to bottle it up.
+
+But their attempts were baffled by the batteries which the far-seeing
+American had placed at the river's mouth.
+
+The American victory at Chippewa was followed by the defeat at Lundy's
+Lane, and on August 25th the city of Washington was captured by the
+British and its public buildings destroyed. These calamities, instead of
+dampening the spirits of the army, roused the whole nation at last to
+a realization of the fact that they were at war. Fresh troops and
+plentiful supplies were voted, the deadwood commanders were retired, and
+the real men revealed by the two campaigns were given place and power.
+
+At the same time, Great Britain, having crushed Napoleon, was in a
+position to greatly reinforce her American army, and troops seasoned in
+Continental campaigns were poured into Canada.
+
+All summer Rolf was busied bearing despatches. During the winter he
+and Quonab had built a birch canoe on special lines for speed; it would
+carry two men but no baggage.
+
+With this he could make fully six miles an hour for a short time, and
+average five on smooth water. In this he had crossed and recrossed
+Champlain, and paddled its length, till he knew every bay and headland.
+The overland way to Sackett's Harbour he had traversed several times;
+the trail from Plattsburg to Covington he knew in all weathers, and had
+repeatedly covered its sixty miles in less than twenty-four hours on
+foot. The route he picked and followed was in later years the line
+selected for the military highway between these two camps.
+
+But the chief scene of his activities was the Canadian wilderness at the
+north end of Lake Champlain. Chazy, Champlain, Odelltown, La Colle
+Mill, Isle au Noix, and Richelieu River he knew intimately and had also
+acquired a good deal of French in learning their country.
+
+It was characteristic of General Wilkinson to ignore the scout who knew
+and equally characteristic of his successors, Izard and Macomb, to seek
+and rely on the best man.
+
+The news that he brought in many different forms was that the British
+were again concentrating an army to strike at Plattsburg and Albany.
+
+Izard on the land at Plattsburg and Champlain, and Macomb at Burlington
+strained all their resources to meet the invader at fair terms. Izard
+had 4000 men assembled, when an extraordinary and devastating order from
+Washington compelled him to abandon the battle front at Champlain and
+lead his troops to Sackett's Harbour where all was peace. He protested
+like a statesman, then obeyed like a soldier, leaving Macomb in command
+of the land forces of Lake Champlain, with, all told, some 3400 men. On
+the day that Izard left Champlain, the British troops, under Brisbane,
+advanced and occupied his camp.
+
+As soon as Rolf had seen them arrive, and had gauged their number, he
+sent Quonab back to report, and later retired by night ten miles up the
+road to Chazy. He was well known to many of the settlers and was
+welcome where ever known, not only because he was a patriot fighting his
+country's battles, but for his own sake, for he was developing into
+a handsome, alert, rather silent youth. It is notorious that in the
+drawing-room, given equal opportunity, the hunter has the advantage over
+the farmer. He has less self-consciousness, more calm poise. He is not
+troubled about what to do with his feet and hands, and is more convinced
+of his native dignity and claims to respect. In the drawin-room Rolf
+was a hunter: the leading inhabitants of the region around received him
+gladly and honoured him. He was guest at Judge Hubbell's in Chazy, in
+September of 1814. Every day he scouted in the neighbourhood and at
+night returned to the hospitable home of the judge.
+
+On the 12th of September, from the top of a tall tree on a distant
+wooded hill, he estimated the force at Champlain to be 10,000 to 15,000
+men. Already their bodyguard was advancing on Chazy.
+
+Judge Hubbell and anxious neighbours hastily assembled now, discussed
+with Rolf the situation and above all, “What shall we do with our
+families?” One man broke into a storm of hate and vituperation against
+the British. “Remember the burning of Washington and the way they
+treated the women at Bladensburg.”
+
+“All of which about the women was utterly disproved, except in one
+case, and in that the criminal was shot by order of his own commander,”
+ retorted Hubbell.
+
+At Plattsburg others maintained that the British had harmed no one.
+Colonel Murray had given strict orders that all private property be
+absolutely respected. Nothing but government property was destroyed and
+only that which could be construed into war stores and buildings. What
+further damage was done was the result of accident or error. Officers
+were indeed quartered on the inhabitants, but they paid for what
+they got, and even a carpet destroyed by accident was replaced months
+afterward by a British officer who had not the means at the time.
+
+So it was agreed that Hubbell with Rolf and the village fathers and
+brothers should join their country's army, leaving wives and children
+behind.
+
+There were wet bearded cheeks among the strong, rugged men as they
+kissed their wives and little ones and prepared to go, then stopped, as
+horrible misgivings rose within. “This was war, and yet again, 'We have
+had proofs that the British harmed no woman or child'.” So they dashed
+away the tears, suppressed the choking in their throats, shouldered
+their guns, and marched away to the front, commending their dear ones to
+the mercy of God and the British invaders.
+
+None had any cause to regret this trust. Under pain of death, Sir George
+Prevost enforced his order that the persons of women and children and
+all private property be held inviolate. As on the previous raid, no
+damage was done to non-combatants, and the only hardships endured were
+by the few who, knowing nothing, feared much, and sought the precarious
+safety of life among the hills.
+
+Sir George Prevost and his staff of ten officers were quartered in Judge
+Hubbell's house. Mrs. Hubbell was hard put to furnish them with meals,
+but they treated her with perfect respect, and every night, not knowing
+how long they might stay, they left on the table the price of their
+board and lodging.
+
+For three days they waited, then all was ready for the advance.
+
+“Now for Plattsburg this week and Albany next, so good-bye, madam” they
+said politely, and turned to ride away, a gay and splendid group.
+
+“Good-bye, sirs, for a very little while, but I know you'll soon be back
+and hanging your heads as you come,” was the retort.
+
+Sir George replied: “If a man had said that, I would call him out; but
+since it is a fair lady that has been our charming hostess, I reply that
+when your prophecy comes true, every officer here shall throw his purse
+on your door step as he passes.”
+
+So they rode away, 13,000 trained men with nothing between them and
+Albany but 2000 troops, double as many raw militia, and--MacDonough of
+the Lake.
+
+Ten times did Rolf cover that highway north of Plattsburg in the week
+that followed, and each day his tidings were the same--the British
+steadily advance.
+
+
+
+Chapter 79. McGlassin's Exploit
+
+There was a wonderful spirit on everything in Plattsburg, and the
+earthly tabernacle in which it dwelt, was the tall, grave young man who
+had protested against Hampton's behaviour at Burlington--Captain, now
+General Macomb. Nothing was neglected, every emergency was planned for,
+every available man was under arms. Personally tireless, he was ever
+alert and seemed to know every man in his command and every man of
+it had implicit confidence in the leader. We have heard of soldiers
+escaping from a besieged fortress by night; but such was the inspiring
+power of this commander that there was a steady leaking in of men from
+the hills, undrilled and raw, but of superb physique and dead shots with
+the ride.
+
+A typical case was that of a sturdy old farmer who was marching through
+the woods that morning to take his place with those who manned the
+breastworks and was overheard to address his visibly trembling legs:
+“Shake, damn you, shake; and if ye knew where I was leading you, you'd
+be ten times worse.”
+
+His mind was more valiant than his body, and his mind kept control--this
+is true courage.
+
+No one had a better comprehension of all this than Macomb. He knew that
+all these men needed was a little training to make of them the best
+soldiers on earth. To supply that training he mixed them with veterans,
+and arranged a series of unimportant skirmishes as coolly and easily as
+though he were laying out a programme for an evening's entertainment.
+
+The first of these was at Culver's Hill. Here a barricade was thrown up
+along the highway, a gun was mounted, and several hundred riflemen were
+posted under leaders skilled in the arts of harrying a foe and giving
+him no chance to strike back.
+
+Among the men appointed for the barricade's defence was Rolf and near
+him Quonab. The latter had been seasoned in the Revolution, but it was
+the former's first experience at the battle front, and he felt as most
+men do when the enemy in brave array comes marching up. As soon as they
+were within long range, his leader gave the order “Fire!” The rifles
+rattled and the return fire came at once. Balls pattered on the
+barricade or whistled above. The man next to him was struck and dropped
+with a groan; another fell back dead. The horror and roar were overmuch.
+Rolf was nervous enough when he entered the fight. Now he was unstrung,
+almost stunned, his hands and knees were shaking, he was nearly
+panic-stricken and could not resist the temptation to duck, as the balls
+hissed murder over his head. He was blazing away, without aiming, when
+an old soldier, noting his white face and shaking form, laid a hand
+on his shoulder and, in kindly tones, said: “Steady, boy, steady;
+yer losing yer head; see, this is how,” and he calmly took aim, then,
+without firing, moved the gun again and put a little stick to raise the
+muzzle and make a better rest, then fired as though at target practice.
+“Now rest for a minute. Look at Quonab there; you can see he's been
+through it before. He is making a hit with every shot.”
+
+Rolf did as he was told, and in a few minutes his colour came back,
+his hand was steady, and thenceforth he began to forget the danger and
+thought only of doing his work.
+
+When at length it was seen that the British were preparing to charge,
+the Americans withdrew quickly and safely to Halsey's Corner, where was
+another barricade and a fresh lot of recruits awaiting to receive their
+baptism of fire. And the scene was repeated. Little damage was done to
+the foe but enormous benefit was gained by the Americans, because it
+took only one or two of these skirmishes to turn a lot of shaky-kneed
+volunteers into a band of steady soldiers--for they had it all inside.
+Thus their powder terror died.
+
+That night the British occupied the part of the town that was north
+of the Saranac, and began a desultory bombardment of the fortification
+opposite. Not a very serious one, for they considered they could take
+the town at any time, but preferred to await the arrival of their fleet
+under Downie.
+
+The fight for the northern half of the town was not serious, merely part
+of Macomb's prearranged training course; but when the Americans retired
+across the Saranac, the planks of the bridges were torn up, loop-holed
+barricades were built along the southern bank, and no effort spared to
+prepare for a desperate resistance.
+
+Every man that could hold up a gun was posted on the lines of
+Plattsburg. The school-boys, even, to the number of five hundred formed
+a brigade, and were assigned to places where their squirrel-hunting
+experiences could be made of service to their country.
+
+Meanwhile the British had established a battery opposite Fort Brown. It
+was in a position to do some material and enormous moral damage. On the
+ninth it was nearly ready for bloody work, and would probably begin next
+morning. That night, however, an extraordinary event took place, and
+showed how far from terror-palsy were the motley troops in Plattsburg. A
+sturdy Vermonter, named Captain McGlassin, got permission of Malcomb to
+attempt a very Spartan sortie.
+
+He called for fifty volunteers to go on a most hazardous enterprise. He
+got one thousand at once. Then he ordered all over twenty-five and under
+eighteen to retire. This reduced the number to three hundred. Then,
+all married men were retired, and thus again they were halved. Next he
+ordered away all who smoked--Ah, deep philosopher that he was!--and from
+the remnant he selected his fifty. Among them was Rolf. Then he divulged
+his plan. It was nothing less than a dash on the new-made fort to spike
+those awful guns--fifty men to dash into a camp of thirteen thousand.
+
+Again he announced, “Any who wish to withdraw now may do so.” Not a man
+stirred.
+
+Twenty of those known to be expert with tools were provided with hammers
+and spikes for the guns, and Rolf was proud to be one of them.
+
+In a night of storm and blackness they crossed the Saranac; dividing in
+two bodies they crawled unseen, one on each side of the battery. Three
+hundred British soldiers were sleeping near, only the sentries peered
+into the storm-sleet.
+
+All was ready when McGlassin's tremendous voice was heard, “Charge
+front and rear!” Yelling, pounding, making all the noise they could, the
+American boys rushed forth. The British were completely surprised, the
+sentries were struck down, and the rest assured that Macomb's army was
+on them recoiled for a few minutes. The sharp click, click, click of the
+hammers was heard. An iron spike was driven into every touch hole;
+the guns were made harmless as logs and quickly wheeling, to avoid the
+return attack, these bold Yankee boys leaped from the muzzled redoubt
+and reached their own camp without losing one of their number.
+
+
+
+Chapter 80. The Bloody Saranac
+
+Sir George Prevost had had no intention of taking Plattsburg, till
+Plattsburg's navy was captured. But the moral effect of McGlassin's
+exploit must be offset at once. He decided to carry the city by storm--a
+matter probably of three hours' work.
+
+He apportioned a regiment to each bridge, another to each ford near the
+town, another to cross the river at Pike's Cantonment, and yet another
+to cross twenty miles above, where they were to harry the fragments of
+the American as it fled.
+
+That morning Plattsburg was wakened by a renewal of the bombardment. The
+heavy firing killed a few men knocked down a few walls and chimneys, but
+did little damage to the earthworks.
+
+It was surprising to all how soon the defenders lost their gun-shyness.
+The very school-boys and their sisters went calmly about their business,
+with cannon and musket balls whistling overhead, striking the walls and
+windows, or, on rare occasions, dropping some rifleman who was over-rash
+as he worked or walked on the ramparts.
+
+There were big things doing in the British camp--regiments marching and
+taking their places--storms of rifle and cannon balls raging fiercely.
+By ten o'clock there was a lull. The Americans, from the grandfathers to
+the school-boys, were posted, each with his rifle and his pouch full of
+balls; there were pale faces among the youngsters, and nervous fingers,
+but there was no giving way. Many a man there was, no doubt, who, under
+the impulse of patriotism, rushed with his gun to join the ranks, and
+when the bloody front was reached, he wished in his heart he was safe at
+home. But they did not go. Something kept them staunch.
+
+Although the lines were complete all along the ramparts, there were four
+places where the men were massed. These were on the embankments opposite
+the bridges and the fords. Here the best shots were placed and among
+them was Rolf, with others of McGlassin's band.
+
+The plank of the bridges had been torn up and used with earth to form
+breastworks; but the stringers of the bridges were there, and a body of
+red-coats approaching, each of them showed plainly what their plan was.
+
+The farthest effective range of rifle fire in those days was reckoned at
+a hundred yards. The Americans were ordered to hold their fire till
+the enemy reached the oaks, a grove one hundred yards from the main
+bridge--on the other bank.
+
+The British came on in perfect review-day style. Now a hush fell on all.
+The British officer in command was heard clearly giving his orders. How
+strange it must have been to the veterans of wars in Spain, France,
+and the Rhine, to advance against a force with whom they needed no
+interpreter.
+
+McGlassin's deep voice now rang along the defences, “Don't fire till I
+give the order.”
+
+The red-coats came on at a trot, they reached the hundred-yard-mark.
+
+“Now, aim low and fire!” from McGlassin, and the rattle of the Yankee
+guns was followed by reeling ranks of red in the oaks.
+
+“Charge!” shouted the British officer and the red-coats charged to the
+bridge, but the fire from the embankment was incessant; the trail of the
+charging men was cluttered with those who fell.
+
+“Forward!” and the gallant British captain leaped on the central
+stringer of the bridge and, waving his sword, led on. Instantly three
+lines of men were formed, one on each stringer.
+
+They were only fifty yards from the barricade, with five hundred rifles,
+all concentrated on these stringers. The first to fall was the captain,
+shot through the heart, and the river bore him away. But on and on came
+the three ranks into the whistling, withering fire of lead. It was like
+slaughtering sheep. Yet on and on they marched steadily for half an
+hour. Not a man held back or turned, though all knew they were marching
+to their certain death. Not one of them ever reached the centre of the
+span, and those who dropped, not dead, were swallowed by the swollen
+stream. How many hundred brave men were sacrificed that day, no one ever
+knew. He who gave the word to charge was dead with his second and third
+in command and before another could come to change the order, the river
+ran red--the bloody Saranac they call it ever since.
+
+The regiment was wrecked, and the assault for the time was over.
+
+Rolf had plied his rifle with the rest, but it sickened him to see the
+horrible waste of human valour. It was such ghastly work that he was
+glad indeed when a messenger came to say he was needed at headquarters.
+And in an hour he was crossing the lake with news and instructions for
+the officer in command at Burlington.
+
+
+
+Chapter 81. The Battle of Plattsburg
+
+In broad daylight he skimmed away in his one man canoe.
+
+For five hours he paddled, and at star-peep he reached the dock at
+Burlington. The howl of a lost dog caught his ear; and when he traced
+the sound, there, on the outmost plank, with his nose to the skies, was
+the familiar form of Skookum, wailing and sadly alone.
+
+What a change he showed when Rolf landed; he barked, leaped, growled,
+tail-wagged, head-wagged, feet-wagged, body-wagged, wig-wagged and
+zigzagged for joy; he raced in circles, looking for a sacrificial hen,
+and finally uttered a long and conversational whine that doubtless was
+full of information for those who could get it out.
+
+Rolf delivered his budget at once. It was good news, but not conclusive.
+Everything depended now on MacDonough. In the morning all available
+troops should hurry to the defence of Plattsburg; not less than fifteen
+hundred men were ready to embark at daylight.
+
+That night Rolf slept with Skookum in the barracks. At daybreak, much
+to the latter's disgust, he was locked up in a cellar, and the troops
+embarked for the front.
+
+It was a brisk north wind they had to face in crossing and passing down
+the lake. There were many sturdy oarsmen at the sweeps, but they could
+not hope to reach their goal in less than five hours.
+
+When they were half way over, they heard the cannon roar; the booming
+became incessant; without question, a great naval battle was on, for
+this north wind was what the British had been awaiting. The rowers bent
+to their task and added to the speed. Their brothers were hard pressed;
+they knew it, they must make haste. The long boats flew. In an hour they
+could see the masts, the sails, the smoke of the battle, but nothing
+gather of the portentous result. Albany and New York, as well as
+Plattsburg, were in the balance, and the oarsmen rowed and rowed and
+rowed.
+
+The cannon roared louder and louder, though less continuously, as
+another hour passed. Now they could see the vessels only four miles
+away. The jets of smoke were intermittent from the guns; masts went
+down. They could see it plainly. The rowers only set their lips and
+rowed and rowed and rowed.
+
+Sir George had reckoned on but one obstacle in his march to Albany, an
+obstruction named MacDonough; but he now found there was another called
+Macomb.
+
+It was obviously a waste of men to take Plattsburg by front assault,
+when he could easily force a passage of the river higher up and take it
+on the rear; and it was equally clear that when his fleet arrived and
+crushed the American fleet, it would be a simple matter for the war
+vessels to blow the town to pieces, without risking a man.
+
+Already a favouring wind had made it possible for Downie to leave Isle
+au Noix and sail down the lake with his gallant crew, under gallant
+canvas clouds.
+
+Tried men and true in control of every ship, outnumbering MacDonough,
+outweighing him, outpointing him in everything but seamanship, they came
+on, sure of success.
+
+Three chief moves were in MacDonough's strategy. He anchored to the
+northward of the bay, so that any fleet coming down the lake would have
+to beat up against the wind to reach him; so close to land that any
+fleet trying to flank him would come within range of the forts; and left
+only one apparent gap that a foe might try to use, a gap in front
+of which was a dangerous sunken reef. This was indeed a baited trap.
+Finally he put out cables, kedges, anchors, and springs, so that with
+the capstan he could turn his vessels and bring either side to bear on
+the foe.
+
+All was ready, that morning of September the 11th as the British fleet,
+ably handled, swung around the Cumberland Head.
+
+The young commander of the Yankee fleet now kneeled bareheaded with his
+crew and prayed to the God of Battles as only those going into battle
+pray. The gallant foe came on, and who that knows him doubts that he,
+too, raised his heart in reverent prayer? The first broadside from the
+British broke open a chicken coop on the Saratoga from which a game-cock
+flew, and, perching on a gun, flapped his wings and crowed; so all the
+seamen cheered at such a happy omen.
+
+Then followed the fighting, with its bravery and its horrors--its
+brutish wickedness broke loose.
+
+Early in the action, the British sloop, Finch, fell into MacDonough's
+trap and grounded on the reef.
+
+The British commander was killed, with many of his officers. Still,
+the heavy fire of the guns would have given them the victory, but for
+MacDonough's foresight in providing for swinging his ships. When one
+broadside was entirely out of action, he used his cables, kedges and
+springs, and brought the other batteries to bear.
+
+It was one of the most desperate naval fights the world has ever seen.
+Of the three hundred men on the British flagship not more than five, we
+are told, escaped uninjured; and at the close there was not left on any
+one of the eight vessels a mast that could carry sail, or a sail that
+could render service. In less than two hours and a half the fight was
+won, and the British fleet destroyed.
+
+To the God of Battles each had committed his cause: and the God of
+Battles had spoken.
+
+Far away to the southward in the boats were the Vermont troops with
+their general and Rolf in the foremost. Every sign of the fight they had
+watched as men whose country's fate is being tried.
+
+It was a quarter after eleven when the thunder died away; and the
+Vermonters were headed on shore, for a hasty landing, if need be, when
+down from the peak of the British flag-ship went the Union Jack, and the
+Stars and Stripes was hauled to take its place.
+
+“Thank God!” a soft, murmuring sigh ran through all the boats and many
+a bronzed and bearded cheek was wet with tears. Each man clasped hands
+with his neighbour; all were deeply moved, and even as an audience
+melted renders no applause, so none felt any wish to vent his deep
+emotion in a cheer.
+
+
+
+Chapter 82. Scouting for Macomb
+
+General Macomb knew that Sir George Prevost was a cautious and
+experienced commander. The loss of his fleet would certainly make a
+radical change in his plans, but what change? Would he make a flank
+move and dash on to Albany, or retreat to Canada, or entrench himself to
+await reinforcements at Plattsburg, or try to retrieve his laurels by an
+overwhelming assault on the town?
+
+Whatever his plan, he would set about it quickly, and Macomb studied
+the enemy's camp with a keen, discerning eye, but nothing suggesting a
+change was visible when the sun sank in the rainy west.
+
+It was vital that he know it at once when an important move was begun,
+and as soon as the night came down, a score of the swiftest scouts were
+called for. All were young men; most of them had been in McGlassin's
+band. Rolf was conspicuous among them for his tall figure, but there
+was a Vermont boy named Seymour, who had the reputation of being the
+swiftest runner of them all.
+
+They had two duties laid before them: first, to find whether Prevost's
+army was really retreating; second, what of the regiment he sent up the
+Saranac to perform the flank movement.
+
+Each was given the country he knew best. Some went westerly, some
+followed up the river. Rolf, Seymour, and Fiske, another Vermonter,
+skimmed out of Plattsburg harbour in the dusk, rounded Cumberland Bend,
+and at nine o'clock landed at Point au Roche, at the north side of
+Treadwell's Bay.
+
+Here they hid the canoe and agreeing to meet again at midnight, set
+off in three different westerly directions to strike the highway at
+different points. Seymour, as the fast racer, was given the northmost
+route; Rolf took the middle. Their signals were arranged--in the woods
+the barred-owl cry, by the water the loon; and they parted.
+
+The woods seemed very solemn to Rolf that historic September night,
+as he strode along at speed, stopping now and again when he thought he
+heard some signal, and opened wide his mouth to relieve his ear-drums of
+the heart-beat or to still the rushing of his breath.
+
+In half an hour he reached the high-road. It was deserted. Then he heard
+a cry of the barred owl:
+
+Wa--wah--wa--wah Wa--wah--wa--hooooo-aw.
+
+He replied with the last line, and the answer came a repeat of the whole
+chant, showing that it might be owl, it might be man; but it was not the
+right man, for the final response should have been the hooooo-aw. Rolf
+never knew whence it came, but gave no further heed.
+
+For a long time he sat in a dark corner, where he could watch the road.
+There were sounds of stir in the direction of Plattsburg. Then later,
+and much nearer, a couple of shots were fired. He learned afterward that
+those shots were meant for one of his friends. At length there was a
+faint tump ta tump ta. He drew his knife, stuck it deep in the ground,
+then held the handle in his teeth. This acted like a magnifier, for now
+he heard it plainly enough--the sound of a horse at full gallop--but so
+far away that it was five minutes before he could clearly hear it while
+standing. As the sound neared, he heard the clank of arms, and when it
+passed, Rolf knew that this was a mounted British officer. But why, and
+whither?
+
+In order to learn the rider's route, Rolf followed at a trot for a mile.
+This brought him to a hilltop, whither in the silent night, that fateful
+north wind carried still the sound
+
+     te--rump te--rump te--rump.
+
+As it was nearly lost, Rolf used his knife again; that brought the rider
+back within a mile it seemed, and again the hoof beat faded, te--rump
+te--rump.
+
+“Bound for Canada all right,” Rolf chuckled to himself. But there was
+nothing to show whether this was a mere despatch rider, or an advance
+scout, or a call for reinforcements.
+
+So again he had a long wait. About half-past ten a new and larger sound
+came from the south. The knife in the ground increased but did not
+explain it. The night was moonless, dark now, and it was safe to sit
+very near the road. In twenty minutes the sound was near at hand in
+five, a dark mass was passing along the road. There is no mistaking the
+language of drivers. There is never any question about such and such a
+voice being that of an English officer. There can be no doubt about
+the clank of heavy wheels--a rich, tangy voice from some one in advance
+said: “Oui. Parbleu, tows ce que je sais, c'est par la.” A body of about
+one hundred Britishers, two or three wagons, guns, and a Frenchman for
+guide. Rolf thought he knew that voice; yes, he was almost sure it was
+the voice of Francios la Colle.
+
+This was important but far from conclusive. It was now eleven. He was
+due at the canoe by midnight. He made for the place as fast as he could
+go, which, on such a night, was slow, but guided by occasional glimpses
+of the stars he reached the lake, and pausing a furlong from the
+landing, he gave the rolling, quivering loon call:
+
+Ho-o-o-o-ooo-o Ho-o-o-o-ooo-o. Hooo-ooo.
+
+After ten seconds the answer came:
+
+Ho-o-o-o-o-o-o-o Hoo-ooo.
+
+And again after ten seconds Rolf's reply:
+
+Hoo-ooo.
+
+Both his friends were there; Fiske with a bullet-hole through his arm.
+It seemed their duty to go back at once to headquarters with the meagre
+information and their wounded comrade. But Fiske made light of his
+trouble--it was a mere scratch--and reminded them that their orders were
+to make sure of the enemy's movements. Therefore, it was arranged that
+Seymour take back Fiske and what news they had, while Rolf went on to
+complete his scouting.
+
+By one o'clock he was again on the hill where he had marked the
+horseman's outward flight and the escorted guns. Now, as he waited,
+there were sounds in the north that faded, and in the south were similar
+sounds that grew. Within an hour he was viewing a still larger body
+of troops with drivers and wheels that clanked. There were only two
+explanations possible: Either the British were concentrating on Chazy
+Landing, where, protected from MacDonough by the north wind, they
+could bring enough stores and forces from the north to march overland
+independent of the ships, or else they were in full retreat for Canada.
+There was but one point where this could be made sure, namely, at the
+forks of the road in Chazy village. So he set out at a jog trot for
+Chazy, six miles away.
+
+The troops ahead were going three miles an hour. Rolf could go five.
+In twenty minutes he overtook them and now was embarrassed by their
+slowness. What should he do? It was nearly impossible to make speed
+through the woods in the darkness, so as to pass them. He was forced to
+content himself by marching a few yards in their rear.
+
+Once or twice when a group fell back, he was uncomfortably close and
+heard scraps of their talk.
+
+These left little doubt that the army was in retreat. Still this was the
+mere chatter of the ranks. He curbed his impatience and trudged with
+the troop. Once a man dropped back to light his pipe. He almost touched
+Rolf, and seeing a marching figure, asked in unmistakable accents “Oi
+soi matey, 'ave ye a loight?”
+
+Rolf assumed the low south country English dialect, already familiar
+through talking with prisoners, and replied: “Naow, oi oin't
+a-smowking,” then gradually dropped out of sight.
+
+They were nearly two hours in reaching Chazy where they passed the
+Forks, going straight on north. Without doubt, now, the army was bound
+for Canada! Rolf sat on a fence near by as their footsteps went tramp,
+tramp, tramp--with the wagons, clank, clank, clank, and were lost in the
+northern distance.
+
+He had seen perhaps three hundred men; there were thirteen thousand to
+account for, and he sat and waited. He did not have long to wait; within
+half an hour a much larger body of troops evidently was approaching from
+the south; several lanterns gleamed ahead of them, so Rolf got over the
+fence, but it was low and its pickets offered poor shelter. Farther back
+was Judge Hubbell's familiar abode with dense shrubbery. He hastened
+to it and in a minute was hidden where he could see something of the
+approaching troops. They were much like those that had gone before, but
+much more numerous, at least a regiment, and as they filled the village
+way, an officer cried “Halt!” and gave new orders. Evidently they were
+about to bivouac for the night. A soldier approached the picket fence
+to use it for firewood, but an officer rebuked him. Other fuel, chiefly
+fence rails, was found, and a score or more of fires were lighted on the
+highway and in the adjoining pasture. Rolf found himself in something
+like a trap, for in less than two hours now would be the dawn.
+
+The simplest way out was to go in; he crawled quietly round the house to
+the window of Mrs. Hubbell's room. These were times of nervous tension,
+and three or four taps on the pane were enough to arouse the good lady.
+Her husband had come that way more than once.
+
+“Who is it?” she demanded, through a small opening of the sash.
+
+“Rolf Kittering,” he whispered, “the place is surrounded by soldiers;
+can't you hide me?”
+
+Could she? Imagine an American woman saying “No” at such a time.
+
+He slipped in quietly.
+
+“What news?” she said. “They say that MacDonough has won on the Lake,
+but Plattsburg is taken.”
+
+“No, indeed; Plattsburgh is safe; MacDonough has captured the fleet. I
+am nearly sure that the whole British army is retiring to Canada.”
+
+“Thank God, thank God,” she said fervently, “I knew it must be so; the
+women have met here and prayed together every day, morning and night.
+But hush!” she laid a warning finger on her lips and pointed up toward
+one of the rooms--“British officer.”
+
+She brought two blankets from a press and led up to the garret. At the
+lowest part of the roof was a tiny door to a lumber closet. In this
+Rolf spread his blankets, stretched his weary limbs, and soon was sound
+asleep.
+
+At dawn the bugles blew, the camp was astir. The officer in the house
+arose and took his post on the porch. He was there on guard to protect
+the house. His brother officers joined him. Mrs. Hubbell prepared
+breakfast. It was eaten silently, so far as Rolf could learn. They paid
+for it and, heading their regiment, went away northward, leaving the
+officer still on the porch.
+
+Presently Rolf heard a stealthy step in his garret, the closed door was
+pushed open, and Mrs. Hubbell's calm, handsome face appeared, as, with a
+reassuring nod, she set down a mug of coffee, some bread, and a bowl of
+mush and milk. And only those who have travelled and fasted for twelve
+hours when they were nineteen know how good it tasted.
+
+From a tiny window ventilator Rolf had a view of the road in front.
+A growing din of men prepared him for more troops, but still he was
+surprised to see ten regiments march past with all their stores--a brave
+army, but no one could mistake their looks; they wore the despondent air
+of an army in full retreat.
+
+
+
+Chapter 83. The Last of Sir George Prevost
+
+The battle was over at Plattsburg town, though it had not been fought;
+for the spirit of MacDonough was on land and water, and it was felt
+by the British general, as well as the Yankee riflemen, as soon as the
+Union Jack had been hauled from the mast of the Confiance.
+
+Now Sir George Prevost had to face a momentous decision: He could
+force the passage of the Saranac and march on to Albany, but his
+communications would be cut, and he must rely on a hostile country for
+supplies. Every day drew fresh bands of riflemen from the hills. Before
+he could get to Albany their number might exceed his, and then what?
+Unless Great Britain could send a new army or a fleet to support him, he
+must meet the fate of Burgoyne. Prevost proposed to take no such chances
+and the night of the 11th eight hours after MacDonough's victory, he
+gave the order “Retire to Canada.”
+
+To hide the move as long as possible, no change was made till after
+sundown; no hint was given to the beleaguered town; they must have no
+opportunity to reap the enormous advantages, moral and material, of
+harrying a retreating foe. They must arise in the morning to find the
+enemy safely over the border. The plan was perfect, and would have been
+literally carried out, had not he had to deal with a foe as clever as
+himself.
+
+How eagerly Rolf took in the scene on Chazy Road; how much it meant! how
+he longed to fly at his fastest famous speed with the stirring news. In
+two hours and a half he could surely let his leader know. And he gazed
+with a sort of superior pride at the martial pomp and bravery of the
+invaders driven forth.
+
+Near the last was a gallant array of gentlemen in gorgeous uniforms
+of scarlet and gold; how warlike they looked, how splendid beside the
+ill-clad riflemen of Vermont and the rude hunters of the Adirondacks.
+How much more beautiful is an iron sword with jewels, than a sword of
+plain gray steel.
+
+Dame Hubbell stood in her door as they went by. Each and all saluted
+politely; her guard was ordered to join his regiment. The lady waved
+her sun-bonnet in response to their courteous good-bye, and could not
+refrain from calling out:
+
+“How about my prophecy, Sir George, and those purses?”
+
+Rolf could not see his hostess, but he heard her voice, and he saw the
+astonishing effect:
+
+The British general reined in his horse. “A gentleman's word is his
+bond, madam,” he said. “Let every officer now throw his purse at the
+lady's feet,” and he set the example. A dozen rattling thuds were heard
+and a dozen officers saluting, purseless, rode away.
+
+A round thousand dollars in gold the lady gathered on her porch that
+morning, and to this day her grand-kin tell the tale.
+
+
+
+Chapter 84. Rolf Unmasks the Ambush
+
+Rolf's information was complete now, and all that remained was to report
+at Plattsburg. Ten regiments he had counted from his peep hole. The
+rear guard passed at ten o'clock. At eleven Mrs. Hubbell did a little
+scouting and reported that all was quiet as far as she could see both
+ways, and no enemy in sight anywhere.
+
+With a grateful hand shake he left the house to cover the fourteen miles
+that lay between Chazy and Plattsburg.
+
+Refreshed and fed, young and strong, the representative of a just and
+victorious cause, how he exulted in that run, rejoicing in his youth,
+his country, his strength, his legs, his fame as a runner. Starting at
+a stride he soon was trotting; then, when the noon hour came, he had
+covered a good six miles. Now he heard faint, far shots, and going more
+slowly was soon conscious that a running fight was on between his own
+people and the body of British sent westward to hold the upper Saranac.
+
+True to the instinct of the scout, his first business was to find out
+exactly what and where they were. From a thick tree top he saw the
+red-coats spotting an opening of the distant country. Then they were
+lost sight of in the woods. The desultory firing became volley firing,
+once or twice. Then there was an interval of silence. At length a mass
+of red-coats appeared on the highway within half a mile. They were
+travelling very fast, in full retreat, and were coming his way. On the
+crest of the hill over which the road ran, Rolf saw them suddenly drop
+to the ground and take up position to form a most dangerous ambuscade,
+and half a mile away, straggling through the woods, running or striding,
+were the men in the colours he loved. They had swept the enemy before
+them, so far, but trained troops speedily recover from a panic, if they
+have a leader of nerve, and seeing a noble chance in the angle of this
+deep-sunk road, the British fugitives turned like boars at bay. Not a
+sign of them was visible to the Americans. The latter were suffering
+from too much success. Their usual caution seemed to have deserted them,
+and trotting in a body they came along the narrow road, hemmed in by a
+forest and soon to be hedged with cliffs of clay. They were heading for
+a death-trap. At any price he must warn them. He slid down the tree, and
+keeping cover ran as fast as possible toward the ambush. It was the only
+hill near--Beekman's Rise, they call it. As far as possible from the
+red-coats, but still on the hill that gave a view, he leaped on to a
+high stump and yelled as he never did before: “Go back, go back! A
+trap! A trap!” And lifting high his outspread hands he flung their palms
+toward his friends, the old-time signal for “go back.”
+
+Not twice did they need warning. Like hunted wolves they flashed from
+view in the nearest cover. A harmless volley from the baffled ambush
+rattled amongst them, and leaping from his stump Rolf ran for life.
+
+Furious at their failure, a score of red-coats, reloading as they ran,
+came hot-footed after him. Down into cover of an alder swamp he plunged,
+and confident of his speed, ran on, dashing through thickets and
+mudholes. He knew that the red-coats would not follow far in such a
+place, and his comrades were near. But the alder thicket ended at a
+field. He heard the bushes crashing close at hand, and dashed down a
+little ravine at whose lower edge the friendly forest recommenced. That
+was his fatal mistake. The moment he took to the open there was a rattle
+of rifles from the hill above, and Rolf fell on his face as dead.
+
+It was after noontide when he fell; he must have lain unconscious for
+an hour; when he came to himself he was lying still in that hollow,
+absolutely alone. The red-coats doubtless had continued their flight
+with the Yankee boys behind them. His face was covered with blood. His
+coat was torn and bloody; his trousers showed a ragged rent that was
+reddened and sopping. His head was aching, and in his leg was the pain
+of a cripplement. He knew it as soon as he tried to move; his right leg
+was shattered below the knee. The other shots had grazed his arm and
+head; the latter had stunned him for a time, but did no deeper damage.
+
+He lay still for a long time, in hopes that some of his friends
+might come. He tried to raise his voice, but had no strength. Then he
+remembered the smoke signal that had saved him when he was lost in the
+woods. In spite of his wounded arm, he got out his flint and steel, and
+prepared to make a fire. But all the small wood he could reach was wet
+with recent rains. An old pine stump was on the bank not far away; he
+might cut kindling-wood from that to start his fire, and he reached for
+his knife. Alas! its case was empty. Had Rolf been four years younger,
+he might have broken down and wept at this. It did seem such an
+unnecessary accumulation of disasters. Without gun or knife, how was he
+to call his friends?
+
+He straightened his mangled limb in the position of least pain and lay
+for a while. The September sun fell on his back and warmed him. He was
+parched with thirst, but only thirty yards away was a little rill. With
+a long and fearful crawling on his breast, he dragged himself to the
+stream and drank till he could drink no more, then rested, washed his
+head and hands, 'and tried to crawl again to the warm place. But the sun
+had dropped behind the river bank, the little ravine was in shadow, and
+the chill of the grave was on the young man's pain-racked frame.
+
+Shadows crossed his brain, among them Si Sylvanne with his quaint
+sayings, and one above all was clear:
+
+“Trouble is only sent to make ye do yer best. When ye hev done yer best,
+keep calm and wait. Things is comin' all right.” Yes, that was what he
+said, and the mockery of it hurt him now.
+
+The sunset slowly ended; the night wind blew; the dragging hours brought
+gloom that entered in. This seemed indeed the direst strait of his lot.
+Crippled, dying of cold, helpless, nothing to do but wait and die, and
+from his groaning lips there came the half-forgotten prayer his mother
+taught him long ago, “O God, have mercy on me!” and then he forgot.
+
+When he awoke, the stars were shining; he was numb with cold, but his
+mind was clear.
+
+“This is war,” he thought, “and God knows we never sought it.” And again
+the thought: “When I offered to serve my country, I offered my life. I
+am willing to die, but this is not a way of my choosing,” and a blessed,
+forgetfulness came upon him again.
+
+But his was a stubborn-fibred race; his spark of life was not so quickly
+quenched; its blazing torch might waver, wane, and wax again. In the
+chill, dark hour when the life-lamp flickers most, he wakened to hear
+the sweet, sweet music of a dog's loud bark; in a minute he heard it
+nearer, and yet again at hand, and Skookum, erratic, unruly, faithful
+Skookum, was bounding around and barking madly at the calm, unblinking
+stars.
+
+A human “halloo” rang not far away; then others, and Skookum barked and
+barked.
+
+Now the bushes rustled near, a man came out, kneeled down, laid hand
+on the dying soldier's brow, and his heart. He opened his eyes, the man
+bent over him and softly said, “Nibowaka! it's Quonab.”
+
+That night when the victorious rangers had returned to Plattsburg it
+was a town of glad, thankful hearts, and human love ran strong.
+The thrilling stories of the day were told, the crucial moment, the
+providential way in which at every hopeless pass, some easy, natural
+miracle took place to fight their battle and back their country's cause.
+The harrying of the flying rear-guard, the ambuscade over the hill, the
+appearance of an American scout at the nick of time to warn them--the
+shooting, and his disappearance--all were discussed.
+
+Then rollicking Seymour and silent Fiske told of their scouting on the
+trail of the beaten foe; and all asked, “Where is Kittering?” So talk
+was rife, and there was one who showed a knife he had picked up near the
+ambuscade with R. K. on the shaft.
+
+Now a dark-faced scout rose up, stared at the knife, and quickly left
+the room. In three minutes he stood before General Macomb, his words
+were few, but from his heart:
+
+“It is my boy, Nibowaka; it is Rolf; my heart tells me. Let me go. I
+feel him praying for me to come. Let me go, general. I must go.”
+
+It takes a great man to gauge the heart of a man who seldom speaks. “You
+may go, but how can you find him tonight?”
+
+“Ugh, I find him,” and the Indian pointed to a little, prick-eared,
+yellow cur that sneaked at his heels.
+
+“Success to you; he was one of the best we had,” said the general, as
+the Indian left, then added: “Take a couple of men along, and, here,
+take this,” and he held out a flask.
+
+Thus it was that the dawning saw Rolf on a stretcher carried by his
+three scouting partners, while Skookum trotted ahead, looking this way
+and that--they should surely not be ambushed this time.
+
+And thus the crowning misfortune, the culminating apes of disaster--the
+loss of his knife--the thing of all others that roused in Rolf the
+spirit of rebellion, was the way of life, his dungeon's key, the golden
+chain that haled him from the pit.
+
+
+
+Chapter 85. The Hospital, the Prisoners, and Home
+
+There were wagons and buckboards to be had, but the road was rough,
+so the three changed off as litter-bearers and brought him to the lake
+where the swift and smooth canoe was ready, and two hours later they
+carried him into the hospital at Plattsburg.
+
+The leg was set at once, his wounds were dressed, he was warmed,
+cleaned, and fed; and when the morning sun shone in the room, it was a
+room of calm and peace.
+
+The general came and sat beside him for a time, and the words he spoke
+were ample, joyful compensation for his wounds. MacDonough, too, passed
+through the ward, and the warm vibrations of his presence drove death
+from many a bed whose inmate's force ebbed low, whose soul was walking
+on the brink, was near surrender.
+
+Rolf did not fully realize it then, but long afterward it was clear that
+this was the meaning of the well-worn words, “He filled them with a new
+spirit.”
+
+There was not a man in the town but believed the war was over; there was
+not a man in the town who doubted that his country's cause was won.
+
+Three weeks is a long time to a youth near manhood, but there was much
+of joy to while away the hours. The mothers of the town came and read
+and talked. There was news from the front. There were victories on the
+high seas. His comrades came to sit beside him; Seymour, the sprinter,
+as merry a soul as ever hankered for the stage and the red cups of life;
+Fiske, the silent, and McGlassin, too, with his dry, humorous talk;
+these were the bright and funny hours. There were others. There came a
+bright-checked Vermont mother whose three sons had died in service at
+MacDonough's guns; and she told of it in a calm voice, as one who speaks
+of her proudest honour. Yes, she rejoiced that God had given her three
+such sons, and had taken again His gifts in such a day of glory. Had
+England's rulers only known, that this was the spirit of the land that
+spoke, how well they might have asked: “What boots it if we win a few
+battles, and burn a few towns; it is a little gain and passing; for
+there is one thing that no armies, ships, or laws, or power on earth,
+or hell itself can down or crush--that alone is the thing that counts or
+endures--the thing that permeates these men, that finds its focal centre
+in such souls as that of the Vermont mother, steadfast, proud, and
+rejoicing in her bereavement.”
+
+But these were forms that came and went; there were two that seldom were
+away--the tall and supple one of the dark face and the easy tread, and
+his yellow shadow--the ever unpopular, snappish, prick-eared cur, that
+held by force of arms all territories at floor level contiguous to,
+under, comprised, and bounded by, the four square legs and corners of
+the bed.
+
+Quonab's nightly couch was a blanket not far away, and his daily,
+self-given task to watch the wounded and try by devious ways and plots
+to trick him into eating ever larger meals.
+
+Garrison duty was light now, so Quonab sought the woods where the flocks
+of partridge swarmed, with Skookum as his aid. It was the latter's
+joyful duty to find and tree the birds, and “yap” below, till Quonab
+came up quietly with bow and blunt arrows, to fill his game-bag; and
+thus the best of fare was ever by the invalid's bed.
+
+Rolf's was easily a winning fight from the first, and in a week he was
+eating well, sleeping well, and growing visibly daily stronger.
+
+Then on a fleckless dawn that heralded a sun triumphant, the Indian
+borrowed a drum from the bandsman, and, standing on the highest
+breastwork, he gazed across the dark waters to the whitening hills.
+There on a tiny fire he laid tobacco and kinnikinnik, as Gisiss the
+Shining One burnt the rugged world rim at Vermont, and, tapping softly
+with one stick, he gazed upward, after the sacrificial thread of smoke,
+and sang in his own tongue:
+
+“Father, I burn tobacco, I smoke to Thee. I sing for my heart is
+singing.”
+
+Pleasant chatter of the East was current by Rolf's bedside. Stories
+of homes in the hills he heard, tales of hearths by far away lakes and
+streams, memories of golden haired children waiting for father's or
+brother's return from the wars. Wives came to claim their husbands,
+mothers to bring away their boys, to gain again their strength at home.
+And his own heart went back, and ever back, to the rugged farm on the
+shores of the noble George.
+
+In two weeks he was able to sit up. In three he could hobble, and he
+moved about the town when the days were warm.
+
+And now he made the acquaintance of the prisoners. They were closely
+guarded and numbered over a hundred. It gave him a peculiar sensation
+to see them there. It seemed un-American to hold a human captive; but
+he realized that it was necessary to keep them for use as hostages and
+exchanges.
+
+Some of them he found to be sullen brutes, but many were kind and
+friendly, and proved to be jolly good fellows.
+
+On the occasion of his second visit, a familiar voice saluted him with,
+“Well, Rolf! Comment ca va?” and he had the painful joy of greeting
+Francois la Colle.
+
+“You'll help me get away, Rolf, won't you?” and the little Frenchman
+whispered and winked. “I have seven little ones now on La Riviere, dat
+have no flour, and tinks dere pa is dead.”
+
+“I'll do all I can, Francois,” and the picture of the desolate home,
+brought a husk in his voice and a choke in his throat. He remembered too
+the musket ball that by intent had whistled harmless overhead. “But,” he
+added in a shaky voice, “I cannot help my country's enemy to escape.”
+
+Then Rolf took counsel with McGlassin, told him all about the affair
+at the mill, and McGlassin with a heart worthy of his mighty shoulders,
+entered into the spirit of the situation, went to General Macomb
+presenting such a tale and petition that six hours later Francis bearing
+a passport through the lines was trudging away to Canada, paroled for
+the rest of the war.
+
+There was another face that Rolf recognized--hollow-cheeked,
+flabby-jowled and purplish-gray. The man was one of the oldest of the
+prisoners. He wore a white beard end moustache. He did not recognize
+Rolf, but Rolf knew him, for this was Micky Kittering. How he escaped
+from jail and joined the enemy was an episode of the war's first year.
+Rolf was shocked to see what a miserable wreck his uncle was. He could
+not do him any good. To identify him would have resulted in his being
+treated as a renegade, so on the plea that he was an old man, Rolf saw
+that the prisoner had extra accommodation and out of his own pocket kept
+him abundantly supplied with tobacco. Then in his heart he forgave him,
+and kept away. They never met again.
+
+The bulk of the militia had been disbanded after the great battle. A
+few of the scouts and enough men to garrison the fort and guard the
+prisoners were retained. Each day there were joyful partings--the men
+with homes, going home. And the thought that ever waxed in Rolf came on
+in strength. He hobbled to headquarters. “General, can I get leave--to
+go--he hesitated--home?”
+
+“Why, Kittering, I didn't know you had a home. But, certainly, I'll give
+you a month's leave and pay to date.”
+
+Champlain is the lake of the two winds; the north wind blows for six
+months with a few variations, and the south wind for the other six
+months with trifling.
+
+Next morning a bark canoe was seen skimming southward before as much
+north wind as it could stand, with Rolf reclining in the middle, Quonab
+at the stern, and Skookum in the bow.
+
+In two days they were at Ticonderoga. Here help was easily got at
+the portage and on the evening of the third day, Quonab put a rope on
+Skookum's neck and they landed at Hendrik's farm.
+
+The hickory logs were blazing bright, and the evening pot was reeking as
+they opened the door and found the family gathered for the meal.
+
+“I didn't know you had a home,” the general had said. He should have
+been present now to see the wanderer's welcome. If war breeds such a
+spirit in the land, it is as much a blessing as a curse. The air was
+full of it, and the Van Trumpers, when they saw their hero hobble in,
+were melted. Love, pity, pride, and tenderness were surging in storms
+through every heart that knew. “Their brother, their son come back,
+wounded, but proven and glorious.” Yes, Rolf had a home, and in that
+intoxicating realization he kissed them all, even Annette of the glowing
+cheeks and eyes; though in truth he paid for it, for it conjured up in
+her a shy aloofness that lasted many days.
+
+Old Hendrik sputtered around. “Och, I am smile; dis is goood, yah. Vere
+is that tam dog? Yah! tie him not, he shall dis time von chicken have
+for joy.”
+
+“Marta,” said Rolf, “you told me to come here if I got hurt. Well, I've
+come, and I've brought a boat-load of stuff in case I cannot do my share
+in the fields.”
+
+“Press you, my poy you didn't oughter brung dot stuff; you know we
+loff you here, and effery time it is you coom I get gladsomer, and dot
+Annette she just cried ven you vent to de war.”
+
+“Oh, mother, I did not; it was you and little Hendrick!” and Annette
+turned her scarlet cheeks away.
+
+October, with its trees of flame and gold, was on the hills; purple and
+orange, the oaks and the birches; blue blocked with white was the sky
+above, and the blue, bright lake was limpid.
+
+“Oh, God of my fathers,” Quonab used to pray, “when I reach the Happy
+Hunting, let it be ever the Leaf-falling Moon, for that is the only
+perfect time.” And in that unmarred month of sunny sky and woodlands
+purged of every plague, there is but one menace in the vales. For who
+can bring the glowing coal to the dry-leafed woods without these two
+begetting the dread red fury that devastates the hills?
+
+Who can bring the fire in touch with tow and wonder at the blaze? Who,
+indeed? And would any but a dreamer expect young manhood in its growing
+strength, and girlhood just across the blush-line, to meet in daily
+meals and talk and still keep up the brother and sister play? It needs
+only a Virginia on the sea-girt island to turn the comrade into Paul.
+
+“Marta, I tink dot Rolf an Annette don't quarrel bad, ain't it?”
+
+“Hendrik, you vas von blind old bat-mole,” said Marta, “I fink dat farm
+next ours purty good, but Rolf he say 'No Lake George no good.' Better
+he like all his folk move over on dat Hudson.”
+
+
+Chapter 86. The New Era of Prosperity
+
+As November neared and his leave of absence ended, Rolf was himself
+again; had been, indeed, for two weeks, and, swinging fork or axe, he
+had helped with many an urgent job on the farm.
+
+A fine log stable they had rolled up together, with corners dovetailed
+like cabinet work, and roof of birch bark breadths above the hay.
+
+But there was another building, too, that Rolf had worked at night and
+day. It was no frontier shack, but a tall and towering castle, splendid
+and roomy, filled with loved ones and love. Not by the lake near by,
+not by the river of his choice, but higher up than the tops of the high
+mountains it loomed, and he built and built until the month was nearly
+gone. Then only did he venture to ask for aid, and Annette it was who
+promised to help him finish the building.
+
+Yes, the Lake George shore was a land of hungry farms. It was off the
+line of travel, too. It was neither Champlain nor Hudson; and Hendrik,
+after ten years' toil with barely a living to show, was easily
+convinced. Next summer they must make a new choice of home. But now it
+was back to Plattsburg.
+
+On November 1st Rolf and Quonab reported to General Macomb. There was
+little doing but preparations for the winter. There were no prospects of
+further trouble from their neighbours in the north. Most of the militia
+were already disbanded, and the two returned to Plattsburg, only to
+receive their honourable discharge, to be presented each with the medal
+of war, with an extra clasp on Rolf's for that dauntless dash that
+spiked the British guns.
+
+Wicked war with its wickedness was done at last. “The greatest evil that
+can befall a country,” some call it, and yet out of this end came three
+great goods: The interstate distrust had died away, for now they were
+soldiers who had camped together, who had “drunk from the same canteen”;
+little Canada, until then a thing of shreds and scraps, had been fused
+in the furnace, welded into a young nation, already capable of defending
+her own. England, arrogant with long success at sea, was taught a lesson
+of courtesy and justice, for now the foe whom she had despised and
+insulted had shown himself her equal, a king of the sea-king stock. The
+unnecessary battle of New Orleans, fought two weeks after the war was
+officially closed, showed that the raw riflemen of Tennessee were
+more than a match for the seasoned veterans who had overcome the great
+Napoleon, and thus on land redeemed the Stars and Stripes.
+
+The war brought unmeasured material loss on all concerned, but some
+weighty lasting gains to two at least. On December 24, 1814, the Treaty
+of Ghent was signed and the long rides were hung up on the cabin walls.
+Nothing was said in the treaty about the cause of war--the right of
+search. Why should they speak of it? If a big boy bullies a smaller one
+and gets an unexpected knockdown blow, it is not necessary to have it
+all set forth in terms before they shake hands that “I, John, of the
+first part, to wit, the bully, do hereby agree, promise, and contract to
+refrain in future forevermore from bullying you, Jonathan, of the second
+part, to wit, the bullied.” That point had already been settled by the
+logic of events. The right of search was dead before the peace was born,
+and the very place of its bones is forgotten to-day.
+
+Rolf with Quonab returned to the trapping that winter; and as soon as
+the springtime came and seeding was over, he and Van Trumper made their
+choice of farms. Every dollar they could raise was invested in the
+beautiful sloping lands of the upper Hudson. Rolf urged the largest
+possible purchase now. Hendrick looked somewhat aghast at such a
+bridge-burning move. But a purchaser for his farm was found with
+unexpected promptness, one who was not on farming bent and the way kept
+opening up.
+
+The wedding did not take place till another year, when Annette was
+nineteen and Rolf twenty-one. And the home they moved to was not exactly
+a castle, but much more complete and human.
+
+This was the beginning of a new settlement. Given good land in plenty,
+and all the rest is easy; neighbours came in increasing numbers; every
+claim was taken up; Rolf and Hendrik saw themselves growing rich, and
+at length the latter was thankful for the policy that he once thought so
+rash, of securing all the land he could. Now it was his making, for in
+later years his grown-up sons were thus provided for, and kept at home.
+
+The falls of the river offered, as Rolf had foreseen, a noble chance for
+power. Very early he had started a store and traded for fur. Now, with
+the careful savings, he was able to build his sawmill; and about it grew
+a village with a post-office that had Rolf's name on the signboard.
+
+Quonab had come, of course, with Rolf, but he shunned the house, and the
+more so as it grew in size. In a remote and sheltered place he built a
+wigwam of his own.
+
+Skookum was divided in his allegiance, but he solved the puzzle by
+dividing his time between them. He did not change much, but he did
+rise in a measure to the fundamental zoological fact that hens are not
+partridges; and so acquired a haughty toleration of the cackle-party
+throng that assembled in the morning at Annette's call. Yes, he made
+even another step of progress, for on one occasion he valiantly routed
+the unenlightened dog of a neighbour, a “cur of low degree,” whose ideas
+of ornithology were as crude as his own had been in the beginning.
+
+All of which was greatly to his credit, for he found it hard to learn
+now; he was no longer young, and before he had seen eight springs
+dissolve the snow, he was called to the Land of Happy Hunting, where the
+porcupine is not, but where hens abound on every side, and there is no
+man near to meddle with his joy.
+
+Yet, when he died, he lived. His memory was kept ever green, for Skookum
+Number 2 was there to fill his room, and he gave place to Skookum 3, and
+so they keep their line on to this very day.
+
+
+
+
+Quonab Goes Home
+
+The public has a kind of crawlin' common-sense, that is always right and
+fair in the end, only it's slow--Sayings of Si Sylvanne.
+
+Twenty years went by. Rolf grew and prospered. He was a man of substance
+and of family now; for store and mill were making money fast, and the
+little tow-tops came at regular intervals.
+
+And when the years had added ripeness to his thought, and the kind
+gods of gold had filled his scrip, it was that his ampler life began to
+bloom. His was a mind of the best begetting, born and bred of ancient,
+clean-blooded stock; inflexibly principled, trained by a God-fearing
+mother, nurtured in a cradle of adversity, schooled in a school of
+hardship, developed in the big outdoors, wise in the ways of the woods,
+burnt in the fire of affliction, forced into self-reliance, inspired
+with the lofty inspiration of sacrificial patriotism--the good stuff
+of his make-up shone, as shines the gold in the fervent heat; the hard
+blows that prove or crush, had proved; the metal had rung true; and in
+the great valley, Rolf Kittering was a man of mark.
+
+The country's need of such is ever present and ever seeking. Those in
+power who know and measure men soon sought him out, and their messenger
+was the grisly old Si Sylvanne.
+
+Because he was a busy man, Rolf feared to add to his activities. Because
+he was a very busy man, the party new they needed him. So at length it
+was settled, and in a little while, Rolf stood in the Halls of Albany
+and grasped the hand of the ancient mill-man as a colleague, filling an
+honoured place in the councils of the state.
+
+Each change brought him new activities. Each year he was more of a
+public man, and his life grew larger. From Albany he went to New York,
+in the world of business and men's affairs; and at last in Washington,
+his tall, manly figure was well known, and his good common-sense and
+clean business ways were respected. Yet each year during hunting time he
+managed to spend a few weeks with Quonab in the woods. Tramping on their
+ancient trapping grounds, living over the days of their early hunts;
+and double zest was added when Rolf the second joined them and lived and
+loved it all.
+
+But this was no longer Kittering's life, rather the rare precarious
+interval, and more and more old Quonab realized that they were meeting
+only in the past. When the big house went up on the river-bank, he
+indeed had felt that they were at the parting of the ways. His respect
+for Nibowaka had grown to be almost a worship, and yet he knew that
+their trails had yearly less in common. Rolf had outgrown him; he was
+alone again, as on the day of their meeting. His years had brought a
+certain insight; and this he grasped--that the times were changed, and
+his was the way of a bygone day.
+
+“Mine is the wisdom of the woods,” he said, “but the woods are going
+fast; in a few years there will be no more trees, and my wisdom will
+be foolishness. There is in this land now a big, strong thing called
+'trade,' that will eat up all things and the people themselves. You are
+wise enough, Nibowaka, to paddle with the stream, you have turned so the
+big giant is on your side, and his power is making you great. But this
+is not for me; so only I have enough to eat, and comfort to sleep, I am
+content to watch for the light.”
+
+Across the valley from the big store he dwelt, in a lodge from which he
+could easily see the sunrise. Twenty-five years added to the fifty he
+spent in the land of Mayn Mayano had dimmed his eye, had robbed his foot
+of its spring, and sprinkled his brow with the winter rime; but they had
+not changed his spirit, nor taught him less to love the pine woods
+and the sunrise. Yes, even more than in former days did he take his
+song-drum to the rock of worship, to his idaho--as the western red man
+would have called it. And there, because it was high and the wind blew
+cold, he made a little eastward-facing lodge.
+
+He was old and hunting was too hard for him, but there was a strong
+arm about him now; he dimly thought of it at times--the arm of the
+fifteen-year-old boy that one time he had shielded. There was no lack
+of food or blankets in the wigwam, or of freedom in the woods under the
+sun-up rock. But there was a hunger that not farseeing Nibowaka could
+appease, not even talk about. And Quonab built another medicine lodge
+to watch the sun go down over the hill. Sitting by a little fire to
+tune his song-drum, he often crooned to the blazing skies. “I am of the
+sunset now, I and my people,” he sang, “the night is closing over us.”
+
+One day a stranger came to the hills; his clothes were those of a white
+man, but his head, his feet, and his eyes--his blood, his walk, and his
+soul were those of a red Indian of the West. He came from the unknown
+with a message to those who knew him not: “The Messiah was coming; the
+deliverer that Hiawatha bade them look for. He was coming in power
+to deliver the red race, and his people must sing the song of the
+ghost-dance till the spirit came, and in a vision taught them wisdom and
+his will!”
+
+Not to the white man, but to the lonely Indian in the hill cleft he
+came, and the song that he brought and taught him was of a sorrowing
+people seeking their father.
+
+“Father have pity on us! Our souls are hungry for Thee. There is nothing
+here to satisfy us Father we bow to Thy will.”
+
+By the fire that night they sang, and prayed as the Indian
+prays--“Father have pity and guide us.” So Quonab sang the new song, and
+knew its message was for him.
+
+The stranger went on, for he was a messenger, but Quonab sang again and
+again, and then the vision came, as it must, and the knowledge that he
+sought.
+
+None saw him go, but ten miles southward on the river he met a hunter
+and said: “Tell the wise one that I have heard the new song. Tell him
+I have seen the vision. We are of the sunset, but the new day comes. I
+must see the land of Mayn Mayano, the dawn-land, where the sun rises out
+of the sea.”
+
+They saw no more of him. But a day later, Rolf heard of it, and set out
+in haste next morning for Albany. Skookum the fourth leaped into the
+canoe as he pushed off. Rolf was minded to send him back, but the dog
+begged hard with his eyes and tail. It seemed he ought to go, when it
+was the old man they sought. At Albany they got news. “Yes, the Indian
+went on the steamboat a few days ago.” At New York, Rolf made no attempt
+to track his friend, but took the Stamford boat and hurried to the old
+familiar woods, where he had lived and suffered and wakened as a boy.
+
+There was a house now near the rock that is yet called “Quonab's.” From
+the tenants he learned that in the stillest hours of the night before,
+they had heard the beating of an Indian drum, and the cadence of a chant
+that came not from throat of white man's blood.
+
+In the morning when it was light Rolf hastened to the place, expecting
+to find at least an Indian camp, where once had stood the lodge. There
+was no camp; and as he climbed for a higher view, the Skookum of to-day
+gave bristling proof of fear at some strange object there--a man that
+moved not. His long straight hair was nearly white, and by his side,
+forever still, lay the song-drum of his people.
+
+And those who heard the mournful strains the night before knew now from
+Rolf that it was Ouonab come back to his rest, and the song that he sang
+was the song of the ghost dance.
+
+“Pity me, Wahkonda. My soul is ever hungry. There is nothing here to
+satisfy me, I walk in darkness; Pity me, Wahkondal.”
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Rolf In The Woods, by Ernest Thompson Seton
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1088 ***