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diff --git a/old/1088-0.txt b/old/1088-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a2f0177 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1088-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11616 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Rolf In The Woods, by Ernest Thompson Seton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Rolf In The Woods + +Author: Ernest Thompson Seton + +Posting Date: August 3, 2008 [EBook #1088] +Release Date: October, 1997 +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROLF IN THE WOODS *** + + + + +Produced by Anonymous Volunteers, and Ted Soldan + + + + + +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a native +of the Champlain region, now a resident of New York, I went over all the +historical ground with several unpublished manuscripts for guides, and +heard from the children of the sturdy frontiersmen new tales of the +war; and in getting more light and vivid personal memories, I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 THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROLF IN THE WOODS *** + +***** This file should be named 1088-0.txt or 1088-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/8/1088/ + +Produced by Anonymous Volunteers, and Ted Soldan + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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