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+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Two Little Savages, by Ernest Thompson Seton</title>
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+<body>
+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13499 ***</div>
+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Two Little Savages, written and illustrated
+by Ernest Thompson Seton</h1>
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr class="pg" />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<h1><i><span class="emph">T</span>WO <span class="emph">L</span>ITTLE <span class="emph">S</span>AVAGES</i></h1>
+
+
+<h3><i>Being the</i> ADVENTURES <i>of Two</i> BOYS<br />
+
+<i>Who Lived as </i>INDIANS<i> and</i>&nbsp;<img src="images/title2a.gif" width="40" height="18" alt="Teepees" border="0" /><br />
+
+<img src="images/title1a.gif" width="100" height="35" alt="Indian Tableau" border="0" /><i>What They</i> LEARNED.<br /><br />
+
+WITH OVER THREE HUNDRED DRAWINGS</h3>
+<p class="center">
+ <img src="images/sketch001.gif" width="316" height="233" alt="Because I have known the torment of thirst I would dig a well where others may drink. - E.T.S." border="0" />
+ </p>
+
+<h4><i>Written &amp; Illustrated</i><br />
+
+By</h4>
+
+<h2><i><span class="emph">E</span>RNEST <span class="emph">T</span>HOMPSON <span class="emph">S</span>ETON</i></h2>
+
+<h4>AUTHOR of <i>Wild Animals I have Known</i>, <i>Lives of the Hunted</i>,<br />
+
+<i>Biography of a GRIZZLY</i>, <i>Trail of the SANDHILL STAG</i>, etcetera,<br />
+
+&amp; NATURALIST to the Government of MANITOBA.</h4>
+
+<h4>1917</h4>
+
+
+       <hr class="full" />
+
+
+
+<h3>Preface</h3>
+
+<h4>
+Because I have known the torment of thirst I would<br />
+dig a well where others may drink.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;E.T.S.</h4>
+
+
+    <hr class="medium" />
+<h5>
+In this Book the designs for Title-page, Jackets,<br />
+and general make-up were done by<br />
+Grace Gallatin Seton.</h5>
+
+      <hr class="full" />
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<h3>The Chapters</h3>
+
+<h3><a href="#I">Part I</a></h3>
+
+<h3>Glenyan &amp; Yan</h3>
+<table width="80%" align="center" border="0" summary="Part I Contents">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+       <td width="7%" valign="top">
+<br />
+I.<br />
+II.<br />
+III.<br />
+IV.<br />
+V.<br />
+VI.<br />
+VII.<br />
+VIII.<br />
+IX.<br />
+X.<br />
+XI.<br />
+XII.<br />
+XIII.<br />
+XIV.<br /> </td>
+       <td width="70%" valign="top"><br />
+<a href="#1I">Glimmerings</a> . . . <br />
+<a href="#1II">Spring </a> . . . <br />
+<a href="#1III">His Adjoining Brothers</a>  . . . <br />
+<a href="#1IV">The Book</a>  . . . <br />
+<a href="#1V">The Collarless Stranger</a> . . .<br />
+<a href="#1VI">Glenyan</a> . . .<br />
+<a href="#1VII">The Shanty</a>  . . . <br />
+<a href="#1VIII">The Beginnings of Woodlore</a>  . . .  <br />
+<a href="#1IX">Tracks</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#1X">Biddy's Contribution</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#1XI">Lung Balm</a> . . .<br />
+<a href="#1XII">A Crisis</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#1XIII">The Lynx</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#1XIV">Froth</a> . . .<br /></td>
+<td width="5%" valign="top">
+Page<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;19<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;26<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;28<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;32<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;38<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;46<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;50<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;56<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;66<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;71<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;76<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;82<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;88<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;95<br /></td>
+   <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br /><br />
+<h3>The Chapters</h3>
+
+<h3><a href="#II">Part II</a></h3>
+
+<h3>Sanger &amp; Sam</h3>
+<table width="80%" align="center" border="0" summary="Part II Contents">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+       <td width="7%" valign="top">
+<br />
+I.<br />
+II.<br />
+III.<br />
+IV.<br />
+V.<br />
+VI.<br />
+VII.<br />
+VIII.<br />
+IX. <br />
+X.<br />
+XI.<br />
+XII.<br />
+XIII.<br />
+XIV.<br />
+XV.<br />
+ </td>
+       <td width="70%" valign="top"><br />
+ <a href="#2I">The New Home</a>. . .<br />
+ <a href="#2II">Sam</a> . . .<br />
+ <a href="#2III">The Wigwam</a> . . .<br />
+ <a href="#2IV">The Sanger Witch</a> . . .<br />
+ <a href="#2V">Caleb</a> . . .<br />
+ <a href="#2VI">The Making of the Teepee</a> . . .<br />
+ <a href="#2VII">The Calm Evening</a> . . .<br />
+ <a href="#2VIII">The Sacred Fire</a> . . .<br />
+ <a href="#2IX">The Bows and Arrows</a> . . .<br />
+ <a href="#2X">The Dam</a> . . .<br />
+ <a href="#2XI">Yan and the Witch</a> . . .<br />
+ <a href="#2XII">Dinner with the Witch</a> . . .<br />
+ <a href="#2XIII">The Hostile Spy</a>  . . .<br />
+ <a href="#2XIV">The Quarrel</a> . . .<br />
+ <a href="#2XV">The Peace of Minnie</a> . . .<br /></td>
+<td width="5%" valign="top">
+Page<br />
+&nbsp;103<br />
+&nbsp;111<br />
+&nbsp;117<br />
+&nbsp;131<br />
+&nbsp;141<br />
+&nbsp;151<br />
+&nbsp;157<br />
+&nbsp;167<br />
+&nbsp;176<br />
+&nbsp;188<br />
+&nbsp;199<br />
+&nbsp;212<br />
+&nbsp;218<br />
+&nbsp;232<br />
+&nbsp;241<br /></td>
+   <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br /><br />
+<h3>The Chapters</h3>
+
+<h3>Part III</h3>
+
+<h3>In the Woods</h3>
+<table width="80%"  align="center" border="0" summary="Part 3 Contents">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+       <td width="7%" valign="top">
+<br />
+I.<br />
+II.<br />
+III.<br />
+IV.<br />
+V.<br />
+VI.<br />
+VII.<br />
+VIII.<br />
+IX. <br />
+X.<br />
+XI.<br />
+XII.<br />
+XIII.<br />
+XIV.<br />
+XV.<br />
+XVI.<br />
+XVII.<br />
+XVIII.<br />
+XIX.<br />
+XX.<br />
+XXI.<br />
+XXII.<br />
+XXIII.<br />
+XXIV.<br />
+XXV.<br />
+XXVI.<br />
+XXVII.<br />
+XXVIII.<br />
+XXIX.<br />
+XXX.<br />
+XXXI.<br />
+XXXII.<br />
+</td>
+       <td width="70%" valign="top"><br />
+<a href="#3I">Really in the Woods</a> . . .<br />
+<a href="#3II">The First Night and Morning</a> . . .<br />
+<a href="#3III">A Crippled Warrior and the Mud-Albums</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#3IV">A "Massacree" of Palefaces</a> . . .<br />
+<a href="#3V">The Deer Hunt</a> . . .<br />
+<a href="#3VI">War Bonnet, Teepee and Coups</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#3VII">Campercraft</a> . . .<br />
+<a href="#3VIII">The Indian Drum</a> . . . <br />
+<a href="#3IX">The Cat and the Skunk</a> . . .<br />
+<a href="#3X">The Adventures of a Squirrel family</a> . . .<br />
+<a href="#3XI">How to See the Woodfolk</a> . . .<br />
+<a href="#3XII">Indian Signs and Getting Lost</a> . . .<br />
+<a href="#3XIII">Tanning Skins and Making Moccasins</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#3XIV">Caleb's Philosophy</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#3XV">A Visit from Raften</a> . . .<br />
+<a href="#3XVI">How Yan Knew the Ducks Afar</a> . . .<br />
+<a href="#3XVII">Sam's Woodcraft Exploit</a> . . .<br />
+<a href="#3XVIII">The Owls and the Night-School</a> . . .<br />
+<a href="#3XIX">The Trial of Grit</a> . . .<br />
+<a href="#3XX">The White Revolver</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#3XXI">The Triumph of Guy</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#3XXII">The Coon Hunt</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#3XXIII">The Banshee's Wail and the Huge Night Prowler</a> <br />
+<a href="#3XXIV">Hawkeye Claims Another Grand Coup</a> . . .<br />
+<a href="#3XXV">The Three-fingered Tramp</a>  . . . <br />
+<a href="#3XXVI">Winning Back the farm</a> . . . <br />
+<a href="#3XXVII">The Rival Tribe</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#3XXVIII">White Man's Woodcraft</a> . . . <br />
+<a href="#3XXIX">The Long Swamp</a>  . . . <br />
+<a href="#3XXX">A New Kind of Coon</a>  . . . <br />
+<a href="#3XXXI">On the Old Camp Ground</a>  . . . <br />
+<a href="#3XXXII">The New War Chief</a>  . . . <br />
+</td>
+<td width="5%" valign="top">
+Page<br />
+&nbsp;251<br />
+&nbsp;262<br />
+&nbsp;270<br />
+&nbsp;282<br />
+&nbsp;288<br />
+&nbsp;299<br />
+&nbsp;314<br />
+&nbsp;320<br />
+&nbsp;327<br />
+&nbsp;337<br />
+&nbsp;344<br />
+&nbsp;355<br />
+&nbsp;364<br />
+&nbsp;373<br />
+&nbsp;379<br />
+&nbsp;385<br />
+&nbsp;394<br />
+&nbsp;399<br />
+&nbsp;411<br />
+&nbsp;421<br />
+&nbsp;429<br />
+&nbsp;443<br />
+&nbsp;456<br />
+&nbsp;470<br />
+&nbsp;478<br />
+&nbsp;489<br />
+&nbsp;496<br />
+&nbsp;502<br />
+&nbsp;508<br />
+&nbsp;523<br />
+&nbsp;534<br />
+&nbsp;537<br />
+</td>
+   <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+
+<h3>Illustrations</h3>
+<h3>List of Full Pages</h3>
+
+<h3>Part I</h3>
+<table width="80%" align="center" border="0" summary="Part I - List of Full Pages">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+       <td width="7%" valign="top">
+
+ <br />
+1.<br />
+2.<br />
+3.<br />
+4.<br />
+5.<br />
+6.<br />
+	</td>
+       <td width="70%" valign="top"><br />
+<a href="#22">"Gazing spellbound in that window"</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#36">"He already knew the Downy Woodpecker"</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#59">"Yan's Toilet"</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#67">"The Coon Track"</a> . . .<br />
+"There in his dear cabin were three tramps" . . .<br />
+<a href="#91">"It surely was a Lynx"</a>  . . .<br />
+
+
+	  </td>
+<td width="5%" valign="top">
+Page<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;22<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;36<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;59<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;67<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;85<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;91<br />
+</td>
+   <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<br /><br />
+<h3>Part II</h3>
+<table width="80%" align="center" border="0" summary="Part II - List of Full Pages">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+       <td width="7%" valign="top"><br />
+ 7.<br />
+ 8.<br />
+ 9.<br />
+ 10.<br />
+ 11.<br />
+ 12.<br />
+ 13.<br />
+ 14.<br />
+ 15.<br />
+ 16.<br />
+ </td>
+       <td width="70%" valign="top"><br />
+<a href="#127">"The wigwam was a failure"</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#143">"Get out o' this now, or I'll boot ye"</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#147">Pattern for Teepee</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#153">Pattern of Thunder Bull's Teepee and of Black Bull's Teepee</a><br />
+<a href="#159">"'Clicker-a-clicker!' he shrieked . . . and down like a dart"</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#174">Rubbing-sticks for fire-making</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#183">The Archery Outfit</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#193">"The dam was a great success"</a> . . .<br />
+<a href="#223">"Ugh! Heap sassy"</a> . . .<br />
+<a href="#239">"There stood Raften, spectator of the whole affair"</a> . . .<br />
+	 </td>
+<td width="5%" valign="top">Page
+&nbsp;127<br />
+&nbsp;143<br />
+&nbsp;147<br />
+&nbsp;152<br />
+&nbsp;159<br />
+&nbsp;174<br />
+&nbsp;183<br />
+&nbsp;193<br />
+&nbsp;223<br />
+&nbsp;239<br />
+
+  </td>
+   <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<br /><br />
+
+<h3>Part III</h3>
+<table width="80%" align="center" border="0" summary="Part III - List of Full Pages">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+       <td width="7%" valign="top"><br />
+17.<br />
+18.<br />
+19.<br />
+20.<br />
+21.<br />
+22.<br />
+23.<br />
+24.<br />
+25.<br />
+26.<br />
+27.<br />
+28.<br />
+29.<br />
+
+	   </td>
+       <td width="70%" valign="top"><br />
+<a href="#259">"If ye kill any Song-birds, I'll use the rawhoide on ye"</a> . . .<br />
+<a href="#266">"Where's the axe?"</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#271">"He soon appeared, waving a branch"</a> . . .<br />
+<a href="#301">The War Bonnet</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#333">"The old Cat raged and tore"</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#357">Indian Signs</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#361">"The Two Smokes"</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#387">The Fish and River Ducks</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#391">The Sea Ducks</a> . . .<br />
+<a href="#405">Owl-stuffing plate</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#433">"Guy gave a leap of terror and fell"</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#480">"Well, sonny, cookin' dinner?"</a>  . . .<br />
+<a href="#530">"He nervously fired and missed"</a> . . .<br />
+
+	  </td>
+<td width="5%" valign="top">Page
+&nbsp;259<br />
+&nbsp;266<br />
+&nbsp;271<br />
+&nbsp;301<br />
+&nbsp;333<br />
+&nbsp;357<br />
+&nbsp;361<br />
+&nbsp;387<br />
+&nbsp;391<br />
+&nbsp;405<br />
+&nbsp;433<br />
+&nbsp;480<br />
+&nbsp;529<br />
+ </td>
+   <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+
+      <hr class="full" />
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+
+<span class="left"><a name="19">19</a></span>
+<h2>Two Little <a name="I">Savages</a></h2>
+
+<h3><a name="1I">I</a></h3>
+
+<h3>Glimmerings</h3>
+
+<p>
+<img src="images/sketch003e.gif" align="left" width="100" height="107" hspace="10" alt="Y" border="0" />
+<br />AN was much like other twelve-year-old boys in having a keen interest
+in Indians and in wild life, but he differed from most in this, that he
+never got over it. Indeed, as he grew older, he found a yet keener
+pleasure in storing up the little bits of woodcraft and Indian lore
+that pleased him as a boy.</p>
+<p>
+His father was in poor circumstances. He was an
+upright man of refined tastes, but indolent&mdash;a failure
+in business, easy with the world and stern with his
+family. He had never taken an interest in his son's
+wildwood pursuits; and when he got the idea that
+they might interfere with the boy's education, he
+forbade them altogether.</p>
+<p>
+There was certainly no reason to accuse Yan of
+neglecting school. He was the head boy of his
+class, although there were many in it older than
+<span class="left"><a name="20">20</a></span>
+himself. He was fond of books in general, but those
+that dealt with Natural Science and Indian craft
+were very close to his heart. Not that he had many&mdash;there
+were very few in those days, and the Public
+Library had but a poor representation of these.
+"Lloyd's Scandinavian Sports," "Gray's Botany"
+and one or two Fenimore Cooper novels, these were
+all, and Yan was devoted to them. He was a timid,
+obedient boy in most things, but the unwise command
+to give up what was his nature merely made him a
+disobedient boy&mdash;turned a good boy into a bad one.
+He was too much in terror of his father to disobey
+openly, but he used to sneak away at all opportunities
+to the fields and woods, and at each new bird or
+plant he found he had an exquisite thrill of mingled
+pleasure and pain&mdash;the pain because he had no name
+for it or means of learning its nature.</p>
+
+<img src="images/sketch004a.gif" width="121" height="203" alt="The Stuffed Bear" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<p>
+The intense interest in animals was his master
+passion, and thanks to this, his course to and from
+school was a very crooked one, involving many
+crossings of the street, because thereby he could pass
+first a saloon in whose window was a champagne
+advertising chromo that portrayed two Terriers
+chasing a Rat; next, directly opposite this, was a
+tobacconist's, in the window of which was a beautiful
+effigy of an Elephant, laden with tobacco. By going
+a little farther out of his way, there was a game store
+where he might see some Ducks, and was sure, at
+least, of a stuffed Deer's head; and beyond that was
+a furrier shop, with an astonishing stuffed Bear.</p>
+<span class="left"><a name="23">23</a></span>
+<p>
+At another point he could see a livery stable Dog
+that was said to have killed a Coon, and at yet
+another place on Jervie Street was a cottage with
+a high veranda, under which, he was told, a chained
+Bear had once been kept. He never saw the Bear.
+It had been gone for years, but he found pleasure
+in passing the place. At the corner of Pemberton
+and Grand streets, according to a schoolboy tradition,
+a Skunk had been killed years ago and could still
+be smelled on damp nights. He always stopped, if
+passing near on a wet night, and sniffed and enjoyed
+that Skunk smell. The fact that it ultimately
+turned out to be a leakage of sewer gas could never
+rob him of the pleasure he originally found in it.</p>
+<p>
+Yan had no good excuse for these weaknesses, and
+he blushed for shame when his elder brother talked
+"common sense" to him about his follies. He only
+knew that such things fascinated him.</p>
+<p>
+But the crowning glory was a taxidermist's shop
+kept on Main Street by a man named Sander. Yan
+spent, all told, many weeks gazing spellbound, with
+his nose flat white against that window. It contained
+some Fox and Cat heads grinning ferociously,
+and about fifty birds beautifully displayed. Nature
+might have got some valuable hints in that window
+on showing plumage to the very best advantage. Each
+bird seemed more wonderful than the last.</p>
+<span class="left"><a name="22">22</a></span>
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/illus01a.jpg" width="525" height="883" alt="Gazing spellbound in that window" border="0" /></p>
+<p>
+There were perhaps fifty of them on view, and
+of these, twelve had labels, as they had formed part
+of an exhibit at the Annual County Fair. These
+<span class="left"><a name="24">24</a></span>
+labels were precious truths to him, and the birds:</p>
+<table summary="bird labels">
+<tr>
+       <td width="20%">&nbsp;</td>
+       <td class="list" width="30%" valign="top">
+Osprey<br />
+Kingfisher<br />
+Bluejay<br />
+Rosebreasted Grosbeak<br />
+Woodthrush<br />
+Scarlet Tanager<br />
+	   </td>
+       <td class="list" width="30%" valign="top">
+Partridge or Ruffed Grouse<br />
+Bittern<br />
+Highholder<br />
+Sawwhet Owl<br />
+Oriole<br />
+* * * * * * *<br />
+	   </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+
+<p>
+were, with their names, deeply impressed on his memory
+and added to his woodlore, though not altogether
+without a mixture of error. For the alleged Woodthrush
+was not a Woodthrush at all, but turned out
+to be a Hermit Thrush. The last bird of the list
+was a long-tailed, brownish bird with white breast.
+<img src="images/sketch005.gif" width="56" height="489" alt="The Label" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+The label was placed so that Yan could not read it
+from outside, and one of his daily occupations
+was to see if the label had been turned so that he
+could read it. But it never was, so he never learned
+the bird's name.</p>
+
+<p>
+After passing this for a year or more, he formed
+a desperate plan. It was nothing less than to <i>go
+inside</i>. It took him some months to screw up
+courage, for he was shy and timid, but oh! he was
+so hungry for it. Most likely if he had gone in openly
+and asked leave, he would have been allowed to see
+everything; but he dared not. His home training
+was all of the crushing kind. He picked on the most
+curious of the small birds in the window&mdash;a Sawwhet
+Owl then grit his teeth and walked in. How
+frightfully the cowbell on the door did clang! Then
+there succeeded a still more appalling silence, then
+<span class="left"><a name="25">25</a></span>
+a step and the great man himself came.</p>
+<p>
+"How&mdash;how&mdash;how much is that Owl?"</p>
+<p>
+"Two dollars."</p>
+
+<p>
+Yan's courage broke down now. He fled. If
+he had been told ten cents, it would have been
+utterly beyond reach. He scarcely heard what the
+man said. He hurried out with a vague feeling that
+he had been in heaven but was not good enough to
+stay there. He saw nothing of the wonderful things
+around him.</p>
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+
+<span class="left"><a name="26">26</a></span>
+<h3><a name="1II">II</a></h3>
+
+<h3>Spring</h3>
+
+<p>
+Yan, though not strong, revelled in deeds of
+brawn. He would rather have been Samson
+than Moses&mdash;Hercules than Apollo. All his
+tastes inclined him to wild life. Each year when the
+spring came, he felt the inborn impulse to up and
+away. He was stirred through and through when
+the first Crow, in early March, came barking over-head.
+But it fairly boiled in his blood when the
+Wild Geese, in long, double, arrow-headed procession,
+went clanging northward. He longed to go with
+them. Whenever a new bird or beast appeared, he
+had a singular prickling feeling up his spine and his
+back as though he had a mane that was standing
+up. This feeling strengthened with his strength.</p>
+<p>
+All of his schoolmates used to say that they "liked"
+the spring, some of the girls would even say that they
+"dearly loved" the spring, but they could not
+understand the madness that blazed in Yan's eyes
+when springtime really came&mdash;the flush of cheek&mdash;the
+shortening breath&mdash;the restless craving for
+action&mdash;the chafing with flashes of rebellion at school
+restraints&mdash;the overflow of nervous energy&mdash;the
+bloodthirst in his blood&mdash;the hankering to run&mdash;to
+run to the north, when the springtime tokens bugled
+<span class="left"><a name="27">27</a></span>
+to his every sense.</p>
+<p>
+Then the wind and sky and ground were full of
+thrill. There was clamour everywhere, but never a
+word. There was stirring within and without.
+There was incentive in the yelping of the Wild Geese;
+but it was only tumult, for he could not understand
+why he was so stirred. There were voices that he could
+not hear&mdash;messages that he could not read; all was
+confusion of tongues. He longed only to get away.</p>
+<p>
+"If only I could get away. If&mdash;if&mdash;Oh, God!" he
+stammered in torment of inexpression, and then
+would gasp and fling himself down on some bank,
+and bite the twigs that chanced within reach and
+tremble and wonder at himself.</p>
+<p>
+Only one thing kept him from some mad and
+suicidal move&mdash;from joining some roving Indian band
+up north, or gypsies nearer&mdash;and that was the strong
+hand at home.</p>
+<p class="indent">
+<img src="images/sketch006.gif" width="353" height="186" alt="Indian Spring Migration" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+
+<span class="left"><a name="28">28</a></span>
+<h3><a name="1III">III</a></h3>
+
+<h3>His Adjoining Brothers</h3>
+
+<p>
+Yan had many brothers, but only those next him
+in age were important in his life. Rad was two
+years older&mdash;a strong boy, who prided himself
+on his "common sense." Though so much older, he
+was Yan's inferior at school. He resented this, and
+delighted in showing his muscular superiority at all
+opportunities. He was inclined to be religious, and
+was strictly proper in his life and speech. He never
+was known to smoke a cigarette, tell a lie, or say
+"gosh" or "darn." He was plucky and persevering,
+but he was cold and hard, without a human fiber
+or a drop of red blood in his make-up. Even as a
+boy he bragged that he had no enthusiasms, that
+he believed in common sense, that he called a spade
+a spade, and would not use two words where one
+would do. His intelligence was above the average,
+but he was so anxious to be thought a person of
+rare sagacity and smartness, unswayed by emotion,
+that nothing was too heartless for him to do if it
+seemed in line with his assumed character. He
+was not especially selfish, and yet he pretended
+to be so, simply that people should say of him significantly
+and admiringly: "Isn't he keen? Doesn't he
+<span class="left"><a name="29">29</a></span>
+know how to take care of himself?" What little
+human warmth there was in him died early, and
+he succeeded only in making himself increasingly
+detested as he grew up.</p>
+<p>
+His relations to Yan may be seen in one incident.</p>
+<p>
+Yan had been crawling about under the house in
+the low wide cobwebby space between the floor
+beams and the ground. The delightful sensation of
+being on an exploring expedition led him farther
+(and ultimately to a paternal thrashing for soiling
+his clothes), till he discovered a hollow place near one
+side, where he could nearly stand upright. He at
+once formed one of his schemes&mdash;to make a secret, or
+at least a private, workroom here. He knew that
+if he were to ask permission he would be refused,
+but if he and Rad together were to go it might
+receive favourable consideration on account of Rad's
+self-asserted reputation for common sense. For a
+wonder, Rad was impressed with the scheme, but
+was quite sure that they had "better not go together
+to ask Father." He "could manage that part better
+alone," and he did.</p>
+<p>
+Then they set to work. The first thing was to
+deepen the hole from three feet to six feet everywhere,
+and get rid of the earth by working it back under the
+floor of the house. There were many days of labour
+in this, and Yan stuck to it each day after returning
+from school. There were always numerous reasons why
+Rad could not share in the labour. When the ten by
+fourteen-foot hole was made, boards to line and floor
+<span class="left"><a name="30">30</a></span>
+it were needed. Lumber was very cheap&mdash;inferior,
+second-hand stuff was to be had for the asking&mdash;and
+Yan found and carried boards enough to make
+the workroom. Rad was an able carpenter and now
+took charge of the construction. They worked
+together evening after evening, Yan discussing all
+manner of plans with warmth and enthusiasm&mdash;what
+they would do in their workshop when finished&mdash;how
+they might get a jig-saw in time and saw picture
+frames, so as to make some money. Rad assented
+with grunts or an occasional Scripture text&mdash;that
+was his way. Each day he told Yan what to go on
+with while he was absent.</p>
+<p>
+The walls were finished at length; a window placed
+in one side; a door made and fitted with lock and key.
+What joy! Yan glowed with pleasure and pride at
+the triumphant completion of his scheme. He swept
+up the floor for the finishing ceremony and sat down on
+the bench for a grand gloat, when Rad said abruptly:</p>
+<p>
+"Going to lock up now." That sounded gratifyingly
+important. Yan stepped outside. Rad locked
+the door, put the key in his pocket, then turning,
+he said with cold, brutal emphasis:</p>
+<p>
+"Now you keep out of my workshop from this on.
+<i>You</i> have nothing to do with it. It's mine. I got
+the permission to make it." All of which he could
+prove, and did.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch007.gif" width="112" height="201" alt="Alner" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>
+
+Alner, the youngest, was eighteen months younger
+than Yan, and about the same size, but the resemblance
+stopped there. His chief aim in life was to
+<span class="left"><a name="31">31</a></span>
+be stylish. He once startled his mother by inserting
+into his childish prayers the perfectly sincere request:
+"Please, God, make me an awful swell, for Jesus
+sake." Vanity was his foible, and laziness his sin.</p>
+<p>
+He could be flattered into anything that did not
+involve effort. He fairly ached to be famous. He
+was consuming with desire to be pointed out for
+admiration as the great this, that or the other thing&mdash;it
+did not matter to him what, as long as he could be
+pointed out. But he never had the least idea of
+working for it. At school he was a sad dunce. He
+was three grades below Yan and at the bottom of
+his grade. They set out for school each day together,
+because that was a paternal ruling; but they rarely
+reached there together. They had nothing in common.
+Yan was full of warmth, enthusiasm, earnestness
+and energy, but had a most passionate and ungovernable
+temper. Little put him in a rage, but it was soon
+over, and then an equally violent reaction set in,
+and he was always anxious to beg forgiveness and
+make friends again. Alner was of lazy good temper
+and had a large sense of humour. His interests
+were wholly in the playground. He had no sympathy
+with Yan's Indian tastes&mdash;"Indians in nasty, shabby
+clothes. Bah! Horrid!" he would scornfully say.</p>
+<p>
+These, then, were his adjoining brothers.</p>
+<p>
+What wonder that Yan was daily further from
+them.</p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+
+<span class="left"><a name="32">32</a></span>
+<h3><a name="1IV">IV</a></h3>
+
+<h3>The Book</h3>
+
+<p>
+But the greatest event of Yan's then early life
+now took place. His school readers told him
+about Wilson and Audubon, the first and last
+American naturalists. Yan wondered why no other
+great prophet had arisen. But one day the papers
+announced that at length he had appeared. A
+work on the Birds of Canada, by ..., had come
+at last, price one dollar.</p>
+<p>
+Money never before seemed so precious, necessary
+and noble a thing. "Oh! if I only had a dollar."
+He set to work to save and scrape. He won marbles
+in game, swopped marbles for tops, tops for jack-knives
+as the various games came around with
+strange and rigid periodicity. The jack-knives in
+turn were converted into rabbits, the rabbits into
+cash of small denominations. He carried wood for
+strange householders; he scraped and scraped and
+saved the scrapings; and got, after some months, as
+high as ninety cents. But there was a dread fatality
+about that last dime. No one seemed to have any
+<img src="images/sketch008.gif" alt="Converting marbles into tops, into jack-knives, into rabbits, into cash..." hspace="15" style="float: left" width="248" height="421" border="0" />
+more odd jobs; his commercial luck deserted him.
+He was burnt up with craving for that book. None
+of his people took interest enough in him to advance
+the cash even at the ruinous interest (two or three
+<span class="left"><a name="33">33</a></span>
+times cent per cent) that he was willing to bind himself
+for. Six weeks passed before he achieved that
+last dime, and he never felt conscience-clear about
+it afterward.</p>
+
+<p>
+He and Alner had to cut the kitchen wood. Each
+had his daily allotment, as well as other chores.
+Yan's was always done faithfully, but the other
+evaded his work in every way. He was a
+notorious little fop. The paternal poverty did not
+permit his toilet extravagance to soar above one
+paper collar per week, but in his pocket he carried a
+piece of ink eraser with which he was careful to keep
+the paper collar up to standard. Yan cared nothing
+about dress&mdash;indeed, was inclined to be slovenly.
+So the eldest brother, meaning to turn Alner's weakness
+to account, offered a prize of a twenty-five-cent
+necktie of the winner's own choice to the one who did
+his chores best for a month. For the first week
+Alner and Yan kept even, then Alner wearied, in
+spite of the dazzling prize. The pace was too hot.
+Yan kept on his usual way and was duly awarded
+the twenty-five cents to be spent on a necktie. But
+in the store a bright thought came tempting him.
+Fifteen cents was as much as any one should spend on
+a necktie&mdash;that's sure; the other ten would get the
+book. And thus the last dime was added to the pile.
+Then, bursting with joy and with the pride of a
+capitalist, he went to the book-shop and asked for
+the coveted volume.</p>
+<span class="left"><a name="34">34</a></span>
+<p>
+He was tense with long-pent feeling. He expected
+to have the bookseller say that the price had gone
+up to one thousand dollars, and that all were sold.
+But he did not. He turned silently, drew the book
+out of a pile of them, hesitated and said, "Green or
+red cover?"</p>
+<p>
+"Green," said Yan, not yet believing. The book-man
+looked inside, then laid it down, saying in a cold,
+business tone, "Ninety cents."</p>
+<p>
+"Ninety cents," gasped Yan. Oh! if only he had
+known the ways of booksellers or the workings of cash
+discounts. For six weeks had he been barred this
+happy land&mdash;had suffered starvation; he had misappropriated
+funds, he had fractured his conscience
+and all to raise that ten cents&mdash;that unnecessary dime.</p>
+<p>
+He read that book reverentially all the way home.
+It did not give him what he wanted, but that doubtless
+was his own fault. He pored over it, studied
+it, loved it, never doubting that now he had the key
+to all the wonders and mysteries of Nature. It was
+five years before he fully found out that the text
+was the most worthless trash ever foisted on a torpid
+public. Nevertheless, the book held some useful
+things; first, a list of the bird names; second, some
+thirty vile travesties of Audubon and Wilson's bird
+portraits.</p>
+<p>
+These were the birds thus maligned:</p>
+<table summary="maligned birds">
+<tr>
+<td width="15%">&nbsp;</td>
+       <td class="list" width="30%" valign="top">
+Duck Hawk <br />
+Sparrow Hawk <br />
+White-headed Eagle<br />
+<span class="left"><a name="37">37</a></span>
+Great Horned Owl<br />
+Snowy Owl<br />
+Red-headed Woodpecker<br />
+Golden-winged Woodpecker<br />
+Barn-swallow<br />
+Whip-poor-will<br />
+Night Hawk<br />
+Belted Kingfisher<br />
+Kingbird<br />
+Woodthrush<br />
+Catbird<br />
+White-bellied Nuthatch<br />
+Brown Creeper<br />
+Bohemian Chatterer<br />
+Great Northern Shrike<br />
+Shore Lark<br />
+	   </td>
+       <td class="list" width="30%" valign="top">
+Rose-breasted Grosbeak<br />
+Bobolink<br />
+Meadow Lark<br />
+Bluejay<br />
+Ruffed Grouse<br />
+Great Blue Heron<br />
+Bittern<br />
+Wilson's Snipe<br />
+Long-biller Curlew<br />
+Purple Gallinule<br />
+Canada Goose<br />
+Wood Duck<br />
+Hooded Merganser<br />
+Double-crested Cormorant<br />
+Arctic Tern<br />
+Great Northern Diver<br />
+Stormy Petrel<br />
+Arctic Puffin<br />
+Black Guillemot<br />
+	   </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<span class="left"><a name="36">36</a></span>
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/illus02a.jpg" width="525" height="770" alt="He already knew the Downy Woodpecker" border="0" /></p>
+<p>
+But badly as they were presented, the pictures
+were yet information, and were entered in his
+memory as lasting accessions to his store of truth
+about the Wild Things.</p>
+<p>
+Of course, he already knew some few birds whose
+names are familiar to every schoolboy: the Robin,
+Bluebird, Kingbird, Wild Canary, Woodpecker,
+Barn-swallow, Wren, Chickadee, Wild Pigeon, Humming-bird,
+Pewee, so that his list was steadily
+increased.</p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+
+<span class="left"><a name="38">38</a></span>
+<h3><a name="1V">V</a></h3>
+
+<h3>The Collarless Stranger</h3>
+
+<img src="images/spotted_pipsissewa.gif" width="120" height="264" alt="Spotted Pipsissewa" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+<p class="indent1">
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Oh, sympathy! the noblest gift of God to man. The greatest bond<br />
+there is twixt man and man.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The strongest link in any friendship chain.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The single lasting hold in kinship's claim.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The only incorrosive strand in marriage bonds.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The blazing torch where genius lights her lamp.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The ten times noble base of noblest love.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;More deep than love&mdash;more strong than hate&mdash;the biggest thing<br />
+in all the universe&mdash;the law of laws.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Grant but this greatest gift of God to man&mdash;this single link<br />
+concatenating grant, and all the rest are worthless or comprised.<br />
+</p>
+<p>
+Each year the ancient springtime madness came
+more strongly on Yan. Each year he was less
+inclined to resist it, and one glorious day of
+late April in its twelfth return he had wandered northward
+along to a little wood a couple of miles from
+the town. It was full of unnamed flowers and voices
+and mysteries. Every tree and thicket had a voice&mdash;a
+long ditch full of water had many that called to
+him. "<i>Peep-peep-peep</i>," they seemed to say in
+invitation for him to come and see. He crawled
+again and again to the ditch and watched and waited.
+The loud whistle would sound only a few rods away,
+"<i>Peep-peep-peep</i>," but ceased at each spot when he
+came near&mdash;sometimes before him, sometimes behind,
+<span class="left"><a name="39">39</a></span>
+but never where he was. He searched through a
+small pool with his hands, sifted out sticks and leaves,
+but found nothing else. A farmer going by told
+him it was only a "spring Peeper," whatever that was,
+"some kind of a critter in the water."</p>
+<p class="indent">
+<img src="images/sketch009.gif" width="278" height="71" alt="Lizard" border="0" /></p>
+<p>
+Under a log not far away Yan found a little Lizard
+that tumbled out of sight into a hole. It was the only
+living thing there, so he decided that the "Peeper"
+must be a "Whistling Lizard." But he was determined
+to see them when they were calling. How was
+it that the ponds all around should be full of them
+calling to him and playing hide and seek and yet defying
+his most careful search? The voices ceased as
+soon as he came near, to be gradually renewed in the
+pools he had left. His presence was a husher. He
+lay for a long time watching a pool, but none of the
+voices began again in range of his eye. At length,
+after realizing that they were avoiding him, he crawled
+to a very noisy pond without showing himself, and
+nearer and yet nearer until he was within three feet of
+a loud peeper in the floating grass. He located the
+spot within a few inches and yet could see nothing.
+He was utterly baffled, and lay there puzzling over
+it, when suddenly all the near Peepers stopped, and
+Yan was startled by a footfall; and looking around,
+he saw a man within a few feet, watching him.</p>
+<p>
+Yan reddened&mdash;a stranger was always an enemy;
+he had a natural aversion to all such, and stared
+awkwardly as though caught in crime.</p>
+<span class="left"><a name="40">40</a></span>
+<p>
+The man, a curious looking middle-aged person,
+was in shabby clothes and wore no collar. He had a
+tin box strapped on his bent shoulders, and in his
+hands was a long-handled net. His features, smothered
+in a grizzly beard, were very prominent and
+rugged. They gave evidence of intellectual force,
+with some severity, but his gray-blue eyes had a
+kindly look.</p>
+<p>
+He had on a common, unbecoming, hard felt hat,
+and when he raised it to admit the pleasant breeze
+Yan saw that the wearer had hair like his own&mdash;a
+coarse, paleolithic mane, piled on his rugged brow,
+like a mass of seaweed lodged on some storm-beaten
+rock.</p>
+<p>
+"F'what are ye fynding, my lad?" said he in tones
+whose gentleness was in no way obscured by a strong
+Scottish tang.</p>
+<p>
+Still resenting somewhat the stranger's presence,
+Yan said:</p>
+<p>
+"I'm not finding anything; I am only trying to
+see what that Whistling Lizard is like."</p>
+<p>
+The stranger's eyes twinkled. "Forty years ago Ah
+was laying by a pool just as Ah seen ye this morning,
+looking and trying hard to read the riddle of the
+spring Peeper. Ah lay there all day, aye, and mony
+anither day, yes, it was nigh onto three years before
+Ah found it oot. Ah'll be glad to save ye seeking
+as long as Ah did, if that's yer mind. Ah'll show ye
+the Peeper."</p>
+<img src="images/sketch010.gif" width="89" height="104" align="right" alt="Frog: Spring Peeper" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<p>
+Then he raked carefully among the leaves near
+<span class="left"><a name="41">41</a></span>
+the ditch, and soon captured a tiny Frog, less than
+an inch long.</p>
+<p>
+"Ther's your Whistling Lizard: he no a Lizard at
+all, but a Froggie. Book men call him <i>Hyla pickeringii</i>,
+an' a gude Scotchman he'd make, for ye see the St.
+Andrew's cross on his wee back. Ye see the whistling
+ones in the water put on'y their beaks oot an' is hard
+to see. Then they sinks to the bottom when ye
+come near. But you tak this'n home and treat him
+well and ye'll see him blow out his throat as big as
+himsel' an' whistle like a steam engine."</p>
+<p>
+Yan thawed out now. He told about the Lizard
+he had seen.</p>
+<p>
+"That wasna a Lizard; Ah niver see thim aboot
+here. It must a been a two-striped <i>Spelerpes</i>. A
+<i>Spelerpes</i> is nigh kin to a Frog&mdash;a kind of dry-land
+tadpole, while a Lizard is only a Snake with legs."</p>
+<p>
+This was light from heaven. All Yan's distrust
+was gone. He warmed to the stranger. He plied
+him with questions; he told of his getting the Bird
+Book. Oh, how the stranger did snort at "that
+driveling trash." Yan talked of his perplexities.
+He got a full hearing and intelligent answers. His
+mystery of the black ground-bird with a brown mate
+was resolved into the Common Towhee. The
+unknown wonderful voice in the spring morning,
+sending out its "<i>cluck, cluck, cluck, clucker</i>," in the
+distant woods, the large gray Woodpecker that bored
+in some high stub and flew in a blaze of gold, and
+the wonderful spotted bird with red head and yellow
+wings and tail in the taxidermist's window, were all
+<span class="left"><a name="42">42</a></span>
+resolved into one and the same&mdash;the Flicker or
+Golden-winged Woodpecker. The Hang-nest and the
+Oriole became one. The unknown poisonous-looking
+blue Hornet, that sat on the mud with palpitating
+body, and the strange, invisible thing that made the
+mud-nests inside old outbuildings and crammed
+them with crippled Spiders, were both identified as
+the Mud-wasp or <i>Pelop&aelig;us</i>.</p>
+<img src="images/blackbutterfly1a.gif" width="130" height="90" alt="Black butterfly, Vanessa antiopa" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+<p>
+A black Butterfly flew over, and Yan learned that
+it was a Camberwell Beauty, or, scientifically, a
+<i>Vanessa antiopa</i>, and that this one must have
+hibernated to be seen so early in the spring, and
+yet more, that this beautiful creature was the glorified
+spirit of the common brown and black spiney
+Caterpillar.</p>
+<p>
+The Wild Pigeons were flying high above them in
+great flocks as they sat there, and Yan learned of
+their great nesting places in the far South, and of
+their wonderful but exact migrations without regard
+to anything but food; their northward migration
+to gather the winged nuts of the Slippery Elm in
+Canada; their August flight to the rice-fields of
+Carolina; their Mississippi Valley pilgrimage when
+the acorns and beech-mast were falling ripe.</p>
+<p>
+What a rich, full morning that was. Everything
+seemed to turn up for them. As they walked over
+a piney hill, two large birds sprang from the ground
+and whirred through the trees.</p>
+<p>
+"Ruffed Grouse or 'patridge', as the farmers call
+<span class="left"><a name="43">43</a></span>
+them. There's a pair lives nigh aboots here. They
+come on this bank for the Wintergreen berries."</p>
+<p>
+And Yan was quick to pull and taste them. He
+filled his pockets with the aromatic plant&mdash;berries
+and all&mdash;and chewed it as he went. While they
+walked, a faint, far drum-thump fell on their ears.
+"What's that?" he exclaimed, ever on the alert.
+The stranger listened and said:
+<img src="images/sketch011.gif" alt="Flowering Dogwood" style="float: left" width="189" height="120" border="0" />
+</p>
+<p><br />
+"That's the bird ye ha' just seen; that's the Cock
+Partridge drumming for his mate."</p>
+<p>
+The Pewee of his early memories became the
+Phoebe of books. That day his brookside singer
+became the Song-sparrow; the brown triller, the
+Veery Thrush. The Trilliums, white and red, the
+Dogtooth Violet, the Spring-beauty, the Trailing
+Arbutus&mdash;all for the first time got names and became
+real friends, instead of elusive and beautiful, but
+depressing mysteries.</p>
+<p>
+The stranger warmed, too, and his rugged features
+glowed; he saw in Yan one minded like himself, tormented
+with the knowledge-hunger, as in youth he
+himself had been; and now it was a priceless privilege
+to save the boy some of what he had suffered. His
+gratitude to Yan grew fervid, and Yan&mdash;he took
+in every word; nothing that he heard was forgotten.
+He was in a dream, for he had found at last the
+greatest thing on earth&mdash;sympathy&mdash;broad, intelligent,
+comprehensive sympathy.
+<img src="images/sketch012.gif" alt="Trailing Arbutus" width="200" height="137" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+</p><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<p>
+That spring morning was ever after like a new
+epoch in Yan's mind&mdash;not his memory, that was a
+thing of the past&mdash;but in his mind, his living
+<span class="left"><a name="44">44</a></span>
+present.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch013.gif" width="138" height="257" alt="Spring Beauty" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+<p>
+And the strongest, realest thing in it all was, not
+the rugged stranger with his kind ways, not the new
+birds and plants, but the smell of the Wintergreen.</p>
+<p>
+Smell's appeal to the memory is far better, stronger,
+more real than that of any other sense. The Indians
+know this; many of them, in time, find out the smell
+that conjures up their happiest hours, and keep
+it by them in the medicine bag. It is very real and
+dear to them&mdash;that handful of Pine needles, that
+lump of Rat-musk, or that piece of Spruce gum.
+It adds the crown of happy memory to their reveries.</p>
+<p>
+And yet this belief is one of the first attacked by
+silly White-men, who profess to enlighten the Red-man's
+darkness. They, in their ignorance, denounce
+it as absurd, while men of science know its simple
+truth.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch014.gif" width="130" height="374" alt="Purple Moccasin" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<p>
+Yan did not know that he had stumbled on a
+secret of the Indian medicine bag. But ever afterward
+that wonderful day was called back to him,
+conjured up by his "medicine," this simple, natural
+magic, the smell of the Wintergreen.</p>
+<p>
+He appreciated that morning more than he could
+tell, and yet he did a characteristic foolish thing,
+that put him in a wrong light and left him so in the
+stranger's mind.</p>
+<p>
+It was past noon. They had long lingered; the
+Stranger spoke of the many things he had at home;
+then at length said he must be going. "Weel,
+<span class="left"><a name="45">45</a></span>
+good-by, laddie; Ah hope Ah'll see you again." He
+held out his hand. Yan shook it warmly; but he
+was dazed with thinking and with reaction; his
+diffidence and timidity were strong; he never rose
+to the stranger's veiled offer. He let him go without
+even learning his name or address.</p>
+<p>
+When it was too late, Yan awoke to his blunder.
+He haunted all those woods in hopes of chancing
+on him there again, but he never did.</p>
+<br />
+
+
+
+<img src="images/sketch015.gif" alt="The Wild Geese" style="float: left" width="145" height="185" border="0" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<span class="left"><a name="46">46</a></span>
+<h3><a name="1VI">VI</a></h3>
+
+<h3>Glenyan</h3>
+<p>
+Oh! what a song the Wild Geese sang that year!
+How their trumpet clang went thrilling in his
+heart, to smite there new and hidden chords
+that stirred and sang response. Was there ever a
+nobler bird than that great black-necked Swan, that
+sings not at his death, but in his flood of life, a song of
+home and of peace&mdash;of stirring deeds and hunting in
+far-off climes&mdash;of hungerings and food, and raging
+thirsts to meet with cooling drink. A song of wind
+and marching, a song of bursting green and grinding
+ice&mdash;of Arctic secrets and of hidden ways. A song
+of a long black marsh, a low red sky, and a sun that
+never sets.</p>
+<p>
+An Indian jailed for theft bore bravely through
+the winter, but when the springtime brought the
+Gander-clang in the black night sky, he started, fell,
+and had gone to his last, long, hunting home.</p>
+<p>
+<img src="images/sketch016.gif" width="112" height="174" alt="Tulip Tree Leaf" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+Who can tell why Jericho should fall at the trumpet
+blast?</p>
+<p>
+Who can read or measure the power of the Honker-song?</p>
+
+<p>
+Oh, what a song the Wild Geese sang that year!
+And yet, was it a new song? No, the old, old song,
+but Yan heard it with new ears. He was learning
+<span class="left"><a name="47">47</a></span>
+to read its message. He wandered on their
+trailless track, as often as he could, northward,
+ever northward, up the river from the town, and
+up, seeking the loneliest ways and days. The river
+turned to the east, but a small stream ran into
+it from the north: up that Yan went through thickening
+woods and walls that neared each other, on
+and up until the walls closed to a crack, then
+widened out into a little dale that was still full
+<img src="images/sketch017.gif" width="88" height="127" alt="Leaf" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+of original forest trees. Hemlock, Pine, Birch and
+Elm of the largest size abounded and spread over the
+clear brook a continuous shade. Fox vines trailed in
+the open places, the rarest wild-flowers flourished,
+Red-squirrels chattered from the trees. In the mud
+along the brook-side were tracks of Coon and Mink and
+other strange fourfoots. And in the trees overhead,
+the Veery, the Hermit-thrush, or even a Woodthrush
+
+sang his sweetly solemn strain, in that golden twilight
+of the midday forest. Yan did not know them
+all by name as yet, but he felt their vague charm and
+mystery. It seemed such a far and lonely place, so
+unspoiled by man, that Yan persuaded himself that
+surely he was the first human being to stand there,
+that it was his by right of discovery, and so he claimed
+it and named it after its discoverer&mdash;Glenyan.</p>
+
+<p>
+This place became the central thought in his life.
+He went there at all opportunities, but never dared
+to tell any one of his discovery. He longed for a
+confidant sometimes, he hankered to meet the
+<span class="left"><a name="48">48</a></span>
+stranger and take him there, and still he feared that
+the secret would get out. This was his little kingdom;
+the Wild Geese had brought him here, as the Seagulls
+had brought Columbus to a new world&mdash;where he
+could lead, for brief spells, the woodland life that
+<img src="images/sketch018a.gif" width="130" height="156" alt="Leaf" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+was his ideal. He was tender enough to weep over
+the downfall of a lot of fine Elm trees in town, when
+their field was sold for building purposes, and he
+used to suffer a sort of hungry regret when old settlers
+told how plentiful the Deer used to be. But now he
+had a relief from these sorrows, for surely there was one
+place where the great trees should stand and grow as
+in the bright bygone; where the Coon, the Mink and
+the Partridge should live and flourish forever. No,
+indeed, no one else should know of it, for if the secret
+got out, at least hosts of visitors would come and
+Glenyan be defiled. No, better that the secret
+<img src="images/sketch019.gif" width="131" height="267" alt="Basswood leaf" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+should "die with him," he said. What that meant
+he did not really know, but he had read the phrase
+somewhere and he liked the sound of it. Possibly
+he would reveal it on his deathbed.</p>
+<p>
+Yes, that was the proper thing, and he pictured a
+harrowing scene of weeping relatives around, himself
+as central figure, all ceasing their wailing and gasping
+with wonder as he made known the mighty secret of
+his life&mdash;delicious! it was almost worth dying for.</p>
+<p>
+So he kept the place to himself and loved it more
+and more. He would look out through the thick
+Hemlock tops, the blots of Basswood green or the
+criss-cross Butternut leafage and say: "My own, my
+own." Or down by some pool in the limpid stream
+<span class="left"><a name="49">49</a></span>
+he would sit and watch the arrowy Shiners and say:
+"You are mine, all; you are mine. You shall never
+be harmed or driven away."</p>
+<p>
+A spring came from the hillside by a green lawn,
+and here Yan would eat his sandwiches varied with
+nuts and berries that he did not like, but ate only
+because he was a wildman, and would look lovingly
+up the shady brookland stretches and down to the
+narrow entrance of the glen, and say and think and
+feel. "This is mine, my own, my very own."</p>
+<p class="indent">
+<img src="images/sketch020.gif" width="175" height="299" alt="Liverwort" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+<img src="images/sketch021.gif" width="176" height="42" align="left" hspace="10" alt="Yan's Shovel" border="0" />
+<br /><br /><br />
+<span class="left"><a name="50">50</a></span>
+<h3><a name="1VII">VII</a></h3>
+
+<h3>The Shanty</h3>
+
+<p>
+He had none but the poorest of tools, but he set
+about building a shanty. He was not a resourceful
+boy. His effort to win the book had
+been an unusual one for him, as his instincts were not
+at all commercial. When that matter came to the
+knowledge of the Home Government, he was rebuked
+for doing "work unworthy of a gentleman's son" and
+forbidden under frightful penalties "ever again to
+resort to such degrading ways of raising money."</p>
+<p>
+They gave him no money, so he was penniless.
+Most boys would have possessed themselves somehow
+of a good axe and spade. He had neither. An
+old plane blade, fastened to a stick with nails, was
+all the axe and spade he had, yet with this he set to
+work and offset its poorness as a tool by dogged
+persistency. First, he selected the quietest spot near
+the spring&mdash;a bank hidden by a mass of foliage. He
+knew no special reason for hiding it, beyond the love
+of secrecy. He had read in some of his books "how
+the wily scouts led the way through a pathless jungle,
+pulled aside a bough and there revealed a comfortable
+dwelling that none without the secret could possibly
+have discovered," so it seemed very proper to make it
+a complete mystery&mdash;a sort of secret panel in the
+<span class="left"><a name="51">51</a></span>
+enchanted castle&mdash;and so picture himself as the wily
+scout leading his wondering companions to the shanty,
+though, of course, he had not made up his mind to
+reveal his secret to any one. He often wished he
+could have the advantage of Rad's strong arms and
+efficacious tools; but the workshop incident was only
+one of many that taught him to leave his brother out
+of all calculation.</p>
+<p>
+Mother Earth is the best guardian of a secret, and
+Yan with his crude spade began by digging a hole in
+the bank. The hard blue clay made the work slow,
+but two holidays spent in steady labour resulted in a
+hole seven feet wide and about four feet into the bank.</p>
+<p>
+In this he set about building the shanty. Logs
+seven or eight feet long must be got to the place&mdash;at
+least twenty-five or thirty would be needed, and
+how to cut and handle them with his poor axe was
+a question. Somehow, he never looked for a better
+axe. The half-formed notion that the Indians had
+no better was sufficient support, and he struggled
+away bravely, using whatever ready sized material
+he could find. Each piece as he brought it was put
+into place. Some boys would have gathered the
+logs first and built it all at once, but that was not
+Yan's way; he was too eager to see the walls rise.
+He had painfully and slowly gathered logs enough
+to raise the walls three rounds, when the question of a
+door occurred to him. This, of course, could not
+be cut through the logs in the ordinary way; that
+required the best of tools. So he lifted out all the
+<span class="left"><a name="52">52</a></span>
+front logs except the lowest, replacing them at the
+ends with stones and blocks to sustain the sides.
+This gave him the sudden gain of two logs, and
+helped the rest of the walls that much. The shanty
+was now about three feet high, and no two logs in it
+were alike: some were much too long, most were
+crooked and some were half rotten, for the simple
+reason that these were the only ones he could cut. He
+had exhausted the logs in the neighbourhood and
+was forced to go farther. Now he remembered seeing
+one that might do, half a mile away on the home
+trail (they were always "trails"; he never called
+them "roads" or "paths"). He went after this, and
+to his great surprise and delight found that it was one
+of a dozen old cedar posts that had been cut long
+before and thrown aside as culls, or worthless. He
+could carry only one at a time, so that to bring each
+one meant a journey of a mile, and the post got woefully
+heavy each time before that mile was over.
+To get those twelve logs he had twelve miles to
+walk. It took several Saturdays, but he stuck
+doggedly to it. Twelve good logs completed his
+shanty, making it five feet high and leaving three logs
+over for rafters. These he laid flat across, dividing
+the spaces equally. Over them he laid plenty of small
+sticks and branches till it was thickly covered. Then
+he went down to a rank, grassy meadow and, with
+his knife, cut hay for a couple of hours. This was
+spread thickly on the roof, to be covered with strips
+of Elm bark then on top of all he threw the clay dug
+<span class="left"><a name="53">53</a></span>
+from the bank, piling it well back, stamping on it, and
+working it down at the edges. Finally, he threw
+rubbish and leaves over it, so that it was confused
+with the general tangle.</p>
+<p>
+Thus the roof was finished, but the whole of the
+front was open. He dreaded the search for more
+logs, so tried a new plan. He found, first, some
+sticks about six feet long and two or three inches
+through. Not having an axe to sharpen and drive
+them, he dug pairs of holes a foot deep, one at each
+end and another pair near the middle of the front
+ground log.</p>
+<p>
+Into each of these he put a pair of upright sticks,
+leading up to the eave log, one inside and one outside
+of it, then packed the earth around them in the holes.
+Next, he went to the brook-side and cut a number
+of long green willow switches about half an inch
+thick at the butt. These switches he twisted around
+the top of each pair of stakes in a figure 8, placing
+them to hold the stake tight against the bottom and
+top logs at the front.</p>
+<p>
+Down by the spring he now dug a hole and worked
+water and clay together into mortar, then with a
+trowel cut out of a shingle, and mortar carried in an
+old bucket, he built a wall within the stakes, using
+sticks laid along the outside and stones set in mud
+till the front was closed up, except a small hole for
+a window and a large hole for a door.</p>
+<p>
+Now he set about finishing the inside. He gathered
+moss in the woods and stuffed all the chinks in the
+<span class="left"><a name="54">54</a></span>
+upper parts, and those next the ground he filled with
+stones and earth. Thus the shanty was finished;
+but it lacked a door.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch022.gif" width="104" height="257" alt="Yan's Door" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+<p>
+The opening was four feet high and two feet wide,
+so in the woodshed at home he cut three boards,
+each eight inches wide and four feet high, but he left
+at each end of one a long point. Doing this at home
+gave him the advantage of a saw. Then with these
+and two shorter boards, each two feet long and six
+inches wide, he sneaked out to Glenyan, and there,
+with some nails and a stone for a hammer, he fastened
+them together into a door. In the ground log he
+pecked a hole big enough to receive one of the points
+and made a corresponding hole in the under side of
+the top log. Then, prying up the eave log, he put
+the door in place, let the eave log down again, and
+the door was hung. A string to it made an outside
+fastening when it was twisted around a projecting
+snag in the wall, and a peg thrust into a hole within
+made an inside fastener. Some logs, with fir boughs
+and dried grass, formed a bunk within. This left
+only the window, and for lack of better cover he
+fastened over it a piece of muslin brought from home.
+But finding its dull white a jarring note, he gathered
+a quart of butternuts, and watching his chance at
+home, he boiled the cotton in water with the nuts
+and so reduced it to a satisfactory yellowish brown.</p>
+<p>
+His final task was to remove all appearance of
+disturbance and to fully hide the shanty in brush
+and trailing vines. Thus, after weeks of labour, his
+<span class="left"><a name="55">55</a></span>
+woodland home was finished. It was only five feet
+high inside, six feet long and six feet wide&mdash;dirty
+and uncomfortable&mdash;but what a happiness it was to
+have it.</p>
+<p>
+Here for the first time in his life he began to realize
+something of the pleasure of single-handed achievement
+in the line of a great ambition.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch023.gif" width="314" height="205" align="right" hspace="10" alt="The Shanty: front-plan" border="0" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="56">56</a></span>
+<h3><a name="1VIII">VIII</a></h3>
+
+<h3>Beginnings of Woodlore</h3>
+
+<p>
+During this time Yan had so concentrated all his
+powers on the shanty that he had scarcely noticed
+the birds and wild things. Such was his temperament&mdash;one
+idea only, and that with all his strength.</p>
+<p>
+His heart was more and more in his kingdom now
+he longed to come and live here. But he only dared
+to dream that some day he might be allowed to pass
+a night in the shanty. This was where he would
+lead his ideal life&mdash;the life of an Indian with all that
+is bad and cruel left out. Here he would show men
+how to live without cutting down all the trees,
+spoiling all the streams, and killing every living
+thing. He would learn how to get the fullest pleasure
+out of the woods himself and then teach others how
+to do the same. Though the birds and Fourfoots
+fascinated him, he would not have hesitated to shoot
+one had he been able, but to see a tree cut down
+always caused him great distress. Possibly he
+realized that the bird might be quickly replaced,
+but the tree, never.</p>
+<p>
+To carry out his plan he must work hard at
+school, for books had much that he needed. Perhaps
+some day he might get a chance to see Audubon's
+drawings, and so have all his bird worries settled by
+<span class="left"><a name="57">57</a></span>
+a single book.</p>
+<p>
+That summer a new boy at school added to Yan's
+savage equipment. This boy was neither good nor
+bright; he was a dunce, and had been expelled from
+a boarding school for misconduct, but he had a
+number of schoolboy accomplishments that gave
+him a tinge of passing glory. He could tie a lot of
+curious knots in a string. He could make a wonderful
+birdy warble, and he spoke a language that he called
+Tutnee. Yan was interested in all, but especially
+the last. He teased and bribed till he was admitted
+to the secret. It consisted in spelling every word,
+leaving the five vowels as they are, but doubling each
+consonant and putting a "u" between. Thus "b"
+became "bub," "d" "dud," "m" "mum," and so
+forth, except that "c" was "suk," "h" "hash," "x"
+"zux," and "w" "wak."</p>
+<p>
+The sample given by the new boy, "sus-hash-u-tut
+u-pup yak-o-u-rur mum-o-u-tut-hash," was said to be
+a mode of enjoining silence.</p>
+<p>
+This language was "awful useful," the new boy
+said, to keep the other fellows from knowing what you
+were saying, which it certainly did. Yan practised
+hard at it and within a few weeks was an adept. He
+could handle the uncouth sentences better than his
+teacher, and he was singularly successful in throwing
+in accents and guttural tones that imparted a delightfully
+savage flavour, and he rejoiced in jabbering
+away to the new boy in the presence of others so
+that he might bask in the mystified look on the
+<span class="left"><a name="58">58</a></span>
+faces of those who were not skilled in the tongue of
+the Tutnees.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch024.gif" width="75" height="123" alt="Bow and Arrow" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+<p>
+He made himself a bow and arrows. They were
+badly made and he could hit nothing with them,
+but he felt so like an Indian when he drew the arrow
+to its head, that it was another pleasure.</p>
+<p>
+He made a number of arrows with hoop-iron heads,
+these he could file at home in the woodshed. The
+heads were jagged and barbed and double-barbed.
+These arrows were frightful-looking things. They
+seemed positively devilish in their ferocity, and were
+proportionately gratifying. These he called his
+"war arrows," and would send one into a tree and
+watch it shiver, then grunt "Ugh, heap good," and
+rejoice in the squirming of the imaginary foe he had
+pierced.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch025.gif" width="194" height="35" alt="Arrow" border="0" />
+<p>
+He found a piece of sheepskin and made of it
+a pair of very poor moccasins. He ground an old
+castaway putty knife into a scalping knife; the notch
+in it for breaking glass was an annoying defect until
+he remembered that some Indians decorate their
+weapons with a notch for each enemy it has killed,
+and this, therefore, might do duty as a kill-tally.
+He made a sheath for the knife out of scraps of leather
+left off the moccasins. Some water-colours, acquired
+by a school swap, and a bit of broken mirror held in
+a split stick, were necessary parts of his Indian toilet.
+</p>
+<span class="left"><a name="59">59</a></span>
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/illus03a.jpg" width="640" height="499" alt="Yan's Toilet" border="0" /></p>
+<p>
+His face during the process of make-up was always
+a battle-ground between the horriblest Indian scowl
+and a grin of delight at his success in diabolizing his
+<span class="left"><a name="61">61</a></span>
+visage with the paints. Then with painted face and
+a feather in his hair he would proudly range the woods
+in his little kingdom and store up every scrap of
+woodlore he could find, invent or learn from his
+schoolmates.</p>
+<p>
+Odd things that he found in the woods he would
+bring to his shanty: curled sticks, feathers, bones,
+skulls, fungus, shells, an old cowhorn&mdash;things that
+interested him, he did not know why. He made
+Indian necklaces of the shells, strung together alternately
+with the backbone of a fish. He let his hair
+grow as long as possible, employing various stratagems,
+
+<img src="images/sketch026.gif" width="132" height="153" alt="Yan's Necklace" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+even the unpalatable one of combing it to avoid the
+monthly trim of the maternal scissors. He lay for
+hours with the sun beating on his face to correct his
+colour to standard, and the only semblance of personal
+vanity that he ever had was pleasure in hearing
+disparaging remarks about the darkness of his complexion.
+He tried to do everything as an Indian
+would do it, striking Indian poses, walking carefully
+with his toes turned in, breaking off twigs to mark a
+place, guessing at the time by the sun, and grunting
+"Ugh" or "Wagh" when anything surprised him.
+Disparaging remarks about White-men, delivered in
+supposed Indian dialect, were an important part of
+his pastime. "Ugh, White-men heap no good" and
+"Wagh, paleface&mdash;pale fool in woods," were among
+his favourites.</p>
+<p>
+He was much influenced by phrases that caught
+his ear. "The brown sinewy arm of the Indian,"
+<span class="left"><a name="62">62</a></span>
+was one of them. It discovered to him that his
+own arms were white as milk. There was, however,
+a simple remedy. He rolled up his sleeves to the
+shoulder and exposed them to the full glare of the
+sun. Then later, under the spell of the familiar
+phrase, "The warrior was naked to the waist," he
+went a step further&mdash;he determined to be brown to
+the waist&mdash;so discarded his shirt during the whole
+of one holiday. He always went to extremes.
+He remembered now that certain Indians put their
+young warriors through an initiation called the
+Sun-dance, so he danced naked round the fire
+in the blazing sun and sat around naked all one
+day.</p>
+<p>
+He noticed a general warmness before evening,
+but it was at night that he really felt the punishment
+of his indiscretion. He was in a burning heat. He
+scarcely slept all night. Next day he was worse,
+and his arm and shoulder were blistered. He bore
+it bravely, fearing only that the Home Government
+might find it out, in which case he would have fared
+worse. He had read that the Indians grease the
+skin for sunburn, so he went to the bathroom and
+there used goose grease for lack of Buffalo fat.
+This did give some relief, and in a few days he was
+better and had the satisfaction of peeling the dead
+skin from his shoulders and arms.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch027a.gif" width="170" height="237" alt="Yan's Birch bark vessels" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+<p>
+Yan made a number of vessels out of Birch
+bark, stitching the edges with root fibers, filling the
+bottom with a round wooden disc, and cementing
+<span class="left"><a name="63">63</a></span>
+the joints with pine gum so that they would hold
+water.</p>
+<p>
+In the distant river he caught some Catfish and
+brought them home&mdash;that, is, to his shanty. There
+he made a fire and broiled them&mdash;very badly&mdash;but
+he ate them as a great delicacy. The sharp bone in
+each of their side fins he saved, bored a hole through
+its thick end, smoothed it, and so had needles to stitch
+his Birch bark. He kept them in a bark box with some
+lumps of resin, along with some bark fiber, an Indian
+flint arrow-head given him by a schoolmate, and the
+claws of a large Owl, found in the garbage heap back
+of the taxidermist's shop.</p>
+<p>
+One day on the ash heap in their own yard in town
+he saw a new, strange bird. He was always seeing
+new birds, but this was of unusual interest. He drew
+its picture as it tamely fed near him. A dull, ashy
+gray, with bronzy yellow spots on crown and rump,
+and white bars on its wings. His "Birds of Canada"
+gave no light; he searched through all the books he
+could find, but found no clew to its name. It was
+years afterward before he learned that this was the
+young male Pine Grosbeak.</p>
+<p>
+Another day, under the bushes not far from his
+shanty, he found a small Hawk lying dead. He
+clutched it as a wonderful prize, spent an hour in
+looking at its toes, its beak, its wings, its every
+feather; then he set to work to make a drawing of it.
+A very bad drawing it proved, although it was the
+labour of days, and the bird was crawling with maggots
+<span class="left"><a name="64">64</a></span>
+before he had finished. But every feather and
+every spot was faithfully copied, was duly set down
+on paper. One of his friends said it was a Chicken-hawk.
+That name stuck in Yan's memory. Thenceforth
+the Chicken-hawk and its every marking were
+familiar to him. Even in after years, when he had
+learned that this must have been a young "Sharp-shin,"
+the name "Chicken-hawk" was always readier
+on his lips.</p>
+<p>
+But he met with another and a different Hawk soon
+afterward. This one was alive and flitting about in
+the branches of a tree over his head. It was very
+small&mdash;less than a foot in length. Its beak was very
+short, its legs, wings and tail long; its head was
+bluish and its back coppery red; on the tail was a
+broad, black crossbar. As the bird flew about and
+balanced on the boughs, it pumped its tail. This
+told him it was a Hawk, and the colours he remembered
+were those of the male Sparrow-hawk, for here
+his bird book helped with its rude travesty of "Wilson's"
+<img src="images/sketch028.gif" width="97" height="104" alt="bobolink" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+drawing of this bird. Yet two other birds he
+saw close at hand and drew partly from memory.
+The drawings were like this, and from the picture
+on a calendar he learned that one was a Rail;
+from a drawing in the bird book that the other was
+a Bobolink. And these names he never forgot. He
+had his doubts about the sketching at first&mdash;it
+seemed an un-Indian thing to do, until he remembered
+that the Indians painted pictures on their shields and
+on their teepees. It was really the best of all ways
+for him to make reliable observation.
+<span class="left"><a name="65">65</a></span>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<img src="images/sketch029.gif" width="104" height="108" align="left" hspace="10" alt="rail" border="0" />
+The bookseller of the town had some new books
+in his window about this time. One, a marvellous
+work called "Poisonous Plants," Yan was eager to
+see. It was exposed in the window for a time. Two
+of the large plates were visible from the street; one
+was Henbane, the other Stramonium. Yan gazed at
+them as often as he could. In a week they were gone;
+but the names and looks were forever engraved on
+his memory. Had he made bold to go in and ask
+permission to see the work, his memory would have
+<img src="images/sketch030.gif" alt="Poison Ivy"  hspace="15" style="float: right" width="148" height="186" border="0" />
+seized most of it in an hour.</p>
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="66">66</a></span>
+<h3><a name="1IX">IX</a></h3>
+
+<h3>Tracks</h3>
+<p>
+In the wet sand down by the edge of the brook he
+one day found some curious markings&mdash;evidently
+tracks. Yan pored over them, then made a life-size
+drawing of one. He shrewdly suspected it to be the
+track of a Coon&mdash;nothing was too good or wild or
+rare for his valley. As soon as he could, he showed
+the track to the stableman whose dog was said to
+have killed a Coon once, and hence the man must be
+an authority on the subject.</p>
+<p>
+"Is that a Coon track?" asked Yan timidly.</p>
+<p>
+"How do I know?" said the man roughly,
+and went on with his work. But a stranger standing
+near, a curious person with shabby clothes, and a
+new silk hat on the back of his head, said, "Let me
+see it." Yan showed it.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch031.gif" width="223" height="130" alt="Coon Track" border="0" />
+<p>
+"Is it natural size?"</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, sir."</p>
+<p>
+"Yep, that's a Coon track, all right. You look at
+all the big trees near about whar you saw that; then
+when you find one with a hole in it, you look on the
+bark and you will find some Coon hars. Then you
+will know you've got a Coon tree."</p>
+<span class="left"><a name="67">67</a></span>
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/illus04a.jpg" width="525" height="719" alt="The Coon track" border="0" /></p>
+<p>
+Yan took the earliest chance. He sought and found
+a great Basswood with some gray hairs caught in the
+<span class="left"><a name="69">69</a></span>
+bark. He took them home with him, not sure what
+kind they were. He sought the stranger, but he was
+gone, and no one knew him.</p>
+<p>
+How to identify the hairs was a question; but he
+remembered a friend who had a Coon-skin carriage
+robe. A few hairs of these were compared with
+those from the tree and left no doubt that the climber
+was a Coon. Thus Yan got the beginning of the idea
+that the very hairs of each, as well as its tracks, are
+different. He learned, also, how wise it is to draw
+everything that he wished to observe or describe.
+<img src="images/sketch032a.gif" width="120" height="210" alt="Indian cucumber" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+It was accident, or instinct on his part, but he had
+fallen on a sound principle; there is nothing like a
+sketch to collect and convey accurate information
+of form&mdash;there is no better developer of true
+observation.</p>
+<p>
+One day he noticed a common plant like an
+umbrella. He dug it up by the root, and at the
+lower end he found a long white bulb. He tasted
+this. It was much like a cucumber. He looked up
+"Gray's School Botany," and in the index saw the
+name, Indian Cucumber. The description seemed
+to tally, as far as he could follow its technical terms,
+though like all such, without a drawing it was far
+from satisfactory. So he added the Indian Cucumber
+to his woodlore.</p>
+<p>
+On another occasion he chewed the leaves of a
+strange plant because he had heard that that was
+the first test applied by the Indians. He soon began
+to have awful pains in his stomach. He hurried
+<span class="left"><a name="70">70</a></span>
+home in agony. His mother gave him mustard and
+water till he vomited, then she boxed his ears. His
+father came in during the process and ably supplemented
+the punishment. He was then and there
+ordered to abstain forever from the woods. Of
+course, he did not. He merely became more cautious
+about it all, and enjoyed his shanty with the added
+zest of secret sin.</p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="71">71</a></span>
+<h3><a name="1X">X</a></h3>
+
+<h3>Biddy's Contribution</h3>
+<img src="images/sketch033.gif" width="125" height="178" alt="sassafras" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<p>
+An Irish-Canadian servant girl from Sanger now
+became a member of their household. Her
+grandmother was an herb-doctor in great repute.
+She had frequently been denounced as a witch,
+although in good standing as a Catholic. This girl had
+picked up some herb-lore, and one day when all the
+family were visiting the cemetery she darted into
+various copses and produced plants which she named,
+together with the complaint that her grandmother
+used them for.</p>
+<p>
+"Sassafras, that makes tea for skin disease;
+Ginseng, that's good to sell; Bloodroot for the blood
+in springtime; Goldthread, that cures sore mouths;
+Pipsissewa for chills and fever; White-man's Foot,
+that springs up wherever a White-man treads;
+Indian cup, that grows where an Indian dies; Dandelion
+roots for coffee; Catnip tea for a cold; Lavender
+tea for drinking at meals; Injun Tobacco to mix with
+boughten tobacco; Hemlock bark to dye pink;
+Goldthread to dye yellow, and Butternut rinds for
+greenish."</p>
+<p>
+All of these were passing trifles to the others, but
+to Yan they were the very breath of life, and he
+<span class="left"><a name="72">72</a></span>
+treasured up all of these things in his memory.
+Biddy's information was not unmixed with error
+and superstition:</p>
+<p>
+"Hold Daddy Longlegs by one leg and say, 'tell
+me where the cows are,' and he will point just right
+under another leg, and onct he told me where to
+find my necklace when I lost it.</p>
+<p>
+"Shoot the Swallows and the cows give bloody
+milk. That's the way old Sam White ruined his
+milk business&mdash;shooting Swallows.</p>
+<p>
+"Lightning never strikes a barn where Swallows
+nest. Paw never rested easy after the new barn
+was built till the Swallows nested in it. He had it
+insured for a hundred dollars till the Swallows got
+round to look after it.</p>
+
+<p>
+"When a Measuring-worm crawls on you, you are
+going to get a new suit of clothes. My brother-in-law
+says they walk over him every year in summer and
+sure enough, he gets a new suit. But they never
+does it in winter, cause he don't get new clothes
+then.</p>
+<img src="images/measuringwormd.gif" alt="Measuring Worm" style="float: left" width="300" height="159" border="0" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<p>
+"Split a Crow's tongue and he will talk like a girl.
+Granny knowed a man that had a brother back of
+Mara that got a young Crow and split his tongue an'
+he told Granny it was <i>just</i> like a girl talking&mdash;an'
+Granny told me!</p>
+<p>
+"Soak a Horse-hair in rainwater and it will turn
+into a Snake. Ain't there lots uv Snakes around
+ponds where Horses drink? Well!</p>
+<p>
+"Kill a Spider an' it will rain to-morrow. Now,
+<span class="left"><a name="73">73</a></span>
+that's worth knowin'. I mind one year when the
+Orangeman's picnic was comin', 12th of July, Maw
+made us catch twenty Spiders and we killed them
+all the day before, and law, how it did rain on the
+picnic! Mebbe we didn't laugh. Most of them
+hed to go home in boats, that's what our paper said.
+But next year they done the same thing on us for
+St. Patrick's Day, but Spiders is scarce on the 16th
+of March, an' it didn't rain so much as snow, so it
+was about a stand-off.</p>
+<p>
+"Toads gives warts. You seen them McKenna
+twins&mdash;their hands is a sight with warts. Well, I
+seen them two boys playing with Toads like they
+was marbles. So! An' they might a-knowed what
+was comin'. Ain't every Toad just covered with
+warts as thick as he can stick?</p>
+<p>
+"That there's Injun tobacco. The Injuns always
+use it, and Granny does, too, sometimes." (Yan
+made special note of this&mdash;he must get some and
+smoke it, if it was <i>Indian</i>.)</p>
+<p><img src="images/witchhazela.gif" alt="Witch-hazel"  hspace="15" style="float: right" width="300" height="232" border="0" />
+"A Witch-hazel wand will bob over a hidden
+spring and show where to dig. Denny Scully is
+awful good at it. He gets a dollar for showing where
+to sink a well, an' if they don't strike water it's
+because they didn't dig where he said, or spiled the
+charm some way or nuther, and hez to try over.</p>
+<p>
+"Now, that's Dandelion. Its roots makes awful
+good coffee. Granny allers uses it. She says that
+it is healthier than store coffee, but Maw says she
+likes boughten things best, and the more they cost
+the better she likes them. </p>
+
+<p><span class="left"><a name="74">74</a></span>
+"Now, that's Ginseng. It has a terrible pretty
+flower in spring. There's tons and tons of it sent
+to China. Granny says the Chinese eats it, to
+make them cheerful, but they don't seem to eat
+enough.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch034a.gif" width="140" height="105" alt="Loose Pig" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+<p>
+"There's Slippery Elm. It's awfully good for
+loosening up a cold, if you drink the juice the bark's
+bin biled in. One spring Granny made a bucketful.
+She set it outside to cool, an' the pig he drunk it all
+up, an' he must a had a cold, for it loosened him up
+so he dropped his back teeth. I seen them myself
+lying out there in the yard. Yes, I did.</p>
+<p>
+"That's Wintergreen. Lots of boys I know chew
+that to make the girls like them. Lots of them gits
+a beau that way, too. I done it myself many's a time.</p>
+<p>
+"Now, that is what some folks calls Injun
+Turnip, an' the children calls it Jack-in-a-Pulpit,
+but Granny calls it 'Sorry-plant,' cos she says when
+any one eats it it makes them feel sorry for the last
+fool thing they done. I'll put some in your Paw's
+coffee next time he licks yer and mebbe that'll make
+him quit. It just makes me sick to see ye gettin'
+licked fur every little thing ye can't help.</p>
+<p>
+"A Snake's tongue is its sting. You put your foot
+on a Snake and see how he tries to sting you. An'
+his tail don't die till sundown. I seen that myself,
+onct, an' Granny says so, too, an' what Granny don't
+know ain't knowledge&mdash;it's only book-larnin'."</p>
+<p>
+These were her superstitions, most of them more
+or less obviously absurd to Yan; but she had also
+a smattering of backwoods lore and Yan gleaned all
+<span class="left"><a name="75">75</a></span>
+he could.</p>
+
+<img src="images/sketch035b.gif" width="130" height="271" alt="Jack in a Pulpit" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<p>
+She had so much of what he wanted to know that
+he had almost made up his mind to tell her where
+he went each Saturday when he had finished his
+work.</p>
+<p>
+A week or two longer and she would have shared
+the great secret, but something took place to end
+their comradeship.</p>
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<img src="images/sketch036.gif" alt="Black Cherry" style="float: left" width="154" height="104" border="0" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="76">76</a></span>
+<h3><a name="1XI">XI</a></h3>
+
+<h3>Lung Balm</h3>
+
+<p>
+One day as this girl went with him through a
+little grove on the edge of the town, she
+stopped at a certain tree and said:</p>
+<p>
+"If that ain't Black-cherry!"
+
+"You mean Choke-cherry."</p>
+<p>
+"No, Black-cherry. Choke-cherry ain't no good;
+but Black-cherry bark's awful good for lung complaint.
+Grandma always keeps it. I've been feeling
+a bit queer meself" [she was really as strong as an
+ox]. "Guess I'll git some." So she and Yan planned
+an expedition together. The boldness of it scared
+the boy. The girl helped herself to a hatchet in the
+tool box&mdash;the sacred tool box of his father.</p>
+<p>
+Yan's mother saw her with it and demanded why
+she had it. With ready effrontery she said it was
+to hammer in the hook that held the clothesline, and
+proceeded to carry out the lie with a smiling face.
+That gave Yan a new lesson and not a good one.
+The hatchet was at once put back in the box, to be
+stolen more carefully later on.</p>
+<p>
+Biddy announced that she was going to the grocery
+shop. She met Yan around the corner and they made
+for the lot. Utterly regardless of property rights,
+she showed Yan how to chip off the bark of the
+<span class="left"><a name="77">77</a></span>
+Black-cherry. "Don't chip off all around; that's
+bad luck&mdash;take it on'y from the sunny side." She
+filled a basket with the pieces and they returned
+home.</p>
+<p>
+Here she filled a jar with bits of the inner layer,
+then, pouring water over it, let it stand for a week.
+The water was then changed to a dark brown stuff
+with a bitter taste and a sweet, aromatic smell.</p>
+<p>
+"It's terrible good," she said. "Granny always
+keeps it handy. It cures lots of people. Now
+there was Bud Ellis&mdash;the doctors just guv him up.
+They said he didn't have a single lung left, and he
+come around to Granny. He used to make fun of
+Granny; but now he wuz plumb scairt. At first
+Granny chased him away; then when she seen that
+he was awful sick, she got sorry and told him how
+to make Lung Balm. He was to make two gallons
+each time and bring it to her. Then she took and
+fixed it so it was one-half as much and give it
+back to him. Well, in six months if he wasn't all
+right."</p>
+<p>
+Biddy now complained nightly of "feelin's" in her
+chest. These feelings could be controlled only by
+a glass or two of Lung Balm. Her condition must
+have been critical, for one night after several necessary
+doses of Balm her head seemed affected. She
+became abusive to the lady of the house and at the
+end of the month a less interesting help was in her
+<span class="left"><a name="78">78</a></span>
+place.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch039.gif" width="120" height="89" alt="Sugar Maple" border="0" />
+<img src="images/sketch040.gif" width="156" height="78" alt="Soft, or Silver Maple" border="0" />
+
+<p>
+There were many lessons good and bad that Yan
+might have drawn from this; but the only one that
+he took in was that the Black-cherry bark is a wonderful
+remedy. The family doctor said that it really
+was so, and Yan treasured up this as a new and
+precious fragment of woodcraft.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch037.gif" width="124" height="249" alt="Mountain Maple" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+<p>
+Having once identified the tree, he was surprised
+to see that it was rather common, and was delighted
+to find it flourishing in his own Glenyan.</p>
+<p>
+This made him set down on paper all the trees he
+knew, and he was surprised to find how few they were
+and how uncertain he was about them.</p>
+
+<p class="indent2">
+Maple&mdash;hard and soft.<br />
+Beach.<br />
+Elm&mdash;swamp and slippery.<br />
+Ironwood.<br />
+Birch&mdash;white and black.<br />
+Ash&mdash;white and black.<br />
+Pine.<br />
+Cedar.<br />
+Balsam.<br />
+Hemlock and Cherry.<br />
+</p>
+<img src="images/sketch038.gif" width="102" height="153" alt="Red Maple" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+<p>
+He had heard that the Indians knew the name
+and properties of every tree and plant in the woods,
+and that was what he wished to be able to say of
+himself.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch041.gif" width="150" height="196" alt="Striped Maple" border="0" />
+<img src="images/sketch042.gif" width="249" height="95" alt="Ash...or Grey Beech" border="0" />
+
+<img src="images/sketch044.gif" width="96" height="165" alt="White Elm" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<p>
+One day by the bank of the river he noticed a pile
+of empty shells of the fresh-water Mussel, or Clam.
+The shells were common enough, but why all
+<span class="left"><a name="79">79</a></span>
+together and marked in the same way? Around
+the pile on the mud were curious tracks and
+marks. There were so many that it was hard to
+find a perfect one, but when he did, remembering
+the Coon track, he drew a picture of it. It was
+too small to be the mark of his old acquaintance.
+He did not find any one to tell him what it was,
+but one day he saw a round, brown animal hunched
+up on the bank eating a clam. It dived into the
+water at his approach, but it reappeared swimming
+farther on. Then, when it dived again, Yan saw
+by its long thin tail that it was a Muskrat, like
+the stuffed one he had seen in the taxidermist's
+window.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch045.gif" width="98" height="308" alt="Crow track" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<p>
+He soon learned that the more he studied those
+tracks the more different kinds he found. Many
+were rather mysterious, so he could only draw them
+and put them aside, hoping some day for light. One
+of the strangest and most puzzling turned out
+to be the trail of a Snapper, and another proved
+to be merely the track of a Common Crow that came
+to the water's edge to drink.</p>
+<p>
+The curios that he gathered and stored in his
+shanty increased in number and in interest. The
+place became more and more part of himself. Its
+concealment bettered as the foliage grew around it
+again, and he gloried in its wild seclusion and mystery,
+and wandered through the woods with his bow and
+arrows, aiming harmless, deadly blows at snickering
+Red-squirrels&mdash;though doubtless he would have been
+<span class="left"><a name="80">80</a></span>
+as sorry as they had he really hit one.</p>
+<p class="indent">
+<img src="images/sketch043.gif" width="272" height="142" alt="White Ash" border="0" /></p>
+<img src="images/sketch046.gif" width="94" height="348" alt="Track of Snapper" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<p>
+Yan soon found out that he was not the only
+resident of the shanty. One day as he sat inside
+wondering why he had not made a fireplace, so that
+he could sit at an indoor fire, he saw a silent little
+creature flit along between two logs in the back
+wall. He remained still. A beautiful little Woodmouse,
+for such it was, soon came out in plain view
+and sat up to look at Yan and wash its face. Yan
+reached out for his bow and arrow, but the Mouse
+was gone in a flash. He fitted a blunt arrow to the
+string, then waited, and when the Mouse returned
+he shot the arrow. It missed the Mouse, struck the
+log and bounded back into Yan's face, giving him a
+stinging blow on the cheek. And as Yan rolled
+around grunting and rubbing his cheek, he thought,
+"This is what I tried to do to the Woodmouse."
+Thenceforth, Yan made no attempt to harm the
+Mouse; indeed, he was willing to share his meals with
+it. In time they became well acquainted, and Yan
+found that not one, but a whole family, were sharing
+with him his shanty in the woods.</p>
+<p>
+Biddy's remark about the Indian tobacco bore fruit.
+Yan was not a smoker, but now he felt he must
+learn. He gathered a lot of this tobacco, put it to
+dry, and set about making a pipe&mdash;a real Indian peace
+pipe. He had no red sandstone to make it of, but
+a soft red brick did very well. He first roughed out
+the general shape with his knife, and was trying to bore
+the bowl out with the same tool, when he remembered
+<span class="left"><a name="81">81</a></span>
+that in one of the school-readers was an account
+of the Indian method of drilling into stone with a
+bow-drill and wet sand. One of his schoolmates,
+the son of a woodworker, had seen his father use a
+bow-drill. This knowledge gave him new importance
+in Yan's eyes. Under his guidance a bow-drill was
+made, and used much and on many things till it was
+understood, and now it did real Indian service by
+drilling the bowl and stem holes of the pipe.</p>
+<p>
+He made a stem of an Elderberry shoot, punching
+out the pith at home with a long knitting-needle.
+Some white pigeon wing feathers trimmed small,
+and each tipped with a bit of pitch, were strung
+on a stout thread and fastened to the stem for a
+finishing touch; and he would sit by his camp fire
+solemnly smoking&mdash;a few draws only, for he did not
+like it&mdash;then say, "Ugh, heap hungry," knock the
+ashes out, and proceed with whatever work he had
+on hand.</p>
+<p>
+Thus he spent the bright Saturdays, hiding his
+accouterments each day in his shanty, washing the
+paint from his face in the brook, and replacing the
+hated paper collar that the pride and poverty of his
+family made a daily necessity, before returning
+home. He was a little dreamer, but oh! what happy
+dreams. Whatever childish sorrow he found at
+home he knew he could always come out here and
+forget and be happy as a king&mdash;be a real King in a
+Kingdom wholly after his heart, and all his very own.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch047.gif" alt="Yan's Pipe" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="230" height="91" border="0" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<img src="images/caricaturea.gif" alt="The Caricature"  hspace="15" style="float: right" width="600" height="284" border="0" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="82">82</a></span>
+<h3><a name="1XII">XII</a></h3>
+
+<h3>A Crisis</h3>
+<p>
+At school he was a model boy except in one
+respect&mdash;he had strange, uncertain outbreaks
+of disrespect for his teachers. One day he
+amused himself by covering the blackboard with
+ridiculous caricatures of the principal, whose favourite
+he undoubtedly was. They were rather clever and
+proportionately galling. The principal set about an
+elaborate plan to discover who had done them. He
+assembled the whole school and began cross-examining
+one wretched dunce, thinking him the culprit. The
+lad denied it in a confused and guilty way; the principal
+was convinced of his guilt, and reached for his
+rawhide, while the condemned set up a howl. To
+the surprise of the assembly, Yan now spoke up,
+and in a tone of weary impatience said:</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, let him alone. I did it."</p>
+<p>
+His manner and the circumstances were such that
+every one laughed. The principal was nettled to
+fury. He forgot his manhood; he seized Yan by the
+collar. He was considered a timid boy; his face was
+white; his lips set. The principal beat him with the
+rawhide till the school cried "Shame," but he got no
+cry from Yan.</p>
+<p>
+That night, on undressing for bed, his brother Rad
+<span class="left"><a name="83">83</a></span>
+saw the long black wales from head to foot, and an
+explanation was necessary. He was incapable of
+lying; his parents learned of his wickedness, and new
+and harsh punishments were added. Next day was
+Saturday. He cut his usual double or Saturday's
+share of wood for the house, and, bruised and smarting,
+set out for the one happy spot he knew. The
+shadow lifted from his spirit as he drew near. He
+was already forming a plan for adding a fireplace and
+chimney to his house. He followed the secret path
+he had made with aim to magnify its secrets. He
+crossed the open glade, was, nearly at the shanty,
+when he heard voices&mdash;loud, coarse voices&mdash;<i>coming
+from his shanty</i>. He crawled up close. The door
+was open. There in his dear cabin were three tramps
+playing cards and drinking out of a bottle. On the
+ground beside them were his shell necklaces broken
+up to furnish poker chips. In a smouldering fire
+outside were the remains of his bow and arrows.</p>
+<p>
+Poor Yan! His determination to be like an
+Indian under torture had sustained him in the
+teacher's cruel beating and in his home punishments,
+but this was too much. He fled to a far and quiet
+corner and there flung himself down and sobbed in
+grief and rage&mdash;he would have killed them if he
+could. After an hour or two he came trembling
+back to see the tramps finish their game and their
+liquor; then they defiled the shanty and left it in
+ruins.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="84">84</a></span>
+The brightest thing in his life was gone&mdash;a King
+discrowned, dethroned. Feeling now every wale on
+his back and legs, he sullenly went home.</p>
+<p>
+This was late in the summer. Autumn followed
+last, with shortening days and chilly winds. Yan
+had no chance to see his glen, even had he greatly
+wished it. He became more studious; books were his
+pleasure now. He worked harder than ever, winning
+honour at school, but attracting no notice at the
+home, where piety reigned.</p>
+<p>
+The teachers and some of the boys remarked that
+Yan was getting very thin and pale. Never very
+robust, he now looked like an invalid; but at home
+no note was taken of the change. His mother's
+thoughts were all concentrated on his scapegrace
+younger brother. For two years she had rarely spoken
+to Yan peaceably. There was a hungry place in his
+heart as he left the house unnoticed each morning
+and saw his graceless brother kissed and darlinged.
+At school their positions were reversed. Yan was
+the principal's pride. He had drawn no more
+caricatures, and the teacher flattered himself that
+that beating was what had saved the pale-faced
+head boy.</p>
+<p>
+He grew thinner and heart-hungrier till near
+Christmas, when the breakdown came.</p>
+
+      <hr class="medium" />
+<p>
+"He is far gone in consumption," said the physician.
+"He cannot live over a month or two"</p>
+
+<span class="left"><a name="85">85</a></span><br /><br />
+
+[Illustration: "There in his dear cabin were three tramps"]
+
+<span class="left"><a name="86">86</a></span><br /><br />
+
+<p><span class="left"><a name="87">87</a></span>
+"He <i>must</i> live," sobbed the conscience-stricken
+mother. "He must live&mdash;0 God, he must live."</p>
+<p>
+All that suddenly awakened mother's love could
+do was done. The skilful physician did his best,
+but it was the mother that saved him. She watched
+over him night and day; she studied his wishes and
+comfort in every way. She prayed by his bedside,
+and often asked God to forgive her for her long
+neglect. It was Yan's first taste of mother-love.
+Why she had ignored him so long was unknown.
+She was simply erratic, but now she awoke to his
+brilliant gifts, his steady, earnest life, already purposeful.</p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="88">88</a></span>
+<h3><a name="1XIII">XIII</a></h3>
+
+<h3>The Lynx</h3>
+<p>
+As winter waned, Yan's strength returned. He
+was wise enough to use his new ascendency
+to get books. The public librarian, a man
+of broad culture who had fought his own fight,
+became interested in him, and helped him to many
+works that otherwise he would have missed.</p>
+<p>
+"Wilson's Ornithology" and "Schoolcraft's
+Indians" were the most important. And they were
+sparkling streams in the thirst-parched land.</p>
+<p>
+In March he was fast recovering. He could now
+take long walks; and one bright day of snow he set
+off with his brother's Dog. His steps bent hillward.
+The air was bright and bracing, he stepped with
+unexpected vigour, and he made for far Glenyan,
+without at first meaning to go there. But, drawn
+by the ancient attraction, he kept on. The secret
+path looked not so secret, now the leaves were off;
+but the Glen looked dearly familiar as he reached the
+wider stretch.</p>
+<p>
+His eye fell on a large, peculiar track quite fresh
+in the snow. It was five inches across, big enough
+for a Bear track, but there were no signs of claws
+or toe pads. The steps were short and the tracks
+had not sunken as they would for an animal as
+<span class="left"><a name="89">89</a></span>
+heavy as a Bear.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch049.gif" width="56" height="419" alt="Lynx prints" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<p>
+As one end of each showed the indications of toes,
+he could see what way it went, and followed up the
+Glen. The dog sniffed at it uneasily, but showed
+no disposition to go ahead. Yan tramped up past
+the ruins of his shanty, now painfully visible since
+the leaves had fallen, and his heart ached at the
+sight. The trail led up the valley, and crossed the
+brook on a log, and Yan became convinced that he
+was on the track of a large Lynx. Though a splendid
+barker, Grip, the dog, was known to be a coward,
+and now he slunk behind the boy, sniffing at the
+great track and absolutely refusing to go ahead.</p>
+<p>
+Yan was fascinated by the long rows of footprints,
+and when he came to a place where the creature
+had leaped ten or twelve feet without visible cause,
+he felt satisfied that he had found a Lynx, and the
+love of adventure prompted him to go on, although
+he had not even a stick in his hand or a knife in his
+pocket. He picked up the best club he could find&mdash;a
+dry branch two feet long and two inches through,
+and followed. The dog was now unwilling to go
+at all; he hung back, and had to be called at each
+hundred yards.</p>
+<p>
+They were at last in the dense Hemlock woods at
+the upper end of the valley, when a peculiar sound like
+the call of a deep-voiced cat was heard.</p>
+<p>
+<i>Yow! Yow! Yowl!</i></p>
+<p>
+Yan stood still. The dog, although a large and
+powerful retriever, whimpered, trembled and crawled
+<span class="left"><a name="90">90</a></span>
+up close.</p>
+<p>
+The sound increased in volume. The yowling
+<i>meouw</i> came louder, louder and nearer, then suddenly
+clear and close, as though the creature had rounded
+a point and entered an opening. It was positively
+blood-curdling now. The dog could stand it no more;
+he turned and went as fast as he could for home,
+leaving Yan to his fate. There was no longer any
+question that it was a Lynx. Yan had felt nervous
+before and the abject flight of the dog reacted on
+him. He realized how defenseless he was, still weak
+from his illness, and he turned and went after the
+dog. At first he walked. But having given in to
+his fears, they increased; and as the yowling continued
+he finally ran his fastest. The sounds were left
+behind, but Yan never stopped until he had left the
+Glen and was once more in the open valley of the
+river. Here he found the valiant retriever trembling
+all over. Yan received him with a contemptuous
+kick, and, boylike, as soon as he could find some
+stones, he used them till Grip was driven home.</p>
+<span class="left"><a name="91">91</a></span>
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/illus05a.jpg" width="540" height="786" alt="It surely was a Lynx." border="0" /></p>
+<hr class="medium" />
+<p>
+Most lads have some sporting instinct, and his
+elder brother, though not of Yan's tastes, was not
+averse to going gunning when there was a prospect
+of sport.</p>
+<p>
+Yan decided to reveal to Rad the secret of his
+glen. He had never been allowed to use a gun,
+but Rad had one, and Yan's vivid account of his
+adventure had the desired effect. His method was
+<span class="left"><a name="93">93</a></span>
+characteristic.</p>
+<p>
+"Rad, would you go huntin' if there was lots to
+hunt?"</p>
+<p>
+"Course I would."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I know a place not ten miles away where
+there are all kinds of wild animals&mdash;hundreds of
+them."</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, you do, I don't think. Humph!"</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, I do; and I'll tell you, if you will promise
+never to tell a soul."</p>
+<p>
+"Ba-ah!"</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I just had an adventure with a Lynx up
+there now, and if you will come with your gun we
+can get him."</p>
+<p>
+Then Yan related all that had passed, and it lost
+nothing in his telling. His brother was impressed
+enough to set out under Yan's guidance on the
+following Saturday.</p>
+<p>
+Yan hated to reveal to his sneering, earthy-minded
+brother all the joys and sorrows he had found in
+the Glen, but now that it seemed compulsory he found
+keen pleasure in playing the part of the crafty guide.
+With unnecessary caution he first led in a wrong
+direction, then trying, but failing, to extort another
+promise of secrecy, he turned at an angle, pointed
+to a distant tree, saying with all the meaning he could
+put into it: "Ten paces beyond that tree is a trail
+that shall lead us into the secret valley." After
+sundry other ceremonies of the sort, they were near
+the inway, when a man came walking through the
+<span class="left"><a name="94">94</a></span>
+bushes. On his shoulders he carried something.
+When he came close, Yan saw to his deep disgust
+that that something was the Lynx&mdash;yes, it surely
+was <i>his</i> Lynx.</p>
+<p>
+They eagerly plied the man with questions. He
+told them that he had killed it the day before, really.
+It had been prowling for the last week or more about
+Kernore's bush; probably it was a straggler from up
+north.</p>
+<p>
+This was all intensely fascinating to Yan, but in it
+was a jarring note. Evidently this man considered
+the Glen&mdash;his Glen&mdash;as an ordinary, well-known bit
+of bush, possibly part of his farm&mdash;not by any means
+the profound mystery that Yan would have had it.</p>
+<p>
+The Lynx was a fine large one. The stripes on its
+face and the wide open yellow eyes gave a peculiarly
+wild, tiger-like expression that was deeply gratifying
+to Yan's romantic soul.</p>
+<p>
+It was not so much of an adventure as a might-have-been
+adventure; but it left a deep impress on
+the boy, and it also illustrated the accuracy of his
+instincts in identifying creatures that he had never
+before seen, but knew only through the slight descriptions
+of very unsatisfactory books.</p>
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/sketch050.gif" width="143" height="168" alt="The lynx" border="0" /></p>
+
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="95">95</a></span>
+<h3><a name="1XIV">XIV</a></h3>
+
+<h3>Froth</h3>
+<p>
+From now on to the spring Yan was daily gaining
+in strength, and he and his mother came closer
+together. She tried to take an interest in the
+pursuits that were his whole nature. But she also
+strove hard to make him take an interest in her
+world. She was a morbidly religious woman. Her
+conversation was bristling with Scripture texts.
+She had a vast store of them&mdash;indeed, she had them
+all; and she used them on every occasion possible and
+impossible, with bewildering efficiency.</p>
+<p>
+If ever she saw a group of young people dancing,
+romping, playing any game, or even laughing heartily,
+she would interrupt them to say, "Children, are you
+sure you can ask God's blessing on all this? Do you
+think that beings with immortal souls to save should
+give rein to such frivolity! I fear you are sinning,
+and be sure your sin will find you out. Remember,
+that for every idle word and deed we must give an
+account to the Great Judge of Heaven and earth."</p>
+<p>
+She was perfectly sincere in all this, but she never
+ceased, except during the time of her son's illness,
+when, under orders from the doctor, she avoided the
+painful topic of eternal happiness and tried to simulate
+an interest in his pursuits. This was the blessed
+<span class="left"><a name="96">96</a></span>
+truce that brought them together.</p>
+<p>
+He found a confidante for the first time since he
+met the collarless stranger, and used to tell all his
+loves and fears among the woodfolk and things.
+He would talk about this or that bird or flower, and
+hoped to find out its name, till the mother would
+suddenly feel shocked that any being with an immortal
+soul to save could talk so seriously about anything
+outside of the Bible; then gently reprove her son and
+herself, too, with a number of texts.</p>
+<p>
+He might reply with others, for he was well
+equipped. But her unanswerable answer would be:
+"There is but one thing needful. What profiteth it a
+man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?"</p>
+<p>
+These fencing bouts grew more frequent as Yan
+grew stronger and the doctor's inhibition was removed.</p>
+<p>
+After one of unusual warmth, Yan realized with a
+chill that all her interest in his pursuits had been
+an affected one. He was silent a long time, then
+said: "Mother! you like to talk about your Bible.
+It tells you the things that you long to know, that
+you love to learn. You would be unhappy if you
+went a day without reading a chapter or two. That
+is your nature; God made you so.</p>
+<p>
+"I have been obliged to read the Bible all my
+life. Every day I read a chapter; but I do not
+love it. I read it because I am forced to do it.
+It tells me nothing I want to know. It does not
+teach me to love God, which you say is the one thing
+<span class="left"><a name="97">97</a></span>
+needful. But I go out into the woods, and every
+bird and flower I see stirs me to the heart with something,
+I do not know what it is; only I love them:
+I love them with all my strength, and they make me
+feel like praying when your Bible does not. They
+are my Bible. This is my nature. God made me
+so."</p>
+<p>
+The mother was silent after this, but Yan could
+<img src="images/sketch051.gif" width="131" height="136" alt="The Shore Lark" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+see that she was praying for him as for a lost soul.</p>
+<p>
+A few days later they were out walking in the early
+spring morning. A Shore-lark on a clod whistled
+prettily as it felt the growing sunshine.</p>
+<p>
+Yan strained his eyes and attention to take it in.
+He crept up near it. It took wing, and as it went
+he threw after it a short stick he was carrying. The
+stick whirled over and struck the bird. It fell
+fluttering. Yan rushed wildly after it and caught
+it in spite of his mother's calling him back.</p>
+<p>
+He came with the bird in his hand, but it did not
+live many minutes. His mother was grieved and
+disgusted. She said. "So this is the great love
+you have for the wild things; the very first spring
+bird to sing you must club to death. I do not
+understand your affections. Are not two sparrows
+sold for one farthing, and yet not one of them falls
+to the ground without the knowledge of your
+heavenly Father."</p>
+<p>
+Yan was crushed. He held the dead bird in his
+hand and said, contradictorily, as the tears stood
+in his eyes, "I wish I hadn't; but oh, it was so
+<span class="left"><a name="98">98</a></span>
+beautiful."</p>
+<p>
+He could not explain, because he did not understand,
+and yet was no hypocrite.</p>
+<p>
+Weeks later a cheap trip gave him the chance for
+the first time in his life to see Niagara. As he stood
+with his mother watching the racing flood, in the
+gorge below the cataract, he noticed straws, bubbles
+and froth, that seemed to be actually moving upstream.
+He said:</p>
+<p>
+"Mother, you see the froth how it seems to go
+up-stream."</p>
+<p>
+"Well!"</p>
+<p>
+"Yet we know it is a trifle and means nothing.
+We know that just below the froth is the deep,
+wide, terrible, irresistible, arrowy flood, surging all
+the other way."</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, my son."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, Mother, when I killed the Shore-lark, that
+was froth going the wrong way, I did love the
+little bird. I know now why I killed it. Because
+it was going away from me. If I could have seen it
+near and could have touched it, or even have heard
+it every day, I should never have wished to harm
+it. I didn't mean <i>to kill it</i>, only <i>to get it</i>. You
+gather flowers because you love to keep them near
+you, not because you want to destroy them. They
+die and you are sorry. I only tried to gather the
+Shore-lark as you would a flower. It died, and I
+was very, very sorry."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="99">99</a></span>
+"Nevertheless," the mother replied, "the merciful
+man is merciful unto his beast. He who hearkens
+when the young Ravens cry, surely took note of it,
+and in His great Book of Remembrance it is written
+down against you."</p>
+<p>
+And from that time they surely drifted apart.</p>
+<p class="indent">
+<img src="images/sketch052.gif" width="245" height="277" alt="Parting of the Ways" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+
+<span class="left"><a name="101">101</a></span>
+<h3>PART <a name="II">II</a></h3>
+
+<h3>SANGER <img src="images/and2.gif" width="24" height="17" alt="two acorns on a stem" border="0" /> SAM</h3>
+
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="103">103</a></span>
+<h3><a name="2I">I</a></h3>
+
+<h3>The New Home</h3>
+
+<p>
+<img src="images/sketch053.gif" align="left" hspace="10" width="100" height="107" alt="Y" border="0" />
+AN was now fourteen years old
+long-legged, thin, and growing fast
+The doctor marked this combination
+and said: "Send him on a
+farm for a year."</p>
+<p>
+Thus it was that an arrangement
+was made for Yan to work
+for his board at the farmhouse of
+William Raften of Sanger.</p>
+<p>
+Sanger was a settlement just emerging from the
+early or backwoods period.</p>
+<p>
+The recognized steps are, first, the frontier or
+woods where all is unbroken forest and Deer abound;
+next the backwoods where small clearings appear;
+then a settlement where the forest and clearings
+are about equal and the Deer gone; last, an agricultural
+district, with mere shreds of forest remaining.</p>
+<p>
+Thirty years before, Sanger had been "taken up"
+by a population chiefly from Ireland, sturdy peasantry
+for the most part, who brought with them the ancient
+feud that has so long divided Ireland&mdash;the bitter
+quarrel between the Catholics or "Dogans" (why
+so called none knew) and Protestants, more usually
+styled "Prattisons." The colours of the Catholics
+were green and white; of the Protestants orange and
+blue; and hence another distinctive name of the
+<span class="left"><a name="104">104</a></span>
+latter was "Orangemen."</p>
+<img src="images/sketch054b.gif" width="121" height="243" alt="the split in the social structure" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+<p>
+These two factions split the social structure in
+two vertically. There were, in addition, several
+horizontal lines of cleavage which, like geological
+seams, ran across both segments.</p>
+<p>
+In those days, the early part of the nineteenth
+century, the British Government used to assist
+desirable persons who wished to emigrate to Canada
+from Ireland. This aid consisted of a free ocean
+passage. Many who could not convince the Government
+of their desirability and yet could raise the
+money, came with them, paying their regular steerage
+rate of $15. These were alike to the outside world,
+but not to themselves. Those who paid their way
+were "passengers," and were, in their own opinion,
+many social worlds above the assisted ones, who
+were called "Emmy Grants." This distinction was
+never forgotten among the residents of Sanger.
+<img src="images/sketch055.gif" alt="Pig-pen style" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="143" height="77" border="0" />
+</p>
+<p><br />
+Yet two other social grades existed. Every
+man and boy in Sanger was an expert with
+the axe; was wonderfully adroit. The familiar
+phrase, "He's a good man," had two accepted
+meanings: If obviously applied to a settler during
+the regular Saturday night Irish row in the little
+town of Downey's Dump, it meant he was an able
+man with his fists; but if to his home life on the farm,
+it implied that he was unusually dexterous with the
+axe. A man who fell below standard was despised.
+Since the houses of hewn logs were made by their
+owners, they reflected the axemen's skill. There
+<span class="left"><a name="105">105</a></span>
+were two styles of log architecture; the shanty with
+corners criss-cross, called hog-pen finish, and the
+other, the house with the corners neatly finished, called
+<img src="images/sketch056.gif" alt="Dove-tail style" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="118" height="62" border="0" />
+dovetail finish. In Sanger it was a social black eye to
+live in a house of the first kind. The residents were
+considered "scrubs" or "riff-raff" by those whose
+superior axemanship had provided the more neatly
+finished dwelling. A later division crept in among
+the "dovetailers" themselves when a brickyard
+was opened. The more prosperous settlers put
+up neat little brick houses. To the surprise of
+all, one Phil O'Leary, a poor but prolific Dogan,
+leaped at once from a hog-pen log to a fine brick,
+and caused no end of perplexity to the ruling society
+queens, simply paralyzing the social register, since
+his nine fat daughters now had claims with the best.
+Many, however, whose brick houses were but five
+years old, denounced the O'Learys as upstarts and
+for long witheld all social recognition. William
+Raften, as the most prosperous man in the community,
+was first to appear in red bricks. His implacable
+enemy, Char-less (two syllables) Boyle, egged on by
+his wife, now also took the red brick plunge, though
+he dispensed with masons and laid the bricks himself,
+with the help of his seventeen sons. These two men,
+though Orangemen both, were deadly enemies, as
+the wives were social rivals. Raften was the stronger
+and richer man, but Boyle, whose father had paid
+his own steerage rate, knew all about Raften's
+father, and always wound up any discussion by
+<span class="left"><a name="106">106</a></span>
+hurling in Raften's teeth: "Don't talk to me, ye
+<img src="images/sketch057.gif" width="137" height="220" alt="local entertainment" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+upstart. Everybody knows ye are nothing but a
+Emmy Grant." This was the one fly in the Raften
+ointment. No use denying it. His father had accepted
+a free passage, true, and Boyle had received a
+free homestead, but what of that&mdash;that counted
+for nothing. Old Boyle had been a "PASSENGER,"
+old Raften an "EMMY GRANT." </p>
+<p>
+This was the new community that Yan had entered,
+and the words Dogan and Prattison, "green" and
+"orange and blue," began to loom large, along with
+the ideas and animosities they stood for.</p>
+<p>
+The accent of the Sangerite was mixed. First,
+there was a rich Irish brogue with many Irish words;
+this belonged chiefly to the old folks. The Irish of
+such men as Raften was quite evident in their speech,
+but not strong enough to warrant the accepted Irish
+spelling of books, except when the speaker was
+greatly excited. The young generation had almost
+no Irish accent, but all had sifted down to the
+peculiar burring nasal whine of the backwoods
+Canadian.</p>
+<p>
+Mr. and Mrs. Raften met Yan at the station. They
+had supper together at the tavern and drove him
+to their home, where they showed him into the big
+dining-room&mdash;living-room&mdash;kitchen. Over behind
+the stove was a tall, awkward boy with carroty hair
+and small, dark eyes set much aslant in the saddest
+of faces. Mrs. Raften said, "Come, Sam, and shake
+hands with Yan." Sam came sheepishly forward,
+<span class="left"><a name="107">107</a></span>
+shook hands in a flabby way, and said, in drawling
+tones, "How-do," then retired behind the stove to
+gaze with melancholy soberness at Yan, whenever he
+could do so without being caught at it. Mr. and Mrs.
+Raften were attending to various matters elsewhere,
+and Yan was left alone and miserable. The idea
+of giving up college to go on a farm had been a hard
+one for him to accept, but he had sullenly bowed to
+his father's command and then at length learned to
+like the prospect of getting away from Bonnerton
+into the country. After all, it was but for a year, and
+it promised so much of joy. Sunday-school left
+behind. Church reduced to a minimum. All his
+life outdoors, among fields and woods&mdash;surely this
+spelled happiness; but now that he was really there,
+the abomination of desolation seemed sitting on all
+things and the evening was one of unalloyed
+misery. He had nothing to tell of, but a cloud of
+black despair seemed to have settled for good on the
+world. His mouth was pinching very hard and his
+eyes blinking to keep back the tears when Mrs. Raften
+came into the room. She saw at a glance what was
+wrong. "He's homesick," she said to her husband.
+"He'll be all right to-morrow," and she took Yan
+by the hand and led him upstairs to bed.</p>
+<p>
+Twenty minutes later she came to see if he was
+comfortable. She tucked the clothes in around
+him, then, stooping down for a good-night kiss, she
+found his face wet with tears. She put her arms
+about him for a moment, kissed him several times,
+<span class="left"><a name="108">108</a></span>
+and said, "Never mind, you will feel all right
+to-morrow," then wisely left him alone.</p>
+<p>
+Whence came that load of misery and horror, or
+whither it went, Yan never knew. He saw it no
+more, and the next morning he began to interest
+himself in his new world.</p>
+<p>
+William Raften had a number of farms all in fine
+order and clear of mortgages; and each year he added
+to his estates. He was sober, shrewd, even cunning,
+hated by most of his neighbours because he was too
+clever for them and kept on getting richer. His
+hard side was for the world and his soft side for his
+family. Not that he was really soft in any respect.
+He had had to fight his life-battle alone, beginning
+with nothing, and the many hard knocks had hardened
+him, but the few who knew him best could testify to
+the warm Irish heart that continued unchanged
+within him, albeit it was each year farther from
+the surface. His manners, even in the house, were
+abrupt and masterful. There was no mistaking
+his orders, and no excuse for not complying with
+them. To his children when infants, and to his
+wife only, he was always tender, and those who saw
+him cold and grasping, overreaching the sharpers
+of the grain market, would scarcely have recognized
+the big, warm-hearted happy-looking father at home
+<img src="images/sketch058.gif" width="194" height="336" alt="lion 'horsey'" border="0" align="left" hspace="15" style="float: left;" />
+an hour later when he was playing horse with his
+baby daughter or awkwardly paying post-graduate
+court to his smiling wife.
+</p>
+<p> <span class="left"><a name="109">109</a></span>
+He had little "eddication," could hardly read, and
+was therefore greatly impressed with the value of
+"book larnin'," and determined that his own children
+should have the "best that money could git in that
+line," which probably meant that they should read
+fluently. His own reading was done on Sunday
+mornings, when he painfully spelled out the important
+items in a weekly paper; "important" meant referring
+to the produce market or the prize ring, for he had
+been known and respected as a boxer, and dearly
+loved the exquisite details of the latest bouts. He
+used to go to church with his wife once a month
+to please her, and thought it very unfair therefore
+that she should take no interest in his favourite
+hobby&mdash;the manly art.</p>
+<p>
+Although hard and even brutal in his dealings
+with men, he could not bear to see an animal ill used.
+"The men can holler when they're hurt, but the poor
+dumb baste has no protection." He was the only
+farmer in the country that would not sell or shoot a
+worn-out horse. "The poor brute has wurruked hard
+an' hez airned his kape for the rest av his days." So
+Duncan, Jerry and several others were "retired" and
+lived their latter days in idleness, in one case for more
+than ten years.</p>
+<p>
+Raften had thrashed more than one neighbour for
+beating a horse, and once, on interfering, was himself
+thrashed, for he had the ill-luck to happen on a prizefighter.
+But that had no lasting effect on him. He
+continued to champion the dumb brute in his own
+brutal way.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="110">110</a></span>
+Among the neighbours the perquisites of the boys
+were the calfskins. The cows' milk was needed and
+the calves of little value, so usually they were killed
+when too young for food. The boys did the killing,
+making more or less sport of it, and the skins, worth
+fifty cents apiece green and twenty-five cents dry,
+at the tannery, were their proper pay. Raften never
+allowed his son to kill the calves. "Oi can't kill a
+poor innocent calf mesilf an' I won't hev me boy
+doin' it," he said. Thus Sam was done out of a
+perquisite, and did not forget the grievance.</p>
+<p>
+Mrs. Raften was a fine woman, a splendid manager,
+loving her home and her family, her husband's loyal
+and ablest supporter, although she thought that
+William was sometimes a "leetle hard" on the boys.
+They had had a large family, but most of the
+children had died. Those remaining were Sam, aged
+fifteen, and Minnie, aged three.</p>
+<p>
+Yan's duties were fixed at once. The poultry
+and half the pigs and cows were to be his charge.
+He must also help Sam with various other chores.</p>
+<p>
+There was plenty to do and clear rules about doing
+it. But there was also time nearly every day for
+other things more in the line of his tastes; for even
+if he were hard on the boys in work hours, Raften
+saw to it that when they did play they should have
+a good time. His roughness and force made Yan
+afraid of him, and as it was Raften's way to say
+nothing until his mind was fully made up, and then
+say it "strong," Yan was left in doubt as to whether
+or not he was giving satisfaction.</p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+<span class="left"><a name="111">111</a></span>
+<h3><a name="2II">II</a></h3>
+<h3>Sam</h3>
+
+<p>
+Sam Raften turned out to be more congenial
+than he looked. His slow, drawling speech had
+given a wrong impression of stupidity, and, after
+a formal showing of the house under Mr. Raften, a
+real investigation was headed by Sam. "This yer's
+the paaar-le-r," said he, unlocking a sort of dark
+cellar aboveground and groping to open what
+afterward proved to be a dead, buried and almost
+forgotten window. In Sanger settlement the farmhouse
+parlour is not a room; it is an institution.
+It is kept closed all the week except when the minister
+calls, and the one at Raften's was the pure type.
+Its furniture consisted of six painted chairs (fifty
+cents each), two rockers ($1.49), one melodeon (thirty-two
+bushels of wheat&mdash;the agent asked forty), a sideboard
+made at home of the case the melodeon came
+in, one rag carpet woofed at home and warped and
+woven in exchange for wool, one center-table varnished
+(!) ($9.00 cash, $11.00 catalogue). On the
+center-table was one tintype album, a Bible, and
+some large books for company use. Though dusted
+once a week, they were never moved, and it was
+years later before they were found to have settled
+permanently into the varnish of the table. In
+<span class="left"><a name="112">112</a></span>
+extremely uncostly frames on the wall were the
+coffin-plates of the departed members of the family.
+It was the custom at Sanger to honour the dead by
+bringing back from the funeral the name-plate and
+framing it on a black background with some supposed
+appropriate scripture text.</p>
+<p>
+The general atmosphere of the room was dusty and
+religious as it was never opened except on Sundays
+or when the parson called, which instituted a sort
+of temporary Sunday, and the two small windows
+were kept shut and plugged as well as muffled always,
+with green paper blinds and cotton hangings. It
+was a thing apart from the rest of the house&mdash;a sort
+of family ghost-room: a chamber of horrors, seen but
+once a week.</p>
+<p>
+But it contained one thing at least of interest&mdash;something
+that at once brought Sam and Yan
+together. This was a collection of a score of birds'
+eggs. They were all mixed together in an old
+glass-topped cravat box, half full of bran. None
+of them were labelled or properly blown. A collector
+would not have given it a second glance, but it
+proved an important matter. It was as though
+two New Yorkers, one disguised as a Chinaman
+and the other as a Negro, had accidently met in
+Greenland and by chance one had made the
+sign of the secret brotherhood to which they both
+belonged.</p>
+<p>
+"Do you like these things?" said Yan, with sudden
+interest and warmth, in spite of the depressing
+<span class="left"><a name="113">113</a></span>
+surroundings.</p>
+<p>
+"You bet," said Sam. "And I'd a-had twice as
+many only Da said it was doing no good and birds
+was good for the farm."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, do you know their names?"</p>
+<p>
+"Wall, I should say so. I know every Bird that
+flies and all about it, or putty near it," drawled Sam,
+with an unusual stretch for him, as he was not given
+to bragging.</p>
+<p>
+"I wish I did. Can't I get some eggs to take
+home?"</p>
+<p>
+"No; Da said if I wouldn't take any more he'd
+lend me his Injun Chief gun to shoot Rabbits with."</p>
+<p>
+"What? Are there Rabbits here?"</p>
+<p>
+"Wall, I should say so. I got three last winter."</p>
+<p>
+"But I mean <i>now</i>," said Yan, with evident disappointment.</p>
+<p>
+"They ain't so easy to get at <i>now</i>, but we can try.
+Some day when all the work's done I'll ask Da for
+his gun."</p>
+<img src="images/sketch059.gif" width="131" height="328" alt="Stuffed Owl" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<p>
+"When all the work's done," was a favourite
+expression of the Raftens for indefinitely shelving a
+project, it sounded so reasonable and was really
+so final.</p>
+<p>
+Sam opened up the lower door of the sideboard
+and got out some flint arrow-heads picked up in the
+ploughing, the teeth of a Beaver dating from the
+early days of the settlement, and an Owl very badly
+stuffed. The sight of these precious things set Yan
+all ablaze. "Oh!" was all he could say. Sam was
+<span class="left"><a name="114">114</a></span>
+gratified to see such effect produced by the family
+possessions and explained, "Da shot that off'n the
+barn an' the hired man stuffed it."</p>
+<p>
+The boys were getting on well together now. They
+exchanged confidences all day as they met in doing
+chores. In spite of the long interruptions, they got
+on so well that Sam said after supper, "Say, Yan,
+I'm going to show you something, but you must
+promise never to tell&mdash;Swelpye!" Of course Yan
+promised and added the absolutely binding and
+ununderstandable word&mdash;"Swelpme."</p>
+<p>
+"Le's both go to the barn," said Sam.</p>
+<p>
+When they were half way he said: "Now I'll
+let on I went back for something. You go on an'
+round an' I'll meet you under the 'rusty-coat' in
+the orchard." When they met under the big russet
+apple tree, Sam closed one of his melancholy eyes
+and said in a voice of unnecessary hush, "Follow
+me." He led to the other end of the orchard where
+stood the old log house that had been the home
+before the building of the brick one. It was now
+used as a tool house. Sam led up a ladder to the
+loft (this was all wholly delightful). There at the
+far end, and next the little gable pane, he again
+cautioned secrecy, then when on invitation Yan had
+once more "swelped" himself, he rummaged in a
+dirty old box and drew out a bow, some arrows, a
+rusty steel trap, an old butcher knife, some fish-hooks,
+a flint and steel, a box full of matches, and
+some dirty, greasy-looking stuff that he said was
+<span class="left"><a name="115">115</a></span>
+dried meat. "You see," he explained, "I always
+wanted to be a hunter, and Da was bound I'd be a
+dentist. Da said there was no money in hunting,
+but one day he had to go to the dentist an' it cost
+four dollars, an' the man wasn't half a day at the
+job, so he wanted me to be a dentist, but I wanted
+to be a hunter, an' one day he licked me and
+<img src="images/sketch060.gif" width="95" height="275" alt="an old butcher knife, some fish-hooks," border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+ (Bud, that's my brother that died a year ago. If you
+hear Ma talk you'll think he was an angel, but I
+always reckoned he was a crazy galoot, an' he was
+the worst boy in school by odds). Wall, Da licked
+us awful for not feeding the hogs, so Bud got ready
+to clear out, an' at first I felt just like he did an'
+said I'd go too, an' we'd j'ine the Injuns. Anyhow,
+I'd sure go if ever I was licked again, an' this was
+the outfit we got together. Bud wanted to steal
+Da's gun an' I wouldn't. I tell you I was hoppin'
+mad that time, an' Bud was wuss&mdash;but I cooled off
+an' talked to Bud. I says, 'Say now, Bud, it would
+take about a month of travel to get out West, an'
+if the Injuns didn't want nothin' but our scalps that
+wouldn't be no fun, an' Da ain't really so bad, coz
+we sho'ly did starve them pigs so one of 'em died.'
+I reckon we deserved all we got&mdash;anyhow, it was all
+dumb foolishness about skinnin' out, though I'd
+like mighty well to be a hunter. Well, Bud died
+that winter. You seen the biggest coffin plate on
+the wall? Well, that's him. I see Ma lookin' at
+it an' cryin' the other day. Da says he'll send me
+to college if I'll be a dentist or a lawyer&mdash;lawyers
+<span class="left"><a name="116">116</a></span>
+make lots of money: Da had a lawsuit once&mdash;an'
+if I don't, he says I kin go to&mdash;you know."</p>
+<p>
+Here was Yan's own kind of mind, and he opened
+his heart. He told all about his shanty in the woods
+and how he had laboured at and loved it. He was
+full of enthusiasm as of old, boiling over with purpose
+and energy, and Sam, he realized, had at least two
+things that he had not&mdash;ability with tools and cool
+judgment. It was like having the best parts of his
+brother Rad put into a real human being. And
+remembering the joy of his Glen, Yan said:</p>
+<p>
+"Let's build a shanty in the woods by the creek;
+your father won't care, will he?"</p>
+<p>
+
+<img src="images/sketch061.gif" alt="a bow, some arrows, a rusty steel trap"  hspace="15" style="float: right" width="373" height="117" border="0" />
+"Not he, so long as the work's done."</p>
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="117">117</a></span>
+<h3><a name="2III">III</a></h3>
+<h3>The Wigwam</h3>
+
+<p>
+The very next day they must begin. As soon as
+every chore was done they went to the woods
+to select a spot.</p>
+<p>
+The brook, or "creek," as they called it, ran
+through a meadow, then through a fence into the
+woods. This was at first open and grassy, but
+farther down the creek it was joined by a dense
+cedar swamp. Through this there was no path,
+but Sam said that there was a nice high place beyond.
+The high ground seemed a long way off in the woods,
+though only a hundred yards through the swamp,
+but it was the very place for a camp&mdash;high, dry and
+open hard woods, with the creek in front and the
+cedar swamp all around. Yan was delighted. Sam
+caught no little of the enthusiasm, and having brought
+an axe, was ready to begin the shanty. But Yan
+had been thinking hard all morning, and now he
+said: "Sam, we don't want to be <i>White</i> hunters.
+They're no good; we want to be Indians."</p>
+<p>
+"Now, that's just where you fool yourself," said
+Sam. "Da says there ain't nothin' an Injun can
+do that a White-man can't do better."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="118">118</a></span>
+"Oh, what are you talking about?" said Yan
+warmly. "A White hunter can't trail a moccasined
+foot across a hard granite rock. A White hunter
+can't go into the woods with nothing but a knife and
+make everything he needs. A White hunter can't
+hunt with bows and arrows, and catch game with
+snares, can he? And there never yet was a White
+man could make a Birch canoe." Then, changing his
+tone, Yan went on: "Say, now, Sam, we want to
+be the best kind of hunters, don't we, so as to be
+ready for going out West. Let's be Injuns and
+do everything like Injuns."</p>
+<p>
+After all, this had the advantage of romance and
+picturesqueness, and Sam consented to "try it for
+awhile, anyhow." And now came the point of
+Yan's argument. "Injuns don't live in shanties;
+they live in teepees. Why not make a teepee
+instead?"</p>
+<p>
+"That would be just bully," said Sam, who had
+seen pictures enough to need no description, "but
+what are we to make it of?"</p>
+<p>
+"Well," answered Yan, promptly assuming the
+leadership and rejoicing in his ability to speak as an
+authority, "the Plains Injuns make their teepees of
+skins, but the wood Injuns generally use Birch
+bark."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I bet you can't find skins or Birch bark
+enough in this woods to make a teepee big enough
+for a Chipmunk to chaw nuts in."</p>
+<p>
+"We can use Elm bark."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="119">119</a></span>
+"That's a heap easier," replied Sam, "if it'll
+answer, coz we cut a lot o' Elm logs last winter
+and the bark'll be about willin' to peel now. But
+first let's plan it out."</p>
+<p>
+This was a good move, one Yan would have overlooked.
+He would probably have got a lot of material
+together and made the plan afterward, but Sam had
+been taught to go about his work with method.</p>
+<p>
+So Yan sketched on a smooth log his remembrance
+of an Indian teepee. "It seems to me it was about
+this shape, with the poles sticking up like that, a
+hole for the smoke here and another for the door
+there."</p>
+<p>
+"Sounds like you hain't never seen one," remarked
+Sam, with more point than politeness, "but we kin
+try it. Now 'bout how big?"</p>
+<p>
+Eight feet high and eight feet across was decided
+to be about right. Four poles, each ten feet long,
+were cut in a few minutes, Yan carrying them to a
+smooth place above the creek as fast as Sam cut them.</p>
+<p>
+"Now, what shall we tie them with?" said Yan.</p>
+<p>
+"You mean for rope?"</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, only we must get everything in the woods;
+real rope ain't allowed."</p>
+<p>
+"I kin fix that," said Sam; "when Da double-staked
+the orchard fence, he lashed every pair of stakes at
+the top with Willow withes."</p>
+<p>
+"That's so&mdash;I quite forgot," said Yan. In a few
+minutes they were at work trying to tie the four poles
+together with slippery stiff Willows, but it was no
+easy matter. They had to be perfectly tight or they
+<span class="left"><a name="120">120</a></span>
+would slip and fall in a heap each time they were
+raised, and it seemed at length that the boys would
+be forced to the impropriety of using hay wire, when
+they heard a low grunt, and turning, saw William
+Raften standing with his hands behind him as
+though he had watched them for hours.</p>
+<p>
+The boys were no little startled. Raften had a
+knack of turning up at any point when something was
+going on, taking in the situation fully, and then, if
+he disapproved, of expressing himself in a few words
+of blistering mockery delivered in a rich Irish brogue.
+Just what view he would take of their pastime the
+boys had no idea, but awaited with uneasiness.
+If they had been wasting time when they should
+have been working there is no question but that they
+would have been sent with contumely to more
+profitable pursuits, but this was within their rightful
+play hours, and Raften, after regarding them with a
+searching look, said slowly: "Bhoys!" (Sam felt
+easier; his father would have said "<i>Bhise</i>" if really
+angry.) "Fhat's the good o' wastin' yer time"
+(Yan's heart sank) "wid Willow withes fur a job like
+that? They can't be made to howld. Whoi don't
+ye git some hay woire or coord at the barrun?"</p>
+<p>
+The boys were greatly relieved, but still this
+friendly overture might be merely a feint to open the
+way for a home thrust. Sam was silent. So Yan
+said, presently, "We ain't allowed to use anything
+but what the Indians had or could get in the woods."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="121">121</a></span>
+"An' who don't allow yez?"</p>
+<p>
+"The rules."</p>
+<p>
+"Oh," said William, with some amusement. "Oi
+see! Hyar."</p>
+<p>
+He went into the woods looking this way and that,
+and presently stopped at a lot of low shrubs.</p>
+<p>
+"Do ye know what this is, Yan?"</p>
+<p>
+"No, sir."</p>
+<p>
+"Le's see if yer man enough to break it aff."</p>
+<p>
+Yan tried. The wood was brittle enough, but the
+bark, thin, smooth and pliant, was as tough as
+leather, and even a narrow strip defied his
+strength.</p>
+<p>
+"That's Litherwood," said Raften. "That's what
+the Injuns used; that's what we used ourselves in
+the airly days of this yer settlement."</p>
+<p>
+The boys had looked for a rebuke, and here was a
+helping hand. It all turned on the fact that this
+was "play hours," Raften left with a parting word:
+"In wan hour an' a half the pigs is fed."</p>
+<img src="images/sketch062.gif" alt="Leatherwood" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="191" height="145" border="0" />
+
+<p>
+"You see Da's all right when the work ain't forgot,"
+said Sam, with a patronizing air. "I wonder why
+I didn't think o' that there Leatherwood meself.
+I've often heard that that's what was used fur tying
+bags in the old days when cord was scarce, an' the
+Injuns used it for tying their prisoners, too. Ain't
+it the real stuff?"</p>
+<img src="images/sketch063.gif" width="125" height="307" alt="wigwams" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+<p>
+Several strips were now used for tying four poles
+together at the top, then these four were raised on
+end and spread out at the bottom to serve as the
+frame of the teepee, or more properly wigwam, since
+<span class="left"><a name="122">122</a></span>
+it was to be made of bark.</p>
+<p>
+After consulting, they now got a long, limber
+Willow rod an inch thick, and bending it around like
+a hoop, they tied it with Leatherwood to each pole
+at a point four feet from the ground. Next they
+cut four short poles to reach from the ground to this.
+These were lashed at their upper ends to the Willow
+rod, and now they were ready for the bark slabs.
+The boys went to the Elm logs and again Sam's able
+use of the axe came in. He cut the bark open along
+the top of one log, and by using the edge of the axe
+and some wooden wedges they pried off a great roll
+eight feet long and four feet across. It was a
+pleasant surprise to see what a wide piece of bark
+the small log gave them.</p>
+<p>
+Three logs yielded three fine large slabs and others
+yielded pieces of various sizes. The large ones were
+set up against the frame so as to make the most of
+them. Of course they were much too big for the top,
+and much too narrow for the bottom; but the little
+pieces would do to patch if some way could be found
+to make them stick.</p>
+<p>
+Sam suggested nailing them to the posts, and
+Yan was horrified at the idea of using nails. "No
+Indian has any nails."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, what <i>would</i> they use?" said Sam.</p>
+<p>
+"They used thongs, an'&mdash;an'&mdash;maybe wooden
+pegs. I don't know, but seems to me that would
+be all right."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="123">123</a></span>
+"But them poles is hard wood," objected the
+practical Sam. "You can drive Oak pegs into Pine,
+but you can't drive wooden pegs into hard wood
+without you make some sort of a hole first. Maybe
+I'd better bring a gimlet."</p>
+<p>
+"Now, Sam, you might just as well hire a carpenter&mdash;<i>that</i>
+wouldn't be Indian at all. Let's play it right.
+We'll find some way. I believe we can tie them up
+with Leatherwood."</p>
+<p>
+So Sam made a sharp Oak pick with his axe, and
+Yan used it to pick holes in each piece of bark and
+then did a sort of rude sewing till the wigwam
+seemed beautifully covered in. But when they
+went inside to look they were unpleasantly surprised
+to find how many holes there were. It was impossible
+to close them all because the bark was cracking in
+so many places, but the boys plugged the worst of
+them and then prepared for the great sacred ceremony&mdash;the
+lighting of the fire in the middle.</p>
+<p>
+They gathered a lot of dry fuel, then Yan produced
+a match.</p>
+<p>
+"That don't look to me very Injun," drawled
+Sam critically. "I don't think Injuns has matches."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, they don't," admitted Yan, humbly.
+"But I haven't a flint and steel, and don't know how
+to work rubbing-sticks, so we just got to use matches,
+<i>if</i> we <i>want</i> a fire."</p>
+<p>
+"Why, of course we want a fire. I ain't kicking,"
+said Sam. "Go ahead with your old leg-fire sulphur
+stick. A camp without a fire would be 'bout like
+last year's bird's nest or a house with the roof
+<span class="left"><a name="124">124</a></span>
+off."</p>
+<img src="images/sketch064.gif" width="114" height="299" alt="Prayer sticks" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+<p>
+Yan struck a match and put it to the wood. It
+went out. He struck another&mdash;same result. Yet
+another went out.</p>
+<p>
+Sam remarked:</p>
+<p>
+"Pears to me you don't know much about lightin'
+a fire. Lemme show you. Let the White hunter learn
+the Injun somethin' about the woods," said he with
+a leer.</p>
+<p>
+Sam took the axe and cut some sticks of a dry
+Pine root. Then with his knife he cut long curling
+shavings, which he left sticking in a fuzz at the end
+of each stick.</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, I've seen a picture of an Indian making
+them. They call them 'prayer-sticks,'" said Yan.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, prayer-sticks is mighty good kindlin'"
+replied the other. He struck a match, and in a
+minute he had a blazing fire in the middle of the
+wigwam.</p>
+<p>
+"Old Granny de Neuville, she's a witch&mdash;she
+knows all about the woods, and cracked Jimmy turns
+everything into poetry what she says. He says she
+says when you want to make a fire in the woods you
+take&mdash;</p>
+<img src="images/sketch065.gif" alt="down at the bend o' the creek" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="150" height="316" border="0" />
+<p class="indent">
+  "First a curl of Birch bark as dry as it kin be,<br />
+  Then some twigs of soft-wood, dead, but on the tree,<br />
+  Last o' all some Pine knots to make the kittle foam,<br />
+  An' thar's a fire to make you think you're settin' right at home."</p>
+
+ <p><span class="left"><a name="125">125</a></span>
+"Who's Granny de Neuville?"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, she's the old witch that lives down at the
+bend o' the creek."</p>
+<p>
+"What? Has she got a granddaughter named
+Biddy?" said Yan, suddenly remembering that his
+ancient ally came from this part of Sanger.</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, my! Hain't she? Ain't Biddy a peach&mdash;drinks
+like a fish, talks everybody to death about
+the time she resided in Bonnerton. Gits a letter
+every mail begging her to come back and 'reside'
+with them some more."</p>
+<p>
+"Ain't this fine," said Yan, as he sat on a pile of
+Fir boughs in the wigwam.</p>
+<p>
+"Looks like the real thing," replied Sam from his
+seat on the other side. "But say, Yan, don't
+make any more fire; it's kind o' warm here, an' there
+seems to be something wrong with that flue&mdash;wants
+sweepin', prob'ly&mdash;hain't been swep' since I kin
+remember."</p>
+<p>
+The fire blazed up and the smoke increased.
+Just a little of it wandered out of the smoke-hole at
+the top, then it decided that this was a mistake and
+thereafter positively declined to use the vent. Some
+of it went out by chinks, and a large stream issued
+from the door, but by far the best part of it seemed
+satisfied with the interior of the wigwam, so that in
+a minute or less both boys scrambled out. Their
+eyes were streaming with smoke-tears and their
+discomfiture was complete.</p>
+<p>
+"'Pears to me," observed Sam, "like we got them
+holes mixed. The dooer should 'a 'been at the top,
+<span class="left"><a name="126">126</a></span>
+sence the smoke has a fancy for usin' it, an' then <i>we'd</i>
+had a chance."</p>
+<p>
+"The Indians make it work," said Yan; "a White
+hunter ought to know how."</p>
+<p>
+"Now's the Injun's chance," said Sam. "Maybe
+it wants a dooer to close, then the smoke would have
+to go out."</p>
+<p>
+They tried this, and of course some of the smoke
+was crowded out, but not till long after the boys
+were.</p>
+<p>
+"Seems like what does get out by the chinks is
+sucked back agin by that there double-action flue,"
+said Sam.</p>
+<p>
+It was very disappointing. The romance of
+sitting by the fire in one's teepee appealed to both
+of the boys, but the physical torture of the smoke
+made it unbearable. Their dream was dispelled,
+and Sam suggested, "Maybe we'd better try a shanty."</p>
+<p>
+"No," said Yan, with his usual doggedness.
+"I know it can be done, because the Indians do it.
+We'll find out in time."</p>
+<p>
+But all their efforts were in vain. The wigwam
+was a failure, as far as fire was concerned. It was
+very small and uncomfortable, too; the wind blew
+through a hundred crevices, which grew larger as the
+Elm bark dried and cracked. A heavy shower
+caught them once, and they were rather glad to be
+driven into their cheerless lodge, but the rain
+came abundantly into the smoke-hole as well as
+through the walls, and they found it but little
+protection.</p>
+<span class="left"><a name="127">127</a></span>
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/illus06a.jpg" width="540" height="771" alt="The wigwam was a failure." border="0" /></p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="129">129</a></span>
+"Seems to me, if anything, a <i>leetle</i> wetter in here
+than outside," said Sam, as he led in a dash for home.</p>
+<p>
+That night a heavy storm set in, and next day
+the boys found their flimsy wigwam blown down&mdash;nothing
+but a heap of ruins.</p>
+<p>
+Some time after, Raften asked at the table in
+characteristic stern style, "Bhoys, what's doin'
+down to yer camp? Is yer wigwam finished?"</p>
+<p>
+"No good," said Sam. "All blowed down."</p>
+<p>
+"How's that?"</p>
+<p>
+"I dunno'. It smoked like everything. We
+couldn't stay in it."</p>
+<p>
+"Couldn't a-been right made," said Raften; then
+with a sudden interest, which showed how eagerly
+he would have joined in this forty years ago, he
+said, "Why don't ye make a rale taypay?"</p>
+<p>
+"Dunno' how, an' ain't got no stuff."</p>
+<p>
+"Wall, now, yez have been pretty good an' ain't
+slacked on the wurruk, yez kin have the ould wagon
+kiver. Cousin Bert could tache ye how to make
+it, if he wuz here. Maybe Caleb Clark knows,"
+he added, with a significant twinkle of his eye.
+"Better ask him." Then he turned to give orders
+to the hired men, who, of course, ate at the family
+table.</p>
+<p>
+"Da, do you care if we go to Caleb?"</p>
+<p>
+"I don't care fwhat ye do wid him," was the reply.</p>
+<p>
+Raften was no idle talker and Sam knew that, so
+as soon as "the law was off" he and Yan got out the
+<span class="left"><a name="130">130</a></span>
+old wagon cover. It seemed like an acre of canvas
+when they spread it out. Having thus taken possession,
+they put it away again in the cow-house,
+their own domain, and Sam said: "I've a great
+notion to go right to Caleb; he sho'ly knows more
+about a teepee than any one else here, which ain't
+sayin' much."</p>
+<p>
+"Who's Caleb?"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, he's the old Billy Goat that shot at Da
+oncet, just after Da beat him at a horse trade. Let
+on it was a mistake: 'twas, too, as he found out,
+coz Da bought up some old notes of his, got 'em
+cheap, and squeezed him hard to meet them. He's
+had hard luck ever since.</p>
+<p>
+"He's a mortal queer old duck, that Caleb. He
+knows heaps about the woods, coz he was a hunter
+an' trapper oncet. My! wouldn't he be down on me
+if he knowed who was my Da, but he don't have to
+know."</p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+<img src="images/sketch067.gif" alt="Granny de Neuville's cabin" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="173" height="111" border="0" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="131">131</a></span>
+<h3><a name="2IV">IV</a></h3>
+<h3>The Sanger Witch</h3>
+
+<p class="indent">
+  The Sanger Witch dwelt in the bend of the creek,<br />
+  And neither could read nor write;<br />
+  But she knew in a day what few knew in a week,<br />
+  For hers was the second sight.<br />
+  "Read?" said she, "I am double read;<br />
+  You fools of the ink and pen<br />
+  Count never the eggs, but the sticks of the nest,<br />
+  See the clothes, not the souls of men."</p>
+              <p class="indent2">&mdash;Cracked Jimmy's Ballad of Sanger.<br /><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The boys set out for Caleb's. It was up the
+creek away from the camp ground. As they
+neared the bend they saw a small log shanty,
+with some poultry and a pig at the door.</p>
+<p>
+"That's where the witch lives," said Sam.</p>
+<p>
+"Who&mdash;old Granny de Neuville?"</p>
+<p>
+"Yep, and she just loves me. Oh, yes; about the
+same way an old hen loves a Chicken-hawk. 'Pears
+to me she sets up nights to love me."</p>
+<p>
+"Why?"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, I guess it started with the pigs. No, let's see:
+first about the trees. Da chopped off a lot of Elm
+trees that looked terrible nice from her windy. She's
+awful queer about a tree. She hates to see 'em cut
+down, an' that soured her same as if she owned 'em.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch068.gif" alt="Slippery Elm" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="226" height="194" border="0" />
+<p><span class="left"><a name="132">132</a></span>
+Then there wuz the pigs. You see, one winter she was
+awful hard up, an' she had two pigs worth, maybe,
+$5.00 each&mdash;anyway, she said they was, an' she ought
+to know, for they lived right in the shanty with her&mdash;an'
+she come to Da (I guess she had tried every one
+else first) an' Da he squeezed her down an' got the two
+pigs for $7.00. He al'ays does that. Then he comes
+home an' says to Ma, 'Seems to me the old lady is
+pretty hard put. 'Bout next Saturday you take two
+sacks of flour and some pork an' potatoes around an'
+see that she is fixed up right.' Da's al'ays doin' them
+things, too, on the quiet. So Ma goes with about
+$15.00 worth o' truck. The old witch was kinder
+'stand off.' She didn't say much. Ma was goin'
+slow, not knowin' just whether to give the stuff out
+an' out, or say it could be worked for next year, or
+some other year, when there was two moons, or some
+time when the work was all done. Well, the old
+witch said mighty little until the stuff was all put in
+the cellar, then she grabs up a big stick an' breaks out
+at Ma:</p>
+<p>
+"'Now you git out o' my house, you dhirty, sthuck-up
+thing. I ain't takin' no charity from the likes o'
+you. That thing you call your husband robbed me
+o' my pigs, an' we ain't any more'n square now, so
+git out an' don't you dar set fut in my house agin'."</p>
+<img src="images/sketch069.gif" width="80" height="200" alt="Ironwood, or Hop Hornbeam" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<p>
+"Well, she was sore on us when Da bought her
+pigs, but she was five times wuss after she clinched
+the groceries. 'Pears like they soured on her stummick."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="133">133</a></span>
+"What a shame, the old wretch," said Yan, with
+ready sympathy for the Raftens.</p>
+<p>
+"No," replied Sam; "she's only queer. There's
+lots o' folk takes her side. But she's awful queer.
+She won't have a tree cut if she can help it, an' when
+the flowers come in the spring she goes out in the
+woods and sets down beside 'em for hours an' calls
+'em 'Me beauty&mdash;me little beauty,' an' she just loves
+the birds. When the boys want to rile her they get a
+sling-shot an' shoot the birds in her garden an' she
+just goes crazy. She pretty near starves herself
+every winter trying to feed all the birds that come
+around. She has lots of 'em to feed right out o' her
+hand. Da says they think its an old pine root, but
+she has a way o' coaxin' 'em that's awful nice. There
+she'll stand in freezin' weather calling them 'Me
+beauties'.</p>
+
+<p>
+"You see that little windy in the end?" he
+continued, as they came close to the witch's hut.
+"Well, that's the loft, an' it's full o' all sorts o'
+plants an' roots."</p>
+<p>
+"What for?"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, for medicine. She's great on hairbs."</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, yes, I remember now Biddy did say that her
+Granny was a herb doctor."</p>
+<img src="images/sketch070.gif" alt="Silver Maple" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="128" height="184" border="0" />
+<p>
+"Doctor? She ain't much of a doctor, but I bet
+she knows every plant that grows in the woods, an'
+they're sure strong after they've been up there for
+a year, with the cat sleepin' on them."</p>
+<p>
+"I wish I could go and see her."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="134">134</a></span>
+"Guess we can," was the reply.</p>
+<p>
+"Doesn't she know you?"</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, but watch me fix her," drawled Sam. "There
+ain't nothin' she likes better'n a sick pusson."</p>
+<p>
+Sam stopped now, rolled up his sleeves and examined
+both arms, apparently without success, for he
+then loosed his suspenders, dropped his pants, and
+proceeded to examine his legs. Of course, all boys
+have more or less cuts and bruises in various stages of
+healing. Sam selected his best, just below the knee,
+a scratch from a nail in the fence. He had never
+given it a thought before, but now he "reckoned it
+would do." With a lead pencil borrowed from Yan
+he spread a hue of mortification all around it, a green
+butternut rind added the unpleasant yellowish-brown
+of human decomposition, and the result was a frightful
+looking plague spot. By chewing some grass he made
+a yellowish-green dye and expectorated this on the
+handkerchief which he bound on the sore. He then
+got a stick and proceeded to limp painfully toward
+the witch's abode. As they drew near, the partly
+open door was slammed with ominous force. Sam,
+quite unabashed, looked at Yan and winked, then
+knocked. The bark of a small dog answered. He
+knocked again. A sound now of some one moving
+within, but no answer. A third time he knocked,
+then a shrill voice: "Get out o' that. Get aff my
+place, you dirthy young riff-raff."</p>
+<p>
+Sam grinned at Yan. Then drawling a little more
+than usual, he said:</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="135">135</a></span>
+"It's a poor boy, Granny. The doctors can't do
+nothin' for him," which last, at least, was quite true.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch072.gif" width="118" height="100" alt="Granny de Neuville" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<p>
+There was no reply, so Sam made bold to open
+the door. There sat the old woman glowering with
+angry red eyes across the stove, a cat in her lap, a
+pipe in her mouth, and a dog growling toward the
+strangers.</p>
+<p>
+"Ain't you Sam Raften?" she asked fiercely.</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, marm. I get hurt on a nail in the fence.
+They say you kin git blood-p'isinin' that way," said
+Sam, groaning a little and trying to look interesting.
+The order to "get out" died on the witch's lips. Her
+good old Irish heart warmed to the sufferer. After
+all, it was rather pleasant to have the enemy thus
+humbly seek her aid, so she muttered:</p>
+<p>
+"Le's see it."</p>
+<p>
+Sam was trying amid many groans to expose the
+disgusting mess he had made around his knee, when a
+step was heard outside. The door opened and in
+walked Biddy.</p>
+<p>
+She and Yan recognized each other at once. The
+one had grown much longer, the other much broader
+since the last meeting, but the greeting was that
+of two warm-hearted people glad to see each other
+once more.</p>
+<p>
+"An' how's yer father an' yer mother an' how is all
+the fambily? Law, do ye mind the Cherry Lung-balm
+we uster make? My, but we wuz greenies then!
+Ye mind, I uster tell ye about Granny? Well, here
+she is. Granny, this is Yan. Me an' him hed lots
+o' fun together when I 'resided' with his mamma,
+<span class="left"><a name="136">136</a></span>
+didn't we, Yan? Now, Granny's the one to tell ye
+all about the plants."</p>
+<p>
+A long groan from Sam now called all attention his
+way.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, if it ain't Sam Raften," said Biddy coldly.</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, an' he's deathly sick," added Granny.
+"Their own docther guv him up an said mortal man
+couldn't save him nohow, so he jest hed to come to
+me."</p>
+<p>
+Another long groan was ample indorsement.</p>
+<p>
+"Le's see. Gimme my scissors, Biddy; I'll hev to
+cut the pant leg aff."</p>
+<p>
+"No, no," Sam blurted out with sudden vigour,
+dreading the consequences at home. "I kin roll
+it up."</p>
+<p>
+"Thayer, thot'll do. Now I say," said the witch.
+"Yes, sure enough, thayer <i>is</i> proud flesh. I moight
+cut it out," said she, fumbling in her pocket (Sam
+supposed for a knife, and made ready to dash for the
+door), "but le's see, no&mdash;that would be a fool docther
+trick. I kin git on without."</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, sure," said Sam, clutching at the idea, "that's
+just what a fool doctor would do, but you kin give
+me something to take that's far better."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, sure an' I kin," and Yan and Sam breathed
+more freely. "Shwaller this, now," and she offered
+him a tin cup of water into which she spilled some
+powder of dry leaves. Sam did so. "An' you take
+this yer bundle and bile it in two gallons of wather
+and drink a glassful ivery hour, an' hev a loive
+<span class="left"><a name="137">137</a></span>
+chicken sphlit with an axe an' laid hot on the place
+twicet ivery day, till the proud flesh goes, an' it'll be
+all right wid ye&mdash;a fresh chicken ivery toime, moind ye."</p>
+<p>
+"Wouldn't&mdash;turkeys&mdash;do&mdash;better?" groaned Sam,
+feebly. "I'm me mother's pet, Granny, an' expense
+ain't any objek"&mdash;a snort that may have meant
+mortal agony escaped him.</p>
+<p>
+"Niver moind, now. Sure we won't talk of yer father
+an' mother; they're punished pretty bad already.
+Hiven forbid they don't lose the rest o' ye fur their
+sins. It ain't meself that 'ud bear ony ill-will."</p>
+<p>
+A long groan cut short what looked like a young
+sermon.</p>
+<p>
+"What's the plant, Granny?" asked Yan, carefully
+avoiding Sam's gaze.</p>
+<p>
+"Shure, an' it grows in the woods."</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, but I want to know what it's like and what
+it's called."</p>
+<p>
+"Shure, 'tain't like nothin' else. It's just like
+itself, an' it's called Witch-hazel.</p>
+
+<p class="indent">
+ "'Witch-hazel blossoms in the faal,<br />
+ To cure the chills and Fayvers aall,'</p>
+
+<p>
+"as cracked Jimmy says."</p>
+<p>
+"I'll show you some av it sometime," said Biddy.</p>
+<p>
+"Can it be made into Lung-balm?" asked Yan,
+mischievously.</p>
+<p>
+"I guess we'll have to go now," Sam feebly put
+in. "I'm feeling much better. Where's my stick?
+<span class="left"><a name="138">138</a></span>
+Here, Yan, you kin carry my medicine, an' be <i>very</i>
+keerful of it."</p>
+<p>
+Yan took the bundle, not daring to look Sam in
+the face.</p>
+<p>
+Granny bade them both come back again, and
+followed to the door with a hearty farewell. At the
+same moment she said:</p>
+<p>
+"Howld on!" Then she went to the one bed in the
+room, which also was the house, turned down the
+clothes, and in the middle exposed a lot of rosy
+apples. She picked out two of the best and gave
+one to each of the boys.</p>
+<p>
+"Shure, Oi hev to hoide them thayer fram the
+pig, for they're the foinest iver grew."</p>
+<p>
+"I know they are," whispered Sam, as he limped
+out of hearing, "for her son Larry stole them out
+of our orchard last fall. They're the only kind
+that keeps over. They're the best that grow, but
+a trifle too warm just now."</p>
+<p>
+"Good-by, and thank you much," said Yan.</p>
+<p>
+"I-feel-better-already," drawled Sam. "That
+tired feeling has left me, an' sense tryin' your remedy
+I have took no other," but added aside, "I wish I
+could throw up the stuff before it pisens me," and
+then, with a keen eye to the picturesque effect, he
+wanted to fling his stick away and bound into the
+woods.</p>
+<p>
+It was all Yan could do to make him observe some
+of the decencies and limp a little till out of sight.
+As it was, the change was quite marked and the
+genial old witch called loudly on Biddy to see with
+<span class="left"><a name="139">139</a></span>
+her own eyes how quickly she had helped young
+Raften "afther all the dochters in the country hed
+giv him up."</p>
+<p>
+"Now for Caleb Clark, Esq., Q.C.," said Sam.</p>
+<p>
+"Q.C.?" inquired his friend.</p>
+<p>
+"Some consider it means Queen's Counsel, an'
+some claims as it stands for Queer Cuss. One or
+other maybe is right."</p>
+<p>
+"You're stepping wonderfully for a crippled boy
+the doctors have given up," remarked Yan.</p>
+<p>
+"Yes; that's the proud flesh in me right leg that's
+doin' the high steppin'. The left one is jest plain
+laig."</p>
+<p>
+"Let's hide this somewhere till we get back," and
+Yan held up the bundle of Witch-hazel.</p>
+<p>
+"I'll hide that," said Sam, and he hurled the
+bundle afar into the creek.</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, Sam, that's mean. Maybe she wants it
+herself."</p>
+<p>
+"Pooh, that's all the old brush is good for. I
+done more'n me duty when I drank that swill. I
+could fairly taste the cat in it."</p>
+<p>
+"What'll you tell her next time?"</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I'll tell her I put the sticks in the right
+place an' where they done the most good. I soaked
+'em in water an' took as much as I wanted of the
+flooid.</p>
+<p>
+"She'll see for herself I really did pull through,
+and will be a blamed sight happier than if I drank her
+old pisen brushwood an' had to send for a really
+<span class="left"><a name="140">140</a></span>
+truly doctor."</p>
+<p>
+Yan was silenced, but not satisfied. It seemed
+discourteous to throw the sticks away&mdash;so soon,
+anyway; besides, he had curiosity to know just what
+they were and how they acted.</p>
+<p class="center"><img src="images/sketch073.gif" width="246" height="150" alt="Granny's Hairb processor" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="141">141</a></span>
+<h3><a name="2V">V</a></h3>
+<h3>Caleb</h3>
+
+<p>
+A mile farther was the shanty of Caleb Clark, a
+mere squatter now on a farm once his own.
+As the boys drew near, a tall, round-shouldered
+man with a long white beard was seen
+carrying in an armful of wood.</p>
+<p>
+"Ye see the Billy Goat?" said Sam.</p>
+<p>
+Yan sniffed as he gasped the "why" of the nickname.</p>
+<p>
+"I guess you better do the talking; Caleb ain't so
+easy handled as the witch, and he's just as sour on
+Da."</p>
+<p>
+So Yan went forward rather cautiously and knocked
+at the open door of the shanty. A deep-voiced Dog
+broke into a loud bay, the long beard appeared,
+and its owner said, "Wall?"</p>
+<p>
+"Are you Mr. Clark?"</p>
+<p>
+"Yep." Then, "Lie down, Turk," to a black-and-tan
+Hound that came growling out.</p>
+<p>
+"I came&mdash;I&mdash;we wanted to ask some questions&mdash;if
+you don't mind."</p>
+<p>
+"What might yer name be?"</p>
+<p>
+"Yan."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="142">142</a></span>
+"An' who is this?"</p>
+<p>
+"He's my chum, Sam."</p>
+<p>
+"I'm Sam Horn," said Sam, with some truth, for
+he was Samuel Horn Raften, but with sufficient
+deception to make Yan feel very uncomfortable.</p>
+<p>
+"And where are ye from?"</p>
+<p>
+"Bonnerton," said Yan.</p>
+<p>
+"To-day?" was the rejoinder, with a tone of
+doubt.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, no," Yan began; but Sam, who had tried
+to keep out of notice for fear of recognition, saw that
+his ingenuous companion was being quickly pumped
+and placed, and now interposed: "You see, Mr. Clark,
+we are camped in the woods and we want to make
+a teepee to live in. We have the stuff an' was told
+that you knew all about the making."</p>
+<p>
+"Who told ye?"</p>
+<p>
+"The old witch at the bend of the creek."</p>
+<p>
+"Where are ye livin' now?"</p>
+<p>
+"Well," said Sam, hastening again to forestall
+Yan, whose simple directness he feared, "to tell
+the truth, we made a wigwam of bark in the woods
+below here, but it wasn't a success."</p>
+<p>
+"Whose woods?"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, about a mile below on the creek."</p>
+<p>
+"Hm! That must be Raften's or Burns's
+woods."</p>
+<p>
+"I guess it is," said Sam.</p>
+<p>
+"<i>An' you look uncommon like Sam Raften</i>. You
+consarned young whelp, to come here lyin' an' tryin'
+to pull the wool over my eyes. Get out o' this now,
+or I'll boot ye."</p>
+<span class="left"><a name="143">143</a></span>
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/illus07a.jpg" width="640" height="494" alt="Get out o' this now, or I'll boot ye." border="0" /></p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="145">145</a></span>
+Yan turned very red. He thought of the scripture
+text, "Be sure your sin will find you out," and he
+stepped back. Sam stuck his tongue in his cheek
+and followed. But he was his father's son. He
+turned and said:</p>
+<p>
+"Now see here, Mr. Clark, fair and square; we
+come here to ask a simple question about the woods.
+You are the only man that knows or we wouldn't
+'a' bothered you. I knowed you had it in for Da,
+so I tried to fool you, and it didn't go. I wish now
+I had just come out square and said, 'I'm Sam
+Raften; will you tell me somethin' I want to know,
+or won't you?' I didn't know you hed anything
+agin me or me friend that's camping with me."</p>
+<p>
+There is a strong bond of sympathy between all
+Woodcrafters. The mere fact that a man wants to
+go his way is a claim on a Woodcrafter's notice. Old
+Caleb, though soured by trouble and hot-tempered,
+had a kind heart; he resisted for a moment the first
+impulse to slam the door in their faces; then as he
+listened he fell into the tempter's snare, for it was
+baited with the subtlest of flatteries. He said to
+Yan:</p>
+<img src="images/sketch074.gif" alt="pole for teepee" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="189" height="58" border="0" />
+<p>
+"Is your name Raften?"</p>
+<p>
+"No, sir."</p>
+<p>
+"Air ye owt o' kin?"</p>
+<p>
+"No, sir."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="146">146</a></span>
+"I don't want no truck with a Raften, but what
+do ye want to know?"</p>
+<p>
+"We built a wigwam of bark, but it's no good,
+but now we have a big canvas cover an' want to
+know how to make a teepee."</p>
+<p>
+"A teepee. H-m&mdash;" said the old man reflectively.</p>
+<p>
+"They say you've lived in them," ventured Yan.</p>
+<p>
+"Hm&mdash;'bout forty year; but it's one thing to
+wear a suit of clothes and another thing to make
+one. Seems to me it was about like this," and he
+took up a burnt stick and a piece of grocer's paper.
+"No&mdash;now hold on. Yes, I remember now; I seen
+a bunch of squaws make one oncet.</p>
+<p>
+"First they sewed the skins together. No, first
+thar was a lot o' prayin'; ye kin suit yerselves 'bout
+that&mdash;then they sewed the skins together an" pegged it
+down flat on the prairie (B D H I, Cut No. 1).</p><br /><br />
+<span class="left"><a name="147">147</a></span>
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/sketch076.gif" width="391" height="222" alt="Pattern for a Simple 10-Foot Teepee" border="0" /></p>
+
+<h5>PATTERN FOR A SIMPLE 10-FOOT TEEPEE</h5><br /><br />
+<p>
+"Then put in a peg at the middle of one side (A).
+Then with a burnt stick an' a coord&mdash;yes, there
+must 'a' been a coord&mdash;they drawed a half circle&mdash;so
+(B C D). Then they cut that off, an' out o' the
+pieces they make two flaps like that (H L M J and
+K N O I), an' sews 'em on to P E and G Q. Them's
+smoke-flaps to make the smoke draw. Thar's a upside
+down pocket in the top side corner o' each smoke-flap&mdash;so&mdash;for
+the top of each pole, and there is
+rows o' holes down&mdash;so (M B and N D, Cut No. 2)&mdash;on
+each side fur the lacin' pins. Then at the
+top of that pint (A, Cut 1) ye fasten a short lash-rope.</p><br /><br />
+
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/sketch075.gif" width="386" height="232" alt="The Complete Teepee Cover&mdash;Unornamented" border="0" /></p>
+<h5>THE COMPLETE TEEPEE COVER&mdash;UNORNAMENTED</h5>
+<br /><br />
+<img src="images/sketch077.gif" width="127" height="290" alt="1st set up tripod, 2nd set up and bind other six poles" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<p><span class="left"><a name="149">149</a></span>
+"Le's see, now. I reckon thar's about ten poles for
+a ten-foot lodge, with two more for the smoke-flaps.
+Now, when ye set her up ye tie three poles together&mdash;so&mdash;an'
+
+set 'em up first, then lean the other poles around,
+except one, an' lash them by carrying the rope around
+a few times. Now tie the top o' the cover to the
+top o' the last pole by the short lash-rope, hist the
+pole into place&mdash;that hists the cover, too, ye see&mdash;an'
+ye swing it round with the smoke-poles an' fasten
+the two edges together with the wooden pins. The
+two long poles put in the smoke-flap pockets works
+the vent to suit the wind."</p>
+<p>
+In his conversation Caleb had ignored Sam and
+talked to Yan, but the son of his father was not so
+easily abashed. He foresaw several practical difficulties
+and did not hesitate to ask for light.</p>
+<p>
+"What keeps it from blowin' down?" he asked.</p>
+<p>
+"Wall," said Caleb, still addressing Yan, "the
+long rope that binds the poles is carried down under,
+and fastened tight to a stake that serves for anchor,
+'sides the edge of the cover is pegged to the ground
+all around."</p>
+<p>
+"How do you make the smoke draw?" was his
+next.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch079.gif" alt="3rd set up tenth pole with teepee cover fastened to it by lash rope" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="195" height="133" border="0" />
+<span style="position:absolute; left: 70%; right: 1%; font-size: 0.7em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+3rd set up tenth pole with teepee cover fastened to it by lash rope</span>
+<p>
+"Ye swing the flaps by changing the poles till they
+is quartering down the wind. That draws best."</p>
+
+<img src="images/sketch078.gif" width="174" height="184" alt="Sioux Teepee" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+<p><br />
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+"How do you close the door?"</p>
+<p>
+"Wall, some jest lets the edges sag together, but
+
+the best teepees has a door made of the same stuff as
+the cover put tight on a saplin' frame an' swung from
+<span class="left"><a name="150">150</a></span>
+a lacin' pin."</p>
+<img src="images/sketch080.gif" width="73" height="215" alt="Chestnut" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+
+<p>
+This seemed to cover the ground, so carefully folding
+the dirty paper with the plan, Yan put it in his pocket,
+said "Thank you" and went off. To the "Good-day"
+of the boys Caleb made no reply, but turned as they
+left and asked, "Whar ye camped?"</p>
+<img src="images/sketch081.gif" width="111" height="55" alt="Oak" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<p>
+"On the knoll by the creek in Raften's swamp."</p>
+<p>
+"H-m, maybe I'll come an' see ye."</p>
+<p>
+"All right," Sam called out; "follow the blazed
+trail from the brush fence."</p>
+<img src="images/sketch082.gif" width="219" height="317" alt="Chestnut Oak, Red Oak" border="0" align="left" hspace="15" />
+<p>
+"Why, Sam," said Yan, as soon as they were out
+of hearing, "there isn't any blazed trail; why did you
+say that?"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, I thought it sounded well," was the calm
+answer, "an' it's easy to have the blazes there as soon
+as we want to, an' a blame sight sooner than he's
+likely to use them."</p><br />
+<img src="images/sketch083.gif" align="right" hspace="10" width="123" height="178" alt="Blackjack Oak" border="0" />
+
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<img src="images/sketch084.gif" width="103" height="116" alt="Pin Oak" align="left" border="0" />
+<img src="images/sketch085.gif" alt="Swamp White Oak" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="151" height="121" border="0" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<span class="left"><a name="151">151</a></span>
+<h3><a name="2VI">VI</a></h3>
+
+<h3>The Making of the Teepee</h3>
+
+
+<p>
+Raften sniffed in amusement when he heard
+that the boys had really gone to Caleb and got
+what they wanted. Nothing pleased him
+more than to find his son a successful schemer.</p>
+<p>
+"Old Caleb wasn't so dead sure about the teepee,
+as near as I sized him up," observed Sam.</p>
+<p>
+"I guess we've got enough to go ahead on," said
+Yan, "an' tain't a hanging matter if we do make a
+mistake."</p>
+<p>
+The cover was spread out again flat and smooth on
+the barn floor, and stones and a few nails put in the
+sides to hold it.</p>
+<p>
+The first thing that struck them was that it was a
+rough and tattered old rag.</p>
+<p>
+And Sam remarked: "I see now why Da said we
+could have it. I reckon we'll have to patch it before
+we cut out the teepee."</p>
+<p>
+"No," said Yan, assuming control, as he was apt
+to do in matters pertaining to the woods; "we better
+draw our plans first so as not to patch any part that's
+going to be cut off afterward."</p>
+<p>
+"Great head! But I'm afraid them patches won't
+be awful ornamental."</p>
+<span class="left"><a name="152">152</a></span>
+<p>
+"They're all right," was the reply. "Indians'
+teepees are often patched where bullets and arrows
+have gone through."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I'm glad I wa'n't living inside during them
+hostilities," and Sam exposed a dozen or more holes.</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, get off there and give me that cord."</p>
+<p>
+"Look out," said Sam; "that's my festered knee.
+It's near as bad to-day as it was when we called on
+the witch."</p>
+<p>
+Yan was measuring. "Let's see. We can cut off
+all those rags and still make a twelve-foot teepee.
+Twelve foot high&mdash;that will be twenty-four feet
+across the bottom of the stuff. Fine! That's just the
+thing. Now I'll mark her off."</p>
+<p>
+"Hold on, there," protested his friend; "you can't
+do that with chalk. Caleb said the Injuns used a
+burnt stick. You hain't got no right to use chalk.
+'You might as well hire a carpenter.'"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, you go on. You hunt for a burnt stick, and
+if you don't find one bring me the shears instead."</p>
+<p>
+Thus, with many consultations of Caleb's draft, the
+cutting-out was done&mdash;really a very simple matter.
+Then the patching was to be considered.</p>
+<p>
+Pack-thread, needles and <i>very l-o-n-g</i> stitches were
+used, but the work went slowly on. All the spare
+time of one day was given to patching. Sam, of
+course, kept up a patter of characteristic remarks to
+the piece he was sewing. Yan sewed in serious
+silence. At first Sam's were put on better, but Yan
+learned fast and at length did by far the better sewing.<br /><br /></p><br /><br />
+<span class="left"><a name="153">153</a></span>
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/sketch086.jpg" width="387" height="239" alt="Decoration of Black Bull's Teepee: (Two Examples of Doors)" border="0" /></p>
+<h4>Decoration of Black Bull's Teepee: (Two Examples of Doors)</h4><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/sketch087.gif" width="385" height="209" alt="Thunder Bull's Teepee" border="0" /></p>
+<h4>THUNDER BULL'S TEEPEE</h4><br /><br />
+<span class="left"><a name="154">154</a></span>
+<br /><br />
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/sketch088.gif" width="392" height="163" alt="Under-view of storm-cap; storm-cap in place" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br />
+<h5>Notes on Making Teepee</h5>
+<span class="note">
+The slimmer the poles are at the top where they cross the smaller the opening in the canvas and the less danger
+of rain coming in.<br /><br />
+
+In regions where there is much rain it is well to cut the projecting poles very short and put over them a
+"storm cap," "bull boat" or "shield" made of canvas on a rod bent in a three-foot circle. This device was
+used by the Mandans over the smoke-hole of their lodges during the heavy rains.</span>
+<br /><br /><hr class="medium" />
+<p>
+<span class="left"><a name="155">155</a></span>
+That night the boys were showing their handiwork
+to the hired hands. Si Lee, a middle-aged man with
+a vast waistband, after looking on with ill-concealed
+but good-natured scorn, said:
+<img src="images/sketch089.gif" width="101" height="128" alt="patch" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+</p>
+<p>
+
+"Why didn't ye put the patches inside?"</p>
+<p>
+"Didn't think of it," was Yan's answer.</p>
+<p>
+"Coz we're goin' to live inside, an' need the room,"
+said Sam.</p>
+<p>
+"Why did ye make ten stitches in going round that
+hole; ye could just as easy have done it in four," and
+Si sniffed as he pointed to great, ungainly stitches an
+inch long. "I call that waste labour."</p>
+<p>
+"Now see here," blurted Sam, "if you don't like
+our work let's see you do it better. There's lots to do
+yet."</p>
+<p>
+"Where?"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, ask Yan. He's bossin' the job. Old Caleb
+wouldn't let me in. It just broke my heart. I
+sobbed all the way home, didn't I, Yan?</p>
+<p>
+"There's the smoke-flaps to stitch on and hem, and
+the pocket at the top of the flaps&mdash;and&mdash;I&mdash;suppose,"
+Yan added, as a feeler, "it&mdash;would&mdash;be&mdash;better&mdash;if&mdash;hemmed&mdash;all&mdash;around."</p>
+<p>
+"Now, I tell ye what I'll do. If you boys'll go to
+the 'Corner'  to-night and get my boots that the
+cobbler's fixing, I'll sew on the smoke-flaps."</p>
+<p>
+"I'll take that offer," said Yan; "and say, Si, it
+doesn't really matter which is the outside. You can
+turn the cover so the patches will be in."</p>
+<p>
+The boys got the money to pay for the boots, and
+after supper they set out on foot for the "Corner,"
+<span class="left"><a name="156">156</a></span>
+two miles away.</p>
+<p>
+"He's a queer duck," and Sam jerked his thumb
+back to show that he meant Si Lee; "sounds like a
+Chinese laundry. I guess that's the only thing
+he isn't. He can do any mortal thing but get on in
+life. He's been a soldier an' a undertaker an' a cook
+He plays a fiddle he made himself; it's a rotten bad
+one, but it's away ahead of his playing. He stuffs
+birds&mdash;that Owl in the parlour is his doin'; he tempers
+razors, kin doctor a horse or fix up a watch, an' he
+does it in about the same way, too; bleeds a horse no
+matter what ails it, an' takes another wheel out o'
+the watch every times he cleans it. He took Larry
+de Neuville's old clock apart to clean once&mdash;said he
+knew all about it&mdash;an' when he put it together again
+he had wheels enough left over for a new clock.</p>
+<p>
+"He's too smart an' not smart enough. There ain't
+anything on earth he can't do a little, an' there ain't
+a blessed thing that he can do right up first-class,
+but thank goodness sewing canvas is his long suit.
+You see he was a sailor for three years&mdash;longest time
+he ever kept a job, fur which he really ain't to blame,
+since it was a whaler on a three-years' cruise."</p>
+<img src="images/sketch090.gif" width="138" height="144" alt="fiddler" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<span class="left"><a name="157">157</a></span>
+<h3><a name="2VII">VII</a></h3>
+
+<h3>The Calm Evening</h3>
+
+<p>
+It was a calm June evening, the time of the
+second daily outburst of bird song, the day's
+aftermath. The singers seemed to be in unusual
+numbers as well. Nearly every good perch had
+some little bird that seemed near bursting with joy
+and yet trying to avert that dire catastrophe.</p>
+<p>
+As the boys went down the road by the outer fence of
+their own orchard a Hawk came sailing over, silencing
+as he came the singing within a given radius. Many
+of the singers hid, but a Meadow Lark that had been
+whistling on a stake in the open was now vainly
+seeking shelter in the broad field. The Hawk was
+speeding his way. The Lark dodged and put on all
+power to reach the orchard, but the Hawk was after
+him now&mdash;was gaining&mdash;in another moment would
+have clutched the terrified musician, but out of the
+Apple trees there dashed a small black-and-white bird&mdash;the
+Kingbird. With a loud harsh twitter&mdash;his war-cry&mdash;repeated
+again and again, with his little gray
+head-feathers raised to show the blood-and-flame-coloured
+undercrest&mdash;his war colours&mdash;he darted
+straight at the great robber.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="158">158</a></span>
+"Clicker-a-clicker," he fairly screamed, and made
+for the huge Hawk, ten times his size.</p>
+<p>
+"Clicker-a-clicker!" he shrieked, like a cateran
+shouting the "slogan," and down like a black-and-white
+dart&mdash;to strike the Hawk fairly between the
+shoulders just as the Meadow Lark dropped in despair
+to the bare ground and hid its head from the approaching
+stroke of death.</p>
+<p>
+"Clicker-a-clicker"&mdash;and the Hawk wheeled in
+sudden consternation. "Clicker-a-clicker"&mdash;and the
+dauntless little warrior dropped between his wings,
+stabbing and tearing.</p>
+<p>
+The Hawk bucked like a mustang, the Kingbird
+was thrown, but sprung on agile pinions above again.</p>
+<p>
+"Clicker-a-clicker," and he struck as before.
+Large brown feathers were floating away on the
+breeze now. The Meadow Lark was forgotten. The
+Hawk thought only of escape.</p>
+<span class="left"><a name="159">159</a></span>
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/illus08a.jpg" width="560" height="804" alt="'Clicker-a-clicker!' he shrieked ... and down like a dart." border="0" />
+</p>
+<p>
+"Clicker-a-clicker," the slogan still was heard.
+The Hawk was putting on all speed to get away, but
+the Kingbird was riding him most of the time.
+Several brown feathers floated down, the Hawk
+dwindled in the distance to a Sparrow and the Kingbird
+to a fly dancing on his back. The Hawk made a
+final plunge into a thicket, and the king came home
+again, uttering the shrill war-cry once or twice,
+probably to let the queen know that he was coming
+back, for she flew to a high branch of the Apple tree
+where she could greet the returning hero. He came
+with an occasional "clicker-a-clicker"&mdash;then, when
+near her, he sprung fifty feet in the air and dashed
+<span class="left"><a name="161">161</a></span>
+down, screaming his slogan without interruption,
+darting zigzag with the most surprising evolutions
+and turns&mdash;this way, that way, sideways and downward,
+dealing the deadliest blows right and left at an
+imaginary foe, then soared, and did it all over again
+two or three times, just to show how far he was from
+being tired, and how much better he could have done
+it had it been necessary. Then with a final swoop
+and a volley of "clickers" he dashed into the bush
+to receive the congratulations of the one for whom it
+all was meant and the only spectator for whose
+opinion he cared in the least.</p>
+<p>
+"Now, ain't that great," said Sam, with evident
+sincerity and pleasure. His voice startled Yan
+and brought him back. He had been wholly lost
+in silent admiring wonder of the dauntless little
+Kingbird.</p>
+<p>
+A Vesper Sparrow ran along the road before them,
+flitting a few feet ahead each time they overtook it
+and showing the white outer tail-feathers as it flew.</p>
+<p>
+"A little Graybird," remarked Sam.</p>
+<p>
+"No, that isn't a Graybird; that's a Vesper
+Sparrow," exclaimed Yan, in surprise, for he knew
+he was right.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, <i>I</i> dunno," said Sam, yielding the point.</p>
+<p>
+"I thought you said you knew every bird that
+flies and all about it" replied his companion, for the
+memory of this first day was strong with him yet.</p>
+<p>
+Sam snorted: "I didn't know you then. I was
+just loadin' you up so you'd think I was a wonderful
+<span class="left"><a name="162">162</a></span>
+feller, an' you did, too&mdash;for awhile."</p>
+<p>
+A Red-headed Woodpecker, carrying a yellow
+butterfly, flew on a fence stake ahead of them and
+peeped around as they drew near. The setting sun
+on his bright plumage, the lilac stake and the yellow
+butterfly, completed a most gorgeous bit of colour
+and gave Yan a thrill of joy. A Meadow Lark on a
+farther stake, a Bluebird on another, and a Vesper
+Bird on a stone, each added his appeal to eye and
+ear, till Sam exclaimed:</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, ain't that awful nice?" and Yan was dumb
+with a sort of saddened joy.</p>
+<p>
+Birds hate the wind, and this was one of those
+birdy days that come only with a dead calm.</p>
+<p>
+They passed a barn with two hundred pairs of
+Swallows flying and twittering around, a cut bank
+of the road had a colony of 1,000 Sand Martins, a
+stream had its rattling Kingfishers, and a marsh
+was the playground of a multitude of Red-winged
+Blackbirds.</p>
+<p>
+Yan was lifted up with the joy of the naturalist at
+seeing so many beautiful living things. Sam felt it,
+too; he grew very silent, and the last half-mile to the
+"Corner" was passed without a word. The boots were
+got. Sam swung them around his neck and the boys
+set out for home. The sun was gone, but not the
+birds, and the spell of the evening was on them still.
+A Song Sparrow by the brook and a Robin high in the
+Elm were yet pouring out their liquid notes in the
+gloaming.</p>
+<img src="images/152a.gif" width="660" height="197" alt="Teepees" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<p><span class="left"><a name="163">163</a></span>
+"I wish I could be always here," said Yan, but he
+started a little when he remembered how unwilling he
+had been to come.</p>
+<p>
+There was a long silence as they lingered on the
+darkening road. Each was thinking hard.</p>
+<p>
+A loud, startling but soft "Ohoo&mdash;O-hoo&mdash;O-hoooooo,"
+like the coo of a giant dove, now
+sounded about their heads in a tree. They stopped
+and Sam whispered, "Owl; big Hoot Owl." Yan's
+heart leaped with pleasure. He had read all his life of
+Owls, and even had seen them alive in cages, but this
+was the first time he had ever heard the famous
+hooting of the real live wild Owl, and it was a
+delicious experience.</p>
+<p>
+The night was quite dark now, but there were
+plenty of sounds that told of life. A Whippoorwill
+was chanting in the woods, a hundred Toads and
+Frogs creaked and trilled, a strange rolling, laughing
+cry on a marshy pond puzzled them both, then a
+Song Sparrow in the black night of a dense thicket
+poured forth its sweet little sunshine song with all the
+vigour and joy of its best daytime doing.</p>
+<p>
+They listened attentively for a repetition of the
+serenade, when a high-pitched but not loud
+"<i>Wa&mdash;wa&mdash;wa&mdash;wa&mdash;wa&mdash;wa&mdash;wa&mdash;wa</i>!"
+reached their ears from a grove of heavy timbers.</p>
+<p>
+"Hear that?" exclaimed Sam.</p>
+<p>
+Again it came, a quavering squall, apparently
+much nearer. It was a rather shrill sound, quite
+unbirdy, and Sam whispered:</p>
+<img src="images/153a.gif" width="660" height="207" alt="More Teepees" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<p><span class="left"><a name="164">164</a></span>
+"Coon&mdash;that's the whicker of a Coon. We can
+come down here some time when corn's 'in roastin''
+an' have a Coon hunt."</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, Sam, wouldn't that be glorious!" said Yan.
+"How I wish it was now. I never saw a Coon hunt
+or any kind of a hunt. Do we have to wait till
+'roasting-ear' time?"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, yes; it's easier to find them then. You say
+to your Coons, 'Me an' me dogs will meet you
+to-night at the nearest roastin'-ear patch,' an' sure
+nuff <i>they'll</i> keep the appointment."</p>
+<p>
+"But they're around now, for we just heard one,
+<i>and there's another</i>."</p>
+<p>
+A long faint "<i>Lil&mdash;lil&mdash;lil&mdash;lil&mdash;lil&mdash;li-looo!</i>" now
+sounded from the trees. It was like the other, but
+much softer and sweeter.</p>
+<p>
+"There's where you fool yerself," replied Sam, "an'
+there's where many a hunter is fooled. That last
+one's the call of a Screech Owl. You see it's softer
+and whistlier than the Coon whicker."</p>
+<p>
+They heard it again and again from the trees. It
+was a sweet musical sound, and Yan remembered how
+squally the Coon call was in comparison, and yet
+many hunters never learn the difference.</p>
+<p>
+As they came near the tree whence the Owl called at
+intervals, a gray blot went over their heads, shutting
+out a handful of stars for a moment as it passed over
+them, but making no noise. "There he goes,"
+whispered Sam. "That's the Screech Owl. Not
+much of a screech, was it?" Not long afterward
+Yan came across a line of Lowell's which says, "The
+<span class="left"><a name="165">165</a></span>
+song of the Screech Owl is the sweetest sound in
+nature," and appreciated the absurdity of the name.</p>
+<p>
+"I want to go on a Coon hunt," continued Yan,
+and the sentence was just tinged with the deep-laid
+doggedness that was usually lost in his courteous
+manner.</p>
+<p>
+"That settles it," answered the other, for he was
+learning what that tone meant. "We'll surely go
+when you talk that way, for, of coorse, it <i>kin</i> be done.
+You see, I know more about animals than birds," he
+continued. "I'm just as likely to be a dentist as a
+hunter so far as serious business is concerned, but I'd
+sure love to be a hunter for awhile, an' I made Da
+promise to go with me some time. Maybe we kin get
+a Deer by going back ten miles to the Long Swamp.
+I only wish Da and Old Caleb hadn't fought, 'cause
+Caleb sure knows the woods, an' that old Hound of his
+has treed more Coons than ye could shake a stick at
+in a month o' Sundays."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, if that's the only Coon dog around, I'm
+going to get him. You'll see," was the reply.</p>
+<p>
+"I believe you will," answered Sam, in a tone of
+mixed admiration and amusement.</p>
+<p>
+It was ten o'clock when they got home, and every
+one was in bed but Mr. Raften. The boys turned in
+at once, but next morning, on going to the barn, they
+found that Si had not only sewed on and hemmed
+the smoke-flaps, but had resewn the worst of the
+patches and hemmed the whole bottom of the teepee
+cover with a small rope in the hem, so that they were
+<span class="left"><a name="166">166</a></span>
+ready now for the pins and poles.</p>
+<p>
+The cover was taken at once to the camp ground.
+Yan carried the axe. When they came to the brush
+fence over the creek at the edge of the swamp, he
+said:</p>
+<p>
+"Sam, I want to blaze that trail for old Caleb.
+How do you do it?"</p>
+<p>
+"Spot the trees with the axe every few yards."</p>
+<p>
+"This way?" and Yan cut a tree in three places,
+so as to show three white spots or blazes.</p>
+<p>
+"No; that's a trapper's blaze for a trap or a 'special
+blaze,' but a 'road blaze' is one on the front of the
+tree and one on the back&mdash;so&mdash;then ye can run the
+trail both ways, an' you put them thicker if it's to
+be followed at night."</p><br />
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/sketch093.gif" width="310" height="195" alt="Teepee pattern" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="167">167</a></span>
+<h3><a name="2VIII">VIII</a></h3>
+<h3>The Sacred Fire</h3>
+
+<p>
+"Ten strong poles and two long thin ones," said
+Yan, reading off. These were soon cut and
+brought to the camp ground.</p>
+<p>
+"Tie them together the same height as the teepee
+cover&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+<p>
+"Tie them? With what?"</p>
+<p>
+"'Rawhide rope,' he said, but he also said 'Make
+the cover of skins.' I'm afraid we shall have to use
+common rope for the present," and Yan looked
+a little ashamed of the admission.</p>
+<p>
+"I reckoned so," drawled Sam, "and so I put a
+coil of quarter-inch in the cover, but I didn't dare
+to tell you that up at the barn."</p>
+<p>
+The tripod was firmly lashed with the rope and set
+up. Nine poles were duly leaned around in a twelve-foot
+circle, for a teepee twelve feet high usually has
+a twelve-foot base. A final lashing of the ropes
+held these, and the last pole was then put up opposite
+to the door, with the teepee cover tied to it at
+the point between the flaps. The ends of the two
+smoke-poles carried the cover round. Then the
+<img src="images/sketch094.gif" alt="Blackfoot Teepee" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="148" height="173" border="0" />
+lacing-pins were needed. Yan tried to make them
+of Hickory shoots, but the large, soft pith came just
+where the point was needed. So Sam said, "You
+<span class="left"><a name="168">168</a></span>
+can't beat White Oak for pins." He cut a block
+of White Oak, split it down the middle, then split
+half of it in the middle again, and so on till it was
+small enough to trim and finish with his knife.
+Meanwhile Yan took the axe to split another, but
+found that it ran off to one side instead of going
+straight down the grain.</p>
+<p>
+"No good," was Sam's comment. "You must keep
+<i>halving</i> each time or it will run out toward the
+thin pieces. You want to split shingles all winter
+to larn that."</p>
+<p>
+Ten pins were made eight inches long and a quarter
+of an inch thick. They were used just like dressmakers'
+stickpins, only the holes had to be made
+first, and, of course, they looked better for being
+regular. Thus the cover was laced on. The lack
+of ground-pegs was then seen.</p>
+<p>
+"You make ten Oak pins a foot long and an inch
+square, Sam. I've a notion how to fix them." Then
+Yan cut ten pieces of the rope, each two feet long,
+and made a hole about every three feet around the
+base of the cover above the rope in the outer seam.
+He passed one end of each short rope through this
+and knotted it to the other end. Thus he had ten
+peg-loops, and the teepee was fastened down and
+looked like a glorious success.</p>
+<p><img src="images/sketch095.gif" width="148" height="170" alt="Piegan Teepee" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+Now came the grand ceremony of all, the lighting
+of the first fire. The boys felt it to be a supreme
+and almost a religious moment. It is curious to note
+<span class="left"><a name="169">169</a></span>
+that they felt very much as savages do under the
+same circumstances&mdash;that the setting up of the new
+teepee and lighting its first fire is an act of deep
+significance, and to be done only with proper regard
+for its future good luck.</p>
+<p>
+"Better go slow and sure about that fire. It'd
+be awfully unlucky to have it fizzle for the first
+time."</p>
+<p>
+"That's so," replied Yan, with the same sort of
+superstitious dread. "Say, Sam, if we could really
+light it with rubbing-sticks, wouldn't it be great?"</p>
+<p>
+"Hallo!"</p>
+<p>
+The boys turned, and there was Caleb close to
+them. He came over and nodded. "Got yer
+teepee, I see? Not bad, but what did ye face her
+to the west fur?"</p>
+<p>
+"Fronting the creek," explained Yan.</p>
+<p>
+"I forgot to tell ye," said Caleb, "an Injun teepee
+always fronts the east; first, that gives the morning
+sun inside; next, the most wind is from the west, so
+the smoke is bound to draw."</p>
+<p>
+"And what if the wind is right due east?" asked
+Sam, "which it surely will be when it rains?"</p>
+<p>
+"And when the wind's east," continued Caleb,
+addressing no one in particular, and not as though
+in answer to a question, "ye lap the flaps across
+each other tight in front, so," and he crossed his
+hands over his chest. "That leaves the east side
+high and shuts out the rain; if it don't draw then,<br /><br />
+<img src="images/sketch096a.gif" width="392" height="144" alt="Three Teepees" border="0" />
+<br /><br />
+ye raise the bottom of the cover under the door just
+a little&mdash;that always fetches her. An' when you
+<span class="left"><a name="170">170</a></span>
+change her round don't put her in under them
+trees. Trees is dangerous; in a storm they draw
+lightning, an' branches fall from them, an' after rain
+they keep on dripping for an hour. Ye need all the
+sun ye kin get on a teepee.</p>
+<p>
+"Did you ever see Indians bring fire out of two
+sticks by rubbing, Mr. Clark?"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, yes. Most of the Injuns now carry matches,
+but in the early days I seen it done often enough."</p>
+<p>
+"Does it take long? Is it hard?"</p>
+<p>
+"Not so long, and it's easy enough, when ye know
+how."</p>
+<p>
+"My! I'd rather bring fire out of two sticks than
+have a ten dollar bill," said Yan, with enthusiasm
+that meant much, for one dollar was his high-water
+mark of affluence, and this he had reached but once
+in his life.</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, I dunno'; that depends," was Sam's more
+guarded response.</p>
+<p>
+"Can <i>you</i> do it?" asked Yan.</p>
+<p>
+"Wall, yes, if I kin get the right stuff. Ye see, it
+ain't every wood that will do it. It's got to be jest
+right. The Plains Injuns use Cottonwood root, an'
+the Mountain Injuns use Sage-brush root. I've seen
+the Canadian Injuns use Basswood, Cedar and dry
+White Pine, but the Chippewas mostly use Balsam
+Fir. The easiest way is with a bow-drill. Have ye
+any buckskin?"</p>
+<p>
+"No."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="171">171</a></span>
+"Or a strip o' soft leather?"</p>
+<p>
+"I've got a leather shoe-lace," said Yan.</p>
+<p>
+"Rather slim; but we'll double it an' make it do.
+A cord will answer, but it frays out so soon."
+Caleb took the lace and the axe, then said, "Find me
+a stone 'bout the size of an egg, with a little hole into
+it&mdash;like a socket hole&mdash;'bout a quarter inch deep."</p>
+<p>
+The boys went to the creek to seek a stone and
+Caleb went into the woods.</p>
+<p>
+They heard him chopping, and presently he came
+back with a flat piece of very dry Balsam Fir, a
+<img src="images/sketch097.gif" width="98" height="159" alt="Balsam Fir" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+fifteen-inch pin of the same, a stick about three feet
+long, slightly bent, some dry Pine punk and some
+dry Cedar.</p>
+<p>
+The pin was three-quarters of an inch thick and
+was roughly eight-sided, "so the lace would grip."
+It was pointed at both ends. He fastened the lace
+to the bent stick like a bow-string, but loosely, so
+that when it had one turn around the pin it was
+quite tight. The flat piece of Balsam he trimmed
+down to about half an inch thick. In the edge of
+this he now cut a notch one-quarter inch wide and
+half an inch deep, then on the top of this fire-board
+or block, just beyond the notch, he made with the
+point of his knife a little pit.</p>
+<p>
+He next scraped and shredded a lot of dry Cedar
+wood like lint. Then making a hole half an inch
+deep in the ground, he laid in that a flat piece of
+Pine punk, and across this he set the fire-board.
+The point of the pin or drill was put in the pit of
+the fire-board, which he held down with one foot;
+<span class="left"><a name="172">172</a></span>
+the lace was given one turn on the pin, and its top
+went into the hole of the stone the boys brought.
+The stone was held firmly in Caleb's left hand.</p>
+<p>
+"Sometimes," he remarked, "when ye can't
+find a stone, a Pine knot will do&mdash;ye kin make the
+socket-hole with a knife-point."</p>
+<p>
+Now holding the bow in his right hand, he began
+to draw it back and forth with long, steady strokes,
+causing the pin to whirl round in the socket. Within
+a few seconds a brown powder began to run out of
+the notch of the fire-board onto the punk. The
+pit increased in size and blackened, the powder
+darkened, and a slight smoke arose from the pit.
+Caleb increased the pressure of his left hand a little,
+and sawed faster with the right. The smoke steadily
+increased and the black powder began to fill the notch.
+The smoke was rolling in little clouds from under
+the pin, and it even seemed to come from the heap
+of powder. As soon as he saw that, Caleb dropped
+the bow and gently fanned the powder heap. It
+still smoked. He removed the fire-board, and lifting
+the punk, showed the interior of the powder to be
+one glowing coal. On this he laid the Cedar tinder
+and over that a second piece of punk. Then raising
+it, he waved it in the air and blew gently for awhile.
+It smouldered and then burst into a flame. The
+other material was handy, and in a very short time
+they had a blazing fire in the middle of the new
+teepee.</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="left"><a name="174">174</a></span>
+<img src="images/sketch098a.jpg" width="576" height="363" alt="The Rubbing-Sticks for Fire-Making" border="0" /></p>
+<h4>THE RUBBING-STICKS FOR FIRE-MAKING (See Description Below)</h4><br />
+<p><span class="left"><a name="175">175</a></span>
+All three were pictures of childish delight. The
+old man's face fairly beamed with triumph. Had
+he failed in his experiment he would have gone off
+hating those boys, but having made a brilliant
+success he was ready to love every one concerned,
+though they had been nothing more than interested
+spectators of his exploit.</p>
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/sketch099.gif" width="221" height="168" alt="The Sacred Fire" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br />
+
+<h5>RUBBING-STICKS FOR FIRE-MAKING</h5>
+<span class="note">
+Two tools and two sticks are needed. The tools are bow and drill-socket; the sticks are drill and fire-board.<br /><br />
+
+1. The simplest kind of bow&mdash;a bent stick with a stout leather thong fastened at each end. The stick must not
+spring. It is about 27 inches long and 5/8 inch thick.<br /><br />
+
+2. A more elaborate bow with a hole at each end for the thong. At the handle end it goes through a disc of wood.
+This is to tighten the thong by pressure of the hand against the disc while using.<br /><br />
+
+3. Simplest kind of drill-socket&mdash;a pine or hemlock knot with a shallow hole or pit in it. 3<i>a</i> is under view of same.
+It is about 4&frac12; inches long.<br /><br />
+
+4. A more elaborate drill-socket&mdash;a pebble cemented with gum in a wooden holder. 4<i>a</i> is under view of same.<br /><br />
+
+5. A very elaborate drill-socket; it is made of tulip wood, carved to represent the Thunderbird. It has eyes of
+green felspar cemented in with resin. On the under side (5<i>a</i>) is seen, in the middle, a soapstone socket let into
+the wood and fastened with pine gum, and on the head a hole kept filled with grease, to grease the top of the
+drill before use.<br /><br />
+
+6. The drill, 12 to 18 inches long and about &frac34; of an inch thick; it is roughly 8-sided so the thong will not slip,
+pointed at each end. The best wood for the drill is old, dry, brash, but not punky balsam fir or cotton-wood
+roots; but basswood, white cedar, red cedar, tamarack, and sometimes even white pine, will do.<br /><br />
+
+7. Fire-board or block, about &frac34; of an inch thick and any length handy; <i>a</i> is notch with pit just below
+shows the pit after once using and in good trim for a second time; <i>c</i> shows the pit bored through and
+useless; the notch is &frac12; inch wide and &frac34; inch deep.<br /><br />
+
+8. Shows the way of using the sticks. The block (<i>a</i>) is held down with one foot, the end of the drill
+in the pit, the drill-socket (<i>c</i>) is held on top in left hand, one end of the bow (<i>d</i> ) is held in the right hand
+the bow is drawn back and forth.<br /><br />
+
+9. Is a little wooden fire-pan, not essential but convenient; its thin edge is put under the notch to catch the
+powder that falls.</span>
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="176">176</a></span>
+<h3><a name="2IX">IX</a></h3>
+<h3>The Bows and Arrows</h3>
+
+<p>
+"I don't think much of your artillery," said Yan
+one day as they were shooting in the orchard
+with Sam's "Western outfit." "It's about like
+the first one I made when I was young."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, grandpa, let's see your up-to-date make?"</p>
+<p>
+"It'd be about five times as strong, for one thing."</p>
+<p>
+"You couldn't pull it."</p>
+<p>
+"Not the way you hold the arrow! But last
+winter I got a book about archery from the library
+and learned something worth while. You pinch
+the arrow that way and you can draw six or eight
+pounds, maybe, but you hook your fingers in the
+string&mdash;so&mdash;and you can draw five times as much,
+and that's the right way to shoot."</p>
+<p>
+"Feels mighty clumsy," said Sam, trying it.</p>
+<p>
+"Of course it does at first, and you have to have
+a deep notch in the arrow or you can't do it at all."</p>
+<p>
+"You don't seem to manage any better than I
+do."</p>
+<p>
+"First time I ever had a chance to try since I
+read about it. But I want to make a first-class
+bow and a lot of arrows. It's not much good going
+with <i>one</i>."</p>
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/sketch100.gif" width="199" height="139" alt="The Archer's Grip" border="0" /></p>
+<br />
+
+<p><span class="left"><a name="177">177</a></span>
+"Well, go ahead an' make an outfit if you know
+how. What's the best wood? Did the book tell
+you that?"</p>
+<p>
+"The best wood is Spanish Yew."</p>
+<p>
+"Don't know it."</p>
+<p>
+"An' the next is Oregon Yew."</p>
+<p>
+"Nope."</p>
+<p>
+"Then Lancewood and Osage Orange."</p>
+<p>
+'Try again."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, Red Cedar, Apple tree, Hickory and Elm
+seem to be the only ones that grow around here."</p>
+<p>
+"Hain't seen any <i>Red</i> Cedar, but the rest is easy."</p>
+<p>
+"It has to be thoroughly seasoned winter-cut wood,
+and cut so as to have heart on one side and sap wood
+on the other."</p>
+<p>
+"How's that?" and Sam pointed to a lot of half-round
+Hickory sticks on the rafters of the log house.
+"Those have been there a couple of years."</p>
+<p>
+A good one of five feet long was selected and split
+and hewn with the axe till the boys had the two bow
+staves, five and one-half feet long and two inches
+square, with the line of the heart and sap wood down
+the middle of each.</p>
+<p>
+Guided by his memory of that precious book and
+some English long bows that he had seen in a shop in
+town, Yan superintended the manufacture. Sam
+was apt with tools, and in time they finished two bows,
+five feet long and drawing possibly twenty-five pounds
+each. In the middle they were one and one-half
+inches wide and an inch thick (see page 183). This
+size they kept for nine inches each way, making an
+<span class="left"><a name="178">178</a></span>
+eighteen-inch middle part that did not bend, but
+their two limbs were shaved down and scraped with
+glass till they bent evenly and were well within the
+boys' strength.</p>
+<p>
+The string was the next difficulty. All the ordinary
+string they could get around the house proved too
+weak, never lasting more than two or three shots, till
+Si Lee, seeing their trouble, sent them to the cobbler's
+for a hank of unbleached linen thread and some shoemaker's
+wax. Of this thread he reeled enough for a
+strong cord tight around two pegs seven feet apart,
+then cutting it loose at one end he divided it equally
+in three parts, and, after slight waxing, he loosely
+plaited them together. At Yan's suggestion he then
+spliced a loop at one end, and with a fine waxed
+thread lashed six inches of the middle where the
+arrow fitted, as well as the splice of the loop.
+This last enabled them to unstring the bow when
+not in use (see page 183). "There," said he, "you
+won't break that." The finishing touch was thinly
+coating the bows with some varnish found among the
+paint supplies.</p>
+<p>
+"Makes my old bow look purty sick," remarked
+Sam, as he held up the really fine new weapon in
+contrast with the wretched little hoop that had
+embodied his early ideas. "Now what do you know
+about arrers, mister?" as he tried his old arrow in the
+new bow.</p>
+<p>
+"I know that that's no good," was the reply; "an'
+I can tell you that it's a deal harder to make an arrow
+<span class="left"><a name="179">179</a></span>
+than a bow&mdash;that is, a good one."</p>
+<p>
+"That's encouraging, considering the trouble we've
+had already."</p>
+<p>
+"'Tisn't meant to be, but we ought to have a dozen
+arrows each."</p>
+<p>
+"How do the Injuns make them?"</p>
+<p>
+"Mostly they get straight sticks of the Arrow-wood;
+but I haven't seen any Arrow-wood here,
+and they're not so awfully straight. You see, an
+arrow must be straight or it'll fly crooked. 'Straight
+as an arrow' means the thing itself. We can do
+better than the Indians 'cause we have better
+tools. We can split them out of the solid wood."</p>
+<p>
+"What wood? Some bloomin' foreign kind that no
+White-man never saw nor heard of before?"</p>
+<p>
+"No sir-ree. There ain't anything better 'n White
+Pine for target and Ash or Hickory for hunting
+arrows. Which are we making?"</p>
+<p>
+"I'm a hunter. Give me huntin' arrows every
+time. What's needed next?"</p>
+<p>
+"Seasoned Ash twenty-five inches long, split to
+three-eighths of an inch thick, hot glue, and turkey-wing
+feathers."</p>
+<p>
+"I'll get the feathers and let you do the rest," said
+Sam, producing a bundle of turkey-wings, laid away
+as stove-dusters, and then belied his own statement
+by getting a block of Ash and splitting it up, halving
+it each time till he had a pile of two dozen straight
+sticks about three-quarters of an inch thick.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch101.gif" width="171" height="308" alt="Arrowwood" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+<p><span class="left"><a name="180">180</a></span>
+Yan took one and began with his knife to whittle it
+down to proper size and shape, but Sam said, "I can
+do better than that," then took the lot to the workbench
+and set to work with a smoothing plane. Yan
+looked worried and finally said:</p>
+<p>
+"Injuns didn't have planes."</p>
+<p>
+"Nor jack-knives neither," was the retort.</p>
+<p>
+That was true, and yet somehow Yan's ideal that
+he hankered after was the pre-Columbian Indian, the
+one who had no White-man's help or tools.</p>
+<p>
+"It seems to me it'd be more Injun to make these
+with just what we get in the woods. The Injuns
+didn't have jack-knives, but they had sharp flints in
+the old days."</p>
+<p>
+"Yan, you go ahead with a sharp stone. You'll
+find lots on the road if you take off your shoes and
+walk barefoot&mdash;awful sharp; an' I'll go ahead with
+the smoothing plane an' see who wins."</p>
+<p>
+Yan was not satisfied, but he contented himself
+with promising that he would some day make some
+arrows of Arrow-wood shoots and now he would finish
+at least one with his knife. He did so, but Sam,
+in the meantime, made six much better ones with
+the smoothing plane.</p>
+<p>
+"What about heads?" said he.</p>
+<p>
+"I've been thinking," was the reply. "Of course
+the Indians used stone heads fastened on with sinew,
+but we haven't got the stuff to do that. Bought
+heads of iron with a ferrule for the end of the arrow
+are best, but we can't get them. Bone heads and
+horn heads will do. I made some fine ones once filing
+<span class="left"><a name="181">181</a></span>
+bones into the shape, but they were awfully brittle;
+and I made some more of big nails cut off and set in
+with a lashing of fine wire around the end to stop the
+wood splitting. Some Indian arrows have no point
+but the stick sharpened after it's scorched to
+harden it."</p><br /><br />
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/sketch102.gif" width="409" height="176" alt="Six Sample Arrows, Showing Different Feathers" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br />
+<p>
+"That sounds easy enough for me," said Sam;
+"let's make some of them that way."</p>
+<p>
+So the arrows were made, six each with nail points
+filed sharp and lashed with broom wire. These were
+called "War arrows," and six each with fire-hardened
+wood points for hunting arrows.</p>
+<p>
+"Now for the feathering," and Yan showed Sam
+how to split the midrib of a turkey feather and
+separate the vane.</p>
+<p>
+"Le's see, you want twice twenty-four&mdash;that's
+forty-eight feathers."</p>
+<p>
+"No," said Yan, "that's a poor feathering, two on
+each. We want three on each arrow&mdash;seventy-two
+strips in all, and mind you, we want all three
+that are on one arrow from the same side of
+the bird."</p>
+<p>
+"I know. I'll bet it's bad luck to mix sides;
+arrows doesn't know which way to turn."</p>
+<p>
+At this moment Si Lee came in. "How are ye
+gettin' on with the bows?"</p>
+<p>
+"Waitin' for arrows now."</p>
+<p>
+"How do ye put on the feathers?"</p>
+<p>
+"White-men glue them on, and Injuns lash them
+on," replied Yan, quoting from memory from "that
+<span class="left"><a name="182">182</a></span>
+book."</p><br /><br />
+
+<h5>DESCRIPTION OF SIX SAMPLE ARROWS SHOWING DIFFERENT FEATHERS</h5>
+<span class="note">
+<i>A</i> is a far-flying steel-pointed bobtail, very good in wind. <br /><br />
+<i>B</i> is another very good arrow, with a horn point.
+This went even better than <i>A</i> if there were no wind. <br /><br />
+<i>C</i> is an Omaha war and deer arrow. Both heads and feathers
+are lashed on with sinew. The long tufts of down left on the feathers are to help in finding it again, as they are
+snow-white and wave in the breeze. The grooves on the shaft are to make the victim bleed more freely and be
+more easily tracked. <br /><br />
+<i>D</i> is another Omaha arrow with a peculiar owner's mark of lines carved in the middle, <br /><br />
+<i>E</i> is
+a bone-headed bird shaft made by the Indians of the Mackenzie River. <br /><br />
+<i>F</i> is a war arrow made by Geronimo, the
+famous Apache chief. Its shaft is three joints of a straight cane. The tip is of hard wood, and on that is a fine
+quartz point; all being lashed together with sinew.
+</span><br /><br /><br />
+<hr class="medium" />
+<br />
+<p>
+"Which is best?"</p>
+<p>
+"Glued on flies better, but lashed on stands the
+weather better."</p>
+<p>
+"Why not both?"</p>
+<p>
+"Have no sinew."</p>
+<p>
+"Let me show ye a trick. Where's yer glue an'
+linen thread?"</p>
+<p>
+These were brought, whereupon Si added: "'Pears
+to me ye oughter put the feathers on last. Better
+cut the notch first."</p>
+<p>
+"That's so; we nearly forgot."</p>
+<p>
+"<i>You</i> nearly forgot, you mean. Don't drag <i>me</i> in
+the mud," said Sam, with owlish dignity. A small
+saw cut, cleaned up and widened with a penknife,
+proved the best; a notch one-fourth inch deep was
+quickly made in each arrow, and Si set about <i>both
+</i> glueing <i>and</i> lashing on the feathers, but using wax-end
+instead of sinew.</p>
+<p>
+Yan had marked the place for each feather so that
+none would strike the bow in passing (see Cut page 183).
+He first glued them on, then made a lashing for half an
+inch on the projecting ends of the feather-rib, and
+another behind, carrying this second lashing back to
+the beginning of the notch to guard against the wood
+splitting. When he had trimmed all loose ends and
+rolled the waxed thread well on the bench with a flat
+stick, the threads seemed to disappear and leave
+simply a smooth black ring.</p><br /><br />
+<span class="left"><a name="183">183</a></span>
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/sketch103.jpg" width="608" height="355" alt="The Archery Outfit" border="0" /></p>
+<h5>THE ARCHERY OUTFIT (Not all on scale)</h5>
+<span class="note">
+I. The five-foot bow as finished, with sections at the points shown.<br /><br />
+
+II. The bow "braced" or strung.<br /><br />
+
+III. The bow unstrung, showing the loop slipped down.<br /><br />
+
+IV. The loop that is used on the upper end of the bow.<br /><br />
+
+V. The timber hitch always used on the lower end or notch of the bow.<br /><br />
+
+VI. A turkey feather with split midrib, all ready to lash on.<br /><br />
+
+VII. End view of arrow, showing notch and arrangement of three feathers.<br /><br />
+
+VIII. Part of arrow, showing feathering and lashing.<br /><br />
+
+IX. Sanger hunting arrow with wooden point; 25 inches long.<br /><br />
+
+X. Sanger war arrow with nail point and extra long feathers; it also is
+       25 inches long.<br /><br />
+
+XI. Quiver with Indian design; 20 inches long.<br /><br />
+
+XII. The "bracer" or arm guard of heavy leather for left arm, with two
+laces to tie it on. It is six inches long.]</span>
+<br /><br />
+       <hr class="medium" /><br /><br />
+<p><span class="left"><a name="185">185</a></span>
+Thus the arrows were made and set away for the
+glue to dry.</p>
+<p>
+Next day Yan painted Sam's red and blue, his own
+red and white, to distinguish them as well as guard
+them from the damp. There was now one more thing,
+and that was a quiver.</p>
+<p>
+"Do the Injuns have them?" asked Sam, with a
+keen eye to orthodoxy when it promised to cut short
+the hard work.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I should say so; couldn't live without them."</p>
+<p>
+"All right; hurry up. I'm spoiling for a hunt.
+What are they made of?"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, 'most anything."</p>
+<p>
+"Haven't got it."</p>
+<p>
+"You're too fast. But some use Birch bark, some
+use the skin of an animal, and some use canvas now
+when other stuff is scarce."</p>
+<p>
+"That's us. You mind the stuff left off the
+teepee?"</p>
+<p>
+"Do till we get better." So each made a sort of
+canvas bag shorter than the arrows. Yan painted
+an Indian device on each, and they were ready.</p>
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/sketch104.gif" width="336" height="196" alt="Omaha Bow Case and Quiver of Buckskin and Quillwork" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br />
+<p>
+"Now bring on your Bears," said the older boy, and
+feeling a sense of complete armament, they went out.</p>
+<p>
+"See who can hit that tree." Both fired together
+and missed, but Sam's arrow struck another tree and
+split open.</p>
+<p>
+"Guess we'd better get a soft target," he remarked.
+Then after discussion they got a large old corn sack
+full of hay, painted on it some rings around a bull's
+<span class="left"><a name="186">186</a></span>
+eye (a Buffalo's eye, Sam called it) and set it up at
+twenty yards.</p>
+<p>
+They were woefully disappointed at first in their
+shooting. It did seem a very easy mark, and it was
+disappointing to have the arrows fly some feet away
+to the left.</p>
+<p>
+"Le's get in the barn and shoot at that," suggested
+Sam.</p>
+<p>
+"We might hit it if we shut the door tight," was
+the optimistic reply. As well as needing practice,
+the boys had to learn several little rules about
+Archery. But Yan had some pencil notes from
+"that book" and some more in his brain that with
+much practice gradually taught him: To stand
+with his heel centres in line with the target; his
+right elbow in line with the arrow; his left hand
+fixed till the arrow struck; his right thumb always
+on the same place on his cheek when he fired, and
+the bow plumb.</p>
+<p>
+They soon found that they needed guards for the
+left arm where the bow strings struck, and these they
+made out of the leg of an old boot (see Cut page 183),
+and an old glove to protect the fingers of the right hand
+when they practised very much. After they learned
+to obey the rules without thinking about them, the
+boys improved quickly and soon they were able to put
+all the arrows into the hay sack at twenty yards,
+increasing the distance later till they could make fair
+shooting at forty yards.</p>
+<p>
+They were not a little surprised to find how much
+individuality the arrows had, although meant to be
+<span class="left"><a name="187">187</a></span>
+exactly alike.</p>
+<p>
+Sam had one that continued to warp until it was
+much bent, and the result was some of the most
+surprising curves in its flight. This he called the
+"Boomerang." Another, with a very small feather,
+travelled farther than any of the rest. This was
+the "Far-killer." His best arrow, one that he called
+"Sure-death," was a long-feathered Turkey shaft
+with a light head. It was very reliable on a calm
+day, but apt to swerve in the wind. Yet another,
+with a small feather, was correspondingly reliable
+on a windy day. This was "Wind-splitter."</p>
+<p>
+The one Yan whittled with the knife was called
+the "Whittler," and sometimes the "Joker." It
+was a perpetual mystery, they never knew just what
+it would do next. His particular pet was one with
+a hollow around the point, which made a whistling
+sound when it flew, and was sometimes called the
+"Whistler" and sometimes the "Jabberwock," "which
+whiffled through the tulgy wood and burbled as it
+came."
+<img src="images/sketch105.gif" alt="Correct Form In Shooting" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="159" height="332" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<h5>CORRECT FORM IN SHOOTING</h5>
+<p>
+The diagram at bottom is to show the centres of heels in line with target.
+</p>
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="188">188</a></span>
+<h3><a name="2X">X</a></h3>
+<h3>The Dam</h3>
+
+<p>
+One hot day early in July they were enjoying
+themselves in the shallow bathing-hole of the
+creek, when Sam observed: "It's getting low.
+It goes dry every summer."</p>
+<p>
+This was not pleasing to foresee, and Yan said,
+"Why can't we make a dam?"</p>
+<p>
+"A little too much like work."</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, pshaw! That'd be fun and we'd have a
+swimming-place for all summer, then. Come on;
+let's start now."</p>
+<p>
+"Never heard of Injuns doing so much work."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, we'll play Beaver while we do it. Come
+on, now; here's for a starter," and Yan carried a
+big stone to what seemed to him the narrowest
+place. Then he brought more, and worked with
+enthusiasm till he had a line of stones right across
+the creek bed.</p>
+<p>
+Sam still sat naked on the bank, his knees to his
+chin and his arms around them. The war-paint was
+running down his chest in blue and red streaks.</p>
+<p>
+"Come on, here, you lazy freak, and work," cried
+Yan, and flung a handful of mud to emphasize the
+invite.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="189">189</a></span>
+"My festered knee's broke out again," was the
+reply.</p>
+<p>
+At length Yan said, "I'm not going to do it all
+alone," and straightened up his back.</p>
+<p>
+"Look a-here," was the answer. "I've been
+thinking. The cattle water here. The creek runs
+dry in summer, then the cattle has to go to the barnyard
+and drink at the trough&mdash;has to be pumped
+for, and hang round for hours after hoping some one
+will give them some oats, instead of hustling back
+to the woods to get fat. Now, two big logs across
+there would be more'n half the work. I guess we'll
+ask Da to lend us the team to put them logs across
+to make a drinking-pond for the cattle. Them
+cattle is awful on my mind. Didn't sleep all night
+thinking o' them. I just hate like pizen to see them
+walking all the way to the barn in hot weather for
+a drink&mdash;'tain't right." So Sam waited for a proper
+chance to "tackle" his father. It did not come that
+day, but at breakfast next morning Raften looked
+straight at Yan across the table, and evidently
+thinking hard about something, said:</p>
+<p>
+"Yahn, this yer room is twenty foot by fifteen,
+how much ilecloth three foot wide will it call fur?"</p>
+<p>
+"Thirty-three and one-third yards," Yan said at
+once.</p>
+<p>
+Raften was staggered. Yan's manner was convincing,
+but to do all that in his head was the miracle.
+Various rude tests were applied and the general
+opinion prevailed that Yan was right.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="190">190</a></span>
+The farmer's face beamed with admiration for
+the first time. "Luk at that," he said to the table,
+"luk at that fur eddication. When'll you be able
+to do the like?" he said to Sam.</p>
+<p>
+"Never," returned his son, with slow promptness.
+"Dentists don't have to figger on ilecloth."</p>
+<p>
+"Say, Yan," said Sam aside, "guess <i>you</i> better
+tackle Da about the dam. Kind o' sot up about ye
+this mornin'; your eddication has softened him some,
+an' it'll last till about noon, I jedge. Strike while
+the iron is hot."</p>
+<p>
+So after breakfast Yan commenced:</p>
+<p>
+"Mr. Raften, the creek's running dry. We want
+to make a pond for the cattle to drink, but we can't
+make a dam without two big logs across. Will you
+let us have the team a few minutes to place the
+logs?"</p>
+<p>
+"It ain't fur a swimmin'-pond, is it, ye mean?"
+said Raften, with a twinkle in his eye.</p>
+<p>
+"It would do for that as well," and Yan blushed.</p>
+<p>
+"Sounds to me like Sam talking through Yan's
+face," added Raften, shrewdly taking in the situation.
+"I'll see fur meself."</p>
+<p>
+Arrived at the camp, he asked: "Now, whayer's
+yer dam to be? Thar? That's no good. It's
+narrer but it'd be runnin' round both ends afore ye
+had any water to speak of. Thayer's a better
+place, a bit wider, but givin' a good pond. Whayer's
+yer logs? Thayer? What&mdash;my seasoning timber?
+Ye can't hev that. That's the sill fur the new barrn;
+nor that&mdash;it's seasonin' fur gate posts. Thayer's two
+<span class="left"><a name="191">191</a></span>
+ye kin hev. I'll send the team, but don't let me
+ketch ye stealin' any o' my seasonin' timber or the
+fur'll fly."</p>
+<p>
+With true Raften promptness the heavy team
+came, the two great logs were duly dragged across
+and left as Yan requested (four feet apart for the top
+of the dam).</p>
+<img src="images/180b.gif" width="360" height="205" alt="Cross-section of dam" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<p>
+The boys now drove in a row of stakes against each
+log on the inner side, to form a crib, and were beginning
+to fill in the space with mud and stones. They were
+digging and filling it up level as they went. Clay
+was scarce and the work went slowly; the water,
+of course, rising as the wall arose, added to the difficulty.
+But presently Yan said:</p>
+<p>
+"Hold on. New scheme. Let's open her and dig
+a deep trench on one side so all the water will go by,
+then leave a clay wall to it" [the trench] "and dig a
+deep hole on the other side of it. That will give us
+plenty of stuff for the dam and help to deepen the
+pond."</p>
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/sketch107.gif" width="488" height="196" alt="Construction of the Dam" border="0" /></p>
+<p>
+Thus they worked. In a week the crib was full of
+packed clay and stone. Then came the grand finish
+&mdash;the closing of this sluiceway through the dam.
+It was not easy with the full head of water running,
+but they worked like beavers and finally got it
+stopped.</p>
+<p>
+That night there was a heavy shower. Next day
+when they came near they heard a dull roar in the
+woods. They stopped and listened in doubt, then
+Yan exclaimed gleefully: "The dam! That's the
+<span class="left"><a name="192">192</a></span>
+water running over the dam."</p>
+<p>
+They both set off with a yell and ran their fastest.
+As soon as they came near they saw a great sheet
+of smooth water where the stony creek bottom had
+been and a steady current over the low place left
+as an overflow in the middle of the dam.</p>
+<p>
+What a thrill of pleasure that was!</p>
+<p>
+"Last in's a dirty sucker."</p>
+<p>
+"Look out for my bad knee," was the response.</p>
+<p>
+The rest of the race was a mixture of stripping and
+sprinting and the boys splashed in together.</p>
+<p>
+Five feet deep in the deep hole, a hundred yards
+long, and all their own doing.</p>
+<p>
+"Now, wasn't it worth it?" asked Yan, who had
+had much difficulty in keeping Sam steadily at play
+that looked so very much like work.</p>
+<p>
+"Wonder how that got here? I thought I left
+that in the teepee?" and Sam pointed to a log that
+he used for a seat in the teepee, but now it was
+lodged in the overflow.</p>
+<p>
+Yan was a good swimmer, and as they played and
+splashed, Sam said: "Now I know who you are.
+You can't hide it from me no longer. I suspicioned
+it when you were working on the dam. You're
+that tarnal Redskin they call 'Little Beaver.'"</p>
+<p>
+"I've been watching you," retorted Yan, "and it
+seems to me I've run up against that copper-coloured
+scallawag&mdash;'Young-Man-Afraid-of-a-<a name="9">Shovel</a>.'"</p>
+<span class="left"><a name="193">193</a></span>
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/illus09a.jpg" width="640" height="459" alt="The dam was a great success" border="0" />
+</p>
+<p>
+"No, you don't," said Sam. "Nor I ain't '<i>Bald-
+Eagle-Settin'-on-a-Rock-with-his-Tail-Hangin'-over-the</i>
+<span class="left"><a name="195">195</a></span>
+<i>-Edge,'</i> nuther. In fact, I don't keer to be recognized
+just now. Ain't it a relief to think the cattle
+don't have to take that walk any more?"</p>
+<p>
+Sam was evidently trying to turn the subject, but
+Yan would not be balked. "I heard Si call you
+'Woodpecker' the other day."</p>
+<p>
+"Yep. I got that at school. When I was a kid
+to hum I heerd Ma talk about me be-a-u-tiful <i>golden
+</i> hair, but when I got big enough to go to school I
+learned that it was only <i>red</i>, an' they called me the
+'Red-headed Woodpecker.' I tried to lick them,
+but lots of them could lick me an' rubbed it in wuss.
+When I seen fightin' didn't work, I let on to like it,
+but it was too late then. Mostly it's just 'Woodpecker'
+for short. I don't know as it ever lost me
+any sleep."</p>
+<p>
+Half an hour later, as they sat by the fire that Yan
+made with rubbing-sticks, he said, "Say, Woodpecker,
+I want to tell you a story." Sam grimaced,
+pulled his ears forward, and made ostentatious
+preparations to listen.</p>
+<p>
+"There was once an Indian squaw taken prisoner
+by some other tribe way up north. They marched
+her 500 miles away, but one night she escaped and
+set out, not on the home trail, for she knew they
+would follow that way and kill her, but to one side.
+She didn't know the country and got lost. She had
+no weapons but a knife, and no food but berries.
+Well, she travelled fast for several days till a rainstorm
+came, then she felt safe, for she knew her
+enemies could not trail her now. But winter was
+<span class="left"><a name="196">196</a></span>
+near and she could not get home before it came. So
+she set to work right where she was.</p>
+<p>
+"She made a wigwam of Birch bark and a fire
+with rubbing-sticks, using the lace of her moccasin
+for a bow-string. She made snares of the inner
+bark of the Willow and of Spruce roots, and deadfalls,
+too, for Rabbits. She was starving sometimes,
+at first, but she ate the buds and inner
+bark of Birch trees till she found a place where
+there were lots of Rabbits. And when she
+caught some she used every scrap of them. She
+made a fishing-line of the sinews, and a hook of the
+bones and teeth lashed together with sinew and
+Spruce gum.</p>
+<p>
+"She made a cloak of Rabbit skins, sewed with
+needles of Rabbit bone and thread of Rabbit sinew,
+and a lot of dishes of Birch bark sewed with Spruce
+roots.</p>
+<p>
+"She put in the whole winter there alone, and
+when the spring came she was found by Samuel
+Hearne, the great traveller. Her precious knife was
+worn down, but she was fat and happy and ready to
+set out for her own people."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I say that's mighty inter-est-in'," said
+Sam&mdash;he had listened attentively&mdash;"an' I'd like
+nothin' better than to try it myself if I had a gun an'
+there was lots of game."</p>
+<p>
+"Pooh, who wouldn't?"</p>
+<p>
+"Mighty few&mdash;an' there's mighty few who <i>could</i>."<br />
+"I could."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="197">197</a></span>
+"What, make everything with just a knife? I'd
+like to see you make a teepee," then adding earnestly,
+"Sam, we've been kind o' playing Injuns; now let's
+do it properly. Let's make everything out of what
+we find in the woods."</p>
+<p>
+"Guess we'll have to visit the Sanger Witch again.
+She knows all about plants."</p>
+<p>
+"We'll be the Sanger Indians. We can both be
+Chiefs," said Yan, not wishing to propose himself as
+Chief or caring to accept Sam as his superior. "I'm
+Little Beaver. Now what are you?"</p>
+<p>
+"Bloody-Thundercloud-in-the-Afternoon."</p>
+<p>
+"No, try again. Make it something you can draw,
+so you can make your totem, and make it short."</p>
+<p>
+"What's the smartest animal there is?"</p>
+<p>
+"I&mdash;I&mdash;suppose the Wolverine."</p>
+<p>
+"What! Smarter'n a Fox?"</p>
+<p>
+"The books say so."</p>
+<p>
+"Kin he lick a Beaver?"</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I should say so."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, that's me."</p>
+<p>
+"No, you don't. I'm not going around with a
+fellow that licks me. It don't fit you as well as
+'Woodpecker,' anyhow. I always get <i>you</i> when I
+want a nice tree spoiled or pecked into holes,"
+retorted Yan, magnanimously ignoring the personal
+reason for the name.</p>
+<p>
+"Tain t as bad as <i>beavering</i>," answered Sam.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch108.gif" alt="Beavering" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="233" height="165" border="0" />
+
+<p>
+"Beavering" was a word with a history. Axes and
+timber were the biggest things in the lives of the
+Sangerites. Skill with the axe was the highest accomplishment.
+<span class="left"><a name="198">198</a></span>
+The old settlers used to make everything
+in the house out of wood, and with the axe for the only
+tool. It was even said that some of them used to
+"edge her up a bit" and shave with her on Sundays.
+When a father was setting his son up in life he gave
+him simply a good axe. The axe was the grand
+essential of life and work, and was supposed to be a
+whole outfit. Skill with the axe was general. Every
+man and boy was more or less expert, and did not
+know how expert he was till a real "greeny" came
+among them. There is a right way to cut for each
+kind of grain, and a certain proper way of felling a
+tree to throw it in any given direction with the
+minimum of labour. All these things are second
+nature to the Sangerite. A Beaver is credited with a
+haphazard way of gnawing round and round a tree till
+somehow it tumbles, and when a chopper deviates
+in the least from the correct form, the exact right cut
+in the exact right place, he is said to be "beavering";
+therefore, while "working like a Beaver" is high praise,
+"beavering" a tree is a term of unmeasured reproach,
+and Sam's final gibe had point and force that none
+but a Sangerite could possibly have appreciated.</p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="199">199</a></span>
+<h3><a name="2XI">XI</a></h3>
+<h3>Yan and the Witch</h3>
+
+<p class="indent">
+The Sanger Witch hated the Shanty-man's axe<br />
+  And wildfire, too, they tell,<br />
+But the hate that she had for the Sporting man<br />
+  Was wuss nor her hate of Hell!</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+&mdash;Cracked Jimmie's Ballad of Sanger.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yan took his earliest opportunity to revisit the
+Sanger Witch.</p>
+<p>
+"Better leave me out," advised Sam, when
+he heard of it. "She'd never look at you if I went.
+You look too blame healthy."</p>
+<p>
+So Yan went alone, and he was glad of it. Fond
+as he was of Sam, his voluble tongue and ready wit
+left Yan more or less in the shade, made him look
+sober and dull, and what was worse, continually
+turned the conversation just as it was approaching
+some subject that was of deepest interest to him.</p>
+<p>
+As he was leaving, Sam called out, "Say, Yan,
+if you want to stay there to dinner it'll be all right&mdash;
+we'll know why you hain't turned up." Then he
+stuck his tongue in his cheek, closed one eye and went
+to the barn with his usual expression of inscrutable
+melancholy.</p>
+<p>
+Yan carried his note-book&mdash;he used it more and
+more, also his sketching materials. On the road he
+<span class="left"><a name="200">200</a></span>
+gathered a handful of flowers and herbs. His reception
+by the old woman was very different this time.</p>
+<p>
+"Come in, come in, God bless ye, an' hoo air ye,
+an' how is yer father an' mother&mdash;come in an' set
+down, an' how is that spalpeen, Sam Raften?"</p>
+<p>
+"Sam's all right now," said Yan with a blush.</p>
+<p>
+"All right! Av coorse he's all right. I knowed I'd
+fix him all right, an' he knowed it, an' his Ma knowed
+it when she let him come. Did she say onything
+about it?"</p>
+<p>
+"No, Granny, not a word."</p>
+<p>
+"The dhirty hussy! Saved the boy's life in sphite
+of their robbin' me an' she ain't human enough to
+say 'thank ye'&mdash;the dhirty hussy! May God forgive
+her as I do," said the old woman with evident and
+implacable enmity.</p>
+<p>
+"Fwhat hev ye got thayer? Hivin be praised, they
+can't kill them all off. They kin cut down the trees,
+but the flowers comes ivery year, me little beauties&mdash;me
+little beauties!" Yan spread them out. She
+picked up an Arum and went on. "Now, that's
+Sorry-plant, only some calls it Injun Turnip, an' I
+hear the childer call it Jack-in-the-Pulpit. Don't ye
+never put the root o' that near yer tongue. It'll sure
+burn ye like fire. First thing whin they gits howld
+av a greeny the bhise throis to make him boite that
+same. Shure he niver does it twicet. The Injuns
+b'ile the pizen out o' the root an' ates it; shure
+it's better'n starvin'."</p>
+<img src="images/sketch109.gif" width="148" height="180" alt="Sorry Plant, Jack-in-a-Pulpit" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+
+<p><span class="left"><a name="201">201</a></span>
+Golden Seal (<i>Hydrastis canadensis</i>), the plant she
+had used for Sam's knee, was duly recognized and
+praised, its wonderful golden root, "the best goold
+iver came out av the ground," was described with its
+impression of the seal of the Wise King.</p>
+<p>
+"Thim's Mandrakes, an' they're moighty late, an'
+ye shure got <i>thim</i> in the woods. Some calls it May
+Apples, an' more calls it Kingroot. The Injuns use
+it fur their bowels, an' it has cured many a horse of
+pole evil that I seen meself.</p>
+<p>
+"An' Blue Cohosh, only I call that Spazzum-root.
+Thayer ain't nothin' like it fur spazzums&mdash;took like
+tay; only fur that the Injun women wouldn't live in
+all their thrubles, but that's something that don't
+consarn ye. Luk now, how the laves is all spread out
+like wan wid spazzums. Glory be to the Saints and the
+Blessed Virgin, everything is done fur us on airth an'
+plain marked, if we'd only take the thruble to luk.</p>
+<p>
+"Now luk at thot," said she, clawing over the bundle
+and picking out a yellow Cypripedium, "that's Moccasin-plant
+wid the Injuns, but mercy on 'em
+fur bloind, miserable haythens. They don't know
+nothin' an' don't want to larn it. That's Umbil, or
+Sterrick-root. It's powerful good fur sterricks. Luk
+at it! See the face av a woman in sterricks wid her
+hayer flyin' an' her jaw a-droppin'. I moind the
+toime Larry's little gurrl didn't want to go to her
+'place' an' hed sterricks. They jest sent fur me an'
+I brung along a Sterrick-root. First, I sez, sez I,
+'Get me some b'ilin' wather,' an' I made tay an' give
+it to her b'ilin' hot. As share as Oi'm a livin' corpse,
+<span class="left"><a name="202">202</a></span>
+the very first spoonful fetched her all right. Oh, but
+it's God's own gift, an' it's be His blessin' we know
+how to use it. An' it don't do to just go an' dig it
+when ye want it. It has to be grubbed when the
+flower ain't thayer. Ye see, the strength ain't in
+both places to oncet. It's ayther in the flower or in
+the root, so when the flower is thayer the root's no
+more good than an ould straw. Ye hes to Hunt fur
+it in spring or in fall, just when the divil himself
+wouldn't know whayer to find it.</p>
+<p>
+"An' fwhat hev ye thayer? Good land! if it ain't
+Skunk's Cabbage! Ye sure come up by the Bend.
+That's the on'y place whayer that grows."</p>
+<p>
+"Yes," replied Yan; "that's just where I got it.
+But hold on, Granny, I want to sketch all those and
+note down their names and what you say about them."</p>
+<p>
+"Shure, you'd hev a big book when I wuz through,"
+said the old woman with pride, as she lit her pipe,
+striking the match on what would have been the leg
+of her pants had she been a man.</p>
+<p>
+"An' shure ye don't need to write down what
+they're good fur, fur the good Lord done that Himself
+long ago. Luk here, now. That's Cohosh, fur spazzums,
+an' luks like it; that's Moccasin, fur Highsterricks,
+an' luks like it; wall, thar's Skunk-root fur both,
+an' don't it luk like the two o' thim thigither?"</p>
+<p>
+Yan feebly agreed, but had much difficulty in seeing
+what the plant had in common with the others.</p>
+<p>
+"An' luk here! Thayer ye got Lowbelier, that
+some calls Injun tobaccer. Ye found this by the
+<span class="left"><a name="203">203</a></span>
+crick, an' it's a little airly&mdash;ahead o' toime. That's
+the shtuff to make ye throw up when ye want to.
+Luk, ain't that lafe the livin' shape of a shtummick?</p>
+
+<img src="images/sketch110.gif" width="115" height="433" alt="Stickweed, or Cleavers" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<p>
+"Thayer's the Highbelier; it's a high hairb, an' it's
+moighty foine fur the bowels when ye drink the dry
+root.</p>
+<p>
+"Spicewood" [Spicebush, <i>Lindera benzoin</i>], "or
+Fayverbush, them twigs is great fur tay&mdash;that cures
+shakes and fayver. Shure an' it shakes ivery toime
+the wind blows.</p>
+<p>
+"That's Clayvers," she said, picking up a Galium.
+"Now fwhat wud ye think that wuz fur to cure?"</p>
+<p>
+"I don't know. What is it?"</p>
+<p>
+"Luk now, an' see how it's wrote in it plain as
+prent&mdash;yes, an' a sight plainer, fur I can read
+them an' I can't read a wurrud in a book. Now
+fwhat is that loike?" said she, holding up the double
+seed-pod.</p>
+<p>
+"A brain and spinal column," said Yan.</p>
+<p>
+"Och, choild, I hev better eyes than ye. Shure
+them's two kidneys, an' that's fwhat Clayver tay will
+cure better'n all the docthers in the wurruld, an' ye
+hev to know just how. Ye see, kidney thruble is a
+koind o' fayver; it's hatin', so ye make yer Clayver
+tay in <i>cold</i> wather; if ye make it o' warrum wather it
+just makes ye wuss an' acts loike didly pizen.
+Thayer's Sweatplant, or Boneset" [<i>Eupatorium perfoliatum</i>],
+"that's the thing to sweat ye. Wanst Oi
+sane a feller jest dyin' o' dry hoide, wuz all hoidebound,
+an' the docthers throid an' throid an' couldn't
+<span class="left"><a name="204">204</a></span>
+help wan bit, till I guv his mother some Boneset leaves
+to make tay, an' he sweat buckets before he'd more'n
+smelt av it, an' the docthers thought they done it
+theirsilves!" and she cackled gleefully.</p>
+<p>
+"Thayer's Goldthread fur cankermouth, an' Pipsissewa
+that cures fayver an' rheumatiz, too. It always
+grows where folks gits them disayses. Luk at the
+flower just blotched red an' white loike fayver
+blotches&mdash;an' Spearmint, that saves ye if ya pizen
+yerself with Spaszum-root, an' shure it grows right
+next it in the woods!</p>
+<p>
+"Thayer's Wormseed fur wurrums&mdash;see the 'ittle
+wurrum on the leaves" [<i>Chenopodium</i>] "an' that thayer
+is Pleurisy root, an' thayer! well, thayer's the foinest
+
+<img src="images/sketch111.gif" width="140" height="262" alt="Pipsissewa, or Prince's Pine" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+
+hairb that iver God made to grow&mdash;that's Cure all.
+Some things cures wan thing and some cures another,
+but when ye don't know just what to take, ye make
+tay o' that root an' ye can't go wrong. It was an
+Injun larned me that. The poor miserable baste of a
+haythen hed some larnin', an' the minit he showed me
+I knowed it was so, fur ivery lafe wuz three in wan
+an' wan in three, an' had the sign o' the blessed crass
+in the middle as plain as that biler settin' on the
+stove."</p>
+<p>
+Thus she chattered away, smoking her short pipe,
+expectorating on the top of the hot stove, but with
+true feminine delicacy she was careful each time to
+wipe her mouth on the back of her skinny arm.</p>
+<p>
+"An' that's what's called Catnip; sure Oi moind well
+the day Oi furst larned about that. It warn't a Injun
+<span class="left"><a name="205">205</a></span>
+nor a docther nor a man at all, at all, that larned me
+that. It was that ould black Cat, an' may the saints
+stand bechuxt me an' his grane eyes! Bejabers,
+sometimes he scares me wid his knowin' ways, but I
+hev nothin' agin him except that he kills the wee
+burruds. He koind o' measled all wan winter an' lay
+around the stove. Whiniver the dooer was open he'd
+go an' luk out an' then come back an' meow an' wheen
+an' lay down&mdash;an' so he kep' on, gittin' waker an'
+worser, till the snow wuz gone an' grass come up, an'
+still he'd go a-lukin' toward the ayst, especially nights.
+Then thayer come up a plant I had never sane, right
+thayer, an' he'd luk at it an' luk at it loike he wanted
+it but didn't dar to. Thar was some foine trays out
+thayer in thim days afore the ould baste cut thim
+down, an' wan av thim hed a big limb, so&mdash;an' another
+so&mdash;an' when the moon come up full at jest the right
+time the shaddy made the sign av the crass an' loighted
+on me dooer, an' after it was past it didn't
+make no crass. Well, bejabers, the full moon come
+up at last an' she made the sign of the shaddy crass,
+an' the ould Cat goes out an' watches an' watches loike
+he wanted to an' didn't dar to, till that crass drapped
+fayer onto the hairbs, an' Tom he jumped then an' ate
+<img src="images/sketch112.gif" width="132" height="210" alt="Catnip" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+an' ate, an' from that day he was a well Cat; an' that's
+how Oi larned Catnip, an' it set me moind aisy,
+too, fur no Cat that's possesst 'll iver ate inunder the
+shaddy av the crass."</p>
+<p>
+Yan was scribbling away, but had given up any
+attempt to make sketches or even notes beyond the
+<span class="left"><a name="206">206</a></span>
+names of the plants.</p>
+<p>
+"Shure, choild, put them papers wid the names
+on the hairbs an' save <i>them</i>; that wuz fwhat Docther
+Carmartin done whin Oi was larnin' him. Thayer,
+now, that's it," she added, as Yan took the hint and
+began slipping on each stalk a paper label with its
+name.</p>
+<p>
+"That's a curious broom," said Yan, as his eye
+fell on the symbol of order and cleanliness, making
+strange reflections on itself.</p>
+<p>
+"Yes; sure, that's a Baitche broom. Larry makes
+'em."</p>
+<p>
+"Larry?"</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, me bhoy." [Larry was nearly sixty.] "He
+makes thim of Blue Baitche."</p>
+<p>
+"How?" asked Yan, picking it up and examining
+it with intense interest.</p>
+<p>
+"Whoi, shure, by whittlin'. Larry's a howly
+terror to whittle, an' he gets a Blue Baitche sapling
+'bout three inches thick an' starts a-whittlin" long
+slivers, but laves them on the sthick at wan end till
+thayer all round loike that."</p>
+<img src="images/sketch113.gif" width="152" height="206" alt="Blue Beech" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+<p>
+"What, like a fire-lighter?"</p>
+<p>
+"Yis, yis, that's it, only bigger, an Blue Baitche is
+terrible tough. Then whin he has the sthick down
+to 'bout an inch thick, he ties all the slivers the
+wrong way wid a sthrand o' Litherwood, an' thrims
+down the han'el to suit, an' evens up the ind av the
+broom wid the axe an' lets it dhry out, an' thayer yer
+<span class="left"><a name="207">207</a></span>
+is. Better broom was niver made, an' there niver
+wus ony other in th' famb'ly till he married that
+Kitty Connor, the lowest av the low, an' it's meself
+was all agin her, wid her proide an' her dirthy sthuck-up
+ways' nothin' but boughten things wuz good
+enough fur her, <i>her</i> that niver had a dacint male till
+she thrapped moi Larry. Yis, low be it sphoken,
+but 'thrapped' 's the wurrud," said the old woman,
+raising her voice to give emphasis that told a lurid
+tale.</p>
+<p>
+At this moment the door opened and in came
+Biddy, and as she was the daughter of the unspeakable
+Kitty the conversation turned.</p>
+<p>
+"An' sure it's glad to see ye I am, an' when are ye
+comin' down to reside at our place?" was her greeting
+to Yan, and while they talked Granny took advantage
+of the chance to take a long pull at a bottle that
+looked and smelled like Lung-balm.</p>
+<p>
+"Moi, Biddy, yer airly," said Granny.</p>
+<p>
+"Shure, an' now it was late whin I left home, an' the
+schulmaster says it's always so walking from
+ayst to west."</p>
+<p>
+"An' shure it's glad Oi am to say ye, fur Yan will
+shtop an ate wid us. It ain't duck an' grane pase,
+but, thank God, we hev enough an' a hearty welcome
+wid ivery boite. Ye say, Biddy makes me dinner
+ivery foine day an' Oi get a boite an' a sup for meself
+other toimes, an' slapes be me lone furby me Dog an'
+Cat an' the apples, which thayer ain't but a handful
+left, but fwhat thar is is yourn. Help yerself,
+choild, an' ate hearty," and she turned down the
+<span class="left"><a name="208">208</a></span>
+gray-looking bedclothes to show the last half-dozen
+of the same rosy apples.</p>
+<p>
+"Aint you afraid to sleep here alone nights,
+Granny?"</p>
+<p>
+"Shure fwhat hev Oi to fayre? Thayer niver
+wuz robbers come but wanst, an' shure I got
+theyer last cint aff av them. They come one night
+an' broke in, an' settin' up, Oi sez, 'Now fwhat <i>are
+</i> yez lukin' fur?'</p>
+<p>
+"'Money,' sez they, fur thayer was talk all round
+thin that Oi had sold me cow fur $25.</p>
+<p>
+"'Sure, thin, Oi'll get up an' help ye,' sez Oi, fur
+divil a cint hev Oi been able to set me eyes on sense
+apple harvest.'"</p>
+<p>
+'"We want $25, or we'll kill ye.'</p>
+<p>
+"'Faith, an' if it wuz twenty-five cints Oi couldn't
+help it,' sez Oi, 'an' it's ready to die Oi am,' sez Oi,
+'fur Oi was confessed last wake an' Oi'm a-sayin' me
+prayers <i>this</i> minit.'</p>
+<p>
+"Sez the littlest wan, an' he wa'n't so little, nigh
+as br'ad as that dooer, 'Hevn't ye sold yer cow?'</p>
+<p>
+"'Ye'll foind her in the barrun,' sez Oi, 'though Oi
+hate to hev yez disturb her slapin'. It makes her
+drame an' that's bad fur the milk.'</p>
+<p>
+"An' next thing them two robbers wuz laffin' at
+each other fur fools. Then the little wan sez:</p>
+<p>
+"'Now, Granny, we'll lave ye in pace, if ye'll niver
+say a wurrud o' this'&mdash;but the other wan seemed
+kind o' sulky.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="209">209</a></span>
+"'Sorra a wurrud,' sez Oi, 'an' good frinds we'll
+be yit,' an' they wuz makin' fur the dooer to clayer
+out whin I sez:</p>
+<p>
+"'Howld on! Me friends can't lave me house an' naither
+boite nor sup; turn yer backs an' ye plaze,
+till Oi get on me skirt.' An' whin Oi wuz up an' dacint
+an' tould them they could luk, Oi sez, 'It's
+the foinest Lung balm in the land ye shall taste,' an' the
+littlest feller he starts a-coughin', oh, a turrible
+cough&mdash;it fair scairt me, like a hoopin' croup&mdash;an' the
+other seemed just mad, and the littlest wan made
+fun av him. Oi seen the mean wan wuz left-handed
+or let on he wuz, but when he reached out fur the
+bottle he had on'y three fingers on his right, an' they
+both av them had the biggest, blackest, awfulest
+lukin' bairds&mdash;I'd know them two bairds agin ony
+place&mdash;an' the littlest had a rag round his head, said
+he had a toothache, but shure yer teeth don't ache
+in the roots o' yer haiyer. Then when they wuz goin' the
+littlest wan put a dollar in me hand an' sez,
+'It's all we got bechuxst us, Granny.' 'Godbless ye,' sez
+Oi, 'an' Oi take it kindly. It's the first Oi seen
+sense apple harvest, an' it's a friend ye hev in me
+whin ye nade wan,'" and the old woman chuckled
+over her victory.</p>
+<p>
+"Granny, do you know what the Indians use for
+dyeing colours?" asked Yan, harking back to his main
+purpose.</p>
+<p>
+"Shure, Yahn, they jest goes to the store an' gets
+boughten dyes in packages like we do."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="210">210</a></span>
+"But before there were boughten dyes, didn't
+they use things in the woods?"</p>
+<p>
+"That they did, for shure. Iverything man iver
+naded the good Lord made grow fur him in the
+woods."</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, but what plants?"</p>
+<p>
+"Faix, an' they differ fur different things."</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, but what are they?" Then seeing how
+general questions failed, he went at it in detail.</p>
+<p>
+"What do they use for yellow dye on the Porcupine
+quills&mdash;I mean before the boughten dyes came?"</p>
+<p>
+"Well, shure an' that's a purty yellow flower that
+grows in the fall out in the field an' along the fences.
+The Yaller Weed, I call it, an' some calls it Goldenrod.
+They bile the quills in wather with the flower. Luk!
+Thar's some wool dyed that way."</p>
+<p>
+"An' the red?" said Yan, scribbling away.</p>
+<p>
+"Faix, an' they had no rale good red. They made
+a koind o' red o' berry juice b'iled, an' wanst I seen
+a turrible nice red an ol' squaw made b'ilin' the
+quills fust in yaller awhile an' next awhile in red."</p>
+<p>
+"What berries make the best red, Granny?"</p>
+<p>
+"Well, 'tain't the red wans, as ye moight think.
+Ye kin make it of Rosberries or Sumac or Huckleberries
+an' lots more, but Black Currants is redder
+than Red Currants, an' Squaw berries is best av
+them all."</p>
+<p>
+"What are they like?"</p>
+<p>
+"Shure, an' Oi'll show ye that same hairb," and
+they wandered around outside the shanty in vain
+search. "It's too airly," said Granny, "but it's
+<span class="left"><a name="211">211</a></span>
+round thayer in heaps in August an' is the purtiest
+red iver grew. 'An Pokeweed, too, it ain't har'ly
+flowerin' yit, but in the fall it hez berries that's so
+red they're nigh black, an' dyes the purtiest kind o'
+a purple."</p>
+<p>
+"What makes blue?"</p>
+<p>
+"Oi niver sane none in the quills. Thayer may be
+some. The good Lord made iverything grow in the
+woods, but I ain't found it an' niver seen none. Ye
+kin make a grane av the young shoots av Elder, but
+it ain't purty like that," and she pointed to a frightful
+emerald ribbon that Biddy wore, "an' a brown of
+Butternut bark, an' a black av White Oak chips an'
+bark. Ye kin make a kind o' grane av two dips,
+wan of yaller an wan av black. Ye kin dye black
+wid Hickory bark, an' orange (bad scran to it) wid
+the inner bark of Birch, an' yaller wid the roots av
+Hoop Ash, an' a foine scarlet from the bark av the
+little root av Dogwood, but there ain't no rale blue
+in the woods, an' that's what I tell them orange-an'-blue
+Prattisons on the 12th o' July, fur what the
+Lord didn't make the divil did.</p>
+<p>
+"Ye kin make a koind of blue out o' the Indigo
+hairb, but 'tain't like this," pointing to some screaming
+cobalt, "an' if it ain't in the woods the good Lord
+niver meant us to have it. Yis! I tell ye it's the
+divil's own colour, that blue-orange an' blue is the
+divil's own colours, shure enough, fur brimstone's
+yaller; an' its blue whin it's burnin', that I hed from
+his riv'rince himself&mdash;bless him!"
+<img src="images/sketch114.gif" alt="Pokeweed" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="191" height="231" border="0" />
+</p>
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<img src="images/sketch115.gif" width="139" height="425" alt="Saxifrage" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<span class="left"><a name="212">212</a></span>
+
+<h3><a name="2XII">XII</a></h3>
+<h3>Dinner with the Witch</h3>
+
+<p>
+Biddy meanwhile had waddled around the room
+slapping the boards with her broad bare feet
+as she prepared their dinner. She was evidently
+trying to put on style, for she turned out her toes
+excessively. She spoke several times about "the
+toime when she resoided with yer mamma," then at
+length, "Whayer's the tablecloth, Granny?"</p>
+<p>
+"Now, wud ye listen to thot, an' she knowin' that
+divil a clath hev we in the wurruld, an' glad enough
+to hev vittles on the table, let alone a clath," said
+Granny, oblivious of the wreck she was making of
+Biddy's pride.</p>
+<p>
+"Will ye hay tay or coffee, Yahn?" said Biddy.</p>
+<p>
+"Tea," was Yan's choice.</p>
+<p>
+"Faix, an' Oi'm glad ye said tay, fur Oi ain' seen
+a pick o' coffee sense Christmas, an' the tay Oi kin
+git in the woods, but thayer is somethin' Oi kin set
+afore ye that don't grow in the woods," and the old
+woman hobbled to a corner shelf, lifted down an old
+cigar box and from among matches, tobacco, feathers,
+tacks, pins, thread and dust she picked six lumps of
+cube sugar, formerly white.</p>
+<p>
+"Thayer, shure, an' Oi wuz kapin' this fur whin
+his riv'rence comes; wanst a year he's here, God bless
+<span class="left"><a name="213">213</a></span>
+him! but that's fower wakes ahid, an' dear knows
+fwhat may happen afore thin. Here, an' a hearty
+welcome," said she, dropping three of the lumps in
+Yan's tea. "We'll kape the rest fur yer second cup.
+Hev some crame?" and she pushed over a sticky-handled
+shaving-mug full of excellent cream. "Biddy,
+give Yahn some bread."</p>
+<p>
+The loaf, evidently the only one, was cut up and
+two or three slices forced into Yan's plate.</p>
+<p>
+"Mebbe the butther is a little hoigh," exclaimed
+the hostess, noting that Yan was sparing of it.
+"Howld on." She went again to the corner shelf
+and got down an old glass jar with scalloped edge
+and a flat tin cover. It evidently contained jam.
+She lifted the cover and exclaimed:</p>
+<p>
+"Well, Oi niver!" Then going to the door she
+fished out with her fingers a dead mouse and threw
+it out, remarking placidly, "Oi've wondered whayer
+the little divil wuz. Oi ain't sane him this two
+wakes, an' me a-thinkin' it wuz Tom ate him. May
+Oi be furgiven the onjustice av it. Consarn them flies!
+That cover niver did fit." And again her finger was
+employed, this time to scrape off an incrustation of
+unhappy flies that had died, like Clarence, in their
+favourite beverage.</p>
+<p>
+"Thayer, Yan, now ate hearty, all av it, an' welcome.
+It does me good to see ye ate&mdash;thayer's
+lots more whayer that come from," though it was
+obvious that she had put her all upon the table.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="214">214</a></span>
+Poor Yan was in trouble. He felt instinctively
+that the good old soul was wrecking her week's
+resources in this lavish hospitality, but he also felt
+that she would be deeply hurt if he did not
+appear to enjoy everything. The one possibly clean
+thing was the bread. He devoted himself to that; it
+was of poorest quality; one or two hairs looping in
+his teeth had been discouraging, but when he bit at
+a piece of linen rag with a button on it he was fairly
+upset. He managed to hide the rag, but could not
+conceal his sudden loss of appetite.
+</p>
+<img src="images/sketch116a.gif" width="180" height="388" alt="" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+<p>
+"Hev some more av this an' this," and in spite of
+himself his plate was piled up with things for him
+to eat, including a lot of beautifully boiled potatoes,
+but unfortunately the hostess carried them from
+the pot on the stove in a corner of her ancient and
+somber apron, and served him with her skinny paw.</p>
+<p>
+Yan's appetite was wholly gone now, to the grief
+of his kind entertainer, "Shure an' she'd fix him up
+something to stringthen him," and Yan had hard
+work to beg off.</p>
+<p>
+"Would ye like an aig," ventured Biddy.</p>
+<p>
+"Why, yes! oh, yes, please," exclaimed Yan, with
+almost too much enthusiasm. He thought, "Well,
+hens are pure-minded creatures, anyway. An egg's
+sure to be clean."</p>
+<p>
+Biddy waddled away to the 'barrun' and soon
+reappeared with three eggs.</p>
+<p>
+"B'iled or fried?"</p>
+<p>
+"Boiled," said Yan, aiming to keep to the safe side.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="215">215</a></span>
+Biddy looked around for a pot.</p>
+<p>
+"Shure, <i>that's</i> b'ilin' now," said Granny, pointing
+to the great mass of her undergarments seething in
+the boiler, and accordingly the eggs were dropped
+in there.</p>
+<p>
+Yan fervently prayed that they might not break.
+As it was, two did crack open, but he got the other
+one, and that was virtually his dinner.</p>
+<p>
+A Purple Blackbird came hopping in the door now.</p>
+<p>
+"Will, now, thayer's Jack. Whayer hev ye been?
+I thought ye wuz gone fur good. Shure Oi saved him
+from a murtherin' gunner," she explained. "(Bad
+scran to the baste! I belave he was an Or'ngeman.)
+But he's all right now an' comes an' goes like he
+owned the place. Now, Jack, you git out av that
+wather pail," as the beautiful bird leaped into the
+half-filled drinking bucket and began to take a bath.</p>
+<p>
+"Now luk at that," she shouted, "ye little rascal,
+come out o' that oven," for now the Blackbird had
+taken advantage of the open door to scramble into
+the dark warm oven.</p>
+<p>
+"Thayer he goes to warrum his futs. Oh, ye little
+rascal! Next thing ye know some one'll slam the
+dooer, not knowin' a thing, and fire up, an' it's
+roastin' aloive ye'll be. Shure an' it's tempted
+Oi am to wring yer purty neck to save yer loife,"
+and she drove him out with the harshest of words
+and the gentlest of hands.</p>
+<p>
+Then Yan, with his arms full of labelled plants,
+set out for home.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="216">216</a></span>
+"Good-boi, choild, come back agin and say me
+soon. Bring some more hairbs. Good-boi, an' bless
+ye. Oi hope it's no sin to say so, fur Oi know yer a
+Prattison an' ye are all on yez goin' to hell, but yer
+a foine bhoy. Oi'm tumble sorry yer a Prattison."</p>
+<p>
+When Yan got back to the Raftens' he found the
+dinner table set for one, though it was now three in
+the afternoon.</p>
+<p>
+"Come and get your dinner," said Mrs. Raften in
+her quiet motherly way. "I'll put on the steak. It
+will be ready in five minutes."</p>
+<p>
+"But I've had my dinner with Granny de Neuville."</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, I know!"</p>
+<p>
+"Did she stir yer tea with one front claw an' put
+jam on yer bread with the other?" asked Raften,
+rather coarsely.</p>
+<p>
+"Did she b'ile her pet Blackbird fur yer soup?"
+said Sam.</p>
+<p>
+Yan turned very red. Evidently all had a good
+idea of what he had experienced, but it jarred on him
+to hear their mockery of the good old soul.</p>
+<p>
+He replied warmly, "She was just as kind and nice
+as she could be."</p>
+<p>
+"You had better have a steak now," said Mrs.
+Raften, in solicitous doubt.</p>
+<p>
+How tempting was the thought of that juicy brown
+steak! How his empty stomach did crave it! But
+the continued mockery had stirred him. He would
+stand up for the warm-hearted old woman who had
+ungrudgingly given him the best she had&mdash;had given
+her all&mdash;to make a hearty welcome for a stranger.
+<span class="left"><a name="217">217</a></span>
+They should never know how gladly he would have
+eaten now, and in loyalty to his recent hostess he
+added the first lie of his life:</p>
+<p>
+"No, thank you very much, but really I am not
+in the least hungry. I had a fine dinner at Granny
+de Neuville's."</p>
+<p>
+Then, defying the inner pangs of emptiness, he
+went about his evening chores.
+
+<img src="images/sketch117.gif" alt="" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="244" height="114" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+<img src="images/sketch118.gif" width="54" height="80" alt="Black or Blue Birch" border="0" />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="218">218</a></span>
+<h3><a name="2XIII">XIII</a></h3>
+<h3>The Hostile Spy</h3>
+
+<p>
+"Wonder where Caleb got that big piece of Birch
+bark," said Yan; "I'd like some for dishes."</p>
+<p>
+"Guess I know. He was over to Burns's
+bush. There's none in ours. We kin git some."</p>
+
+<img src="images/sketch119.gif" width="80" height="112" alt="Mahogany or Silver Birch" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+<p>
+"Will you ask him?"</p>
+<p>
+"Naw, who cares for an old Birch tree. We'll
+go an' borrow it when he ain't lookin'."</p>
+<p>
+Yan hesitated.</p>
+<p>
+Sam took the axe. "We'll call this a war party
+into the enemy's country. There's sure 'nuff war
+that-a-way. He's one of Da's '<i>friends.'</i>"</p>
+<p>
+Yan followed, in doubt still as to the strict
+honesty of the proceeding.</p>
+<p>
+Over the line they soon found a good-sized canoe
+Birch, and were busy whacking away to get off a
+long roll, when a tall man and a small boy, apparently
+attracted by the chopping, came in sight and made
+toward them. Sam called under his breath: "It's
+old Burns. Let's git."</p>
+<p>
+There was no time to save anything but themselves
+and the axe. They ran for the boundary fence, while
+Burns contented himself with shouting out threats
+and denunciations. Not that he cared a straw for the
+Birch tree&mdash;timber had no value in that country&mdash;but
+<span class="left"><a name="219">219</a></span>
+unfortunately Raften had quarrelled with all
+his immediate neighbours, therefore Burns did his best
+to make a fearful crime of the petty depredation.</p>
+<p>
+His valiant son, a somewhat smaller boy than either
+Yan or Sam, came near enough to the boundary to
+hurl opprobrious epithets.</p>
+<p>
+"Red-head&mdash;red-head! You red-headed thief!
+Hol' on till my paw gits hol' o' you&mdash;Raften, the
+Baften, the rick-strick Straften," and others equally
+galling and even more exquisitely refined.</p>
+<p>
+"War party escaped and saved their scalps," and
+Sam placidly laid the axe in its usual place.</p>
+<p>
+"Nothing lost but honour," added Yan. "Who's
+the kid?"</p>
+<img src="images/sketch120.gif" width="99" height="92" alt="1st Prize Guy Burns" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<p>
+"Oh, that's Guy Burns. I know him. He's a mean
+little cuss, always sneaking and peeking. Lies like
+sixty. Got the prize&mdash;a big scrubbing-brush&mdash;for
+being the dirtiest boy in school. We all voted, and
+the teacher gave it to him."</p>
+<p>
+Next day the boys made another war party for
+Birch bark, but had hardly begun operations when
+there was an uproar not far away, and a voice, evidently
+of a small boy, mouthing it largely, trying to
+pass itself off as a man's voice: "Hi, yer the &mdash;&mdash;
+&mdash;&mdash;. Yer git off my &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; place &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+<p>
+"Le's capture the little cuss, Yan."</p>
+<p>
+"An' burn him at the stake with horrid torture,"
+was the rejoinder.</p>
+<p>
+They set out in his direction, but again the appearance
+of Burns changed their war-party onslaught into
+<span class="left"><a name="220">220</a></span>
+a rapid retreat.</p>
+<p>
+(More opprobrium.)</p>
+<p>
+During the days that followed the boys were often
+close to the boundary, but it happened that Burns
+was working near and Guy had the quickest of eyes
+and ears. The little rat seemed ever on the alert.
+He soon showed by his long-distance remarks that he
+knew all about the boys' pursuits&mdash;had doubtless
+visited the camp in their absence. Several times
+they saw him watching them with intense interest
+when they were practising with bow and arrow, but
+he always retreated to a safe distance when discovered,
+and then enjoyed himself breathing out
+fire and slaughter.</p>
+<p>
+One day the boys came to the camp at an unusual
+hour. On going into a near thicket Yan saw a bare
+foot under some foliage. "Hallo, what's this?" He
+stooped down and found a leg to it and at the end of
+that Guy Burns.</p>
+<p>
+Up Guy jumped, yelling "Paw&mdash;Paw&mdash;PAW!" He
+ran for his life, the Indians uttering blood-curdlers
+on his track. But Yan was a runner, and Guy's
+podgy legs, even winged by fear, had no chance. He
+was seized and dragged howling back to the camp.</p>
+<p>
+"You let me alone, you Sam Raften&mdash;now you let
+me alone!" There was, however, a striking lack of
+opprobrium in his remarks now. (Such delicacy is
+highly commendable in the very young.)</p>
+<p>
+"First thing is to secure the prisoner, Yan."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="221">221</a></span>
+Sam produced a cord.</p>
+<p>
+"Pooh," said Yan. "You've got no style about
+you. Bring me some Leatherwood."</p>
+<p>
+This was at hand, and in spite of howls and scuffles,
+Guy was solemnly tied to a tree&mdash;a green one&mdash;because,
+as Yan pointed out, that would resist the
+fire better.</p>
+<p>
+The two Warriors now squatted cross-legged by the
+fire. The older one lighted a peace-pipe, and they
+proceeded to discuss the fate of the unhappy
+captive.</p>
+<p>
+"Brother," said Yan, with stately gestures, "it is
+very pleasant to hear the howls of this miserable paleface."
+(It was really getting to be more than they
+could endure.)</p>
+<p>
+"Ugh&mdash;heap good," said the Woodpecker.</p>
+<p>
+"Ye better let me alone. My Paw'll fix you for
+this, you dirty cowards," wailed the prisoner, fast
+losing control of his tongue.</p>
+<p>
+"Ugh! Take um scalp first, burn him after," and
+Little Beaver made some expressive signs.</p>
+<p>
+"Wah&mdash;bully&mdash;me heap wicked," rejoined the
+Woodpecker, expectorating on a stone and beginning
+to whet his jack-knife.</p>
+<p>
+The keen and suggestive "<i>weet, weet, weet</i>" of the
+knife on the stone smote on Guy's ears and nerves
+with appalling effect.</p>
+<p>
+"Brother Woodpecker, the spirit of our tribe calls
+out for the blood of the victim&mdash;all of it."</p>
+<p>
+"Great Chief Woodpecker, you mean," said Sam,
+aside. "If you don't call me Chief, I won't call you
+<span class="left"><a name="222">222</a></span>
+Chief, that's all."</p>
+<p>
+The Great Woodpecker and Little Beaver now
+entered the teepee, repainted each other's faces,
+adjusted their head-dresses and stepped out to the
+execution.</p>
+<p>
+The Woodpecker re-whetted his knife. It did not
+need it, but he liked the sound.</p>
+<p>
+Little Beaver now carried a lot of light firewood and
+arranged it in front of the prisoner, but Guy's legs were
+free and he gave it a kick which sent it all flying.
+The two War-chiefs leaped aside. "Ugh! Heap
+sassy," said the ferocious Woodpecker. "Tie him
+legs, oh, Brother Great Chief Little Beaver!"</p>
+<p>
+A new bark strip tied his legs securely to the tree.
+Then Chief Woodpecker approached with his knife
+and said:</p>
+<p>
+"Great Brother Chief Little Beaver, if we scalp him
+there is only one scalp, and <i>you</i> will have nothing to
+show, except you're content with the wishbone."</p>
+<p>
+Here was a difficulty, artificial yet real, but Yan
+suggested:</p>
+<p>
+"Great Brother Chief
+Red-headed-Woodpecker-Settin'-on-a-Stump-with-his-Tail-Waggling-over-the Edge,
+no scalp him; skin his hull head, then each take
+half skin."</p>
+<p>
+"Wah! Very good, oh Brother Big-Injun-Chief
+Great-Little-Beaver-Chaw-a-Tree-Down."</p>
+<span class="left"><a name="223">223</a></span>
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/illus10a.jpg" width="640" height="441" alt="Ugh! Heap sassy!" border="0" /></p>
+<p>
+Then the Woodpecker got a piece of charcoal and
+proceeded in horrid gravity to mark out on the tow
+hair of the prisoner just what he considered a fair
+<span class="left"><a name="225">225</a></span>
+division. Little Beaver objected that he was entitled
+to an ear and half of the crown, which is the essential
+part of the scalp. The Woodpecker pointed out that
+fortunately the prisoner had a cow-lick that was
+practically a second crown. This ought to do perfectly
+well for the younger Chief's share. The charcoal lines
+were dusted off for a try-over. Both Chiefs got charcoal
+now and a new sketch plan was made on Guy's
+tow top and corrected till it was accepted by both.</p>
+<p>
+The victim had really never lost heart till now.
+His flow of threats and epithets had been continuous
+and somewhat tedious. He had threatened to tell his
+"paw" and "the teacher," and all the world, but
+finally he threatened to tell Mr. Raften. This was
+the nearest to a home thrust of any yet, and in some
+uneasiness the Woodpecker turned to Little Beaver
+and said:</p>
+<p>
+"Brother Chief, do you comprehend the language
+of the blithering Paleface? What does he say?"</p>
+<p>
+"Ugh, I know not," was the reply. "Maybe he
+now singeth a death song in his own tongue."</p>
+<p>
+Guy was not without pluck. He had kept up heart
+so far believing that the boys were "foolin'," but when
+he felt the awful charcoal line drawn to divide his
+scalp satisfactorily between these two inhuman,
+painted monsters, and when with a final "<i>weet, weet,
+weet</i>" of the knife on the stone the implacable Woodpecker
+approached and grabbed his tow locks in one
+hand, then he broke down and wept bitterly.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="226">226</a></span>
+"Oh, please don't&mdash;&mdash;Oh, Paw! Oh, Maw! Let
+me go this time an' I'll never do it again." What he
+would not do was not specified, but the evidence of
+surrender was complete.</p>
+<p>
+"Hold on, Great Brother Chief," said Little
+Beaver. "It is the custom of the tribes to release or
+even to adopt such prisoners as have shown notable
+fortitude."</p>
+<p>
+"Showed fortitude enough for six if it's the same
+thing as yellin'," said the Woodpecker, dropping
+into his own vernacular.</p>
+<p>
+"Let us cut his bonds so that he may escape to his
+own people."</p>
+<p>
+"Thar'd be more style to it if we left him thar
+overnight an' found next mornin' he had escaped
+somehow by himself," said the older Chief. The
+victim noted the improvement in his situation and
+now promised amid sobs to get them all the Birch
+bark they wanted&mdash;to do anything, if they would
+let him go. He would even steal for them the
+choicest products of his father's orchard.</p>
+<p>
+Little Beaver drew his knife and cut bond after bond.</p>
+<p>
+Woodpecker got his bow and arrow, remarking
+"Ugh, heap fun shoot him runnin'."</p>
+<p>
+The last bark strip was cut. Guy needed no
+urging. He ran for the boundary fence in silence
+till he got over; then finding himself safe and unpursued,
+he rilled the air with threats and execrations.
+No part of his statement would do to print here.</p>
+<p>
+After such a harrowing experience most boys would
+have avoided that swamp, but Guy knew Sam at
+<span class="left"><a name="227">227</a></span>
+school as a good-natured fellow. He began to think
+he had been unduly scared. He was impelled by
+several motives, a burning curiosity being, perhaps
+the most important. The result was that one day
+when the boys came to camp they saw Guy sneaking
+off. It was fun to capture him and drag him back.
+He was very sullen, and not so noisy as the other
+time, evidently less scared. The Chiefs talked of fire
+and torture and of ducking him in the pond without
+getting much response. Then they began to cross-examine
+<img src="images/sketch122.gif" width="122" height="173" alt="Gyascutus" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+the prisoner. He gave no answer. Why
+did he come to the camp? What was he doing&mdash;stealing?
+etc. He only looked sullen.</p>
+<p>
+"Let's blindfold him and drive a Gyascutus down his
+back," said Yan in a hollow voice.</p>
+<p>
+"Good idee," agreed Sam, not knowing any more
+than the prisoner what a Gyascutus was. Then he
+added, "just as well be merciful. It'll put him out
+o' pain."</p>
+<p>
+It is the unknown that terrifies. The prisoner's
+soul was touched again. His mouth was trembling
+at the corners. He was breaking down when Yan
+followed it up: "Then why don't you tell us what
+you are doing here?"</p>
+<p>
+He blubbered out, "I want to play Injun, too."</p>
+<p>
+The boys broke down in another way. They had
+not had time to paint their faces, so that their
+expressions were very clear on this occasion.</p>
+<p>
+Then Little Beaver arose and addressed the Council.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="228">228</a></span>
+"Great Chiefs of the Sanger Nation: The last time
+we tortured and burned to death this prisoner, he
+created quite an impression. Never before has one
+of our prisoners shown so many different kinds of
+gifts. I vote to receive him into the Tribe."</p>
+<p>
+The Woodpecker now arose and spoke:</p>
+<p>
+"O wisest Chief but one in this Tribe, that's all right
+enough, but you know that no warrior can join us
+without first showing that he's good stuff and clear
+grit, all wool, and a cut above the average somehow.
+It hain't never been so. Now he's got to lick some
+Warrior of the Tribe. Kin you do that?"</p>
+<p>
+"Nope."</p>
+<p>
+"Or outrun one or outshoot him or something&mdash;or
+give us all a present. What kin you do?"</p>
+<p>
+"I kin steal watermillyons, an' I kin see farder 'n
+any boy in school, an' I kin sneak to beat all creation.
+I watched you fellers lots of times from them bushes.
+I watched you buildin' that thar dam. <i>I swum
+in it 'fore you did</i>, an' I uster set an' smoke in your
+teepee when you wasn't thar, an' I heerd you talk the
+time you was fixin' up to steal our Birch bark."</p>
+<p>
+"Don't seem to me like it all proves much <i>fortitude</i>.
+Have you got any presents for the oldest head
+Chief of the tribe?"</p>
+<p>
+"I'll get you all the Birch bark you want. I can't git
+what you cut, coz me an' Paw burned that so you
+couldn't git it, but I'll git you lots more, an' maybe&mdash;I'll
+steal you a chicken once in awhile."</p>
+<p>
+"His intentions are evidently honourable Let's
+take him in on sufferance," said Yan.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="229">229</a></span>
+"All right," replied the head Chief, "he kin come in,
+but that don't spile my claim to that left half of his
+scalp down to that tuft of yellow moss on the scruff
+of his neck where the collar has wore off the dirt. I'm
+liable to call for it any time, an' the ear goes with it."</p>
+<p>
+Guy wanted to treat this as a joke, but Sam's
+glittering eyes and inscrutable face were centered
+hungrily on that "yaller tuft" in a way that gave him
+the "creeps" again.</p>
+<p>
+"Say, Yan&mdash;I mean Great Little Beaver&mdash;you know
+all about it, what kind o' stunts did they have to do to
+get into an Injun tribe, anyhow?"</p>
+<p>
+"Different tribes do different ways, but the Sun
+Dance and the Fire Test are the most respectable
+and both <i>terribly hard</i>."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, what did <i>you</i> do?" queried the Great Woodpecker.</p>
+<p>
+"Both," said Yan grinning, as he remembered his
+sunburnt arms and shoulders.</p>
+<p>
+"Quite sure?" said the older Chief in a tone of
+doubt.</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, sir; and I bore it so well that every one there
+agreed that I was the best one in the Tribe," said
+Little Beaver, omitting to mention the fact that he
+was the only one in it. "I was unanimously named
+'Howling Sunrise.'"</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I want to be 'Howling Sunrise,'" piped
+Guy in his shrill voice.</p>
+<p>
+"You? You don't know whether you can pass at
+all, you Yaller Mossback."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="230">230</a></span>
+"Come, Mossy, which will you do?"</p>
+<p>
+Guy's choice was to be sunburnt to the waist. He
+was burnt and freckled already to the shoulders, on
+arms as well as on neck, and his miserable cotton
+shirt so barely turned the sun's rays that he was
+elsewhere of a deep yellow tinge with an occasional
+constellation of freckles. Accordingly he danced
+about camp all one day with nothing on but his pants,
+and, of course, being so seasoned, he did not burn.</p>
+<p>
+As the sun swung low the Chiefs assembled in
+Council.</p>
+<p>
+The head Chief looked over the new Warrior, shook
+his head gravely and said emphatically: "Too green
+to burn. Your name is Sapwood."</p>
+<p>
+Protest was in vain. "Sappy," he was and had
+to be until he won a better name. The peace pipe
+was smoked all round and he was proclaimed third
+War Chief of the Sanger Indians (the word <i>War</i>
+inserted by special request).</p>
+<p>
+He was quite the most harmless member of the band
+and therefore took unusual pleasure in posing as the
+possessor of a perennial thirst for human heart-blood.
+War-paint was his delight, and with its aid he was
+singularly successful in correcting his round and
+smiling face into a savage visage of revolting ferocity.
+Paint was his hobby and his pride, but alas! how
+often it happens one's deepest sorrow is in the midst
+of one's greatest joy&mdash;the deepest lake is the old
+crater on top of the highest mountain. Sappy's eyes
+were <i>not</i> the sinister black beads of the wily Red-man,
+but a washed-out blue. His ragged, tow-coloured
+<span class="left"><a name="231">231</a></span>
+locks he could hide under wisps of horsehair, the
+paint itself redeemed his freckled skin, but there was
+no remedy for the white eyelashes and the pale, piggy,
+blue eyes. He kept his sorrow to himself, however,
+for he knew that if the others got an inkling of his
+feelings on the subject his name would have been
+promptly changed to "Dolly" or "Birdy," or some
+other equally horrible and un-Indian appellation.</p>
+
+<img src="images/sketch123.gif" alt="Sappy" hspace="15" style="float: left" width="219" height="110" border="0" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<br /><br /><br />
+<img src="images/sketch124b.gif" width="100" height="151" alt="Scarlet Tanager" border="0" align="left" hspace="15" />
+
+
+<span class="left"><a name="232">232</a></span>
+
+<h3><a name="2XIV">XIV</a></h3>
+<h3>The Quarrel</h3>
+
+<p>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;"Say, Yan, I saw a Blood-Robin this morning."</p>
+<p>
+"That's a new one," said Yan, in a tone of doubt.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, it's the purtiest bird in the country."</p>
+<p>
+"What? A Humming-bird?"</p>
+<p>
+"Na-aw-w-w. They ain't purty, only small."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, that shows what you know," retorted Yan,
+"'for these exquisite winged gems are at once the
+most diminutive and brilliantly coloured of the whole
+feathered race.'"  This phrase Yan had read some
+where and his overapt memory had seized on it.</p>
+<p>
+"Pshaw!" said Sam. "Sounds like a book, but
+I'll bet I seen hundreds of Hummin'-birds round the
+Trumpet-vine and Bee-balm in the garden, an' they
+weren't a millionth part as purty as this. Why, it's
+just as red as blood, shines like fire and has black
+wings. The old Witch says the Indians call it a War-bird
+'cause when it flew along the trail there was sure
+going to be war, which is like enough, fur they wuz at
+it all the hull time."</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, I know," said Yan. "A Scarlet Tanager.
+Where did you see it?"</p>
+<p>
+"Why, it came from the trees, then alighted on the
+highest pole of the teepee."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="233">233</a></span>
+"Hope there isn't going to be any war there, Sam.
+I wish I had one to stuff."</p>
+<p>
+"Tried to get him for you, sonny, spite of the Rules.
+Could 'a' done it, too, with a gun. Had a shy at him
+with an arrow an' I hain't been bird or arrow since.
+'Twas my best arrow, too&mdash;old Sure-Death."</p>
+<p>
+"Will ye give me the arrow if I kin find it?" said
+Guy.</p>
+<p>
+"Now you bet I won't. What good'd that be to
+me?"</p>
+<p>
+"Will you give me your chewin' gum?"</p>
+<p>
+"No."</p>
+<p>
+"Will you lend it to me?"</p>
+<p>
+"Yep."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, there's your old arrow," said Guy, pulling it
+from between the logs where it had fallen. "I seen
+it go there an' reckoned I'd lay low an' watch the
+progress of events, as Yan says," and Guy whinnied.</p>
+<p>
+Early in the morning the Indians in war-paint
+went off on a prowl. They carried their bows and
+arrows, of course, and were fully alert, studying the
+trail at intervals and listening for "signs of the
+enemy."</p>
+<p><img src="images/sketch126.gif" width="86" height="373" alt="Balsam-fir and fuzz-ball" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+Their moccasined feet gave forth no sound, and
+their keen eyes took in every leaf that stirred as
+their sinewy forms glided among the huge trunks of
+the primeval vegetation&mdash;at least, Yan's note-book
+said they did. They certainly went with very little
+noise, but they disturbed a small Hawk that flew from
+a Balsam-fir&mdash;a "Fire tree" they now called it, since
+they had discovered the wonderful properties of the
+<span class="left"><a name="234">234</a></span>
+wood.</p>
+<p>
+Three arrows were shot after it and no harm done.
+Yan then looked into the tree and exclaimed:</p>
+<p>
+"A nest."</p>
+<p>
+"Looks to me like a fuzz-ball," said Guy.</p>
+<p>
+"Guess not," replied Yan. "Didn't we scare the
+Hawk off?"</p>
+<p>
+He was a good climber, quite the best of the three,
+and dropping his head-dress, coat, leggings and
+weapon, she shinned up the Balsam trunk, utterly
+regardless of the gum which hung in crystalline drops
+or easily burst bark-bladders on every part.</p>
+<p>
+He was no sooner out of sight in the lower branches
+than Satan entered into Guy's small heart and
+prompted him thus:</p>
+<p>
+"Le's play a joke on him an' clear out."</p>
+<p>
+Sam's sense of humour beguiled him. They stuffed
+Yan's coat and pants with leaves and rubbish, put
+them properly together with the head-dress, then
+stuck one of his own arrows through the breast of the
+coat into the ground and ran away.</p>
+<p>
+Meanwhile Yan reached the top of the tree and
+found that the nest was only one of the fuzz-balls so
+common on Fir trees. He called out to his comrades
+but got no reply, so came down. At first the ridiculous
+dummy seemed funny, then he found that his
+coat had been injured and the arrow broken. He
+called for his companions, but got no answer; again
+and again, without reply. He went to where they
+all had intended going, but if they were there they
+<span class="left"><a name="235">235</a></span>
+hid from him, and feeling himself scurvily deserted
+he went back to camp in no very pleasant humour.
+They were not there. He sat by the fire awhile,
+then, yielding to his habit of industry, he took off his
+coat and began to work at the dam.</p>
+<p>
+He became engrossed in his work and did not
+notice the return of the runaways till he heard a
+voice saying "What's this?"</p>
+<p>
+On turning he saw Sam poring over his private
+note-book and then beginning to read aloud:</p>
+
+<p class="indent">
+"Kingbird, fearless crested Kingbird
+Thou art&mdash;&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+But Yan snatched it out of his hands.</p>
+<p>
+"I'll bet the rest was something about 'Singbird,'"
+said Sam.</p>
+<p>
+Yan's face was burning with shame and anger.
+He had a poetic streak, and was morbidly sensitive
+about any one seeing its product. The Kingbird
+episode of their long evening walk was but one of
+many similar. He had learned to delight in these
+daring attacks of the intrepid little bird on the Hawks
+and Crows, and so magnified them into high heroics
+until he must try to record them in rhyme. It was
+very serious to him, and to have his sentiments afford
+sport to the others was more than he could bear. Of
+course Guy came out and grinned, taking his cue from
+Sam. Then he remarked in colourless tones, as though
+announcing an item of general news, "They say there
+was a fearless-crested Injun shot in the woods to-day."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="236">236</a></span>
+The morning's desertion left Yan in no mood for
+chaffing. He rightly attributed the discourtesy to
+Guy. Turning savagely toward him he said,
+meaningly:</p>
+<p>
+"Now, no more of your sass, you dirty little
+sneak."</p>
+<p><img src="images/sketch127.gif" width="114" height="216" alt="Guy reciting" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+"I ain't talkin' to you," Guy snickered, and
+followed Sam into the teepee. There were low voices
+within for a time. Yan went over toward the dam
+and began to plug mud into some possible holes.
+Presently there was more snickering in the teepee,
+then Guy came out alone, struck a theatrical attitude
+and began to recite to a tree above Yan's
+head:</p>
+
+<p class="indent2">
+"Kingbird, fearless crested Kingbird,<br />
+Thou art but a blooming sing bird&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+But the mud was very handy and Yan hurled a
+mass that spattered Guy thoroughly and sent him
+giggling into the teepee.</p>
+<p>
+"Them's the bow-kays," Sam was heard to say.
+"Go out an' git some more; dead sure you deserve 'em.
+Let <i>me</i> know when the calls for 'author' begin?"
+Then there was more giggling. Yan was fast losing
+all control of himself. He seized a big stick and
+strode into the teepee, but Sam lifted the cover of
+the far side and slipped out. Guy tried to do the
+same, but Yan caught him.</p>
+<p>
+"Here, I ain't doin' nothin'."</p>
+<p>
+The answer was a sounding whack which made him
+wriggle.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="237">237</a></span>
+"You let me alone, you big coward. I ain't doin'
+nothin' to you. You better let me alone. Sam!
+S&ndash;A&ndash;M! S&ndash;A&ndash;A&ndash;A&ndash;M!!!" as the stick came down again
+and again.</p>
+<p>
+"Don't bother me," shouted Sam outside. "I'm
+writin' poethry&mdash;terrible partic'lar job, poethry. He
+only means it in kindness, anyhow."</p>
+<p>
+Guy was screaming now and weeping copiously.</p>
+<p>
+"You'll get some more if you give me any more of
+your lip," said Yan, and stepped out to meet Sam with
+the note-book again, apparently scribbling away.
+As soon as he saw Yan he stood up, cleared his
+throat and began:</p>
+
+<p class="indent">
+"Kingbird, fearless crested&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+But he did not finish it. Yan struck him a savage
+blow on the mouth. Sam sprang back a few steps.
+Yan seized a large stone.</p>
+<p>
+"Don't you throw that at me," said Sam seriously.
+Yan sent it with his deadliest force and aim. Sam
+dodged it and then in self-defense ran at Yan and
+they grappled and fought, while Guy, eager for
+revenge, rushed to help Sam, and got in a few trifling
+blows.</p>
+<p>
+Sam was heavier and stronger than Yan, but Yan
+had gained wonderfully since coming to Sanger.
+He was thin, but wiry, and at school he had learned
+the familiar hip-throw that is as old as Cain and Abel.
+It was all he did know of wrestling, but now it stood
+him in good stead. He was strong with rage, too&mdash;
+and almost as soon as they grappled he found his
+<span class="left"><a name="238">238</a></span>
+chance. Sam's heels flew up and he went sprawling
+in the dust. One straight blow on the nose sent Guy
+off howling, and seeing Sam once more on his feet,
+Yan rushed at him again like a wild beast. A
+moment later the big boy went tumbling over the
+bank into the pond.</p>
+<p>
+"<i>You</i> see if I don't get you sent about your business
+from here," spluttered Sam, now thoroughly
+angry. "I'll tell Da you hender the wurruk." His
+eyes were full of water and Guy's were full of stars
+and of tears. Neither saw the fourth party near;
+but Yan did. There, not twenty yards away, stood
+William Raften, spectator of the whole affair&mdash;an
+expression not of anger but of infinite sorrow and
+disappointment on his face&mdash;not because they had
+quarrelled&mdash;no&mdash;he knew boy nature well enough
+not to give that a thought&mdash;but that <i>his</i> son, older
+and stronger than the other and backed by another
+boy, should be licked in fair fight by a thin, half-invalid.</p>
+<p>
+It was as bitter a pill as he had ever had to swallow.
+He turned in silence and disappeared, and never
+afterward alluded to the matter.</p>
+<span class="left"><a name="239">239</a></span>
+<p class="center"><img src="images/illus11a.jpg" width="560" height="839" alt="There stood Raften, spectator of the whole affair" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="241">241</a></span>
+<h3><a name="2XV">XV</a></h3>
+<h3>The Peace of Minnie</h3>
+
+<p>
+That night the two avoided each other. Yan ate
+but little, and to Mrs. Raften's kindly solicitous
+questions he said he was not feeling well.</p>
+<p>
+After supper they were sitting around the table,
+the men sleepily silent, Yan and Sam moodily so.
+Yan had it all laid out in his mind now. Sam would
+make a one-sided report of the affair; Guy would
+sustain him. Raften himself was witness of Yan's
+violence.</p>
+<p>
+The merry days at Sanger were over. He was
+doomed, and felt like a condemned felon awaiting
+the carrying out of the sentence. There was only
+one lively member of the group. That was little
+Minnie. She was barely three, but a great chatterbox.
+Like all children, she dearly loved a "secret,"
+and one of her favourite tricks was to beckon to
+some one, laying her pinky finger on her pinker lips,
+and then when they stooped she would whisper in
+their ear, "Don't tell." That was all. It was her
+Idea of a "seek-it."</p>
+<p>
+She was playing at her brother's knee. He
+picked her up and they whispered to each other,
+then she scrambled down and went to Yan. He
+lifted her with a tenderness that was born of the
+<span class="left"><a name="242">242</a></span>
+thought that she alone loved him now. She beckoned
+his head down, put her chubby arms around his
+neck and whispered, "<i>Don't tell</i>," then slid down,
+holding her dear innocent little finger warningly
+before her mouth.</p>
+<p>
+What did it mean? Had Sam told her to do that,
+or was it a mere repetition of her old trick? No
+matter, it brought a rush of warm feeling into Yan's
+heart. He coaxed the little cherub back and
+whispered, "No, Minnie, I'll never tell." He began
+to see how crazy he had been. Sam was such a good
+fellow, he was very fond of him, and he wanted to
+make up; but no&mdash;with Sam holding threats of
+banishment over him, he could not ask for forgiveness.
+No, he would do nothing but wait and see.</p>
+<p>
+He met Mr. Raften again and again that evening
+and nothing was said. He slept little that night
+and was up early. He met Mr. Raften alone&mdash;rather
+tried to meet him alone. He wanted to have it over
+with. He was one of the kind not prayed for in the
+Litany that crave "sudden death." But Raften
+was unchanged. At breakfast Sam was as usual,
+except to Yan, and not very different to him. He
+had a swelling on his lip that he said he got "tusslin'
+with the boys somehow or nuther."</p>
+<p>
+After breakfast Raften said:</p>
+<p>
+"Yahn, I want you to come with me to the
+schoolhouse."</p>
+<p>
+"It's come at last," thought Yan, for the schoolhouse
+was on the road to the railroad station. But
+<span class="left"><a name="243">243</a></span>
+why did not Raften say "the station"? He was not a
+man to mince words. Nothing was said about his
+handbag either, and there was no room for it in the
+buggy anyway.</p>
+<p>
+Raften drove in silence. There was nothing
+unusual in that. At length he said:</p>
+<p>
+"Yahn, what's yer father goin' to make of ye?"</p>
+<p>
+"An artist," said Yan, wondering what this had to
+do with his dismissal.</p>
+<p>
+"Does an artist hev to be bang-up eddicated?"</p>
+<p>
+"They're all the better for it."</p>
+<p>
+"Av coorse, av coorse, that's what I tell Sam.
+It's eddication that counts. Does artists make
+much money?"</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, some of them. The successful ones sometimes
+make millions."</p>
+<p>
+"Millions? I guess not. Ain't you stretchin'
+it just a leetle?"</p>
+<p>
+"No, sir. Turner made a million. Titian lived
+in a palace, and so did Raphael."</p>
+<p>
+"Hm. Don't know 'em, but maybe so&mdash;maybe
+so. It's wonderful what eddication does&mdash;that's
+what I tell Sam."</p>
+<img src="images/sketch128.gif" alt="Turner made a million" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="291" height="159" border="0" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<p>
+They now drew near the schoolhouse. It was
+holiday time, but the door was open and on the steps
+were two graybearded men. They nodded to Raften.
+These men were the school trustees. One of them
+was Char-less Boyle; the other was old Moore, poor as
+a church mouse, but a genial soul, and really put on
+the Board as a lubricant between Boyle and Raften.
+<span class="left"><a name="244">244</a></span>
+Boyle was much the more popular. But Raften
+was always made trustee, for the people knew that
+he would take extremely good care of funds and
+school as well as of scholars.</p>
+<p>
+This was a special meeting called to arrange for
+a new schoolhouse. Raften got out a lot of papers,
+including letters from the Department of Education.
+The School District had to find half the money; the
+Department would supply the other half if all conditions
+were complied with. Chief of these, the
+schoolhouse had to have a given number of cubic feet
+of air for each pupil. This was very important, but
+how were they to know in advance if they had the
+minimum and were not greatly over. It would not do
+to ask the Department that. They could not consult
+the teacher, for he was away now and probably would
+cheat them with more air than was needed. It was
+Raften who brilliantly solved this frightful mathematical
+problem and discovered a doughty champion
+in the thin, bright-eyed child.</p>
+<p>
+"Yahn," he said, offering him a two-foot rule, "can
+ye tell me how many foot of air is in this room for
+every scholar when the seats is full?"</p>
+<p>
+"You mean cubic feet?"</p>
+<p>
+"Le's see," and Raften and Moore, after stabbing
+at the plans with huge forefingers and fumbling
+cumberously at the much-pawed documents,
+said together: "Yes, it says cubic feet." Yan
+quickly measured the length of the room and took
+the height with the map-lifter. The three graybeards
+<span class="left"><a name="245">245</a></span>
+gazed with awe and admiration as they saw how
+<i>sure</i> he seemed. He then counted the seats and said,
+"Do you count the teacher?" The men discussed this
+point, then decided, "Maybe ye better; he uses
+more wind than any of them. Ha, ha!"</p>
+<p>
+Yan made a few figures on paper, then said, "Twenty
+feet, rather better."</p>
+<p>
+"Luk at thot," said Raften in a voice of bullying
+and triumph; "jest agrees with the Gover'ment
+Inspector. I <i>towld</i> ye he could. Now let's put the
+new buildin' to test."</p>
+<p>
+More papers were pawed over.</p>
+<p>
+"Yahn, how's this&mdash;double as many children, one
+teacher an' the buildin' so an' so."</p>
+<p>
+Yan figured a minute and said, "Twenty-five feet
+each."</p>
+<p>
+"Thar, didn't I tell ye," thundered Raften; "didn't
+I say that that dhirty swindler of an architect was
+playing us into the conthractor's hands&mdash;thought we
+wuz simple&mdash;a put-up job, the hull durn thing.
+Luk at it! They're nothing but a gang of thieves."</p>
+<p>
+Yan glanced at the plan that was being flourished
+in the air.</p>
+<p>
+"Hold on," he said, with an air of authority that
+he certainly never before had used to Raften, "there's
+the lobby and cloak-room to come off." He subtracted
+their bulk and found the plan all right&mdash;the Government
+minimum of air.</p>
+<p>
+Boyle's eye had now just a little gleam of
+triumphant malice. Raften seemed actually disappointed
+<span class="left"><a name="246">246</a></span>
+not to have found some roguery.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, they're a shcaly lot, anyhow. They'll
+bear watchin'," he added, in tones of self-justification.</p>
+<p>
+"Now, Yahn, last year the township was assessed
+at $265,000 an' we raised $265 with a school-tax of
+wan mill on the dollar. This year the new assessment
+gives $291,400; how much will the same tax
+raise if cost of collecting is same?"</p>
+<p>
+"Two hundred and ninety-one dollars and forty
+cents," said Yan, without hesitation&mdash;and the three
+men sat back in their chairs and gasped.</p>
+<p>
+It was the triumph of his life. Even old Boyle
+beamed in admiration, and Raften glowed, feeling
+that not a little of it belonged to him.</p>
+<p>
+There was something positively pathetic in the
+simplicity of the three shrewd men and their abject
+reverence for the wonderful scholarship of this raw
+boy, and not less touching was their absolute faith in
+his infallibility as a mathematician.</p>
+<p>
+Raften grinned at him in a peculiar, almost a
+weak way. Yan had never seen that expression on
+his face before, excepting once, and that was as he
+shook hands with a noted pugilist just after he had
+won a memorable fight. Yan did not know whether
+he liked it or not.</p>
+<p>
+On the road home Raften talked with unusual
+freeness about his plans for his son. (Yan began to
+realize that the storm had blown over.) He harped
+on his favourite theme, "eddication." If Yan had
+only known, that was the one word of comfort that
+<span class="left"><a name="247">247</a></span>
+Raften found when he saw his big boy go down: "It's
+eddication done it. Oh, but he's fine eddicated."
+Yan never knew until years afterward, when a grown
+man and he and Raften were talking of the old days,
+that he had been for some time winning respect
+from the rough-and-ready farmer, but what finally
+raised him to glorious eminence was the hip-throw
+that he served that day on Sam.</p>
+<br /><br />
+<hr class="medium" />
+<br /><br />
+<p>
+Raften was all right, Yan believed, but what of
+Sam? They had not spoken yet. Yan wished to
+make up, but it grew harder. Sam had got over his
+wrath and wanted a chance, but did not know how.</p>
+<p>
+He had just set down his two buckets after feeding
+the pigs when Minnie came toddling out.</p>
+<p>
+"Sam! Sam! Take Minnie to 'ide," then seeing
+Yan she added, "Yan, you mate a tair, tate hold
+Sam's hand."</p>
+<p>
+The queen must be obeyed. Sam and Yan sheepishly
+grasped hands to make a queen's chair for the
+little lady. She clutched them both around the neck
+and brought their heads close together. They both
+loved the pink-and-white baby between them, and
+both could talk to her though not to each other. But
+there is something in touch that begets comprehension.
+The situation was becoming ludicrous when
+Sam suddenly burst out laughing, then:</p>
+<p>
+"Say, Yan, let's be friends."</p>
+<p>
+"I&mdash;I want&mdash;to&mdash;be," stammered Yan, with tears
+standing in his eyes. "I'm awfully sorry. I'll never
+<span class="left"><a name="248">248</a></span>
+do it again."</p>
+<img src="images/sketch129.gif" alt="discord" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="293" height="158" border="0" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<p>
+"Oh, shucks! I don't care," said Sam. "It was
+all that dirty little sneak that made the trouble; but
+never mind, it's all right. The only thing that
+worries me is how you sent me flying. I'm bigger
+an' stronger an' older, I can heft more an' work
+harder, but you throwed me like a bag o' shavings,
+I only wish I knowed how you done it."</p>
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/sketch130.gif" width="214" height="203" alt="Hatchet bury. Light the pipe" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+<span class="left"><a name="249">249</a></span>
+<h3>PART <a name="III">III</a>.</h3>
+
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="251">251</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3I">I</a></h3>
+<h3>Really in the Woods</h3>
+
+<p><img src="images/sketch053.gif" width="100" height="107" align="left" hspace="10" alt="Y" border="0" />
+E seem to waste a powerful lot o'
+time goin' up an' down to yer
+camp; why don't ye stay thayer
+altogether?" said Raften one day,
+in the colourless style that always
+worried every one, for they did not
+know whether it was really meant
+or was mere sarcasm.</p>
+<p>
+"Suits me. 'Tain't our choice to come home,"
+replied his son.</p>
+<p>
+"We'd like nothing better than to sleep there,
+too," said Yan.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, why don't ye? That's what I'd do if I
+was a boy playin' Injun; I'd go right in an' play."</p>
+<p>
+"<i>All right now</i>," drawled Sam (he always drawled
+in proportion to his emphasis), "that suits us; now
+we're a-going sure."</p>
+<p>
+"All right, bhoys," said Raften; "but mind ye
+the pigs an' cattle's to be 'tended to every day."</p>
+<p><img src="images/sketch132.gif" alt="Teepee" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="125" height="150" border="0" />
+"Is that what ye call lettin' us camp out&mdash;come
+home to work jest the same?"</p>
+<p>
+"No, no, William," interposed Mrs. Raften; "that's
+not fair. That's no way to give them a holiday.
+Either do it or don't. Surely one of the men can
+<span class="left"><a name="252">252</a></span>
+do the chores for a month."</p>
+<p>
+"Month&mdash;I didn't say nothin' about a month."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, why don't you now?"</p>
+<p>
+"Whoi, a month would land us into harvest,"
+and William had the air of a man at bay, finding
+them all against him.</p>
+<p>
+"I'll do Yahn's chores for a fortnight if he'll give
+me that thayer pictur he drawed of the place,"
+now came in Michel's voice from the far end of the
+table&mdash;"except Sunday," he added, remembering a
+standing engagement, which promised to result in
+something of vast importance to him.</p>
+<p>
+"Wall, I'll take care o' them Sundays," said Si
+Lee.</p>
+<p>
+"Yer all agin me," grumbled William with comical
+perplexity. "But bhoys ought to be bhoys. Ye
+kin go."</p>
+<p>
+"Whoop!" yelled Sam.</p>
+<p>
+"Hooray!" joined in Yan, with even more interest
+though with less unrestraint.</p>
+<p>
+"But howld on, I ain't through&mdash;"</p>
+<p>
+"I say, Da, we want your gun. We can't go
+camping without a gun."</p>
+<p>
+"Howld on, now. Give me a chance to finish.
+Ye can go fur two weeks, but ye got to <i>go</i>; no snakin'
+home nights to sleep. Ye can't hev no matches
+an' no gun. I won't hev a lot o' children foolin'
+wid a didn't-know-it-was-loaded, an' shootin' all
+the birds and squirrels an' each other, too. Ye kin
+hev yer bows an' arrows an' ye ain't likely to do no
+<span class="left"><a name="253">253</a></span>
+harrum. Ye kin hev all the mate an' bread an' stuff
+ye want, but ye must cook it yerselves, an' if I see
+any signs of settin' the Woods afire I'll be down wid
+the rawhoide an' cut the very livers out o' ye."</p>
+<img src="images/sketch133.gif" width="240" height="141" alt="Didn't-know-it-was-loaded fool" border="0" align="left" hspace="15" />
+<p>
+The rest of the morning was devoted to preparation,
+Mrs. Raften taking the leading hand.</p>
+<p>
+"Now, who's to be cook?" she asked.</p>
+<p>
+"Sam"&mdash;"Yan"&mdash;said the boys in the same
+breath.</p>
+<p>
+"Hm! You seem in one mind about it. Suppose
+you take it turn and turn about&mdash;Sam first
+day."</p>
+<p>
+Then followed instructions for making coffee in
+the morning, boiling potatoes, frying bacon. Bread
+and butter enough they were to take with them&mdash;eggs,
+too.</p>
+<p>
+"You better come home for milk every day or
+every other day, at least," remarked the mother.</p>
+<p>
+"We'd ruther steal it from the cows in the pasture,"
+ventured Sam, "seems naturaler to me Injun blood."</p>
+<p>
+"If I ketch ye foolin' round the cows or sp'ilin'
+them the fur'll fly," growled Raften.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, kin we hook apples and cherries?" and
+Sam added in explanation; "they're no good to us
+unless they're hooked."</p>
+<p>
+"Take all the fruit ye want."</p>
+<p>
+"An' potatoes?"</p>
+<p>
+"Yes."</p>
+<p>
+"An' aigs?"</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="254">254</a></span>
+"Well, if ye don't take more'n ye need."</p>
+<p>
+"An' cakes out of the pantry? Indians do that."</p>
+<p>
+"No; howld on now. That is a good place to draw
+the line. How are ye goin' to get yer stuff down
+thayer? It's purty heavy. Ye see thayer are yer
+beds an' pots an' pans, as well as food."</p>
+<p>
+"We'll have to take a wagon to the swamp and
+then carry them on our backs on the blazed trail,"
+said Sam, and explained "our backs" by pointing
+to Michel and Si at work in the yard.</p>
+<p>
+"The road goes as far as the creek," suggested
+Yan; "let's make a raft there an' take the lot in it
+down to the swimming-pond; that'd be real Injun."</p>
+<p>
+"What'll ye make the raft of?" asked Raften.</p>
+<p>
+"Cedar rails nailed together," answered Sam.</p>
+<p>
+"No nails in mine," objected Yan; "that isn't
+Injun."</p>
+<p>
+"An' none o' my cedar rails fur that. 'Pears
+to me it'd be less work an' more Injun to pack the
+stuff on yer backs an' no risk o' wettin' the beds."</p>
+<p>
+So the raft was given up, and the stuff was duly
+carted to the creek's side. Raften himself went
+with it. He was a good deal of a boy at heart and
+he was much in sympathy with the plan. His
+remarks showed a mixture of interest, and doubt as
+to the wisdom of letting himself take so much interest.</p>
+<p>
+"Hayre, load me up," he said, much to the surprise
+of the boys, as they came to the creek's edge.
+His broad shoulders carried half of the load. The
+blazed trail was only two hundred yards long, and
+in two trips the stuff was all dumped down in front
+<span class="left"><a name="255">255</a></span>
+of the teepee.</p>
+<p>
+Sam noted with amusement the unexpected
+enthusiasm of his father. "Say, Da, you're just as
+bad as we are. I believe you'd like to join us."</p>
+<p>
+"'Moinds me o' airly days here," was the reply,
+with a wistful note in his voice. "Many a night
+me an' Caleb Clark slep' out this way on this very
+crick when them fields was solid bush. Do ye
+know how to make a bed?"</p>
+<p>
+"Don't know a thing," and Sam winked at Yan.
+"Show us."</p>
+<p>
+"I'll show ye the rale thing. Where's the axe?"</p>
+<p>
+"Haven't any," said Yan. "There's a big tomahawk
+and a little tomahawk."</p>
+<p>
+Raften grinned, took the big "tomahawk" and
+pointed to a small Balsam Fir. "Now there's a
+foine bed-tree."
+<img src="images/255frame.gif" width="127" height="208" alt="bedframe" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" /></p>
+<p>
+"Why, that's a fire-tree, too," said Yan, as with
+two mighty strokes Raften sent it toppling down,
+then rapidly trimmed it of its flat green boughs. A
+few more strokes brought down a smooth young
+Ash and cut it into four pieces, two of them seven feet
+long and two of them five feet. Next he cut a
+White Oak sapling and made four sharp pegs each
+two feet long.</p>
+
+<p>
+"Now, boys, whayer do you want yer bed?"
+then stopping at a thought he added, "Maybe
+ye didn't want me to help&mdash;want to do everything
+yerselves?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="left"><a name="256">256</a></span>
+"Ugh, bully good squaw. Keep it up&mdash;wagh!"
+said his son and heir, as he calmly sat on a log and
+wore his most "Injun brave" expression of haughty
+approval.
+<img src="images/255bboughs.gif" alt="overlapping boughs" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="200" height="41" border="0" />
+</p>
+<p>
+The father turned with an inquiring glance to Yan,
+who replied:</p>
+<p>
+"We're mighty glad of your help. You see, we
+don't know how. It seems to me that I read once
+the best place in the teepee is opposite the door
+and a little to one side. Let's make it here." So
+Raften placed the four logs for the sides and ends of
+the bed and drove in the ground the four stakes
+to hold them. Yan brought in several armfuls of
+branches, and Raften proceeded to lay them like
+shingles, beginning at the head-log of the bed and
+lapping them very much. It took all the fir boughs,
+but when all was done there was a solid mass of soft
+green tips a foot thick, all the butts being at the
+ground.</p>
+<p>
+"Thayer," said Raften, "that's an <i>Injun feather
+bed</i> an' safe an' warrum. Slapin' on the ground's
+terrible dangerous, but that's all right. Now make
+your bed on that." Sam and Yan did so, and when
+it was finished Raften said: "Now, fetch that little
+canvas I told yer ma to put in; that's to fasten to the
+poles for an inner tent over the bed."</p>
+<p>
+Yan stood still and looked uncomfortable.</p>
+<p>
+"Say, Da, look at Yan. He's got that tired look
+that he wears when the rules is broke."</p>
+<p>
+"What's wrong," asked Raften.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="257">257</a></span>
+"Indians don't have them that I ever heard of,"
+said Little Beaver.</p>
+<p>
+"Yan, did ye iver hear of a teepee linin' or a dew-cloth?"</p>
+<p>
+"Yes," was the answer, in surprise at the unexpected
+knowledge of the farmer.</p>
+<p>
+"Do ye know what they're like?"</p>
+<p>
+"No&mdash;at least&mdash;no&mdash;"</p>
+<p>
+"Well, <i>I do</i>; that's what it's like. That's something
+I do know, fur I seen old Caleb use wan."</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, I remember reading about it now, and they
+are like that, and it's on them that the Indians paint
+their records. Isn't that bully," as he saw Raften
+add two long inner stakes which held the dew-cloth
+like a canopy.</p>
+<p>
+"Say, Da, I never knew you and Caleb were hunting
+together. Thought ye were jest natural born
+enemies."</p>
+<p>
+"Humph!" grunted Raften. "We wuz chums oncet.
+Never had no fault to find till we swapped horses."</p>
+<p>
+"Sorry you ain't now, 'cause he's sure sharp in the
+woods."</p>
+<p>
+"He shouldn't a-tried to make an orphan out o'
+you."</p>
+<p>
+"Are you sure he done it?"</p>
+<p>
+"If 'twasn't him I dunno who 'twas. Yan, fetch
+some of them pine knots thayer."</p>
+<p>
+Yan went after the knots; it was some yards into
+the woods, and out there he was surprised to see a
+tall man behind a tree. A second's glance showed
+it to be Caleb. The Trapper laid one finger on his
+<span class="left"><a name="258">258</a></span>
+lips and shook his head. Yan nodded assent, gathered
+the knots, and went back to the camp, where
+Sam continued:</p>
+<p>
+"You skinned him out of his last cent, old Boyle
+says."</p>
+<p>
+"An' whoi not, when he throid to shkin me?
+Before that I was helpin' him, an' fwhat must he do
+but be ahfter swappin' horses. He might as well ast me
+to play poker and then squeal when I scooped the pile.
+Naybours is wan thing an' swappin' horses is another.
+All's fair in a horse trade, an' friends didn't orter
+swap horses widout they kin stand the shkinnin'.
+That's a game by itself. Oi would 'a' helped him
+jest the same afther that swap an' moore, fur he
+wuz good stuff, but he must nades shoot at me that
+noight as I come home wit the wad, so av coorse&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+<p>
+"I wish ye had a Dog now," said the farmer in
+the new tone of a new subject; "tramps is a nuisance
+at all toimes, an' a Dog is the best med'cine for them.
+I don't believe old Cap'd stay here; but maybe
+yer near enough to the house so they won't bother
+ye. An' now I guess the Paleface will go back
+to the settlement. I promised ma that I'd see
+that yer bed wuz all right, an' if ye sleep warrum
+an' dry an' hev plenty to ate ye'll take no harrum."</p>
+<p>
+So he turned away, but as he was quitting the
+clearing he stopped,&mdash;the curious boyish interest was
+gone from his face, the geniality from his voice&mdash;then
+in his usual stern tones of command:</p>
+<span class="left"><a name="259">259</a></span>
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/illus12a.jpg" width="598" height="871" alt="If ye kill any Song-birds, I'll use the rawhoide on ye" border="0" />
+</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="261">261</a></span>
+"Now, bhoys, ye kin shoot all the Woodchucks
+yer a mind ter, fur they are a nuisance in the field.
+Yer kin kill Hawks an' Crows an' Jays, fur they
+kill other birds, an' Rabbits an' Coons, fur they
+are fair game; but I don't want to hear of yer killin'
+any Squirrels or Chipmunks or Song-birds, an' if
+ye do I'll stop the hull thing an' bring ye back to
+wurruk, an' use the rawhoide on tap o' that."</p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="262">262</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3II">II</a></h3>
+<h3>The First Night and Morning</h3>
+
+<p>
+It was a strange new feeling that took possession
+of the boys as they saw Mr. Raften go, and when
+his step actually died away on the blazed trail
+they felt that they were really and truly alone in the
+woods and camping out. To Yan it was the realization
+of many dreams, and the weirdness of it was
+helped by the remembrance of the tall old man
+he had seen watching them from behind the trees.
+He made an excuse to wander out there, but of
+course Caleb was gone.</p>
+<p>
+"Fire up," Sam presently called out. Yan was
+the chief expert with the rubbing-sticks, and within
+a minute or two he had the fire going in the middle
+of the teepee and Sam set about preparing the
+evening meal. This was supposed to be Buffalo
+meat and Prairie roots (beef and potatoes). It was
+eaten rather quietly, and then the boys sat down
+on the opposite sides of the fire. The conversation
+dragged, then died a natural death; each was busy
+with his thoughts, and there was, moreover, an impressive
+and repressive something or other all around
+them. Not a stillness, for there were many sounds,
+but beyond those a sort of voiceless background
+that showed up all the myriad voices. Some of
+<span class="left"><a name="263">263</a></span>
+these were evidently Bird, some Insect, and a few
+were recognized as Tree-frog notes. In the near
+stream were sounds of splashing or a little plunge.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch135.gif" alt="Night noises" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="351" height="456" border="0" />
+
+<p>
+"Must be Mushrat," whispered Sam to the unspoken
+query of his friend.</p>
+<p>
+A loud, far "Oho-oho-oho" was familiar to both
+as the cry of the Horned Owl, but a strange long
+wail rang out from the trees overhead.</p>
+<p>
+"What's that?"</p>
+<p>
+"Don't know," was all they whispered, and both
+felt very uncomfortable. The solemnity and mystery
+of the night was on them and weighing more heavily
+with the waning light. The feeling was oppressive.
+Neither had courage enough to propose going to
+the house or their camping would have ended. Sam
+arose and stirred the fire, looked around for more
+wood, and, seeing none, he grumbled (to himself) and
+stepped outside in the darkness to find some. It
+was not till long afterward that he admitted having
+had to <i>dare</i> himself to step out into the darkness.
+He brought in some sticks and fastened the door
+as tightly as possible. The blazing fire in the teepee
+was cheering again. The boys perhaps did not
+realize that there was actually a tinge of homesickness
+in their mood, yet both were thinking of
+the comfortable circle at the house. The blazing
+fire smoked a little, and Sam said:</p>
+<p>
+"Kin you fix that to draw? You know more
+about it 'an me."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="264">264</a></span>
+Yan now forced himself to step outside. The
+wind was rising and had changed. He swung
+the smoke poles till the vent was quartering down,
+then hoarsely whispered, "How's that?"</p>
+<p>
+"That's better," was the reply in a similar tone,
+though there was no obvious difference yet.</p>
+<p>
+He went inside with nervous haste and fastened
+up the entrance.</p>
+<p>
+"Let's make a good fire and go to bed."</p>
+<p>
+So they turned in after partly undressing, but
+not to sleep for hours. Yan in particular was in
+a state of nervous excitement. His heart had
+beaten violently when he went out that time, and
+even now that mysterious dread was on him. The
+fire was the one comfortable thing. He dozed off,
+but started up several times at some slight sound.
+Once it was a peculiar "<i>Tick, tick, scr-a-a-a-a-pe,
+lick-scra-a-a-a-a-a-pe,"</i> down the teepee over his
+head. "<i>A Bear</i>" was his first notion, but on second
+thoughts he decided it was only a leaf sliding down
+the canvas. Later he was roused by a "<i>Scratch,
+scratch, scratch</i>" close to him. He listened silently
+for some time. This was no leaf; it was an <i>animal!</i>
+Yes, surely&mdash;it was a Mouse. He slapped the
+canvas violently and "hissed" till it went away,
+but as he listened he heard again that peculiar wail
+in the tree-tops. It almost made his hair sit up.
+He reached out and poked the fire together into a
+blaze. All was still and in time he dozed off. Once
+more he was wide awake in a flash and saw Sam
+sitting up in bed listening.</p><br />
+<img src="images/sketch136.gif" width="277" height="124" alt="Only a mouse" border="0" align="left" hspace="15" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<span class="left"><a name="266">266</a></span>
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/illus13a.jpg" width="640" height="411" alt="Where's the axe?" border="0" /></p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="267">267</a></span>
+"What is it, Sam?" he whispered.</p>
+<p>
+"I dunno. Where's the axe?"</p>
+<p>
+"Right here."</p>
+<p>
+"Let me have it on my side. You kin have the
+hatchet."</p>
+<p>
+But they dropped off at last and slept soundly
+till the sun was strong on the canvas and filling the
+teepee with a blaze of transmitted light.</p>
+<p>
+"Woodpecker! Woodpecker! Get up! Get up!
+Hi-e-yo! Hi-e-yo! Double-u-double-o-d-bang-fizz-
+whackety-whack-y-r-chuck-brrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-Woodpecker,"
+shouted Yan to his sleepy chum, quoting a
+phrase that Sam when a child had been taught as
+the true spelling of his nickname.</p>
+<p>
+Sam woke slowly, but knowing perfectly where he
+was, and drawled:</p>
+<p>
+"Get up yourself. You're cook to-day, an' I'll
+take my breakfast in bed. Seems like my knee is
+broke out again."</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, get up, and let's have a swim before breakfast."</p>
+<p>
+"No, thank you, I'm too busy just now; 'sides, it's
+both cold and wet in that pond, this time o' day."</p>
+<p>
+The morning was fresh and bright; many birds
+were singing, although it was July, a Red-eyed
+Vireo and a Robin were in full song; and as Yan rose
+to get the breakfast he wondered why he had been
+haunted by such strange feelings the night before.
+It was incomprehensible now. He wished that
+appalling wail in the tree-tops would sound again,
+so he might trace it home.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="268">268</a></span>
+There still were some live coals in the ashes, and
+in a few minutes he had a blazing fire, with the pot
+boiling for coffee, and the bacon in the fryer singing
+sweetest music for the hungry.</p>
+<p>
+Sam lay on his back watching his companion and
+making critical remarks.</p>
+<p>
+"You may be an A1 cook&mdash;at least, I hope you
+are, but you don't know much about fire-wood," said
+he. "Now look at that," as one huge spark after
+another exploded from the fire and dropped on the
+bed and the teepee cover.</p>
+<p>
+"How can I help it?"</p>
+<p>
+"I'll bet Da's best cow against your jack-knife
+you got some Ellum or Hemlock in that fire."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I have," Yan admitted, with an air of
+surrender.</p>
+<p>
+"My son," said the Great Chief Woodpecker, "no
+sparking allowed in the teepee. Beech, Maple,
+Hickory or Ash never spark. Pine knots an' roots
+don't, but they make smoke like&mdash;like&mdash;oh&mdash;you
+know. Hemlock, Ellum, Chestnut, Spruce and
+Cedar is public sparkers, an' not fit for dacint teepee
+sassiety. Big Injun heap hate noisy, crackling fire.
+Enemy hear that, an'&mdash;an'&mdash;it burns his bedclothes."</p>
+<p>
+"All right, Grandpa," and the cook made a mental
+note, then added in tones of deadly menace, "You
+get up now, do you understand!" and he picked up
+a bucket of water.</p>
+<p>
+"That might scare the Great Chief Woodpecker if
+the Great Chief Cook had a separate bed, but now
+he smiles kind o' scornful," was all the satisfaction
+<span class="left"><a name="269">269</a></span>
+he got. Then seeing that breakfast really was
+ready, Sam scrambled out a few minutes later. The
+coffee acted like an elixir&mdash;their spirits rose, and
+before the meal was ended it would have been hard
+to find two more hilarious and enthusiastic campers.
+Even the vague terrors of the night were now sources
+of amusement.</p>
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/sketch137.gif" width="105" height="171" alt="enthusiastic camper" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="270">270</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3III">III</a></h3>
+<h3>A Crippled Warrior and the Mud Albums</h3>
+
+<p>
+"Say, Sam; what about Guy? Do we want him?"</p>
+<p>
+"Well, it's just like this. If it was at school
+or any other place I wouldn't be bothered with
+the dirty little cuss, but out in the woods like this
+one feels kind o' friendly, an' three's better than two.
+Besides, he has been admitted to the Tribe already."</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, that's what I say. Let's give him a <i>yell</i>."</p>
+<p>
+So the boys uttered a long yell, produced by alternating
+the voice between a high falsetto and a natural
+tone. This was the "yell," and had never failed
+to call Guy forth to join them unless he had some
+chore on hand and his "Paw" was too near to
+prevent his renegading to the Indians. He soon
+appeared waving a branch, the established signal
+that he came as a friend.</p>
+<p>
+He came very slowly, however, and the boys saw
+that he limped frightfully, helping himself along
+with a stick. He was barefoot, as usual, but his
+left foot was swaddled in a bundle of rags.</p>
+<p>
+"Hello, Sappy; what happened? Out to Wounded
+Knee River?"<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<img src="images/sketch139.gif" width="151" height="166" alt="the wounded war-chief" border="0" align="left" hspace="15" />
+</p>
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="271">271</a></span>
+<p class="center"><img src="images/illus14a.jpg" width="572" height="777" alt="He soon appeared, waving a branch" border="0" /></p>
+
+<span class="left"><a name="273">273</a></span>
+<p>
+"Nope. Struck luck. Paw was bound I'd ride
+the Horse with the scuffler all day, but he gee'd too
+short an' I arranged to tumble off'n him, an' Paw
+cuffled me foot some. Law! how I did holler!
+You should 'a' heard me."</p>
+<p>
+"Bet we did," said Sam. "When was it?"</p>
+<p>
+"Yesterday about four."</p>
+<p>
+"Exactly. We heard an awful screech and Yan
+says, says he, 'There's the afternoon train at Kelly's
+Crossing, but ain't she late?'</p>
+<p>
+"'Train!' says I. 'Pooh. I'll bet that's Guy
+Burns getting a new licking.'"</p>
+<p>
+"Guess I'll well up now," said War Chief Sapwood,
+so stripped his foot, revealing a scratch that would
+not have cost a thought had he got it playing ball.
+He laid the rags away carefully and with them
+every trace of the limp, then entered heartily into
+camp life.</p>
+<p>
+The vast advantage of being astir early now was
+seen. There were Squirrels in every other tree,
+there were birds on every side, and when they ran
+to the pond a wild Duck spattered over the surface
+and whistled out of sight.</p>
+<p><img src="images/sketch140.gif" width="104" height="188" alt="skunk track" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+"What you got?" called Sam, as he saw Yan
+bending eagerly over something down by the pond.</p>
+<p>
+Yan did not answer, and so Sam went over and
+saw him studying out a mark in the mud. He
+was trying to draw it in his note-book.</p>
+<p>
+"What is it?" repeated Sam.</p>
+<p>
+"Don't know. Too stubby for a Muskrat, too
+much claw for a Cat, too small for a Coon, too
+many toes for a Mink."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="274">274</a></span>
+"I'll bet it's a Whangerdoodle."</p>
+<p>
+Yan merely chuckled in answer to this.</p>
+<p>
+"Don't you laugh," said the Woodpecker, solemnly,
+"You'd be more apt to cry if you seen one walk into
+the teepee blowing the whistle at the end of his tail.
+Then it'd be, 'Oh, Sam, where's the axe?'"</p>
+<p>
+"Tell you what I do believe it is," said Yan, not
+noticing this terrifying description; "it's a Skunk."</p>
+<p>
+"Little Beaver, my son! I thought I would tell
+you, then I sez to meself, 'No; it's better for him
+to find out by his lone. Nothing like a struggle in
+early life to develop the stuff in a man. It don't
+do to help him too much,' sez I, an' so I didn't."</p>
+<p>
+Here Sam condescendingly patted the Second War
+Chief on the head and nodded approvingly. Of
+course he did not know as much about the track as
+Yan did, but he prattled on:</p>
+<p>
+"Little Beaver! you're a heap struck on tracks&mdash;Ugh&mdash;good!
+You kin tell by them everything that
+passes in the night. Wagh! Bully! You're likely
+to be the naturalist of our Tribe. But you ain't
+got gumption. Now, in this yer hunting-ground
+of our Tribe there is only one place where you can
+see a track, an' that is that same mud-bank; all the
+rest is hard or grassy. Now, what I'd do if I was
+a Track-a-mist, I'd give the critters lots o' chance
+to leave tracks. I'd fix it all round with places so
+nothing could come or go 'thout givin' us his impressions
+of the trip. I'd have one on each end of the
+trail coming in, an' one on each side of the creek
+where it comes in an' goes out."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="275">275</a></span>
+"Well, Sam, you have a pretty level head. I
+wonder I didn't think of that myself."</p>
+<p>
+"My son, the Great Chief does the thinking. It's
+the rabble&mdash;that's you and Sappy&mdash;that does the
+work."</p>
+<p>
+But all the same he set about it at once with
+Yan, Sappy following with a <i>slight limp now</i>.
+They removed the sticks and rubbish for twenty
+feet of the trail at each end and sprinkled this with
+three or four inches of fine black loam. They cleared
+off the bank of the stream at four places, one at each
+side where it entered the woods, and one at each
+side where it went into the Burns's Bush.</p>
+<p>
+"Now," said Sam, "there's what I call visitors'
+albums like the one that Phil Leary's nine fatties
+started when they got their brick house and their
+swelled heads, so every one that came in could write
+their names an' something about 'this happy, happy,
+ne'er-to-be-forgotten visit'&mdash;them as could write.
+Reckon that's where our visitors get the start, for
+all of ours kin write that has feet."</p>
+<p>
+"Wonder why I didn't think o' that," said Yan,
+again and again. "But there's one thing you forget,"
+he said. "We want one around the teepee."</p>
+<p>
+This was easily made, as the ground was smooth
+and bare there, and Sappy forgot his limp and helped
+to carry ashes and sand from the fire-hole. Then
+planting his broad feet down in the dust, with many
+snickers, he left some very interesting tracks.
+<img src="images/sketch141.gif" width="82" height="612" alt="interesting tracks" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+</p>
+<p>
+"I call that a bare track" said Sam.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="276">276</a></span>
+"Go ahead and draw it," giggled Sappy.</p>
+<p>
+"Why not?" and Yan got out his book.</p>
+<p>
+"Bet you can't make it life-size," and Sam glanced
+from the little note-book to the vast imprint.</p>
+<p>
+After it was drawn, Sam said, "Guess I'll peel off
+and show you a human track." He soon gave an
+impression of his foot for the artist, and later Yan
+added his own; the three were wholly different.</p>
+<p>
+"Seems to me it would be about right, if you had
+the ways the toes pointed and the distance apart
+to show how long the legs wuz."</p>
+<p>
+Again Sam had given Yan a good idea. From
+that time he noted these two points and made his
+records much better.</p>
+<p>
+"Air you fellers roostin' here now?" said Sappy
+in surprise, as he noted the bed as well as the pots
+and pans.</p>
+<p>
+"Yep."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I wanter, too. If I kin git hol' o' Maw
+'thout Paw, it'll be O.K."</p>
+<p>
+"You let on we don't want you and Paw'll let
+you come. Tell him Ole Man Raften ordered
+you off the place an' he'll fetch you here himself."</p>
+<p>
+"I guess there's room enough in that bed fur
+three," remarked the Third War Chief.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I guess there ain't," said Woodpecker.
+"Not when the third one won first prize for being
+the dirtiest boy in school. You can get stuff an'
+make your own bed, across there on the other side
+the fire."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="277">277</a></span>
+"Don't know how."</p>
+<p>
+"We'll show you, only you'll have to go home for
+blankets an' grub."</p>
+<p>
+The boys soon cut a Fir-bough bed, but Guy put
+off going home for the blankets as long as he could.
+He knew and they suspected that there was no
+chance of his rejoining them again that day. So
+after sundown he replaced his foot-rags and limped
+down the trail homeward, saying, "I'll be back in
+a few minutes," and the boys knew perfectly well
+that he would not.</p>
+<p>
+The evening meal was over; they had sat around
+wondering if the night would repeat its terrors.
+An Owl "Hoo-hoo-ed" in the trees. There was a
+pleasing romance in the sound. The boys kept up
+the fire till about ten, then retired, determined that
+they would not be scared this time. They were
+barely off to sleep when the most awful outcry arose
+in the near woods, like "a Wolf with a sore throat,"
+then the yells of a human being in distress. Again
+the boys sat up in fright. There was a scuffling
+outside&mdash;a loud and terrified "Hi&mdash;hi&mdash;hi&mdash;Sam!"
+Then an attack was made on the door. It was torn
+open, and in tumbled Guy. He was badly frightened;
+but when the fire was lighted and he calmed
+down a little he confessed that Paw had sent him
+to bed, but when all was still he had slipped
+out the window, carrying the bedclothes. He was
+nearly back to the camp when he decided to
+scare the boys by letting off a few wolfish howls,
+but he made himself very scary by doing it, and
+<span class="left"><a name="278">278</a></span>
+when a wild answer came from the tree-tops&mdash;a
+hideous, blaring screech&mdash;he lost all courage, dropped
+the bedding, and ran toward the teepee yelling
+for help.</p>
+<p>
+The boys took torches presently and went nervously
+in search of the missing blankets. Guy's bed was
+made and in an hour they were once more asleep.</p>
+<p>
+In the morning Sam was up and out first. From
+the home trail he suddenly called:</p>
+<p>
+"Yan, come here."</p>
+<p>
+"Do you mean me?" said Little Beaver, with
+haughty dignity.</p>
+<p>
+"Yep, Great Chief; git a move on you. Hustle out
+here. Made a find. Do you see who was visiting
+us last night while we slept?" and he pointed to the
+"album" on the inway. "I hain't shined them
+shoes every week with soot off the bottom of the pot
+without knowin' that one pair of 'em was wore by
+Ma an' one of 'em by Da. But let's see how far
+they come. Why, I orter looked round the teepee
+before tramplin' round." They went back, and
+though the trails were much hidden by their own,
+they found enough around the doorway to show
+that during the night, or more likely late in the
+evening, the father and mother had paid them a
+visit in secret&mdash;had inspected the camp as they
+slept, but finding no one stirring and the boys
+breathing the deep breath of healthy sleep, they
+had left them undisturbed.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="279">279</a></span>
+"Say, boys&mdash;I mean Great Chiefs&mdash;what we want
+in camp is a Dog, or one of these nights some one
+will steal our teeth out o' our heads an' we won't
+know a thing till they come back for the gums.
+All Injun camps have Dogs, anyway."</p>
+<p>
+The next morning the Third War Chief was ordered
+out by the Council, first to wash himself clean, then
+to act as cook for the day. He grumbled as he
+washed, that "'Twan't no good&mdash;he'd be all dirty
+again in two minutes," which was not far from the
+truth. But he went at the cooking with enthusiasm,
+which lasted nearly an hour. After this he did not
+see any fun in it, and for once he, as well as the
+others, began to realize how much was done for
+them at home. At noon Sappy set out nothing but
+dirty dishes, and explained that so long as each got
+his own it was all right. His foot was very troublesome
+at meal time also. He said it was the moving
+round when he was hurrying that made it so hard
+to bear, but in their expedition with bows and
+arrows later on he found complete relief.</p>
+<p>
+"Say, look at the Red-bird," he shouted, as a
+Tanager flitted onto a low branch and blazed in the
+sun. "Bet I hit him first shot!" and he drew an
+arrow.</p>
+<p>
+"Here you, Saphead," said Sam, "quit that shooting
+at little birds. It's bad medicine. It's against the
+rules; it brings bad luck&mdash;it brings awful bad luck.
+I tell you there ain't no worse luck than Da's raw-hide&mdash;that
+I know."</p>
+<img src="images/sketch142.gif" alt="Indian camp, with dogs" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="249" height="160" border="0" />
+<p><span class="left"><a name="280">280</a></span>
+"Why, what's the good o' playin' Injun if we
+can't shoot a blame thing?" protested Sappy.</p>
+<p>
+"You kin shoot Crows an' Jays if you like, an'
+Woodchucks, too."</p>
+<p>
+"I know where there's a Woodchuck as big as a
+Bear."</p>
+<p>
+"Ah! What size Bear?"</p>
+<p>
+"Well, it is. You kin laugh all you want to.
+He has a den in our clover field, an' he made it so
+big that the mower dropped in an' throwed Paw as
+far as from here to the crick."</p>
+<p>
+"An' the horses, how did they get out?"</p>
+<p>
+"Well! It broke the machine, an' you should
+have heard Paw swear. My! but he was a socker.
+Paw offered me a quarter if I'd kill the old whaler.
+I borrowed a steel trap an' set it in the hole, but
+he'd dig out under it an' round it every time. I'll
+bet there ain't anything smarter'n an old Woodchuck."</p>
+<p>
+"Is he there yet?" asked War Chief No. 2.</p>
+<p>
+"You just bet he is. Why, he has half an acre
+of clover all eat up."</p>
+<p>
+"Let's try to get him," said Yan. "Can we
+find him?"</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I should say so. I never come by but I
+see the old feller. He's so big he looks like a calf,
+an' so old an' wicked he's gray-headed."</p>
+<p>
+"Let's have a shot at him," suggested the Woodpecker.
+"He's fair game. Maybe your Paw'll
+give us a quarter each if we kill him."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="281">281</a></span>
+Guy snickered. "Guess you don't know my
+Paw," then he giggled bubblously through his nose
+again.</p>
+<p>
+Arrived at the edge of the clover, Sam asked,
+"Where's your Woodchuck?"</p>
+<p>
+"Right in there."</p>
+<p>
+"I don't see him."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, he's always here."</p>
+<p>
+"Not now, you bet."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, this is the very first time I ever came here
+and didn't see him. Oh, I tell you, he's a fright.
+I'll bet he's a blame sight bigger'n that stump."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, here's his track, anyway," said Woodpecker,
+pointing to some tracks he had just made
+unseen with his own broad palm.</p>
+<p>
+"Now," said Sappy, in triumph. "Ain't he an
+old socker?"</p>
+<p>
+"Sure enough. You ain't missed any cows
+lately, have you? Wonder you ain't scared to live
+anyways near!"</p>
+<img src="images/sketch143.gif" alt="'Well, here's his track, anyway,' said Woodpecker" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="133" height="172" border="0" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="282">282</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3IV">IV</a></h3>
+<h3>A "Massacree" of Palefaces</h3>
+
+<p>
+"Say, fellers, I know where there's a stavin' Birch
+tree&mdash;do you want any bark?"</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, I want some," said Little Beaver.</p>
+<p>
+"But hold on; I guess we better not, coz it's right
+on the edge o' our bush, an' Paw's still at the turnips."</p>
+<p>
+"Now if you want a real war party," said the Head
+Chief, "let's massacree the Paleface settlement up
+the crick and get some milk. We're just out, and I'd
+like to see if the place has changed any."</p>
+<p>
+So the boys hid their bows and arrows and headdresses,
+and, forgetting to take a pail, they followed
+in Indian file the blazed trail, carefully turning in
+their toes as they went and pointing silently to the
+track, making signs of great danger. First they
+crawled up, under cover of one of the fences, to
+the barn. The doors were open and men working
+at something. A pig wandered in from the barnyard.
+Then the boys heard a sudden scuffle, and a
+squeal from the pig as it scrambled out again, and
+Raften's voice: "Consarn them pigs! Them boys
+ought to be here to herd them." This was sufficiently
+alarming to scare the Warriors off in great
+haste. They hid in the huge root-cellar and there
+<span class="left"><a name="283">283</a></span>
+held a council of war.</p>
+<p>
+"Here, Great Chiefs of Sanger," said Yan, "behold
+I take three straws. That long one is for the Great
+Woodpecker, the middle size is for Little Beaver,
+and the short thick one with the bump on the end
+and a crack on top is Sappy. Now I will stack
+them up in a bunch and let them fall, then whichever
+way they point we must go, for this is Big
+Medicine."</p>
+<p>
+So the straws fell. Sam's straw pointed nearly
+to the house, Yan's a little to the south of the
+house, and Guy's right back home.</p>
+<p>
+"Aha, Sappy, you got to go home; the straw says
+so."</p>
+<p>
+"I ain't goin' to believe no such foolishness."</p>
+<p>
+"It's awful unlucky to go against it."</p>
+<p>
+"I don't care, I ain't goin' back," said Guy doggedly.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, my straw says go to the house; that means
+go scouting for milk, I reckon."</p>
+<p>
+Yan's straw pointed toward the garden, and
+Guy's to the residence and grounds of "J.G.
+Burns, Esq."</p>
+<p>
+"I don't care," said Sappy, "I ain't goin'. I am
+goin' after some of them cherries in your orchard,
+an' 'twon't be the first time, neither."</p>
+<p>
+"We kin meet by the Basswood at the foot of the
+lane with whatever we get," said the First War Chief,
+as he sneaked into the bushes and crawled through
+the snake fence and among the nettles and manure
+<span class="left"><a name="284">284</a></span>
+heaps on the north side of the barnyard till he reached
+the woodshed adjoining the house. He knew where
+the men were, and he could guess where his mother
+was, but he was worried about the Dog. Old Cap
+might be on the front doorstep, or he might be
+prowling at just the wrong place for the Injun plan.
+The woodshed butted on the end of the kitchen.
+The milk was kept in the cellar, and one window of
+the cellar opened into a dark corner of the woodshed.
+This was easily raised, and Sam scrambled down
+into the cool damp cellar. Long rows of milk pans
+were in sight on the shelves. He lifted the cover of
+the one he knew to be the last put there and drank
+a deep, long draught with his mouth down to it, then
+licked the cream from his lips and remembered
+that he had come without a pail. But he knew
+where to get one. He went gently up the stairs,
+avoiding steps Nos. 1 and 7 because they were
+"creakers," as he found out long ago, when he used
+to 'hook' maple sugar from the other side of the
+house. The door at the top was closed and buttoned,
+but he put his jack-knife blade through the crack
+and turned the button. After listening awhile and
+hearing no sound in the kitchen, he gently opened
+the squeaky old door. There was no one to be seen
+but the baby, sound asleep in her cradle. The outer
+door was open, but no Dog lying on the step as
+usual. Over the kitchen was a garret entered by a
+trap-door and a ladder. The ladder was up and the
+trap-door open, but all was still. Sam stood over
+<span class="left"><a name="285">285</a></span>
+the baby, grunted, "Ugh, Paleface papoose," raised
+his hand as if wielding a war club, aimed a deadly
+blow at the sleeping cherub, then stooped and
+kissed her rosy mouth so lightly that her pink fists
+went up to rub it at once. He now went to the pantry,
+took a large pie and a tin pail, then down into
+the cellar again. He, at first, merely closed the door
+behind him and was leaving it so, but remembered
+that Minnie might awaken and toddle around till
+she might toddle into the cellar, therefore he turned
+the button so that just a corner showed over the
+crack, closed the door and worked with his knife blade
+on that corner till the cellar was made as safe as
+before. He now escaped with his pie and pail.</p>
+<p>
+Meanwhile his mother's smiling face beamed out of
+the dark loft. Then she came down the ladder.
+She had seen him come and enter the cellar, by
+chance she was in the loft when he reached the
+kitchen, but she had kept quiet to enjoy the joke.</p>
+<p>
+Next time the Woodpecker went to the cellar he
+found a paper with this on it: "<i>Notice</i> to hostile
+Injuns&mdash;Next time you massacree this settlement,
+bring back the pail, and don't leave the covers off
+the milk pans."</p>
+<p>
+Yan had followed the fence that ran south of the
+house. There was plenty of cover, but he crawled
+on hands and knees, going right down on his breast
+when he came to places more open than the rest.
+In this way he had nearly reached the garden when
+he heard a noise behind and, turning, he saw
+<span class="left"><a name="286">286</a></span>
+Sappy.</p>
+<p>
+"Here, what are you following me for? Your
+straw pointed the other way. You ain't playing
+fair."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I don't care, I ain't going home. <i>You</i>
+fixed it up so my straw would point that way. It
+ain't fair, an' I won't do it."</p>
+<p>
+"You got no right following me."</p>
+<p>
+"I ain't following you, but you keep going just
+the place I want to go. It's you following me, on'y
+keepin' ahead. I told you I was after cherries."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, the cherries are that way and I'm going
+this way, and I don't want you along."</p>
+<p>
+"You couldn't get me if you wanted me."</p>
+<p>
+"Erh&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+<p>
+"Erh&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+<p>
+So Sappy went cherryward and Yan waited
+awhile, then crawled toward the fruit garden. After
+twenty or thirty yards more, he saw a gleam of red,
+then under it a bright yellow eye glaring at him. He
+had chanced on a hen sitting on her nest. He came
+nearer, she took alarm and ran away, not clucking,
+but cackling loudly. There were a dozen eggs of
+two different styles, all bright and clean, and the
+hen's comb was bright red. Yan knew hens. This
+was easy to read: Two stray hens laying in one nest,
+and neither of them sitting yet.</p>
+<p>
+"So ho! Straws show which way the hens go."</p>
+<p>
+He gathered up the eggs into his hat and
+crawled back toward the tree where all had to meet.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="287">287</a></span>
+But before he had gone far he heard a loud barking,
+then yells for help, and turned in time to see Guy
+scramble up a tree while Cap, the old Collie, barked
+savagely at him from below. Now that he was in
+no danger Sappy had the sense to keep quiet. Yan
+came back as quickly as possible. The Dog at once
+recognized and obeyed <i>him</i>, but doubtless was much
+puzzled to make out why he should be pelted back
+to the house when he had so nobly done his duty
+by the orchard.</p>
+<p>
+"Now, you see, maybe next time you'll do what
+the medicine straw tells you. Only for me you'd
+been caught and fed to the pigs, sure."</p>
+<p>
+"Only for you I wouldn't have come. I wasn't
+scared of your old Dog, anyway. Just in about
+two minutes more I was comin' down to kick the
+stuffin' out o' him myself."</p>
+<p>
+"Perhaps you'd like to go back and do it now.
+I'll soon call him."</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, I hain't got time now, but some other
+time&mdash; Let's find Sam."</p>
+<p>
+So they foregathered at the tree, and laden with
+their spoils, they returned gloriously to camp.</p><br /><br />
+<img src="images/sketch144.gif" width="144" height="265" alt="Sappy 'treed' by Cap" border="0" align="right" hspace="15" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+
+<span class="left"><a name="288">288</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3V">V</a></h3>
+<h3>The Deer Hunt</h3>
+
+<p>
+That evening they had a feast and turned in
+to sleep at the usual hour. The night passed
+without special alarm. Once about daylight
+Sappy called them, saying he believed there was a
+Bear outside, but he had a trick of grinding his teeth
+in his sleep, and the other boys told him that was
+the Bear he heard.</p>
+<p>
+Yan went around to the mud albums and got
+some things he could not make out and a new mark
+that gave him a sensation. He drew it carefully.
+It was evidently the print of a small sharp hoof.
+This was what he had hungered for so long. He
+shouted, "Sam&mdash;Sam&mdash;Sapwood, come here; here's
+a <i>Deer track</i>."</p>
+<p>
+The boys shouted back, "Ah, what you givin' us
+now!" "Call off your Dog!" and so forth.</p>
+<p>
+But Yan persisted. The boys were so sure it was
+a trick that they would not go for some time, then
+the sun had risen high, shining straight down on
+the track instead of across, so it became very dim.
+Soon the winds, the birds and the boys themselves
+helped to wipe it out. But Yan had his drawing,
+and persisted in spite of the teasing that it was true.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch145a.gif" width="60" height="100" alt="Deer tracks" border="0" align="left" hspace="15" />
+<p><span class="left"><a name="289">289</a></span>
+At length Guy said aside to Sam: "Seems to me a
+feller that hunts tracks so terrible serious ought
+to see the critter <i>some time</i>. 'Tain't right to let him
+go on sufferin'. <i>I</i> think he ought to see that Deer.
+We ought to help him." Here he winked a volley
+or two and made signs for Sam to take Yan away.</p>
+<p>
+This was easily done.</p>
+<p>
+"Let's see if your Deer went out by the lower mud
+album." So they walked down that way, while
+Guy got an old piece of sacking, stuffed it with grass,
+and, hastily tying it in the form of a Deer's head, stuck
+it on a stick. He put in two flat pieces of wood for
+ears, took charcoal and made two black spots for
+eyes and one for a nose, then around each he drew a
+<img src="images/sketch146.gif" width="139" height="193" alt="Guy's stuffed deer" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+ring of blue clay from the bed of the brook. This
+soon dried and became white. Guy now set up this
+head in the bushes, and when all was ready he ran
+swiftly and silently through the wood to find Sam
+and Yan. He beckoned vigorously and called
+under his voice: "Sam&mdash;Yan&mdash;a Deer! Here's that
+there Deer that made them tracks, I believe."</p>
+<p>
+Guy would have failed to convince Yan if Sam
+had not looked so much interested. They ran back
+to the teepee, got their bows and arrows, then, guided
+by Guy, who, however, kept back, they crawled
+to where he had seen the Deer.</p>
+<p>
+"There&mdash;there, now, ain't he a Deer? There&mdash;see
+him move!"</p>
+<p>
+Yan's first feeling was a most exquisite thrill of
+pleasure. It was like the uplift of joy he had had
+the time he got his book, but was stronger. The
+<span class="left"><a name="290">290</a></span>
+savage impulse to kill came quickly, and his bow
+was in his hand, but he hesitated.</p>
+<p>
+"Shoot! Shoot!" said Sam and Guy.</p>
+<p>
+Yan wondered why <i>they</i> did not shoot. He turned,
+and in spite of his agitation he saw that they were
+making fun of him. He glanced at the Deer again,
+moved up a little closer and saw the trick.</p>
+<p>
+Then they hooted aloud. Yan was a little crestfallen.
+Oh, it had been such an exquisite feeling!
+The drop was long and hard, but he rallied quickly.</p>
+<p>
+"I'll shoot your Deer for you," he said, and sent
+an arrow close under it.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I kin beat that," and Sam and Guy both
+fired. Sam's arrow stuck in the Deer's nose. At
+that he gave a yell; then all shot till the head
+was stuck full of arrows, and they returned to the
+teepee to get dinner. They were still chaffing Yan
+about the Deer when he said slowly to Guy:</p>
+<p>
+"Generally you are not so smart as you think you
+are, but this time you're smarter. You've given
+me a notion."</p>
+<p>
+So after dinner he got a sack about three feet long
+and stuffed it full of dry grass; then he made a small
+sack about two and a half feet long and six inches
+thick, but with an elbow in it and pointed at one
+end. This he also stuffed with hay and sewed with
+a bone needle to the big sack. Next he cut four
+sticks of soft pine for legs and put them into the
+four corners of the big sack, wrapping them with
+<span class="left"><a name="291">291</a></span>
+bits of sacking to be like the rest. Then he cut
+two ears out of flat sticks; painted black eyes and
+nose with a ring of white around each, just as Sappy
+had done, but finally added a black spot on each
+side of the body, and around that a broad gray
+hand. Now he had completed what every one could
+see was meant for a Deer.</p>
+<p>
+The other boys helped a little, but not did cease
+to chaff him.</p>
+<p>
+"Who's to be fooled this time?" asked Guy.</p>
+<p>
+"You," was the answer.</p>
+<p>
+"I'll bet you'll get buck fever the first time you
+come across it," chuckled the Head Chief.</p>
+<p>
+"Maybe I will, but you'll all have a chance.
+Now you fellers stay here and I'll hide the Deer.
+Wait till I come back."</p>
+<p>
+So Yan ran off northward with the dummy, then
+swung around to the east and hid it at a place
+quite out of the line that he first took. He returned
+nearly to where he came out, shouting
+"Ready!"</p>
+<p>
+Then the hunters sallied forth fully armed, and
+Yan explained: "First to find it counts ten and has
+first shot. If he misses, next one can walk up five
+steps and shoot; if he misses, next walks five steps
+more, and so on until the Deer is hit. Then all the
+shooting must be done from the place where that
+arrow was fired. A shot in the heart counts ten; in
+the gray counts five; that's a body wound&mdash;and a hit
+outside of that counts one&mdash;that's a scratch. If the
+<span class="left"><a name="292">292</a></span>
+Deer gets away without a shot in the heart, then
+I count twenty-five, and the first one to find it is
+Deer for next hunt&mdash;twelve shots each is the limit."</p>
+<img src="images/sketch147.gif" alt="The Deer" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="146" height="134" border="0" />
+
+<p>
+The two hunters searched about for a long time.
+Sam made disparaging remarks about the trail this
+Deer <i>did not</i> leave, and Guy sneaked and peaked in
+every thicket.</p>
+<p>
+Sappy was not an athlete nor an intellectual giant,
+but his little piggy eyes were wonderfully sharp
+and clear.</p>
+<p>
+"I see him," he yelled presently, and pointed out
+the place seventy-five yards away where he saw one
+ear and part of the head.</p>
+<p>
+"Tally ten for Sappy," and Yan marked it down.</p>
+<p>
+Guy was filled with pride at his success. He
+made elaborate preparation to shoot, remarking, "I
+could 'a' seen it twicet as far&mdash;if&mdash;if&mdash;if&mdash;it was&mdash;if
+I had a fair chance."</p>
+<p>
+He drew his bow and left fly. The arrow went
+little more than half way. So Sam remarked, "Five
+steps up I kin go. It don't say nothing about how
+long the steps?"</p>
+<p>
+"No."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, here goes," and he began the most wonderful
+Kangaroo hops that he could do. He covered about
+thirty feet in those five steps, and by swerving a
+little aside he got a good view of the Deer. He was
+now less than sixty-five yards away. He fired and
+missed. Now Guy had the right to walk up five steps.
+He also missed. Finally at thirty yards Sam sent
+an arrow close past a tree, deep in the Deer's gray
+<span class="left"><a name="293">293</a></span>
+flank.</p>
+<p>
+"Bully shot! Body wound! Count five for the
+Great War Chief. All shooting from this spot
+now," said Yan, "and I don't know why I shouldn't
+shoot as well as the others."</p>
+<p>
+"Coz you're the Deer and that'd be suicide," was
+Sam's objection. "But it's all right. You won't
+hit."</p>
+<p>
+The objection was not sustained, and Yan tried
+his luck also. Two or three shots in the brown of the
+Deer's haunch, three or four into the tree that stood
+half way between, but nearly in line, a shot or two
+into the nose, then "Hooray!" a shot from Guy right
+into the Deer's heart put an end to the chase. Now
+they went up to draw and count the arrows.</p>
+<p>
+Guy was ahead with a heart shot, ten, a body
+wound, five, and a scratch, one, that's sixteen, with
+ten more for finding it&mdash;twenty-six points. Sam
+followed with two body wounds and two scratches&mdash;twelve
+points, and Yan one body wound and five
+scratches&mdash;ten points. The Deer looked like an
+old Porcupine when they came up to it, and Guy,
+bursting with triumph, looked like a young Emperor.</p>
+<p>
+"I tell you it takes me to larn you fellers to Deer
+hunt. I'll bet I'll hit him in the heart first thing
+next time."</p>
+<p>
+"I'll bet you won't, coz you'll be Deer and can't
+shoot till we both have."
+<img src="images/sketch148.gif" alt="stuffed 'deer' target" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="146" height="107" border="0" /></p>
+<p>
+Guy thought this the finest game he had ever
+<span class="left"><a name="294">294</a></span>
+played. He pranced away with the dummy on his
+back, scheming as he went to make a puzzle for the
+others. He hid the Deer in a dense thicket east of
+the camp, then sneaked around to the west of the
+camp and yelled "Ready!" They had a long, tedious
+search and had to give it up.</p>
+<p>
+"Now what to do? Who counts?" asked the Woodpecker.</p>
+<p>
+"When Deer escapes it counts twenty-five," replied
+the inventer of the game; and again Guy was ahead.</p>
+<p>
+"This is the bulliest game I ever seen" was his
+ecstatic remark.</p>
+<p>
+"Seems to me there's something wrong; that Deer
+ought to have a trail."</p>
+<p>
+"That's so," assented Yan. "Wonder if he couldn't
+drag an old root!"</p>
+<p>
+"If there was snow it'd be easy."</p>
+<p>
+"I'll tell you, Sam; we'll tear up paper and leave a
+paper trail."</p>
+<p>
+"Now you're talking." So all ran to camp.
+Every available scrap of wrapping paper was torn
+up small and put in a "scent bag."</p>
+<p>
+Since no one found the Deer last time, Guy had
+the right to hide it again.</p>
+<p>
+He made a very crooked trail and a very careful
+hide, so that the boys nearly walked onto the Deer
+before they saw it about fifteen yards away. Sam
+scored ten for the find. He fired and missed. Yan
+now stepped up his five paces and fired so hastily
+<img src="images/sketch149.gif" width="164" height="152" alt="triumphant Guy" border="0" align="left" hspace="15" />
+that he also missed. Guy now had a shot at it at
+<span class="left"><a name="295">295</a></span>
+five yards, and, of course, hit the Deer in the heart.</p>
+<p>
+This succession of triumphs swelled his head nearly
+to the bursting point, and his boasting passed
+all bounds. But it now became clear that there
+must be a limit to the stepping up. So the new
+rule was made, "No stepping up nearer than
+fifteen paces."</p>
+
+<p>
+The game grew as they followed it. Its resemblance
+to real hunting was very marked. The boys found
+that they could follow the trail, or sweep the woods
+<img src="images/sketch150b.gif" width="138" height="350" alt="the deer in full view across the pond" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+with their eyes as they pleased, and find the game, but
+the wisest way was a combination. Yan was too
+much for the trail, Sam too much for the general
+lookout, but Guy seemed always in luck. His
+little piglike eyes took in everything, and here at
+length he found a department in which he could
+lead. It looked as though little pig-eyed Guy was
+really cut out for a hunter. He made a number
+of very clever hidings of the Deer. Once he led the
+trail to the pond, then, across, and right opposite he
+put the Deer in full view, so that they saw it at once
+in the open; they were obliged either to shoot across
+the pond, or step farther away round the edge, or step
+into the deep water, and again Guy scored. It was
+found necessary to bar hiding the Deer on a ridge
+and among stones, because in one case arrows which
+missed were lost in the bushes and in the other they
+were broken.</p>
+<p>
+They played this game so much that they soon
+found a new difficulty. The woods were full of paper
+trails, and there was no means of deciding which was
+<span class="left"><a name="296">296</a></span>
+the old and which the new. This threatened to
+end the fun altogether. But Yan hit on the device
+of a different colour of paper. This gave them a
+fresh start, but their supply was limited. There
+was paper everywhere in the woods now, and it
+looked as though the game was going to kill itself,
+when old Caleb came to pay them a visit. He
+always happened round as though it was an accident,
+but the boys were glad to see him, as he usually gave
+some help.</p>
+<p>
+"Ye got some game, I see," and the old man's
+eye twinkled as he noted the dummy, now doing
+target duty on the forty-yard range. "Looks like
+the real thing. Purty good&mdash;purty good." He
+chuckled as he learned about the Deer hunt, and a
+sharp observer might have discerned a slight increase
+of interest when he found that it was not Sam Raften
+that was the "crack" hunter.</p>
+<p>
+"Good fur you, Guy Burns. Me an' your Paw
+hev hunted Deer together on this very crik many
+a time."</p>
+<p>
+When he learned the difficulty about the scent,
+he said "Hm," and puffed at his pipe for awhile
+in silence. Then at length:</p>
+<p>
+"Say, Yan, why don't you and Guy get a bag o'
+wheat or Injun corn for scent: that's better than
+paper, an' what ye lay to-day is all clared up by
+the birds and Squirrels by to-morrow."</p>
+<p>
+"Bully!" shouted Sam. (He had not been addressed
+at all, but he was not thin-skinned.) Within ten
+<span class="left"><a name="297">297</a></span>
+minutes he had organized another "White massacree"&mdash;that
+is, a raid on the home barn, and in half an
+hour he returned with a peck of corn.</p>
+<p>
+"Now, lemme be Deer," said Caleb. "Give me
+five minutes' start, then follow as fast as ye like.
+I'll show ye what a real Deer does."</p>
+<p>
+He strode away bearing the dummy, and in five
+minutes as they set out on the trail he came striding
+back again. Oh, but that seemed a long run. The
+boys followed the golden corn trail&mdash;a grain every
+ten feet was about all they needed now, they were
+so expert. It was a straight run for a time, then it
+circled back till it nearly cut itself again (at X, page
+298). The boys thought it did so, and claimed the
+right to know, as on a real Deer trail you could tell.
+So Caleb said, "No, it don't cut the old trail." Where,
+then, did it go? After beating about, Sam said that
+the trail looked powerful heavy, like it might be
+double.</p>
+<p>
+"Bet I know," said Guy. "He's doubled back,"
+which was exactly what he did do, though Caleb
+gave no sign. Yan looked back on the trail and
+found where the new one had forked. Guy gave
+no heed to the ground once he knew the general
+directions. He ran ahead (toward Y), so did Sam,
+but Guy glanced back to Yan on the trail to make
+sure of the line.</p>
+<p>
+They had not gone far beyond the nearest bushes
+before Yan found another quirk in the trail. It
+doubled back at Z. He unravelled the double,
+<span class="left"><a name="298">298</a></span>
+glanced around, and at O he plainly saw the Deer
+lying on its side in the grass. He let off a triumphant
+yell, "Yi, yi, yi, <i>Deer</i>!" and the others came
+running back just in time to see Yan send an arrow
+straight into its heart.</p>
+<p class="center">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+<img src="images/sketch152a.gif" alt="Caleb's 'deer trail'" width="132" height="372" border="0" /></p>
+
+<br /><br /><br />
+<span class="left"><a name="299">299</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3VI">VI</a></h3>
+<h3>War Bonnet, Teepee and Coups</h3>
+
+<p>
+Forty yards and first shot. Well, that's what
+the Injuns would call a '<i>grand coup</i>,' and
+Caleb's face wore the same pleasant look as
+when he made the fire with rubbing-sticks.</p>
+<p>
+"What's a <i>grand coup?</i>" asked Little Beaver.</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, I suppose it's a big deed. The Injuns call
+a great feat a '<i>coup</i>,' an' an extra big one a '<i>grand
+coup</i>.' Sounds like French, an' maybe 'tis, but the
+Injuns says it. They had a regular way of counting
+their <i>coup</i>, and for each they had the right to an
+Eagle feather in their bonnet, with a red tuft of
+hair on the end for the extra good ones. At least,
+they used to. I reckon now they're forgetting it
+all, and any buck Injun wears just any feather
+he can steal and stick in his head."</p>
+<p>
+"What do you think of our head-dresses?" Yan
+ventured.</p>
+<p>
+'Hm! You ain't never seen a real one or you
+wouldn't go at them that way at all. First place,
+the feathers should all be white with black tips,
+<img src="images/sketch153a.gif" width="140" height="205" alt="Indian War Bonnet" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+an' fastened not solid like that, but loose on a cap
+of soft leather. Each feather, you see, has a leather
+loop lashed on the quill end for a lace to run through
+and hold it to the cap, an' then a string running
+<span class="left"><a name="300">300</a></span>
+through the middle of each feather to hold it&mdash;just
+so. Then there are ways of marking each feather
+to show how it was got. I mind once I was out
+on a war party with a lot of Santees&mdash;that's a brand
+of Sioux&mdash;an' we done a lot o' sneaking an' stealing
+an' scalped some of the enemy. Then we set out
+for home, and when we was still about thirty miles
+away we sent on an Injun telegram of good luck.
+The leader of our crowd set fire to the grass after
+he had sent two men half a mile away on each
+side to do the same thing, an' up went three big
+smokes. There is always some one watching round
+an Injun village, an' you bet when they seen them
+three smokes they knowed that we wuz a-coming
+back with scalps.</p>
+<p>
+"The hull Council come out to meet us, but not
+too reckless, coz this might have been the trick of
+enemies to surprise them.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, when we got there, maybe there wasn't a
+racket. You see, we didn't lose a man, and we
+brung in a hundred horses and seven scalps. Our
+leader never said a word to the crowd, but went
+right up to the Council teepee. He walked in&mdash;we
+followed. There was the Head Chief an' all the
+Council settin' smoking. Our leader give the '<i>How</i>,
+an' then we all '<i>Howed</i>.' Then we sat an' smoked,
+an' the Chief called on our leader for an account
+of the little trip. He stood up an' made a speech.</p>
+
+<p>
+"'Great Chief and Council of my Tribe,' says he.</p>
+<span class="left"><a name="301">301</a></span>
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/sketch154a.jpg" width="377" height="603" alt="The War Bonnet" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<span class="left"><a name="302">302</a></span>
+
+<h5>THE INDIAN WAR BONNET&mdash;HOW TO MAKE IT</h5>
+<span class="note">
+1. The plain white Goose or Turkey feather.<br /><br />
+
+2. The same, with tip dyed black or painted with indelible ink.<br /><br />
+
+3. The same, showing ruff of white down lashed on with wax end.<br /><br />
+
+4. The same, showing leather loop lashed on for the holding lace.<br /><br />
+
+5. The same, viewed edge on.<br /><br />
+
+6. The same, with a red flannel cover sewn and lashed on the quill. This is a '<i>coup</i> feather.'<br /><br />
+
+7. The same, with a tuft of red horsehair lashed on the top to mark a '<i>grand coup</i>' and (<i>a</i>) a thread through the
+middle of the rib to hold feather in proper place. This feather is marked with the symbol of a <i>grand coup</i>
+in target shooting. This symbol may be drawn on an oval piece of paper gummed on the top of the feather.<br /><br />
+
+8. The tip of a feather showing how the red horsehair tuft is lashed on with fine waxed thread.<br /><br />
+
+9. The groundwork of the war bonnet made of any soft leather, (<i>a</i>) a broad band to go round the head, laced at
+the joint or seam behind; (<i>b</i>) a broad tail behind as long as needed to hold all the wearer's feathers; (<i>c</i>) two
+leather thongs or straps over the top; (<i>d</i>) leather string to tie under the chin; (<i>e</i>) the buttons, conchas or side
+ornaments of shells, silver, horn or wooden discs, even small mirrors and circles of beadwork were used, and
+sometimes the conchas were left out altogether; they may have the owner's totem on them, usually a bunch of
+ermine tails hung from each side of the bonnet just below the concha. A bunch of horsehair will answer as
+well; (<i>hh</i>) the holes in the leather for holding the lace of the feather; 24 feathers are needed for the full bonnet,
+without the tail, so they are put less than an inch apart; (<i>iii</i>) the lacing holes on the tail: this is as long as the
+wearer's feathers call for; some never have any tail.<br /><br />
+
+10. Side view of the leather framework, showing a pattern sometimes used to decorate the front.<br /><br />
+
+11, 12 and 13. Beadwork designs for front band of bonnet; all have white grounds. No. 11 (Arapaho) has green
+band at top and bottom with red zigzag. No. 12 (Ogallala) has blue band at top and bottom, red triangles;
+the concha is blue with three white bars and is cut off from the band by a red bar. No. 13 (Sioux) has narrow
+band above and broad band below blue, the triangle red, and the two little stars blue with yellow centre.<br /><br />
+
+14. The bases of three feathers, showing how the lace comes out of the cap leather, through the eye or loop on the
+bottom of the quill, and in again.<br /><br />
+
+15. The completed bonnet, showing how the feathers of the crown should spread out, also showing the thread that
+passes through the middle of each feather on inner side to hold it in place; another thread passes from the
+point where the two straps (<i>c</i> in 9) join, then down through each feather in the tail.<br /><br />
+
+The Indians now often use the crown of a soft felt hat for the basis of a war bonnet.<br /><br />
+
+N.B. A much easier way to mark the feather is to stick on it near the top an oval of white paper and on this
+draw the symbol with waterproof ink.<br /><br />
+</span>
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/sketch155.gif" width="384" height="95" alt="coup feather" border="0" /></p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="303">303</a></span>
+'After we left the village and the men had purified
+themselves, we travelled seven days and came to the
+Little Muddy River. There we found the track of
+a travelling band of Arapaho. In two days we
+found their camp, but they were too strong for us,
+so we hid till night; then I went alone into their
+camp and found that some of them were going off
+on a hunt next day. As I left I met a lone warrior
+coming in. I killed him with my knife. For that
+ <img src="images/sketch156.gif" width="140" height="232" alt="Grand Coup for taking Scalp in Enemy's Camp; G.C. for slapping his face; Coup for stealing his Horse" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+I claim a <i>coup</i>; and I scalped him&mdash;for that I
+claim another <i>coup</i>; an' before I killed him I slapped
+his face with my hand&mdash;for this I claim a <i>grand coup</i>;
+and I brought his horse away with me&mdash;for
+that I claim another <i>coup</i>. Is it not so,' sez he,
+turning to us, and we all yelled '<i>How! How! How!</i>'
+For this fellow, 'Whooping Crane,' was awful good
+stuff. Then the Council agreed that he should
+wear three Eagle feathers, the first for killing and
+scalping the enemy in his own camp&mdash;that was a
+<i>grand coup</i>, and the feather had a tuft of red hair
+on it an' a red spot on the web. The next feather
+was for slapping the feller's face first, which, of
+course, made it more risky. This Eagle feather had a
+red tuft on top an' a red hand on the web; the one
+for stealing the horse had a horseshoe, but no tuft,
+coz it wasn't counted A1.</p>
+<p>
+"Then the other Injuns made their claims, an'
+we all got some kind of honours. I mind one feller
+was allowed to drag a Fox tail at each heel when he
+danced, an' another had ten horseshoe marks on
+<span class="left"><a name="304">304</a></span>
+an Eagle feather for stealing ten horses, an' I tell
+you them Injuns were prouder of them feathers
+than a general would be of his medals."</p>
+<p>
+"My, I wish I could go out there and be with
+those fellows," and Yan sighed as he compared his
+commonplace lot with all this romantic splendour.</p>
+<p>
+"Guess you'd soon get sick of it. I know <i>I</i> did,"
+was the answer; "forever shooting and killing,
+never at peace, never more than three meals ahead
+of starvation and just as often three meals behind.
+No, siree, no more for me."</p>
+<p>
+"I'd just like to see you start in horse-stealing for
+honours round here," observed Sam, "though I
+know who'd get the feathers if it was chicken stealing."</p>
+<p>
+"Say, Caleb," said Guy, who, being friendly and
+of the country, never thought of calling the old man
+"Mr. Clark," "didn't they give feathers for good
+Deer-hunting? I'll bet I could lick any of them at
+it if I had a gun."</p>
+<p>
+"Didn't you hear me say first thing that that
+there shot o' Yan's should score a '<i>grand coup</i>'?"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, shucks! I kin lick Yan any time; that was
+just a chance shot. I'll bet if you give feathers for
+Deer-hunting I'll get them all."</p>
+<p>
+"We'll take you up on that," said the oldest
+Chief, but the next interrupted:</p>
+<p>
+"Say, boys, we want to play Injun properly.
+Let's get Mr. Clark to show us how to make a real
+war bonnet. Then we'll wear only what feathers
+we win."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="305">305</a></span>"Ye mean by scalping the Whites an' horse-stealing?"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, no; there's lots of things we can do&mdash;best
+runner, best Deer hunter, best swimmer, best shot
+with bow and arrows."</p>
+<p>
+"All right." So they set about questioning
+Caleb. He soon showed them how to put a war
+bonnet together, using, in spite of Yan's misgivings,
+the crown of an old felt hat for the ground work and
+white goose quills trimmed and dyed black at the
+tips for Eagle feathers. But when it came to the
+deeds that were to be rewarded, each one had his
+own ideas.</p>
+<p>
+"If Sappy will go to the orchard and pick a peck
+of cherries without old Cap gettin' <i>him</i>, I'll give him
+a feather with all sorts of fixin's on it," suggested
+Sam.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I'll bet you can't get a chicken out of our
+barn 'thout our Dog gettin' <i>you</i>, Mr. Smarty."</p>
+<p>
+"Pooh! I ain't stealing chickens. Do you take
+me for a nigger? I'm a noble Red-man and Head
+Chief at that, I want you to know, an' I've a notion
+to collect that scalp you're wearin' now. You
+know it belongs to me and Yan," and he sidled
+over, rolling his eye and working his fingers in a
+way that upset Guy's composure. "And I tell you
+a feller with one foot in the grave should have his
+thoughts on seriouser things than chicken-stealing.
+This yere morbid cravin' for excitement is rooinin'
+all the young fellers nowadays."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="306">306</a></span>
+Yan happened to glance at Caleb. He was gazing
+off at nothing, but there was a twinkle in his eye
+that Yan never before saw there.</p>
+<p>
+"Let's go to the teepee. It's too hot out here.
+Come in, won't you, Mr. Clark?"</p>
+<p>
+"Hm. 'Tain't much cooler in here, even if it is
+shady," remarked the old Trapper. "Ye ought to
+lift one side of the canvas and get some air."</p>
+<p>
+"Why, did the real Injuns do that?"</p>
+<p>
+"I should say they did. There ain't any way they
+didn't turn and twist the teepee for comfort. That's
+what makes it so good. Ye kin live in it forty below
+zero an' fifty 'bove suffocation an' still be happy.
+It's the changeablest kind of a layout for livin' in.
+Real hot weather the thing looks like a spider with
+skirts on and held high, an' I tell you ye got to know
+the weather for a teepee. Many a hot night on the
+plains I've been woke up by hearing 'Tap-tap-tap'
+all around me in the still black night and wondered
+why all the squaws was working, but they was up
+to drop the cover and drive all the pegs deeper, an'
+within a half hour there never failed to come up a
+big storm. How they knew it was a-comin' I never
+could tell. One old woman said a Coyote told her,
+an' maybe that's true, for they do change their
+<img src="images/sketch157.gif" width="150" height="118" alt="ventilated teepee" border="0" align="left" hspace="15" />
+song for trouble ahead; another said it was the flowers
+lookin' queer at sundown, an' another had a bad
+dream. Maybe they're all true; it comes o' watchin'
+little things."</p>
+<p>
+"Do they never get fooled?" asked Little Beaver</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="307">307</a></span>
+"Oncet in awhile, but not near as often as a
+White-man would.</p>
+<p>
+"I mind once seeing an artist chap, one of them
+there portygraf takers. He come out to the village
+with a machine an' took some of the little teepees.
+Then I said, 'Why don't you get Bull-calf's squaw
+to put up their big teepee? I tell you that's a
+howler.' So off he goes, and after dickering awhile
+he got the squaw to put it up for three dollars.
+You bet it was a stunner, sure&mdash;all painted red, with
+green an' yaller--animals an' birds an' scalps galore.
+It made that feller's eyes bug out to see it. He
+started in to make some portygrafs, then was taking
+another by hand, so as to get the colours, an' I bet
+it would have crowded him to do it, but jest when he
+got a-going the old squaw yelled to the other&mdash;the
+Chief hed two of them&mdash;an' lighted out to take
+down that there teepee. That artist he hollered to
+stop, said he had hired it to stay up an' a bargain
+was a bargain. But the old squaw she jest kept on
+a-jabberin' an' pintin' at the west. Pretty soon they
+had the hull thing down and rolled up an' that
+artist a-cussin' like a cow-puncher. Well, I mind it
+was a fine day, but awful hot, an' before five minutes
+there come a little dark cloud in the west, then in
+ten minutes come a-whoopin' a regular small cyclone,
+<img src="images/sketch158.gif" alt="Bull-Calf's Teepee" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="151" height="180" border="0" />
+an' it went through that village and wrecked all the
+teepees of any size. That red one would surely
+have gone only for that smart old squaw."</p>
+<p><img src="images/sketch159.gif" width="130" height="196" alt="Guy" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+Under Caleb's directions the breezy side of the
+cover was now raised a little, and the shady side
+<span class="left"><a name="308">308</a></span>
+much more. This changed the teepee from a stifling
+hothouse into a cool, breezy shade.</p>
+<p>
+"An' when ye want to know which way is the
+wind, if it's light, ye wet your finger so, an' hold it
+up. The windy side feels cool at once, and by that
+ye can set your smoke-flaps."</p>
+<p>
+"I want to know about war bonnets," Yan now
+put in. "I mean about things to do to wear feathers&mdash;that
+is, things <i>we</i> can do."</p>
+<p>
+"Ye kin have races, an' swimmin' an bownarrer
+shootin'. I should say if you kin send one o' them
+arrers two hundred yards that would kill a Buffalo
+at twenty feet. I'd think that was pretty good.
+Yes, I'd call that way up."</p>
+<p>
+"What&mdash;a <i>grand coup?</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I reckon; an' if you fell short on'y fifty
+yards that'd still kill a Deer, an' we could call that a
+<i>coup</i>. If," continued Caleb, "you kin hit that old
+gunny-sack buck plunk in the heart at fifty yards
+first shot I'd call that away up; an' if you hit it at
+seventy-five yards in the heart no matter how many
+tries, I'd call you a shot. If you kin hit a nine-inch
+bull's-eye two out of three at forty yards every
+time an' no fluke, you'd hold your own among Injuns
+though I must say they don't go in much for shooting
+at a target. They shoot at 'most anything they
+see in the woods. I've seen the little copper-coloured
+kids shooting away at butterflies. Then they have
+matches&mdash;they try who can have most arrers in the
+air at one time. To have five in the air at once is
+considered good. It means powerful fast work and
+<span class="left"><a name="309">309</a></span>
+far shooting. You got to hold a bunch handy in
+the left hand fur that. The most I ever seen one
+man have up at once was eight. That was reckoned
+'big medicine,' an' any one that can keep up seven
+is considered swell."</p>
+<p>
+"Do you know any other things besides bows and
+arrows that would do?"</p>
+<p>
+"I think that a rubbing-stick fire ought to count,"
+interrupted Sam. "I want that in coz Guy can't
+do it. Any one who kin do it at all gets a feather,
+an' any one who kin do it in one minute gets a
+swagger feather, or whatever you call it; that takes
+care of Yan and me an' leaves Guy out in the cold."</p>
+<p>
+"I'll bet I kin hunt Deer all round you both, I kin."</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, shut up, Sappy; we're tired a-hearing about
+your Deer hunting. We're going to abolish that
+game." Then Sam continued, apparently addressing
+Caleb, "Do you know any Injun games?"
+<img src="images/sketch160.gif" alt=" Target Coup Feather; Long-distance; Five-in-air-at once" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="153" height="134" border="0" />
+
+</p>
+<p>
+But Caleb took no notice.</p>
+<p>
+Presently Yan said, "Don't the Injuns play
+games, Mr. Clark?</p>
+<p>
+"Well, yes, I kin show you two Injun games that
+will test your eyesight."</p>
+<p>
+"I bet I kin beat any one at it," Guy made haste to
+tell. "Why, I seen that Deer before Yan could&mdash;"</p>
+<img src="images/sketch161.gif" width="128" height="81" alt="Archery coup feathers - their special marks" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<p>
+"Oh, shut up, Guy," Yan now exclaimed. A
+peculiar sound&mdash;"<i>Wheet&mdash;wheet&mdash;wheet</i>"&mdash;made Sappy
+turn. He saw Sam with an immense knife, whetting
+it most vigorously and casting a hungry, fishy
+glance from time to time to the "yaller moss-tuft"
+<span class="left"><a name="310">310</a></span>
+on Guy's neck.</p>
+<p>
+"Time has came," he said to nobody in particular.</p>
+<p>
+"You better let me alone," whined Guy, for that
+horrible "<i>wheet&mdash;wheet</i>" jarred his nerves somehow.
+He looked toward Yan, and seeing, as he thought,
+the suggestion of a smile, he felt more comfortable,
+but a glance at Sam dispelled his comfort; the Woodpecker's
+face was absolutely inscrutable and perfectly
+demoniac with paint.</p>
+<p>
+"Why don't you whet up, Little Beaver? Don't
+you want your share?" asked the Head Chief through
+his teeth.</p>
+<p>
+"I vote we let him wear it till he brags again
+about his Deer-hunting. Then off she comes to the
+bone," was the reply. "Tell us about the Injun
+game, Mr. Clark."</p>
+<p>
+"I pretty near forget it now, but le's see. They
+make two squares on the ground or on two skins;
+each one is cut up in twenty-five smaller squares
+with lines like that. Then they have, say, ten rings
+an' ten nuts or pebbles. One player takes five
+rings an' five nuts an' sets them around on the
+squares of one set, an' don't let the other see till all
+is ready; then the other turns an' looks at it while
+some one else sings a little song that one of the
+boys turned into:</p>
+<p class="indent">
+"'Ki yi ya&mdash;ki yi yee,<br />
+You think yer smart as ye kin be,<br />
+You think yer awful quick to see<br />
+But yer not too quick for me,<br />
+Ki yi ya&mdash;ki yi yee.'</p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+<img src="images/sketch162.gif" width="151" height="195" alt="Illustration: Counters (5 nuts &amp; 5 pebbles) &amp; Cards for Game of Quicksight" border="0" align="left" hspace="15" />
+
+<p class="center"><img src="images/sketch163.gif" width="152" height="156" alt="the first square" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+<p><span class="left"><a name="311">311</a></span>
+<br /><br />
+"Then the first square is covered with a basket
+or anything and the second player must cover
+the other skin with counters just the same from
+memory. For every counter he gets on the right
+square he counts one, and loses one for each on
+the wrong square."</p>
+<p>
+"I'll bet I kin&mdash;&mdash;" Guy began, but Sam's hand
+gripped his moss-tuft.</p>
+<p>
+"Here, you let me alone. I ain't bragging. I'm
+only telling the simple truth."</p>
+<p>
+"Ugh! Better tell some simple lies, then&mdash;much
+safer," said the Great Woodpecker, with horrid calm
+and meaning. "If ever I lift that scalp you'll catch
+cold and die, do ye know it?"</p>
+<p>
+Again Yan could see that Caleb had to look far
+away to avoid taking an apparent interest.</p>
+<br /><br />
+<img src="images/sketch164.gif" width="198" height="234" align="left" hspace="10" alt="Spot-the-Rabbit or Farsight Six inches" border="0" />
+<img src="images/sketch165.gif" width="203" height="229" align="right" hspace="10" alt="These identical squares may be used at the same distance given for the 6-inch ones" border="0" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<p>
+"There's another game. I don't know as it's
+Injun, but it's the kind o' game where an Injun
+<i>could</i> win. They first made two six-inch squares of
+white wood or card, then on each they made rings like
+a target or squares like the quicksight game, or else
+two Rabbits the same on each. One feller takes six
+spots of black, half an inch across, an' sticks them
+on one, scattering anyhow, an' sets it up a hundred
+yards off; another feller takes same number of
+spots an' the other Rabbit an' walks up till he can
+see to fix his Rabbit the same. If he kin do it at
+seventy-five yards he's a swell; if he kin do it at
+sixty yards he's away up, but less than fifty yards
+<span class="left"><a name="312">312</a></span>
+is no good. I seen the boys have lots o' fun out o'
+<img src="images/sketch166a.gif" width="139" height="197" alt="The Pleiades as seen by Ordinary Eyes" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+it. They try to fool each other every way, putting
+one spot right on another or leaving some off. It's
+a sure 'nough test of good eyes."</p>
+<p>
+"I'll bet&mdash;&mdash;" began Sappy again, but a loud
+savage "Grrrr" from Sam, who knew perfectly
+well what was coming, put a stop to the bet, whatever
+it was.</p>
+<p>
+"There was two other Injun tests of eyes that I
+mind now. Some old Buck would show the youngsters
+the Pleiades&mdash;them's the little stars that the
+Injuns call the Bunch&mdash;an' ask 'How many kin
+you see?' Some could sho'ly see five or six an'
+some could make out seven. Them as sees seven
+is mighty well off for eyes. Ye can't see the Pleiades
+now&mdash;they belong to the winter nights; but you kin
+see the Dipper the hull year round, turning about
+the North Star. The Injuns call this the 'Broken
+Back,' an' I've heard the old fellers ask the boys:
+<img src="images/sketch167.gif" width="135" height="185" alt="The Pleiades as seen by by Good Eyes" border="0" hspace="17" style="float: left" />
+'You see the Old Squaw&mdash;that's the star, second
+from the end, the one at the bend of the handle&mdash;well,
+she has a papoose on her back. Kin you see the
+papoose?' an' sure enough, when my eyes was real
+good I could see the little baby star tucked in by
+the big un. It's a mighty good test of eyes if you
+kin see that."</p>
+<img src="images/sketch168.gif" width="138" height="186" alt="The Pleiades as seen by Extraordinary Eyes" hspace="50" border="0" />
+<img src="images/sketch169a.gif" alt="The Great Bear or Dipper pointing
+nearly to Pole Star. The 2nd star from left in handle of Dipper is the
+Squaw, &amp; from it, the little papoose" width="130" height="167"
+border="0" hspace="50" />
+
+<p>
+"Eh&mdash;&mdash;" began Guy.</p>
+<p>
+But "Grrrrrrrrr" from Sam stopped him in time.
+Again Caleb's eyes wandered afar. Then he
+stepped out of the teepee and Yan heard him mutter,
+<span class="left"><a name="313">313</a></span>
+"Consarn that whelp, he makes me laugh spite o'
+myself." He went off a little way into the woods
+and presently called "Yan! Guy! Come here."
+All three ran out. "Talking about eyes, what's
+that?" An opening in the foliage gave a glimpse
+of the distant Burns's clover field. "Looks like a
+small Bear."</p>
+<p>
+"Woodchuck! That's our Woodchuck! That's
+the ole sinner that throwed Paw off'n the mower.
+Where's my bone-arrer?" and Guy went for his
+weapons.</p>
+<p>
+The boys ran for the fence of the clover field,
+going more cautiously as they came near. Still
+the old Woodchuck heard something and sat up
+erect on his haunches. He was a monster, and
+out on the smooth clover field he did look like a
+very small Bear. His chestnut breast was curiously
+relieved by his unusually gray back and head.</p>
+<p>
+"Paw says it's his sins as turned his head gray.
+He's a hoary headed sinner, an' he ain't repented
+o' none o' them so far, but <i>I'm</i> after him now."</p>
+<p>
+"Hold on! Start even!" said Sam, seeing that
+Guy was prepared to shoot.</p>
+<p>
+So all drew together, standing in a row like an old
+picture of the battle of Crecy. The arrows scattered
+about the Woodchuck. Most went much too far,
+none went near because he was closer than they had
+supposed, but he scuttled away into his hole, there,
+no doubt, to plan a new trap for the man with the
+mower.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch170.gif" alt="all drew together, standing in a row like an old picture of the battle of Crecy" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="340" height="114" border="0" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="314">314</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3VII">VII</a></h3>
+<h3>Campercraft</h3>
+
+<p>
+"How'd you sleep, Sam?"</p>
+<p>
+"Didn't sleep a durn bit."</p>
+<p>
+"Neither did I. I was shivering all night.
+I got up an' put the spare blanket on, but it didn't
+do any good."</p>
+<p>
+"Wonder if there was a chills-and-fever fog or
+something?"</p>
+<p>
+"How'd you find it, Sappy?"</p>
+<p>
+"All right."</p>
+<p>
+"Didn't smell any fog?"</p>
+<p>
+"Nope."</p>
+<p>
+The next night it was even worse. Guy slept
+placidly, if noisily, but Sam and Yan tumbled about
+and shivered for hours. In the morning at dawn Sam
+sat up.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I tell you this is no joke. Fun's fun, but
+if I am going to have the shivers every night I'm
+going home while I'm able."</p>
+<p>
+Yan said nothing. He was very glum. He felt
+much as Sam did, but was less ready to give up the
+outing.</p>
+<p>
+Their blues were nearly dispelled when the warm
+sun came up, but still they dreaded the coming
+<span class="left"><a name="315">315</a></span>
+night.</p>
+<p>
+"Wonder what it is," said Little Beaver.</p>
+<p>
+"'Pears to me powerful like chills and fever and
+then again it don't. Maybe we drink too much
+swamp water. I believe we're p'isoned with Guy's
+cooking."</p>
+<p>
+"More like getting scurvy from too much meat.
+Let's ask Caleb."</p>
+<p>
+Caleb came around that afternoon or they would
+have gone after him. He heard Yan's story in
+silence, then, "Have ye sunned your blankets sense
+ye came?"</p>
+<p>
+"No."</p>
+<p>
+Caleb went into the teepee, felt the blankets, then
+grunted: "H-m! Jest so. They're nigh soppin'.
+You turn in night after night an' sweat an' sweat
+in them blankets an' wonder why they're damp.
+Hain't you seen your ma air the blankets every
+day at home? Every Injun squaw knows that
+much, an' every other day at least she gives the
+blankets a sun roast for three hours in the middle
+of the day, or, failing that, dries them at the fire.
+Dry out your blankets and you won't have no more
+chills."</p>
+<p>
+The boys set about it at once, and that night they
+experienced again the sweet, warm sleep of healthy
+youth.</p>
+<p><img src="images/sketch171.gif" alt="airing the blankets" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="288" height="120" border="0" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+There was another lesson they had to learn in
+campercraft. The Mosquitoes were always more
+or less of a plague. At night they forced the boys
+<span class="left"><a name="316">316</a></span>
+into the teepee, but they soon learned to smudge
+the insects with a wad of green grass on the hot fire.
+This they would throw on at sundown, then go
+outside, closing the teepee tight and eat supper
+around the cooking fire. After that was over they
+would cautiously open the teepee to find the grass
+all gone and the fire low, a dense cloud of smoke
+still in the upper part, but below it clear air. They
+would then brush off the Mosquitoes that had alighted
+on their clothes, crawl into the lodge and close the
+door tight. Not a Mosquito was left alive in it,
+and the smoke hanging about the smoke-vent
+was enough to keep them from coming in, and
+so they slept in peace. Thus they could baffle
+the worst pest of the woods. But there was yet
+another destroyer of comfort by day, and this
+was the Blue-bottle flies. There seemed more of
+them as time went on, and they laid masses of yellowish
+eggs on anything that smelled like meat or
+corruption. They buzzed about the table and got
+into the dishes; their dead, drowned and mangled
+bodies were polluting all the food, till Caleb remarked
+during one of his ever-increasing visits: "It's your
+own fault. Look at all the filth ye leave scattered
+about."</p>
+<p>
+There was no blinking the fact; for fifty feet around
+the teepee the ground was strewn with scraps of
+paper, tins and food. To one side was a mass of
+potato peelings, bones, fish-scales and filth, and
+everywhere were the buzzing flies, to be plagues all
+<span class="left"><a name="317">317</a></span>
+day, till at sundown the Mosquitoes relieved them
+and took the night shift of the office of torment.</p>
+<p>
+"I want to learn, especially if it's Injun," said
+Little Beaver. "What had we best do?"</p>
+<p>
+"Wall, first ye could move camp; second, ye could
+clean this."</p>
+<p>
+As there was no other available camp ground
+they had no choice, and Yan said with energy:
+"Boys, we got to clean this and keep it clean, too.
+We'll dig a hole for everything that won't burn."</p>
+<p>
+So Yan seized the spade and began to dig in the
+bushes not far from the teepee. Sam and Guy
+were gradually drawn in. They began gathering
+all the rubbish and threw it into the hole. As
+they tumbled in bones, tins and scraps of bread Yan
+said: "I just hate to see that bread go in. It
+doesn't seem right when there's so many living
+things would be glad to get it."</p>
+<p>
+At this, Caleb, who was sitting on a log placidly
+smoking, said:</p>
+<p>
+"Now, if ye want to be real Injun, ye gather all the
+eatables ye don't want&mdash;meat, bread and anything,
+an' every day put it on some high place. Most
+generally the Injuns has a rock&mdash;they call it <i>Wakan</i>;
+that means sacred medicine&mdash;an' there they leave
+scraps of food to please the good spirits. Av coorse
+it's the birds and Squirrels gets it all; but the Injun
+is content as long as it's gone, an' if ye argy with
+them that 'tain't the spirits gets it, but the birds,
+<img src="images/sketch172.gif" alt="Wakan" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="173" height="196" border="0" />
+they say: 'That doesn't matter. The birds couldn't
+<span class="left"><a name="318">318</a></span>
+get it if the spirits didn't want them to have it,' or
+maybe the birds took it to carry to the spirits!"</p>
+<p>
+Then the Grand Council went out in a body to
+seek the <i>Wakan Rock</i>. They found a good one in
+the open part of the woods, and it became a daily
+duty of one to carry the remnants of food to the
+rock. They were probably less acceptable to the
+wood creatures than they would have been half a
+year later, but they soon found that there were
+many birds glad to eat at the <i>Wakan</i>; and moreover,
+that before long there was a trail from the brook,
+only twenty-five yards away, that told of four-foots
+also enjoying the bounty of the good spirits.</p>
+<p>
+Within three days of this the plague of Bluebottles
+was over, and the boys realized that, judging
+by its effects, the keeping of a dirty camp is a crime.</p>
+<p>
+One other thing old Caleb insisted on: "Yan,"
+said he, "you didn't ought to drink that creek water
+now; it ain't hardly runnin'. The sun hez it het
+up, an' it's gettin' too crawly to be healthy."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, what are we going to do?" said Sam,
+though he might as well have addressed the brook
+itself.</p>
+<p>
+"What can we do, Mr. Clark?"</p>
+<p>
+"Dig a well!"</p>
+<p>
+"Phew! We're out here for fun!" was Sam's
+reply.</p>
+<p>
+"Dig an Injun well," Caleb said. "Half an hour
+will do it. Here, I'll show you."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="319">319</a></span>
+He took the spade and, seeking a dry spot,
+about twenty feet from the upper end of the
+pond he dug a hole some two feet square. By
+the time he was down three feet the water was
+oozing in fast. He got it down about four feet
+and then had to stop, on account of inflow. He
+took a bucket and bailed the muddy stuff out
+right to the bottom, and let it fill up to be again
+bailed out. After three bailings the water came
+in cold, sweet, and pure as crystal.</p>
+<p>
+"There," said he, "that water is from your pond,
+but it is filtered through twenty feet of earth and
+sand. That's the way to get cool, pure water out
+of the dirtiest of swamps. That's an Injun well."</p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<img src="images/sketch174.gif" width="140" height="354" alt="Basswood for drum" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+<span class="left"><a name="320">320</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3VIII">VIII</a></h3>
+<h3>The Indian Drum</h3>
+
+<p>
+"Oh, that hair of horse and skin of sheep should<br />
+Have such power to move the souls of men."
+</p>
+<p>
+"If you were real Injun you'd make a drum of that,"
+said Caleb to Yan, as they came to a Basswood
+blown over by a recent storm and now showing
+its weakness, for it was quite hollow&mdash;a mere shell.</p>
+<p>
+"How do they do it? I want to know how."</p>
+<p>
+"Get me the axe."</p>
+<p>
+Yan ran for the axe. Caleb cut out a straight
+unbroken section about two feet long. This they
+carried to camp.</p>
+<p>
+"Coorse ye know," said Caleb, "ye can't have a
+drum without skins for heads."</p>
+<p>
+"What kind of skins?"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, Horse, Dog, Cow, Calf&mdash;'most any kind
+that's strong enough."</p>
+<p>
+"I got a Calfskin in our barn, an' I know where
+there's another in the shed, but it's all chawed up
+with Rats. Them's mine. I killed them Calves.
+Paw give me the skins for killin' an' skinnin' them.
+Oh, you jest ought to see me kill a Calf&mdash;"</p>
+<p>
+Guy was going off into one of his autopanegyrics
+when Sam who was now being rubbed on a sore
+<span class="left"><a name="321">321</a></span>
+place, gave a "Whoop!" and grabbed the tow-tuft
+with a jerk that sent the Third War Chief sprawling
+and ended the panegyric in the usual volley of
+"you-let-me-'lones."</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, quit, Sam," objected Little Beaver. "You
+can't stop a Dog barking. It's his nature." Then
+to Guy: "Never mind, Guy; you are not hurt. I'll
+bet you can beat him hunting Deer, and you can see
+twice as far as he can."</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, I kin; that's what makes him so mad. I'll
+bet I kin see three times as far&mdash;maybe five times,"
+was the answer in injured tones.</p>
+<p>
+"Go on now, Guy, and get the skins&mdash;that is, if
+you want a drum for the war dance. You're the
+only one in the crowd that's man enough to make
+the raise of a hide," and fired by this flattery, Guy
+sped away.</p>
+<p>
+Meanwhile Caleb worked on the hollow log. He
+trimmed off the bark, then with the hatchet he
+cleared out all the punk and splinters inside. He
+made a fire on the ground in the middle of the drum-log
+as it stood on end, and watching carefully, he
+lifted it off from time to time and chopped away all
+the charred parts, smoothing and trimming till he had
+the log down thin and smooth within and without.
+They heard Guy shouting soon after he left. They
+thought him near at hand, but he did not come.
+Trimming the drum-log took a couple of hours, and
+still Guy did not return. The remark from Caleb,
+"'Bout ready for the skins now!" called from Sam
+<span class="left"><a name="322">322</a></span>
+the explanation, "Guess Old Man Burns snapped
+him up and put him to weeding the garden. Probably
+that was him we heard gettin' licked."</p>
+<p>
+"Old Man Burns" was a poor and shiftless character,
+a thin, stoop-shouldered man. He was only
+thirty-five years of age, but, being married, that
+was enough to secure for him the title "Old Man."
+In Sanger, if Tom Nolan was a bachelor at eighty
+years of age he would still be Tom Nolan, "wan
+of the bhoys," but if he married at twenty he at
+once became "Old Man Nolan."</p>
+<p>
+Mrs. Burns had produced the usual string of tow-tops,
+but several had died, the charitable neighbours
+said of starvation, leaving Guy, the eldest, his
+mother's darling, then a gap and four little girls,
+four, three, two and one years of age. She was a
+fat, fair, easy-going person, with a general sense
+of antagonism to her husband, who was, of course,
+the natural enemy of the children. Jim Burns
+cherished the ideal of bringing "that boy" up right&mdash;that
+is, getting all the work he could out of him&mdash;and
+Guy clung to his own ideal of doing as little
+work as possible. In this clash of ideals Guy's
+mother was his firm, though more or less secret, ally.
+He was without fault in her eyes: all that he did was
+right. His freckled visage and pudgy face were
+types of noble beauty, standards of comeliness and
+human excellence; his ways were ways of pleasantness
+and all his paths were peace; Margat Burns
+was sure of it.</p>
+<p class="center"><img src="images/sketch175.gif" width="393" height="104" alt="The Burns children" border="0" /></p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="323">323</a></span>
+Burns had a good deal of natural affection, but
+he was erratic; sometimes he would flog Guy mercilessly
+for nothing, and again laugh at some serious
+misdeed, so that the boy never knew just what to
+expect, and kept on the safe side by avoiding his
+"Paw" as much as possible. His visits to the
+camp had been thoroughly disapproved, partly
+because it was on Old Man Raften's land and partly
+because it enabled Guy to dodge the chores. Burns
+had been quite violent about it once or twice, but
+Mrs. Burns had the great advantage of persistence,
+and like the steady strain of the skilful angler on
+the slender line, it wins in the end against the erratic
+violence of the strongest trout. She had managed
+then that Guy should join the Injun camp, and
+gloried in his outrageously exaggerated accounts of
+how he could lick them all at anything, "though
+they wuz so much older'n bigger'n he wuz."</p>
+<p>
+But on this day he was fallen in hard luck. His
+father saw him coming, met him with a "gad" and
+lashed him furiously. Knowing perfectly well that
+the flogging would not stop till the proper effect was
+produced, and that was to be gauged by the racket,
+Guy yelled his loudest. This was the uproar the
+boys had heard.</p>
+<p>
+"Now, ye idle young scut! I'll larn ye to go
+round leaving bars down. You go an' tend to
+your work." So instead of hiking back gloriously
+laden with Calfskins, Guy was sent to ignominious
+and un-Injun toil in the garden.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="324">324</a></span>
+Soon he heard his mother: "Guysie, Guysie."
+He dropped his hoe and walked to the kitchen.</p>
+<p>
+"Where you goin'?" roared his father from afar.
+"Go back and mind your work."</p>
+<p>
+"Maw wants me. She called me."</p>
+<p>
+"You mind your work. Don't you dar' on your
+life to go thayer."</p>
+<p>
+But Guy took no notice and walked on to his
+mother. He knew that at this post-thrashing stage
+of wrath his father was mouthy and harmless, and
+soon he was happy eating a huge piece of bread and
+jam.</p>
+<p>
+"Poor dear, you must be hungry, an' your Paw
+was so mean to you. There, now, don't cry,"
+for Guy began to weep again at the recollection of
+his wrongs. Then she whispered confidentially:
+"Paw's going to Downey's this afternoon, an' you
+can slip away as soon as he's gone, an' if you work
+well before that he won't be so awful mad after
+you come back. But be sure you don't let down
+the bars, coz if the pig was to get in Raften's woods
+dear knows what."</p>
+<p>
+This was the reason of Guy's delay. He did not
+return to camp with the skins till late that day.
+As soon as he was gone, his foolish, doting mother,
+already crushed with the burden of the house, left
+everything and hoed two or three extra rows of
+cabbages, so "Paw" should find a great showing of
+work when he came back.</p>
+<p>
+The Calfskins were hard as tin and, of course, had
+the hair on.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="325">325</a></span>
+Caleb remarked, "It'll take two or three days to
+get them right," and buried them in a marshy, muddy
+pool in the full sunlight. "The warmer the better."</p>
+<p>
+Three days later he took them out. Instead of
+being thin, hard, yellow, semi-transparent, they
+now were much thicker, densely white, and soft
+as silk. The hair was easily scraped off and the
+two pieces were pronounced all right for drumheads.</p>
+<p>
+Caleb washed them thoroughly in warm water,
+with soap to clear off the grease, scraping them on
+both sides with a blunt knife; then he straightened
+the outer edge of the largest, and cut a thin strip
+round and round it till he had some sixty feet of rawhide
+line, about three-quarters of an inch wide.
+This he twisted, rolled and stretched until it was
+nearly round, then he cut from the remainder a
+circular piece thirty inches across, and a second from
+the "unchawed" part of the other skin. He laid
+these one on the other, and with the sharp point of
+a knife he made a row of holes in both, one inch
+from the edge and two inches apart. Then he set one
+skin on the ground, the drum-log on that and the
+other skin on the top, and bound them together with
+the long lace, running it from hole No. 1 on the
+<img src="images/sketch176.gif" alt="Calfskin face of Drumhead" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="150" height="243" border="0" />
+top to No. 2 on the bottom, then to No. 3 on the top,
+and No. 4 on the bottom, and so on twice around,
+till every hole had a lace through it and the crossing
+laces made a diamond pattern all around. At
+first this was done loosely, but tightened up when
+once around, and finally both the drum-heads were
+<span class="left"><a name="326">326</a></span>
+drawn tense. To the surprise of all, Guy promptly
+took possession of the finished drum. "Them's
+my Calfskins," which, of course, was true.</p>
+<p>
+And Caleb said, with a twinkle in his eye, "The
+wood <i>seems</i> to go with the skins."</p>
+<p>
+A drumstick of wood, with a piece of sacking
+lashed on to soften it, was made, and Guy was disgusted
+to find how little sound the drum gave out.</p>
+<p>
+"'Bout like pounding a fur cap with a lamb's
+tail," Sam thought.</p>
+<p>
+<img src="images/sketch177.gif" width="100" height="139" alt="The Indian Drum" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+"You hang that up in the shade to dry and you'll
+find a change," said the Trapper.</p>
+<p>
+It was quite curious to note the effect of the drying
+as the hours went by. The drum seemed to be
+wracking and straining itself in the agony of effort,
+and slight noises came from it at times. When
+perfectly dry the semi-transparency of the rawhide
+came back, and the sound now was one to
+thrill the Red-man's heart.</p>
+<p>
+Caleb taught them a little Indian war chant, and
+they danced round to it as he drummed and sang,
+till their savage instincts seemed to revive. But
+above all it worked on Yan. As he pranced around
+in step his whole nature seemed to respond; he felt
+himself a part of that dance. It was in himself;
+it thrilled him through and through and sent his
+blood exulting. He would gladly have given up all
+the White-man's "glorious gains" to live with the
+feeling called up by that Indian drum.</p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="327">327</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3IX">IX</a></h3>
+<h3>The Cat And The Skunk</h3>
+
+<p>
+Sam was away on a "massacree" to get some
+bread. Guy had been trapped by his natural
+enemy and was serving a term of hard labour in
+the garden; so Yan was alone in camp. He went
+<img src="images/sketch178.gif" width="75" height="312" alt="track of small mud turtle" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+around the various mud albums, but discovered
+nothing new, except the fact that tracks were getting
+more numerous. There were small Skunk and
+Mink tracks with the large ones now. As he came
+by the brush fence at the end of the blazed trail he
+saw a dainty little Yellow Warbler feeding a great
+lubberly young Cow-bird that, evidently, it had
+brought up. He had often heard that the Cow-bird
+habitually "plays Cuckoo" and leaves its egg in
+the nest of another bird, but this was the first time
+he had actually seen anything of it with his own
+eyes. As he watched the awkward mud-coloured
+Cow-bird flutter its ungrown wings and beg help
+from the brilliant little Warbler, less than half its
+size, he wondered whether the fond mother really
+was fooled into thinking it her own young, or whether
+she did it simply out of compassion for the foundling.
+He now turned down creek to the lower mud
+album, and was puzzled by a new track like this.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="328">328</a></span>
+He sketched it, but before the drawing was done
+it dawned on him that this must be the track of a
+young Mud-turtle. He also saw a lot of very familiar
+tracks, not a few being those of the common Cat,
+and he wondered why they should be about so much
+and yet so rarely seen. Of course the animals were
+chiefly nocturnal, but the boys were partly so,
+<img src="images/sketch179.gif" width="136" height="245" alt="Cardinal Flower" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+and always on the ground now, so that explanation
+was not satisfactory. He lay down on his
+breast at the edge of the brook, which had here cut
+in a channel with steep clay walls six feet high and
+twenty feet apart. The stream was very small now&mdash;a
+mere thread of water zigzagging over the level
+muddy floor of the "cañon," as Yan loved to call
+it. A broad, muddy margin at each side of the
+water made a fine place of record for the travelling
+Four-foots, and tracks new and old were there in
+abundance.</p>
+<p>
+The herbage on the bank was very rank and full
+of noisy Grasshoppers and Crickets. Great masses of
+orange Jewelweed on one side were variegated with
+some wonderful Cardinal flowers. Yan viewed all
+this with placid content. He knew their names
+now, and thus they were transferred from the list
+of tantalizing mysteries to that of engaging and
+wonderful friends. As he lay there on his breast
+his thoughts wandered back to the days when he
+did not know the names of any flowers or birds&mdash;when
+all was strange and he alone in his hunger to know
+them, and Bonnerton came back to him with new,
+strange force of reminder. His father and mother,
+<span class="left"><a name="329">329</a></span>
+his brother and schoolmates were there. It seemed like
+a bygone existence, though only two months ago.
+He had written his mother to tell of his arrival, and
+once since to say that he was well. He had received
+a kind letter from his mother, with a scripture text
+or two, and a postscript from his father with some
+sound advice and more scripture texts. Since
+then he had not written. He could not comprehend
+how he could so completely drift away, and yet
+clearly it was because he had found here in Sanger
+the well for which he had thirsted.</p>
+<p>
+As he lay there thinking, a slight movement nearer
+the creek caught his eye. A large Basswood had
+been blown down. Like most of its kind, it was hollow.
+Its trunk was buried in the tangle of rank summer
+growth, but a branch had been broken off and left
+a hole in the main stem. In the black cavern of the
+hole there appeared a head with shining green eyes,
+then out there glided onto the log a common gray
+Cat. She sat there in the sunshine, licked her paws,
+dressed her fur generally, stretched her claws and
+legs after the manner of her kind, walked to the end
+of the log, then down the easy slope to the bottom
+of the cañon. Here she took a drink, daintily shook
+the water from her paws, and set the hair just right
+with a stroke. Then to Yan's amusement she examined
+all the tracks much as he had done, though it
+seemed clear that her nose, not her eyes, was judge.
+She walked down stream, leaving some very fine
+<img src="images/sketch180.gif" width="140" height="195" alt="Orange Jewelweed" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+impressions that Yan mentally resolved to have
+<span class="left"><a name="330">330</a></span>
+in his note-book, very soon suddenly stopped,
+looked upward and around, a living picture of
+elegance, sleekness and grace, with eyes of green
+fire then deliberately leaped from the creek bed to
+the tangle of the bank and disappeared.</p>
+<p><img src="images/sketch181.gif" width="101" height="499" alt="Cat Tracks" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+This seemed a very commonplace happening, but
+the fact of a house Cat taking to the woods lent her
+unusual interest, and Yan felt much of the thrill
+that a truly wild animal would have given him, and
+had gone far enough in art to find exquisite pleasure
+in the series of pictures the Cat had presented to
+his eyes.</p>
+<p>
+He lay there for some minutes expecting her to
+reappear; then far up the creek he heard slight
+rattling of the gravel. He turned and saw, not the
+Cat, but a very different and somewhat larger animal.
+Low, thick-set, jet black, with white marks and
+an immense bushy tail&mdash;Yan recognized the Skunk
+at once, although he had never before met a wild
+one in daylight. It came at a deliberate waddle,
+nosing this way and that. It rounded the bend and
+was nearly opposite Yan, when three little Skunks
+of this year's brood came toddling after the mother.</p>
+<p>
+The old one examined the tracks much as the Cat
+had done, and Yan got a singular sense of brotherhood
+in seeing the wild things at his own study.</p>
+<p>
+Then the old Skunk came to the fresh tracks of
+the Cat and paused so long to smell them that the
+three young ones came up and joined in. One of
+the young ones went to the bank where the Cat
+<span class="left"><a name="331">331</a></span>
+came down. As it blew its little nose over the fresh
+scent, the old Skunk waddled to the place, became
+quite interested, then climbed the bank. The little
+ones followed in a disjointed procession, varied by
+one of them tumbling backward from the steep trail.</p>
+<p>
+The old Skunk reached the top of the bank, then
+mounted the log and followed unerringly the Cat's
+back trail to the hole in the trunk. Down this she
+peered a minute, then, sniffing, walked in, till nothing
+could be seen but her tail. Now Yan heard loud,
+shrill mewing from the log, "<i>Mew, mew, m-e-u-w,
+m-e-e-u-w,"</i> and the old Skunk came backing out,
+holding a small gray Kitten.</p>
+<p>
+The little thing mewed and spit energetically,
+holding on to the inside of the log. But the old
+Skunk was too strong&mdash;she dragged it out. Then
+holding it down with both paws, she got a good firm
+grip of its neck and turned to carry it down to the
+bed of the brook. The Kitten struggled vigorously,
+and at last got its claws into the Skunk's eye and gave
+such a wrench that the ill-smelling villain loosened
+its hold a little and so gave the Kitten another chance
+to squeal, which it did with a will, putting all its
+strength into a succession of heartrending <i>mee-ow&mdash;mee-ows.</i>
+Yan's heart was touched. He was about
+to dash to the rescue when there was a scrambling
+in the far grass, a rush of gray, and the Cat&mdash;the
+<img src="images/sketch183.gif" width="138" height="229" alt="a picture of demon rage, eyes ablaze, fur erect, ears back" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+old mother Cat was on the scene, a picture of demon
+rage, eyes ablaze, fur erect, ears back. With the
+<span class="left"><a name="332">332</a></span>
+spring of a Deer and the courage of a Lion she made
+for the black murderer. Eye could not follow the
+flashings of her paws. The Skunk recoiled and
+stared stupidly, but not long; nothing was "long"
+about it. Her every superb muscle was tingling with
+force and mad with hate as the mother Cat closed
+like a swooping Falcon. The Skunk had no time
+to aim that dreadful gun, and in the excitement
+fired a volley of the deadly musky spray backward,
+drenching her own young as they huddled in the
+trail.</p>
+<p>
+Tooth and claw and deadly grip&mdash;the old Cat
+raged and tore, the black fur flew in every direction,
+and the Skunk for once lost her head and fired
+random shots of choking spray that drenched herself
+as well as the Cat. The Skunk's head and neck
+were terribly torn. The air was suffocating with
+the poisonous musk. The Skunk was desperately
+wounded and threw herself backward into the water.
+Blinded and choking, though scarcely bleeding, the
+old Cat would have followed even there, but the
+Kitten, wedged under the log, mewed piteously and
+stayed the mother's fury. She dragged it out unharmed
+but drenched with musk and carried it
+quickly to the den in the hollow log, then came out
+again and stood erect, blinking her blazing eyes&mdash;for
+they were burning with the spray&mdash;lashing her tail,
+the image of a Tigress eager to fight either part or
+all the world for the little ones she nursed. But the
+old Skunk had had more than enough.</p>
+<span class="left"><a name="333">333</a></span>
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/illus15a.jpg" width="534" height="740" alt="The old Cat raged and tore" border="0" /></p>
+<span class="left"><a name="335">335</a></span>
+<p>She scrambled
+off down the cañon. Her three young ones had
+tumbled over each other to get out of the way when
+they got that first accidental charge of their mother's
+battery. She waddled away, leaving a trail of blood
+and smell, and they waddled after, leaving an odour
+just as strong.</p>
+<p>
+Yan was thrilled by the desperate fight of the
+heroic old Cat. Her whole race went up higher in
+his esteem that day; and the fact that the house
+Cat really could take to the woods and there maintain
+herself by hunting was all that was needed to give
+her a place in his list of animal heroes.</p>
+<p>
+Pussy walked uneasily up and down the log, from
+the hole where the Kittens were to the end overlooking
+the cañon. She blinked very hard and was
+evidently suffering severely, but Yan knew quite
+well that there was no animal on earth big enough
+or strong enough to frighten that Cat from her post
+at the door of her home. There is no courage more
+indomitable than that of a mother Cat who is guarding
+her young.</p>
+<p>
+At length all danger of attack seemed over, and
+Pussy, shaking her paws and wiping her eyes, glided
+into her hole. Oh, what a shock it must have been
+to the poor Kittens, though partly prepared by
+their brother's unsavoury coming back. There was
+the mother, whose return had always been heralded
+by a delicious odour of fresh Mouse or bird, interwoven
+with a loving and friendly odour of Cat, that was
+in itself a promise of happiness. Scent is the main
+thing in Cat life, and now the hole was darkened by
+<span class="left"><a name="336">336</a></span>
+a creature that was rank with every nasal guarantee
+of deadly enmity. Little wonder that they all fled
+puffing and spitting to the dark corners. It was a
+hard case; all the little stomachs were upset for a
+long time. They could do nothing but make
+the best of it and get used to it. The den never
+smelt any better while they were there, and even
+after they grew up and lived elsewhere many storms
+passed overhead before the last of the Skunk smell
+left them.</p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="337">337</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3X">X</a></h3>
+<h3>The Adventures Of A Squirrel Family</h3>
+
+<p>
+"I'll bet I kin make a Woodpecker come out of
+that hole," said Sapwood, one day as the three
+Red-men proceeded, bow in hand, through a far
+<img src="images/sketch185.gif" width="132" height="430" alt="the hollow stub" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+corner of Burns's Bush. He pointed to a hole in
+the top of a tall dead stub, then going near he struck
+the stub a couple of heavy blows with a pole. To
+the surprise of all there flew out, not a Woodpecker,
+but a Flying Squirrel. It scrambled to the top of
+the stub, looked this way and that, then spread its
+legs, wings and tail and sailed downward, to rise
+slightly at the end of its flight against a tree some
+twenty feet away. Yan bounded to catch it. His
+fingers clutched on its furry back, but he got such
+a cut from its sharp teeth that he was glad to let it
+go. It scrambled up the far side of the trunk and
+soon was lost in the branches.</p>
+<p>
+Guy was quite satisfied that he had carried out
+his promise of bringing a Woodpecker out of the
+hole, "For ain't a Flying Squirrel a kind of Woodpecker?"
+he argued. He was, in consequence, very
+"cocky" the rest of the day, proposing to produce
+a Squirrel whenever they came to a stub with a hole
+in it, and at length, after many failures, had the
+satisfaction of driving a belated Woodpecker out
+<span class="left"><a name="338">338</a></span>
+of its nest.</p>
+<p>
+The plan was evidently a good one for discovering
+living creatures. Yan promptly adopted it, and
+picking up a big stick as they drew near another
+stub with holes, he gave three or four heavy thumps.
+A Red Squirrel scrambled out of a lower hole and
+hid in an upper one; another sharp blow made it
+pop out and jump to the top of the stub, but eventually
+back into the lower hole.</p>
+<p>
+The boys became much excited. They hammered
+the stub now without making the Squirrel reappear.
+<img src="images/sketch186a.gif" width="180" height="279" alt="'Let's cut it down,' said Little Beaver" border="0" align="left" hspace="15" />
+"Let's cut it down," said Little Beaver.</p>
+<p>
+"Show you a better trick than that," replied the
+Woodpecker. He looked about and got a pole
+some twenty feet long. This he placed against a
+rough place high up on the stub and gave it a violent
+push, watching carefully the head of the stub. Yes!
+It swayed just a little. Sam repeated the push,
+careful to keep time with the stub and push always
+just as it began to swing away from him. The
+other boys took hold of the pole and all pushed
+together, as Sam called, "Now&mdash;now&mdash;now&mdash;"</p>
+<p>
+A single push of 300 or 400 pounds would scarcely
+have moved the stub, but these little fifty-pound
+pushes at just the right time made it give more and
+more, and after three or four minutes the roots,
+that had begun to crack, gave way with a craunching
+sound, and down crashed the great stub. Its hollow
+top struck across a fallen log and burst open in a
+shower of dust, splinters and rotten wood. The
+<span class="left"><a name="339">339</a></span>
+boys rushed to the spot to catch the Squirrel, if
+possible. It did not scramble out as they expected
+it would, even when they turned over the fragments.
+They found the front of the stub with the old Woodpecker
+hole in it, and under that was a mass of finely
+shredded cedar bark, evidently a nest. Yan eagerly
+turned it over, and there lay the Red Squirrel, quite
+still and unharmed apparently, but at the end of her
+nose was a single drop of blood. Close beside her
+were five little Squirrels, evidently a very late brood,
+for they were naked, blind and helpless. One of
+them had at its nose a drop of blood and it lay as
+still as the mother. At first the hunters thought the
+old one was playing 'Possum, but the stiffness of
+death soon set in.</p>
+<p>
+Now the boys felt very guilty and sorry. By
+thoughtlessly giving way to their hunting instincts
+they had killed a harmless mother Squirrel in the
+act of protecting her young, and the surviving little
+ones had no prospect but starvation.</p>
+<p>
+Yan had been the most active in the chase, and
+now was far more conscience-stricken than either of
+the others.</p>
+<p>
+"What are we going to do with them?" asked the
+Woodpecker. "They are too young to be raised
+for pets."</p>
+<p>
+"Better drown them and be done with them,"
+suggested Sappy, recalling the last honours of several
+broods of Kittens at home.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch187.gif" width="142" height="107" alt="Sappy's solution " align="right" border="0" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<p><span class="left"><a name="340">340</a></span>
+"I wish we could find another Squirrel's nest to
+put them into," said Little Beaver remorsefully,
+and then as he looked at the four squirming, helpless
+things in his hand the tears of repentance filled his
+eyes. "We might as well kill them and end their
+misery. We can't find another Squirrel's nest so
+late as this." But after a little silence he added,
+"I know some one who will put them out of pain.
+She may as well have them. She'd get them anyway,
+and that's the old gray wild Cat. Let's put them
+in her nest when she's away."</p>
+<p>
+This seemed a reasonable, simple and merciful
+way of getting rid of the orphans. So the boys
+made for the "cañon" part of the brook. At one
+time of the afternoon the sun shone so as to show
+plainly all that was in the hole. The boys went very
+quietly to Yan's lookout bank, and seeing that only
+the Kittens were there, Yan crept across and dropped
+the young Squirrels into the nest, then went back
+to his friends to watch, like Miriam, the fate of the
+foundlings.</p>
+<p>
+They had a full hour to wait for the old Cat, and
+as they were very still all that time they were rewarded
+with a sight of many pretty wild things.</p>
+<p>
+A Humming-bird "boomed" into view and hung
+in a misty globe of wings before one Jewel-flower
+after another.</p>
+<p>
+"Say, Beaver, you said Humming-birds was
+something or other awful beautiful," said Woodpecker,
+pointing to the dull grayish-green bird
+before them.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="341">341</a></span>
+"And I say so yet. Look at that," as, with a
+turn in the air, the hanging Hummer changed its
+jet-black throat to flame and scarlet that silenced
+the critic.</p>
+<p>
+After the Humming-bird went away a Field-mouse
+was seen for a moment dodging about in the grass,
+and shortly afterward a Shrew-mole, not so big as
+the Mouse, was seen in hot pursuit on its trail.</p>
+<p>
+Later a short-legged brown animal, as big as a
+Rabbit, came nosing up the dry but shady bed of the
+brook, and as it went beneath them Yan recognized
+by its little Beaver-like head and scaly oar-shaped
+tail that it was a Muskrat, apparently seeking for
+water.</p>
+<p>
+There was plenty in the swimming-pond yet, and
+the boys realized that this had become a gathering
+place for those wild things that were "drowned out
+by the drought," as Sam put it.</p>
+<p>
+The Muskrat had not gone more than twenty
+minutes before another deep-brown animal appeared.
+"Another Muskrat; must be a meeting," whispered
+the Woodpecker. But this one, coming close, proved
+a very different creature. As long as a Cat, but
+lower, with broad, flat head and white chin and
+throat, short legs, in shape a huge Weasel, there
+was no mistaking it; this was a Mink, the deadly
+enemy of the Muskrat, and now on the track of its
+prey. It rapidly turned the corner, nosing the trail
+like a Hound. If it overtook the Muskrat before it
+got to the pond there would be a tragedy. If the
+Muskrat reached the deep water it might possibly
+<span class="left"><a name="342">342</a></span>
+escape. But just as sure as the pond became a
+gathering place for Muskrats it would also become
+a gathering place for Mink.</p>
+<p>
+Not five minutes had gone since the Mink went by
+before a silent gray form flashed upon the log opposite.
+Oh, how sleek and elegant it looked! What perfection
+of grace she seemed after the waddling, hunchy
+Muskrat and the quick but lumbering Mink. There
+is nothing more supple and elegant than a fine Cat,
+and men of science the world over have taken the Cat
+as the standard of perfection in animal make-up.
+Pussy glanced about for danger. She had brought
+no bird or Mouse, for the Kittens were yet too young
+for such training. The boys watched her with
+intensest interest. She glided along the log to the
+hole&mdash;the Skunk-smelling hole&mdash;uttered her low
+"<i>purrow, purrow</i>," that always sets the hungry
+Kittens agog, and was curling in around them, when
+she discovered the pink Squirrel-babies among her
+own. She stopped licking the nearest Kitten,
+stared at a young Squirrel, and smelled it. Yan
+wondered what help that could be when everything
+smelled of Skunk. But it did seem to decide her, for
+she licked it a moment, then lying down she gathered
+them all in her four-legged embrace, turned her chin
+up in the air and Sappy announced gleefully that
+"The little Squirrels were feeding with the little
+Cats."</p>
+<p>
+The boys waited a while longer, then having made
+sure that the little Squirrels had been lovingly
+<span class="left"><a name="343">343</a></span>
+adopted by their natural enemy, they went quietly
+back to camp. Now they found a daily pleasure
+in watching the mixed family.</p>
+<p>
+And here it may be as well to give the rest of
+the story. The old gray Cat faithfully and lovingly
+nursed those foundlings. They seemed to prosper,
+and Yan, recalling that he had heard of a Cat actually
+raising a brood of Rabbits, looked forward to the
+day when Kittens and Squirrelets should romp
+together in the sun. After a week Sappy maintained
+that only one Squirrel appeared at the breakfast
+table, and in ten days none. Yan stole over to the
+log and learned the truth. All four were dead in the
+bottom of the nest. There was nothing to tell why.
+The old Cat had done her best&mdash;had been all love
+and tenderness, but evidently had not been able
+to carry out her motherly intentions.</p>
+<p class="center"><img src="images/sketch188.gif" width="191" height="65" alt="The old Cat had done her best" border="0" /></p>
+
+
+<img src="images/sketch189.gif" alt="Black-billed Cuckoo" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="166" height="306" border="0" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<span class="left"><a name="344">344</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3XI">XI</a></h3>
+<h3>How To See The Woodfolk</h3>
+
+<p>
+The days went merrily now, beginning each morning
+with a hunting of the Woodchuck. The boys
+were on terms of friendship with the woods
+that contrasted strongly with the feelings of that
+first night.</p>
+<p>
+This was the thought in Sam's mind when he one
+day remarked, "Say, Yan, do you remember the
+night I slep' with the axe an' you with the hatchet?"</p>
+<p>
+The Indians had learned to meet and conquer
+all the petty annoyances of camp life, and so forgot
+them. Their daily routine was simplified. Their
+acquaintance with woodfolk and wood-ways had
+grown so fast that now they were truly at home.
+The ringing "<i>Kow</i>&mdash;<i>Kow</i>&mdash;<i>Kow</i>" in the tree-tops was
+no longer a mere wandering voice, but the summer
+song of the Black-billed Cuckoo. The loud, rattling,
+birdy whistle in the low trees during dull weather
+Yan had traced to the Tree-frog.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch190.gif" width="118" height="143" alt="Tree-frog" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+
+<p>
+The long-drawn "<i>Pee&mdash;re-e-e-e"</i> of hot afternoons
+was the call of the Wood-peewee, and a vast number
+of mysterious squeaks and warbles had been traced
+home to the ever-bright and mischievous Blue Jay.</p>
+<p>
+The nesting season was now over, as well as the
+song season; the birds, therefore, were less to be seen,
+<span class="left"><a name="345">345</a></span>
+but the drying of the streams had concentrated
+much life in the swimming-pond. The fence had
+been arranged so that the cattle could reach one end
+of it to drink, but the lower parts were safe from
+their clumsy feet, and wild life of many kinds were
+there in abundance.</p>
+<p>
+The Muskrats were to be seen every evening in
+the calm pool, and fish in great numbers were in the
+deeper parts. Though they were small, the boys
+found them so numerous and so ready to bite that
+fishing was great sport, and more than one good
+meal they had from that pond. There were things
+of interest discovered daily. In a neighbour's field
+Sam had found another Woodchuck with a "price
+on his head." Rabbits began to come about the
+camp at night, especially when the moon was
+bright, and frequently of late they had heard a
+querulous, yelping bark that Caleb said was made
+by a Fox "probably that old rascal that lives in
+Callahan's woods."</p>
+<p>
+The gray Cat in the log was always interesting.
+The boys went very regularly to watch from a distance,
+but for good reasons did not go near. First,
+they did not wish to scare her; second, they knew
+that if they went too close she would not hesitate to
+attack them.</p>
+<p>
+One of the important lessons that Yan learned
+was this. In the woods <i>the silent watcher sees the
+most</i>. The great difficulty in watching was how to
+pass the time, and the solution was to sit and <i>sketch.</i>
+<span class="left"><a name="346">346</a></span>
+Reading would have done had books been at hand,
+but not so well as sketching, because then the eyes
+are fixed on the book instead of the woods, and the
+turning of the white pages is apt to alarm the shy
+woodfolk.</p>
+<p>
+Thus Yan put in many hours making drawings of
+things about the edge of the pond.</p>
+<p>
+As he sat one day in stillness a Minnow leaped from
+the water and caught a Fly. Almost immediately a
+<img src="images/336a.gif" width="118" height="248" alt="Kingfisher" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+Kingfisher that had been shooting past stopped in
+air, hovered, and darting downward, came up with a
+Minnow in his beak, flew to a branch to swallow its
+prey, but no sooner got there when a Chicken-hawk
+flashed out of a thick tree, struck the Kingfisher
+with both feet and bore him downward to the bank&mdash;in
+a moment would have killed him, but a long,
+brown creature rushed from a hole in the bank and
+sprang on the struggling pair, to change the scene in
+a twinkling. The three stragglers separated, the
+Hawk to the left, the Kingfisher to the right, the
+Minnow flopped back into the pool, and the Mink
+was left on the shore with a mouthful of feathers
+and looking very foolish. As it stood shaking the
+down from its nose another animal came gliding
+down through the shrubbery to the shore&mdash;the old
+gray Cat. The Mink wrinkled up his nose, showed
+two rows of sharp teeth and snarled in a furious
+manner, but backed off under a lot of roots. The
+Cat laid down her ears; the fur on her back and tail
+stood up; she crouched a little, her eyes blazing
+<span class="left"><a name="347">347</a></span>
+and the end of her tail twitching, and she answered
+the snarling of the Mink with a low growl. The
+Mink was evidently threatening "sudden death" to
+the Cat, and Pussy evidently was not much impressed.
+The Mink retreated farther under the roots till
+nothing but the green glowing of his eyes was to be
+seen, and the Cat, coming forward, walked calmly
+by his hiding-place and went about her business.
+The snarling under the root died away, and as soon
+as his enemy was gone the Mink dived into the
+water and was lost to view.</p>
+<p>
+These two animals had a second meeting, as Yan
+had the luck to witness from his watching-place.
+He had heard the "plop" of a deft plunge, and looked
+in time only to see the spreading rings near the shore.
+Then the water was ruffled far up in the pond. A
+brown spot showed and was gone. A second appeared,
+to vanish as the first had done. Later, a
+Muskrat crawled out on the shore, waddled along
+for twenty feet, then, plunging in, swam below, came
+up at the other bank, and crawled under a lot of
+overhanging roots. A minute later the Mink appeared,
+his hair all plastered close till he looked like
+a four-legged Snake. He landed where the Muskrat
+had come out, followed the trail so that it was lost, then
+galloped up and down the shore, plunged in, swam
+across, and beat about the other shore. At last he
+struck the trail and followed. Under the root
+there were sounds of a struggle, the snarling of the
+mink, and in two or three minutes he appeared
+<span class="left"><a name="348">348</a></span>
+dragging out the body of the Muskrat. He sucked
+its blood and was eating the brains when again the
+gray Cat came prowling up the edge of the pond and,
+not ten feet off, stood face to face with the Mink,
+as she had done before.</p>
+<p>
+The Water Weasel saw his enemy but made no
+attempt to escape from her. He stood with forepaws
+on his victim and snarling a warning and defiance to
+the Cat. Pussy, after glaring for a few seconds,
+leaped lightly to the high bank, passed above the
+Mink, then farther on leaped down, and resumed her
+journey up the shore.</p>
+<p>
+Why should the Mink fear the Cat the first time,
+and the Cat the Mink the second? Yan believed
+that ordinarily the Cat could "lick," but that now
+the Mink had right on his side; he was defending his
+property, and the Cat, knowing that, avoided a
+quarrel; whereas the same Cat would have faced
+a thousand Mink in defense of her Kittens.</p>
+<p>
+These two scenes did not happen the same day,
+but are told together because Yan always told them
+together afterward to show that the animals understand
+something of right and wrong.</p>
+<p>
+But later Yan had another experience with the
+Muskrats. He and Sam were smoothing out the
+lower album for the night, when a long stream of
+water came briskly down the middle of the creek
+bed, which had been dry for more than a week.
+
+"Hallo," said Woodpecker, "where's that from?"</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="349">349</a></span>
+"A leak in the dam," said Little Beaver, with fear
+in his voice.</p>
+<p>
+The boys ran up to the dam and learned that the
+guess was right. The water had found an escape
+round the end of the dam, and a close examination
+showed that it had been made by a burrowing
+Muskrat.</p>
+<p>
+It was no little job to get it tightly closed up.
+But the spade was handy, and a close-driven row
+of stakes with plenty of stiff clay packed behind not
+only stopped the leak but gave a guarantee that in
+future that corner at least would be safe.</p>
+<p>
+When Caleb heard of the Muskrat mischief he
+said:</p>
+<p>
+"Now ye know why the Beavers are always so dead
+sore on the Muskrats. They know the Rats are
+liable to spoil their dams any time, so they kill them
+whenever they get the chance."</p>
+<p>
+Little Beaver rarely watched an hour without
+seeing something of interest in the swamp. The
+other warriors had not the patience to wait so
+long and they were not able to make a pastime of
+sketching.</p>
+<p>
+Yan made several hiding-places where he found
+that living things were most likely to be seen. Just
+below the dam was a little pool where various Crawfish
+and thread-like Eels abounding proved very
+attractive to Kingfisher and Crow, while little Tip-ups
+or Teetering Snipe would wiggle their latter end
+on the level dam, or late in the day the never-failing
+Muskrat would crawl out on a flat stone and sit
+<span class="left"><a name="350">350</a></span>
+like a fur cap. The cañon part of the creek was
+another successful hiding-place, but the very best
+was at the upper end of the pond, for the simple
+reason that it gave a view of more different kinds
+of land. First the water with Muskrats and occasionally
+a Mink, next the little marsh, always there,
+but greatly increased now by the back-up of the
+water. Here one or two Field-mice and a pair of
+Sora Rails were at home. Close at hand was the
+thick woods, where Partridges and Black Squirrels
+were sometimes seen.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch192.gif" width="196" height="182" alt="Sora Rails" border="0" align="left" hspace="15" />
+<p>
+Yan was here one day sketching the trunk of a
+Hemlock to pass the watching time, but also because
+he had learned to love that old tree. He never
+sketched because he loved sketching; he did not;
+the motive always was love of the thing he was
+drawing.</p>
+<p>
+A Black-and-white Creeper had crawled like a
+Lizard over all the trunks in sight. A Downy
+Woodpecker had digged a worm out of a log by
+labour that most birds would have thought ill-paid
+by a dozen such worms. A Chipmunk had come
+nearer and nearer till it had actually run over his
+foot and then scurried away chattering in dismay
+at its own rashness; finally, a preposterous little
+Cock Chickadee sang "<i>Spring soon</i>&mdash;<i>spring soon</i>," as
+though any one were interested in the gratuitous and
+unconvincing fib, when a brown, furry form hopped
+noiselessly from the green leaves by the pond,
+<span class="left"><a name="351">351</a></span>
+skipped over a narrow bay without wetting its feet,
+paused once or twice, then in the middle of the open
+glade it sat up in plain view&mdash;a Rabbit. It sat so
+long and so still that Yan first made a sketch that
+took three of four minutes, then got out his watch
+and timed it for three minutes longer before it
+moved in the least. Then it fed for some time,
+and Yan tried to make a list of the things it ate
+and the things it shunned, but could not do so
+with certainty.</p>
+<p>
+A noisy Flicker came out and alighted close by on
+a dried branch. The Rabbit, or really a Northern
+Hare, "froze"&mdash;that is, became perfectly still for a
+moment&mdash;but the Flicker marks were easy to read
+and had long ago been learned as the uniform of a
+friend, so the Rabbit resumed his meal, and when
+the Flicker flew again he paid no heed. A Crow
+passed over, and yet another. "No; no danger
+from them." A Red-shouldered Hawk wailed in
+the woods; the Rabbit heard that and every other
+sound, but the Red-shoulder is not dangerous,
+and he knew it. A large Hawk with <i>red tail</i>
+circled silently over the glade, and the Rabbit
+froze on the instant. That same red tail was the
+mark of a dreaded foe. How well Bunny had
+learned to know them all!</p>
+<p>
+A bunch of clover tempted him to a full repast,
+after which he hopped into a tussock in the midst
+of the glade and there turned himself into a moss-bump,
+his legs swallowed up in his fur, and his ears
+laid over his back like a pair of empty gloves or
+<span class="left"><a name="352">352</a></span>
+a couple of rounded shingles; his nose-wabblings
+reduced in number, and he seemed to be sleeping in
+the last warm rays of the sun. Yan was very
+anxious to see whether his eyes were open or not;
+he had been told that Rabbits sleep with open eyes,
+but at this distance he could not be sure. He had
+no field-glass and Guy was not at hand, so the point
+remained in doubt.</p>
+<p>
+The last sun-blots had gone from the trail and the
+pond was all shadowed by the trees on the western
+side. A Robin began its evening hymn on a tall
+tree, where it could see the red sun going down, and
+a Veery was trilling his <i>weary, weary, weary</i> in the
+Elder thicket along the brook, when another, a
+larger animal, loomed up in the distant trail and
+glided silently toward Yan. Its head was low
+and he could not make out what it was. As it stood
+there for a few seconds Yan wet his finger in his
+mouth and held it up. A slight coolness on the
+side next the coming creature told Yan that the
+breeze was from it to him and would not betray him.
+It came on, seeming to grow larger, turned a little
+to one side, and then Yan saw plainly by the sharp
+nose and ears and the bushy tail that it was nothing
+less than a Fox, probably the one that often barked
+<img src="images/sketch193.gif" width="134" height="143" alt="fox" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+near camp at night.</p>
+<p>
+It was trotting away at an angle, knowing nothing
+of the watching boy nor of the crouching Rabbit,
+when Yan, merely to get a better look at the cunning
+one, put the back of his hand to his mouth and by
+<span class="left"><a name="353">353</a></span>
+sucking made a slight Mouse-like squeak, sweetest
+music, potent spellbinder, to a hungry Fox, and
+he turned like a flash. For a moment he stood,
+head erect, full of poise and force in curb; a
+second squeak&mdash;he came slowly back toward the
+sound and in so doing passed between Yan and the
+Rabbit. He had crossed its old trail without feeling
+much interest, but now the breeze brought its
+<i>body scent</i>. Instantly the Fox gave up the Mouse
+hunt&mdash;no hunter goes after Mice when big game
+is at hand&mdash;and began an elaborate and beautiful
+stalk of the Rabbit&mdash;the Rabbit that he had not seen.
+But his nose was his best guide. He cautiously zigzagged
+up the wind, picking his steps with the greatest
+care, and pointing with his nose like a Pointer Dog.
+Each step was bringing him nearer to Bunny
+as it slept or seemed asleep in the tussock. Yan
+wondered whether he ought not to shout out and
+end the stalk before the Rabbit was caught, but
+as a naturalist he was eager to see the whole thing
+out and learn how the Fox would make the capture.
+The red-furred gentleman was now within fifteen
+feet of the tussock and still the gray one moved not.
+Now he was within twelve feet&mdash;and no move;
+ten feet&mdash;and Bunny seemed in tranquil sleep;
+eight feet&mdash;and now the Fox for the first time seemed
+to actually see his victim. Yan had hard work to
+keep from shouting a warning; six feet&mdash;and now
+the Fox was plainly preparing for a final spring.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="354">354</a></span>
+"Is it right to let him?" and Yan's heart beat
+with excitement.</p>
+<p>
+The Fox brought his feet well under him, tried the
+footing till it was perfect, gathered all his force,
+then with silent, vicious energy sprung straight for
+the sleeper. Sleeping? Oh, no! Not at all. Bunny
+was playing his own game. The moment the Fox
+leaped, he leaped with equal vigour the opposite
+way and out under his enemy, so Reynard landed
+on the empty bunch of grass. Again he sprang,
+but the Rabbit had rebounded like a ball in the
+other direction, and continued this bewildering
+succession of marvellous erratic hops. The Fox in
+vain tried to keep up, for these wonderful side jumps
+are the Rabbit's strength and the Fox's weakness;
+and Bunny went zigzag&mdash;hop&mdash;skip&mdash;into the thicket
+and was gone before the Fox could get his heavier
+body under speed at all.</p>
+<p>
+Had the Rabbit bounded out as soon as he saw
+the Fox coming he might have betrayed himself
+unnecessarily; had he gone straight away when the
+Fox leaped for him he might have been caught
+in three or four leaps, for the enemy was under full
+speed, but by biding his time he had courted no
+danger, and when it did come he had played the
+only possible offset, and "lives in the greenwood
+still."</p>
+<p>
+The Fox had to seek his supper somewhere else,
+and Yan went to camp happy in having learned
+another of the secrets of the woods.</p>
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+<span class="left"><a name="355">355</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3XII">XII</a></h3>
+<h3>Indian Signs And Getting Lost</h3>
+
+<p>
+"What do you mean when you say Indian signs,
+Mr. Clark?"</p>
+<p>
+"Pretty near anything that shows there's
+Injuns round: a moccasin track, a smell of smoke, a
+twig bent, a village, one stone a-top of another or a
+white settlement scalped and burned&mdash;they all are
+Injun signs. They all mean something, and the
+Injuns read them an' make them, too, jest as you
+would writing."</p>
+<p>
+"You remember the other day you told us three
+smokes meant you were coming back with scalps."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, no; it don't har'ly mean that. It means
+'Good news'&mdash;that is, with some tribes. Different
+tribes uses 'em different."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, what does one smoke mean?"</p>
+<p>
+"As a rule just simply '<i>Camp is here</i>'"</p>
+<p>
+"And two smokes?"</p>
+<p>
+"Two smokes means '<i>Trouble</i>'&mdash;may mean, <i>'I am
+lost.'</i>"</p>
+<p>
+"I'll remember that; <i>double for trouble</i>."</p>
+<p><img src="images/sketch194a.gif" width="136" height="215" alt="Good Luck" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+"Three means good news. <i>There's luck in odd
+numbers</i>."</p>
+<p>
+"And what is four?"</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="356">356</a></span>
+"Well, it ain't har'ly ever used. If I seen four
+smokes in camp I'd know <i>something big</i> was on&mdash;maybe
+a Grand Council."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, if you saw five smokes what would you
+think?"</p>
+<p>
+"I'd think some blame fool was settin' the hull
+place a-blaze," Caleb replied with the sniff end of a
+laugh.</p>
+<p>
+"Just now you said one stone on another was a
+sign. What does it mean?"</p>
+<p>
+"Course I can't speak for all Injuns. Some has
+it for one thing an' some for another, but usually
+in the West two stones or 'Buffalo chips' settin' one
+on the other means 'This is the trail'; and a little
+stone at the left of the two would mean 'Here we
+turned off to the left'; and at the other side, 'Here
+we turned to the right.' Three stones settin' one
+on top of another means, 'This is sure enough the
+trail,' 'Special' or 'Particular' or 'Look out'; an' a
+pile of stones just throwed together means 'We
+camped here 'cause some one was sick.' They'd be
+the stones used for giving the sick one a steam bath."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, what would they do if there were no stones?"</p>
+<p>
+"Ye mean in the woods?"</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, or smooth prairie."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I pretty near forget, it's so long ago, but
+le's see now," and Yan worried Caleb and Caleb
+threshed his memory till they got out a general
+scheme, or Indian code, though Caleb was careful
+to say that "some Injuns done it differently."
+<img src="images/346a.gif" alt="Indian sign Pile of Stones - 'We camped here because one of us was sick'" hspace="15" style="float: left" width="264" height="116" border="0" />
+</p>
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<span class="left"><a name="357">357</a></span>
+<br /><br />
+<p class="center"><img src="images/sketch196.jpg" width="392" height="580" alt="INDIAN SIGNS" border="0" /></p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="359">359</a></span>
+Yan must needs set about making a signal fire
+at once, and was disappointed to find that a hundred
+yards away the smoke could not be seen above
+the tree-tops, till Caleb showed him the difference
+between a clear fire and a smoke or smudge fire.</p>
+<p>
+"Begin with a clear fire to get the heat, then
+smother it with green grass and rotten wood. There,
+now you see the difference," and a great crooked,
+angling pillar of smoke rolled upward as soon as
+the grass and punk began to sizzle in the glow of
+embers.</p>
+<p>
+"I bet ye kin see that ten miles away if ye'r on a
+high place to look for it."</p>
+<p>
+"I bet I could see it twenty miles," chirped in
+Guy.</p>
+<p>
+"Mr. Clark, were you ever lost?" continued the
+tireless asker.</p>
+<p>
+"Why, course I was, an' more than once. Every
+one that goes in the woods is bound to get lost once
+in awhile."</p>
+<p>
+"What&mdash;do the Indians?"</p>
+<p>
+"Of course! Why not? They're human, an' I
+tell you when you hear a man brag that he never
+was lost, I know he never was far from his mother's
+apron string. Every one is bound to get lost, but
+the real woodsman gets out all right; that's the
+difference."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, what would you do if you got lost?"</p>
+<img src="images/sketch197.gif" width="135" height="378" alt="Solidago nemoralis or Prairie Goldenrod" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+<p>
+"Depends on where. If it was a country that I
+didn't know, and I had friends in camp, after I'd
+tried my best I'd jest set right down and make two
+<span class="left"><a name="360">360</a></span>
+smoke fires. 'Course, if I was alone I'd try to make
+a bee line in the likeliest direction, an' this is easy to
+make if ye kin see the sun and stars, but stormy
+weather 'tain't possible. No man kin do it, an' if
+ye don't know the country ye have to follow some
+stream; but I'm sorry for ye if ever ye have to do
+that, for it's the worst walking on earth. It will
+surely bring ye out some place&mdash;that is, it will
+keep ye from walking in a circle&mdash;but ye can't make
+more than four or five miles a day on it."</p>
+
+<p>
+"Can't you get your direction from moss on the
+tree trunks?"</p>
+<p>
+"<i>Naw!</i> Jest try it an' see; moss on the north
+side of a tree and rock; biggest branches on the
+south of a trunk; top of a Hemlock pointing to east;
+the biggest rings of growth on the south side of a
+stump, an' so on. It fits a tree standin' out by
+itself in the open&mdash;the biggest ring is in the south,
+but it don't fit a tree on the south side of an opening;
+then the biggest rings is on the north. If ye have
+a compass in hand it's all kind o' half true&mdash;that
+is, just a little bit true; but it ain't true; it's on'y
+a big lie, when ye'r scared out o' your wits an'
+needin' to know. I never seen but one good compass
+plant, an' that was the prairie Golden Rod.
+Get a bunch of them in the open and the most of
+them point north, but under cover of taller truck
+they jest point every which way for Sunday.</p>
+
+<br /><br /><br />
+<span class="left"><a name="361">361</a></span>
+<p class="center"><img src="images/illus16a.jpg" width="554" height="797" alt="The Two Smokes" border="0" /></p>
+<span class="left"><a name="363">363</a></span>
+<p>
+"If ye find a beaten game trail, ye follow that
+an it'll bring ye to water&mdash;that is, if ye go the
+right way, an' that ye know by its gettin' stronger.
+If it's peterin' out, ye'r goin' in the wrong direction.
+A flock of Ducks or a Loon going over is sure to be
+pointing for water. Y're safe to follow.</p>
+<p>
+"If ye have a Dog or a Horse with ye he kin
+bring ye home all right. Never knew them to fail
+but oncet, an' that was a fool Horse; there is sech
+oncet in awhile, though there's more fool Dogs.</p>
+<p>
+"But come right down to it, the compass is the
+safest thing. The sun and stars is next, an' if ye
+know your friends will come ye'r best plan is to
+set right down and make two smoke fires, keep
+them a-going, holler every little while, and keep
+calm. Ye won't come to no harm unless ye'r a
+blame fool, an' such ought to stay to hum, where
+they'll be nursed."</p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+<span class="left"><a name="364">364</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3XIII">XIII</a></h3>
+<h3>Tanning Skins and Making Moccasins</h3>
+
+<p>
+Sam had made a find. A Calf had been killed
+and its skin hung limp on a beam in the barn.
+His father allowed him to carry this off, and
+now he appeared with a "fresh Buffalo hide to
+make a robe."</p>
+<p>
+"I don't know how the Injuns dress their robes,"
+he explained, "but Caleb does, and he'll tell you,
+and, of course, I'll pay no attention."</p>
+<p>
+The old Trapper had nothing to do, and the only
+bright spots in his lonely life, since his own door
+was shut in his face, were visits to the camp. These
+had become daily, so it was taken as a matter of
+course when, within an hour after Sam's return, he
+"happened round."</p>
+<p>
+"How do the Indians tan furs and robes?" Yan
+asked at once.</p>
+<p>
+"Wall, different ways&mdash;"</p>
+<p>
+But before he could say more Hawkeye reappeared
+and shouted:</p>
+<p>
+"Say, boys, Paw's old Horse died!" and he grinned
+joyfully, merely because he was the bearer of news.</p>
+<p>
+"Sappy, you grin so much your back teeth is
+gettin' sunburned," and the Head Chief eyed him
+<span class="left"><a name="365">365</a></span>
+<img src="images/355a.gif" width="127" height="282" alt="Hawkeye" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+sadly.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, it's so, an' I'm going to skin out his tail
+for a scalp. I bet I'll be the Injunest one of the
+crowd."</p>
+<p>
+"Why don't you skin the hull thing, an' I'll show
+you how to make lots of Injun things of the hide,"
+Caleb added, as he lighted his pipe.</p>
+<p>
+"Will you help me?</p>
+<p>
+"It's same as skinnin a Calf. I'll show you
+where to get the sewing sinew after the hide's off."</p>
+<p>
+So the whole camp went to Burns's field. Guy
+hung back and hid when he saw his father there
+drawing the dead Horse away with the plough
+team.</p>
+<p>
+"Good-day, Jim," was Caleb's greeting, for they
+were good friends. "Struck hard luck with the
+Horse?"</p>
+<p>
+"No! Not much. Didn't cost nothing; got him
+for boot in a swap. Glad he's dead, for he was
+foundered."</p>
+<p>
+"We want his skin, if you don't."</p>
+<p>
+"You're welcome to the hull thing."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, just draw it over by the line fence
+we'll bury what's left when we're through."</p>
+<p>
+"All right. You hain't seen that durn boy o'
+mine, have you?"</p>
+<p>
+"Why, yes; I seen him not long ago," said Sam.
+"He was p'inting right for home then."</p>
+<p>
+"H-m. Maybe I'll find him at the house."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="366">366</a></span>
+"Maybe you will." Then Sam added under his
+breath, "I don't think."</p>
+<p>
+So Burns left them, and a few minutes later Guy
+sneaked out of the woods to take a secondary part
+in the proceedings.</p>
+<p>
+Caleb showed them how to split the skin along
+the under side of each leg and up the belly. It
+was slow work skinning, but not so unpleasant as
+Yan feared, since the animal was fresh.</p>
+<p>
+Caleb did the most of the work; Sam and Yan
+helped. Guy assisted with reminiscences of his
+own Calf-skinning and with suggestions drawn from
+his vast experiences.</p>
+<p>
+When the upper half of the skin was off, Caleb
+remarked: "Don't believe we can turn him over,
+and when the Injuns didn't have a Horse at hand
+to turn over the Buffalo they used to cut the skin
+in two down the line of the back. I guess we
+better do that. We've got all the rawhide we need,
+anyhow."</p>
+<p>
+So they cut off the half they had skinned, took the
+tail and the mane for "scalps," and then Caleb sent
+Yan for the axe and a pail.</p>
+<p>
+He cut out a lump of liver and the brains of the
+Horse. "That," said he, "is for tanning, an' here
+is where the Injun woman gits her sewing thread."</p>
+<p>
+He made a deep cut alongside the back bone from
+the middle of the back to the loin, then forcing his
+fingers under a broad band of whitish fibrous tissue,
+he raised it up, working and cutting till it ran down
+to the hip bone and forward to the ribs. This
+<span class="left"><a name="367">367</a></span>
+sewing sinew was about four inches wide, very thin,
+and could easily be split again and again till it was
+like fine thread.</p>
+<p>
+"There," he said, "is a hank o' thread. Keep
+that. It'll dry up, but can be split at any time, and
+soaking in warm water for twenty minutes makes
+it soft and ready for use. Usually, when she's
+sewing, the squaw keeps a thread soaking in her
+mouth to be ready. Now we've got a Horse skin
+and a Calfskin I guess we better set up a tan-yard."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, how do you tan furs, Mr. Clark?"</p>
+<p>
+"Good many different ways. Sometimes just
+scrape and scrape till I get all the grease and meat
+off the inside, then coat it with alum and salt and
+leave it rolled up for a couple of days till the alum
+has struck through and made the skin white at the
+roots of the hair, then when this is half dry pull
+and work it till it is all soft.</p>
+<p>
+"But the Injuns don't have alum and salt, and
+they make a fine tan out of the liver and brains, like
+I'm going to do with this."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I want to do it the Indian way."</p>
+<p>
+"All right, you take the brains and liver of your
+Calf."</p>
+<p>
+"Why not some of the Horse brains and liver?"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, I dunno. They never do it that way that
+I've seen. Seems like it went best with its own
+brains."</p>
+<p>
+"Now," remarked the philosophical Woodpecker,
+"I call that a wonderful provision of nature, always
+<span class="left"><a name="368">368</a></span>
+to put Calf brains and liver into a Calfskin, and just
+enough to tan it."</p>
+<p>
+"First thing always is to clean your pelt, and
+while you do that I'll put the Horsehide in the mud
+to soak off the hair." He put it in the warm mud
+to soak there a couple of days, just as he had done
+the Calfskin for the drum-heads, then came to superintend
+the dressing of the Buffalo "robe."</p>
+<p>
+Sam first went home for the Calf brains and liver,
+then he and Yan scraped the skin till they got out
+a vast quantity of grease, leaving the flesh side
+bluish-white and clammy, but not greasy to the
+touch. The liver of the Calf was boiled for an hour
+and then mashed up with the raw brains into a
+tanning "dope" or mash and spread on the flesh
+side of the hide, which was doubled, rolled up and
+put in a cool place for two days. It was then opened
+out, washed clean in the brook and hung till nearly
+dry. Then Caleb cut a hardwood stake to a sharp
+edge and showed Yan how to pull and work the hide
+over the edge till it was all soft and leathery.</p>
+<p><img src="images/sketch200.gif" width="132" height="270" alt="tanning stake" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+The treatment of the Horsehide was the same,
+once the hair was removed, but the greater thickness
+needed a longer soaking in the "tan dope."</p>
+<p>
+After two days the Trapper scraped it clean and
+worked it on the sharp-edged stake. It soon began to
+look like leather, except in one or two spots. On
+examining these he said:</p>
+<p>
+"H-m, Tanning didn't strike right through every
+place. So he buttered it again with the mash and
+<span class="left"><a name="369">369</a></span>
+gave it a day more; then worked it as before over
+the angle of the pole till it was soft and fibrous.</p>
+<p>
+"There," said he, "that's Injun tan leather. I
+have seen it done by soaking the hide for a few
+days in liquor made by boiling Hemlock or Balsam
+bark in water till it's like brown ink, but it
+ain't any better than that. Now it needs one thing
+more to keep it from hardening after being wet.
+It has to be smoked."</p>
+<p>
+So he made a smoke fire by smothering a clear
+fire with rotten wood; then fastening the Horsehide
+into a cone with a few wooden pins, he hung
+it in the dense smoke for a couple of hours, first
+one side out, then the other till it was all of a rich
+smoky-tan colour and had the smell so well known
+to those who handle Indian leather.</p>
+<p>
+"There it is; that's Injun tan, an' I hope you see
+that elbow grease is the main thing in tannin'."</p>
+<p>
+"Now, will you show us how to make moccasins
+and war-shirts?" asked Little Beaver, with his usual
+enthusiasm.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, the moccasins is easy, but I won't promise
+about the war-shirts. That's pretty much a case
+of following the pattern of your own coat, with the
+front in one piece, but cut down just far enough for
+your head to go through, instead of all the way,
+and fixed with tie-strings at the throat and fringes at
+the seams and at the bottom; it hain't easy to do.
+But any one kin larn to make moccasins. There is
+two styles of them&mdash;that is, two main styles. Every
+<span class="left"><a name="370">370</a></span>
+Tribe has its own make, and an Injun can tell what
+language another speaks as soon as he sees his footgear.
+The two best known are the Ojibwa, with soft
+sole&mdash;sole and upper all in one, an' a puckered instep&mdash;that's
+what Ojibwa means&mdash;'puckered moccasin.'
+The other style is the one most used in the Plains.
+You see, they have to wear a hard sole, 'cause the
+country is full of cactus and thorns as well as sharp
+stones."</p>
+<p>
+"I want the Sioux style. We have copied their
+teepee and war bonnet&mdash;and the Sioux are the best
+Indians, anyway."</p>
+<p>
+"Or the worst, according to what side you're on,"
+was Caleb's reply. But he went on: "Sioux Injuns
+are Plains Injuns and wear a hard sole. Let's see,
+now. I'll cut you a pair."</p>
+<p>
+"No, make them for <i>me</i>. It's my Horse," said
+Guy.</p>
+<p>
+"No, you don't. Your Paw give that to me."
+Caleb's tone said plainly that Guy's laziness had
+made a bad impression, so he had to stand aside
+while Yan was measured. Caleb had saved a part
+of the hide untanned though thoroughly cleaned.
+This was soaked in warm water till soft. Yan's
+foot was placed on it and a line drawn around the
+foot for a guide; this when cut out made the sole of
+one moccasin (A, cut below), and by turning it underside
+up it served as pattern to cut the other.</p>
+<p class="center"><img src="images/sketch201.gif" width="495" height="200" alt="Moccasin pattern" border="0" /></p>
+<p>
+Now Caleb measured the length of the foot and
+added one inch, and the width across the instep, adding
+<span class="left"><a name="371">371</a></span>
+half an inch, and with these as greatest length and
+breadth cut out a piece of soft leather (B). Then in
+this he made the cut <i>a b</i> on the middle line one way
+and <i>c d</i> on the middle line the other way. A second
+piece the reverse of this was cut, and next a piece
+of soft leather for inside tongue (C) was sewn to the
+large piece (B), so that the edge <i>a b</i> of C was fast
+to <i>a b</i> of B. A second piece was sewn to the other
+leather (B reversed).</p>
+<p>
+"Them's your vamps for uppers. Now's the time
+to bead 'em if you want to."</p>
+<p>
+"Don't know how."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I can't larn you that; that's a woman's
+work. But I kin show you the pattern of the first
+pair I ever wore; I ain't likely to forget 'em, for I
+killed the Buffalo myself and seen the hull making."
+He might have added that he subsequently married
+the squaw, but he did not.</p>
+<p>
+"There's about the style" [D]. "Them three-cornered
+red and white things all round is the hills
+where the moccasins was to carry me safely; on
+the heel is a little blue pathway with nothing in it:
+that is behind&mdash;it's past. On the instep is three
+red, white and blue pathways where the moccasin
+was to take me: they're ahead&mdash;in the future. Each
+path has lots of things in it, mostly changes and
+trails, an' all three ends in an Eagle feather&mdash;that
+stands for an honour. Ye kin paint them that way
+after they're made. Well, now, we'll sew on the
+upper with a good thick strand of sinew in the
+<span class="left"><a name="372">372</a></span>
+needle&mdash;or if you have an awl you kin do without
+a needle on a pinch&mdash;and be sure to bring the stitches
+out the edge of the sole instead of right through,
+then they don't wear off. That's the way." [E.]
+<img src="images/sketch202.gif" alt="Moccasin with puckered front" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="196" height="155" border="0" />
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So they worked away, clumsily, while Guy snickered
+and sizzled, and Sam suggested that Si Lee would
+make a better squaw than both of them.</p>
+<p>
+The sole as well as the upper being quite soft
+allowed them to turn the moccasin inside out as
+often as they liked&mdash;and they did like; it seemed
+necessary to reverse it every few minutes. But at
+length the two pieces were fastened together all
+around, the seam gap at the heel was quickly sewn
+up, four pairs of lace holes were made (<i>a, b, c, d</i>, in
+D), and an eighteen-inch strip of soft leather run
+through them for a lace.</p>
+<p>
+Now Yan painted the uppers with his Indian
+paints in the pattern that Caleb had suggested, and
+the moccasins were done.</p>
+<p>
+A squaw would have made half a dozen good
+pairs while Yan and Caleb made the one poor pair,
+but she would not have felt so happy about it.</p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+<span class="left"><a name="373">373</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3XIV">XIV</a></h3>
+<h3>Caleb's Philosophy</h3>
+
+<p>
+The tracks of Mink appeared from time to time
+on Yan's creekside mud albums, and at length
+another of these tireless watchers, placed at
+the Wakan Rock, reported to him that Mink as well
+as Skunks came there now for a nightly feast.</p>
+<p>
+The Mink was a large one, judging by the marks,
+and Caleb was asked to help in trapping it.</p>
+<p><img src="images/sketch203.gif" width="70" height="89" alt="Mink track" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+"How do you trap Mink, Mr. Clark?" was the
+question.</p>
+<p>
+"Don't trap 'em at all this time o' year, for they're
+no good till October," was the answer.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, how do you trap them when they are in
+season?"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, different ways."</p>
+<p>
+It was slow work, but Yan kept on and at length
+got the old man going.</p>
+<p><img src="images/sketch204.gif" width="79" height="147" alt="Mink track" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+"Airly days we always used a deadfall for Mink.
+That's made like this, with a bird or a Partridge
+head for bait. That kills him sure, sudden and
+merciful. Then if it's cold weather he freezes and
+keeps O.K. till you come around to get him; but
+in warm weather lots o' pelts are spoiled by being
+kept too long, so ye have to go round pretty often
+
+to save all you kill. Then some one brought in
+<span class="left"><a name="374">374</a></span>
+them new-fangled steel traps that catches them by
+the foot and holds them for days and days, some
+times, till they jest starve to death or chaw their
+foot off to get free. I mind once I ketched a Mink
+with only two legs left. He had been in a steel trap
+twice before and chawed off his leg to get away.
+Them traps save the trapper going round so often,
+but they're expensive, and heavy to carry, and you
+have got to be awful hard-hearted before ye kin
+use 'em. I tell ye, when I thought of all the sufferin'
+that Mink went through it settled me for steel
+traps. Since then, says I, if ye must trap, use a
+deadfall or a ketchalive, one or other; no manglin'
+an' tormentin' for days. I tell ye that thar new
+Otter trap that grabs them in iron claws ought to
+be forbid by law; it ain't human.</p>
+<p>
+"Same way about huntin'. Huntin's great sport,
+an' it can't be bad, 'cause I can't for the life of me
+see that it makes men bad. 'Pears to me men as hunt
+is humaner than them as is above it; as for the
+cruelty&mdash;wall, we know that no wild animal dies
+easy abed. They all get killed soon or late, an'
+if it's any help to man to kill them I reckon he has
+as good a right to do it as Wolves an' Wildcats.
+It don't hurt any more&mdash;yes, a blame sight less&mdash;to
+be killed by a rifle ball than to be chawed by Wolves.
+The on'y thing I says is don't do it cruel&mdash;an' don't
+wipe out the hull bunch. If ye never kill a thing
+that's no harm to ye 'live an' no good to ye dead
+nor more than the country kin stand, 'pears to me
+<span class="left"><a name="375">375</a></span>
+ye won't do much harm, an' ye'll have a lot o' real
+fun to think about afterward.</p>
+<p>
+"But I mind a feller from Europe, some kind o'
+swell, that I was guidin' out West. He had crippled
+a Deer so it couldn't get away. Then he sat down
+to eat lunch right by, and every few moments he'd
+fire a shot into some part or another, experimentin'
+an' aimin' not to kill it for awhile. I heard the
+shootin' an' blattin', an when I come up I tell ye
+it set my blood a-boilin'. I called him some names
+men don't like, an' put that Deer out o' pain quick
+as I could pull trigger. That bu'st up our party&mdash;I
+didn't want no more o' him. He come pretty
+near lyin' by the Deer that day. It makes me hot
+yet when I think of it.</p>
+<p>
+"If he'd shot that Deer down runnin' an' killed
+it as quick as he could it wouldn't 'a' suffered more
+than if it had been snagged a little, 'cause bullets
+of right weight numb when they hit. The Deer
+wouldn't have suffered more than he naturally would
+at his finish, maybe less, an' he'd 'a' suffered it at a
+time when he could be some good to them as hunted
+him. An' these yer new repeatin' guns is a curse.
+A feller knows he has lots of shot and so blazes
+away into a band o' Deer as long as he can see, an
+lots gets away crippled, to suffer an' die; but when
+a feller has only one shot he's going to place it
+mighty keerful. Ef it's sport ye want, get a single-shot
+rifle, ef it's destruction, get a Gatling-gun.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="376">376</a></span>
+"Sport's good, but I'm agin this yer wholesale killin'
+an' cruelty. Steel traps, light-weight bullets an'
+repeatin' guns ain't human. I tell ye it's them as
+makes all the sufferin'."</p>
+<p>
+This was a long speech for Caleb, but it was
+really less connected than here given. Yan had to
+keep him going with occasional questions. This
+he followed up.</p>
+<p>
+"What do you think about bows and arrows,
+Mr. Clark?"</p>
+<p>
+"I wouldn't like to use them on big game like
+Bear and Deer, but I'd be glad if shotguns was done
+away with and small game could be killed only
+with arrows. They are either sure death or clear
+miss. There's no cripples to get away and die.
+You can't fire an arrow into a flock of birds and
+wipe out one hundred, like you can with one of them
+blame scatterguns. It's them things that is killing
+off all the small game. Some day they'll invent a
+scattergun that is a pump repeater like them new
+rifles, and when every fool has one they'll wonder
+where all the small game has gone to.</p>
+<p>
+"No, sir, I'm agin them. Bows and arrows is
+less destructful an' calls for more Woodcraft an'
+give more sport&mdash;that is, for small game. Besides,
+they don't make that awful racket, an' you know
+who is the party that owns the shot, for every
+arrow is marked."</p>
+<p>
+Yan was sorry that Caleb did not indorse the arrow
+for big game, too.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="377">377</a></span>
+The Trapper was well started now; he seemed
+ready enough with information to-day, and Yan
+knew enough to "run the rapids on the freshet."</p>
+<p>
+"How do you make a ketchalive?"</p>
+<p>
+"What for?"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, Mink."</p>
+<p>
+"They ain't fit to catch now, and the young ones
+need the mothers."</p>
+<p>
+"I wouldn't keep it. I only want to make a
+drawing."</p>
+<p>
+"Guess that won't harm it if you don't keep it
+too long. Have ye any boards? We used to
+chop the whole thing out of a piece of Balsam wood
+or White Pine, but the more stuff ye find ready-made
+the easier it is. Now I'll show you how to
+make a ketchalive if ye'll promise me never to
+miss a day going to it while it is set."</p>
+<p>
+The boys did not understand how any one could
+miss a day in visiting a place of so much interest,
+and readily promised.</p>
+<p>
+So they made a ketchalive, or box-trap, two feet
+long, using hay wire to make a strong netting at
+one end.</p>
+<p>
+"Now," said the trapper, "that will catch Mink,
+Muskrat, Skunk, Rabbit&mdash;'most anything, 'cording
+to where you put it and how you bait it."</p>
+<p>
+"Seems to me the Wakan Rock will be a good
+place to try."</p>
+<p>
+So the trap was baited with a fish head firmly
+lashed on the wire trigger.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch205.gif" alt="Ketchalive" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="386" height="167" border="0" />
+
+<p> <span class="left"><a name="378">378</a></span>
+In the morning, as Yan approached, he saw that
+it was sprung. A peculiar whining and scratching
+came from it and he shouted in great excitement:
+"Boys, boys, I've got him! I've got the Mink!"</p>
+<p>
+They seized the trap and held it cautiously up
+for the sunlight to shine through the bars, and there
+saw to their disgust that they had captured only
+the old gray Cat. As soon as the lid was raised she
+bounded away, spitting and hissing, no doubt to
+hurry home to tell the Kittens that it was all right,
+although she had been away so long.</p>
+<p class="center"><img src="images/sketch206.gif" width="344" height="172" alt="The old grey cat" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="379">379</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3XV">XV</a></h3>
+<h3>A Visit from Raften</h3>
+
+<p>
+Sam, I must have another note-book. It's no
+good getting up a new 'massacree' of Whites,
+'cause there ain't any note-books there, but
+maybe your father would get one the next time
+he drove to Downey's Dump. I suppose I'll have
+to go on a peace party to ask him."</p>
+<p>
+Sam made no answer, but looked and listened out
+toward the trail, then said: "Talk of the er&mdash;Angels,
+here comes Da."</p>
+<p>
+When the big man strode up Yan and Guy became
+very shy and held back. Sam, in full war-paint,
+prattled on in his usual style.</p>
+<p>
+"Morning, Da; I'm yer kid. Bet ye'r in trouble
+an' want advice or something."</p>
+<p>
+Raften rolled up his pendulous lips and displayed
+his huge front tusks in a vast purple-and-yellow
+grin that set the boys' hearts at ease.</p>
+<p>
+"Kind o' thought you'd be sick av it before now."</p>
+<p>
+"Will you let us stay here till we are?" chimed in
+Sam, then without awaiting the reply that he did
+not want, "Say, Da, how long is it since there was
+any Deer around here?"</p>
+<p>
+"Pretty near twenty years, I should say."
+<img src="images/369.gif" width="189" height="170" alt="Raften and Sam" hspace="15" style="float: right" border="0" /></p>
+
+<span class="left"><a name="380">380</a></span><br />
+<p>
+"Well, look at that now," whispered the Woodpecker.</p>
+<p>
+Raften looked and got quite a thrill for the
+dummy, half hidden in the thicket, looked much
+like a real deer.</p>
+<p>
+"Don't you want to try a shot?" ventured Yan.</p>
+<p>
+Raften took the bow and arrow and made such a
+poor showing that he returned them with the remark.
+"Sure a gun's good enough for me," then, "Ole
+Caleb been around since?"</p>
+<p>
+"Old Caleb? I should say so; why, he's our stiddy
+company."</p>
+<p>
+"'Pears fonder o'you than he is of me."</p>
+<p>
+"Say, Da, tell us about that. How do you know
+it was Caleb shot at you?"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, I don't know it to prove it in a coort o' law,
+but we quarr'led that day in town after the Horse
+trade an' he swore he'd fix me an' left town. His
+own stepson, Dick Pogue, stood right by and heard
+him say it; then at night when I came along the road
+by the green bush I was fired at, an' next day we
+found Caleb's tobacco pouch and some letters not
+far away. That's about all I know, an' all I want to
+know. Pogue served him a mean trick about the
+farm, but that's none o' my business. I 'spect the
+old fellow will have to get out an' scratch for himself
+pretty soon."</p>
+<p>
+"He seems kind-hearted," said Yan.</p>
+<p>
+"Ah, he's got an awful temper, an' when he gets
+drunk he'd do anything. Other times he's all right."</p>
+<span class="left"><a name="381">381</a></span><br />
+<p>
+"Well, how is it about the farm?" Sam asked.
+"Doesn't he own it?"</p>
+<p>
+"No, I guess not now. I don't r'aly know. I
+only hear them say. Av coorse, Saryann ain't his
+own daughter. She's nowt o' kin, but he has no
+one else, and Dick was my hired man&mdash;a purty slick
+feller with his tongue; he could talk a bird off a bush;
+but he was a good worker. He married Sary and
+persuaded the old man to deed them the place, him
+to live in comfort with them to the end of his days.
+But once they got the place, 'twas aisy to see that
+Dick meant to get rid o' Caleb, an' the capsheaf
+was put last year, about his Dog, old Turk. They
+wouldn't have him 'round. They said he was
+scaring the hens and chasing sheep, which is like
+enough, for I believe he killed wan ov my lambs,
+an' I'd give ten dollars to have him killed&mdash;making
+sure 'twas him, av coorse. Rather than give up the
+Dog, Caleb moved out into the shanty on the creek
+at the other end of the place. Things was better
+then, for Dick and Saryann let up for awhile an'
+sent him lots o' flour an' stuff, but folks say they're
+fixin' it to put the old man out o' that and get shet
+of him for good. But I dunno; it's none o' my
+business, though he does blame me for putting Dick
+up to it."</p>
+<img src="images/strangetrack.gif" width="100" height="150" alt="strange track" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<p>
+"How's the note-book?" as Raften's eye caught
+sight of the open sketch-book still in Yan's hand.</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, that reminds me," was the reply. "But
+what is this?" He showed the hoof-mark be had
+sketched. Raften examined it curiously.</p>
+
+<p><span class="left"><a name="382">382</a></span>
+"H-m, I dunno'; 'pears to me moighty loike a big
+Buck. But I guess not; there ain't any left."</p>
+<p>
+"Say, Da," Sam persisted, "wouldn't you be sore
+if you was an old man robbed and turned out?"</p>
+<p>
+"Av coorse; but I wouldn't lose in a game of swap-horse,
+an' then go gunnin' after the feller. If I had
+owt agin him I'd go an' lick him or be licked, an'
+take it all good-natured. Now that's enough. We'll
+talk about something else."</p>
+<p>
+"Will you buy me another note-book next time
+you go to Downey's Dump? I don't know how
+much it will cost or I'd give you the money," said
+Yan, praying mentally that it be not more than the
+five or ten cents which was all his capital.</p>
+<p>
+"Shure; I'll charge it up. But ye needn't wait
+till next week. Thayer's one back at the White
+settlement ye can have for nothin'."</p>
+<p>
+"Say, Mr. Raften," Guy broke in, "I kin lick them
+all at Deer-hunting."</p>
+<p>
+Sam looked at Yan and Yan looked at Sam, then
+glanced at Guy, made some perfectly diabolical
+signs, seized each a long knife and sprung toward
+the Third War Chief, but he dodged behind Raften
+and commenced his usual "Now you let me
+'lone&mdash;"</p>
+<p>
+Raften's eye twinkled. "Shure, I thought ye was
+all wan Tribe an' paceable."</p>
+<p>
+"We've got to suppress crime," retorted his son.</p>
+<p>
+"Make him let me 'lone," whimpered Sapwood.</p>
+<p>
+"We'll let ye off this time if ye find that Woodchuck.
+It's near two days since we've had a
+<span class="left"><a name="383">383</a></span>
+skirmish."</p>
+<p>
+"All right," and he went. Within five minutes
+he came running back, beckoning. The boys got
+their bows and arrows, but fearing a trick they held
+back. Guy dashed for his own weapons with unmistakable
+and reassuring zest; then all set out for the
+field. Raften followed, after asking if it would be
+safe for him to come along.</p>
+<p>
+The grizzly old Woodchuck was there feeding in
+a bunch of clover. The boys sneaked under the
+fence, crawling through the grass in true Injun
+fashion, till the Woodchuck stood up to look around,
+then they lay still; when he went down they crawled
+again, and all got within forty yards. Now the old
+fellow seemed suspicious, so Sam said, "Next time
+he feeds we all fire together." As soon, then, as the
+Woodchuck's breast was replaced by the gray back,
+the boys got partly up and fired. The arrows
+whizzed around Old Grizzly, but all missed, and he
+had scrambled to his hole before they could send a
+second volley.</p>
+<p>
+"Hallo, why didn't you hit him, Sappy?"</p>
+<p>
+"I'll bet I do next time."</p>
+<p>
+When they returned to Raften he received them
+with ridicule.</p>
+<p>
+"But ye'r a poor lot o' hunters. Ye'd all
+starve if it wasn't for the White settlement nearby.
+Faith, if ye was rale Injun ye'd sit up all night
+at that hole till he come out in the morning:
+then ye'd get him; an' when ye get through with
+<span class="left"><a name="384">384</a></span>
+that one I've got another in the high pasture ye kin
+work on."</p>
+<p>
+So saying, he left them, and Sam called after
+him:</p>
+<p>
+"Say, Da; where's that note-book for Yan? He's
+the Chief of the 'coup-tally,' and I reckon he'll soon
+have a job an' need his book. I feel it in my bones."</p>
+<p>
+"I'll lave it on yer bed." Which he did, and Yan
+and Sam had the pleasure of lifting it out of the
+window with a split stick.</p>
+<p class="center"><img src="images/sketch208.gif" width="392" height="52" alt="lifting the notebook" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="385">385</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3XVI">XVI</a></h3>
+<h3>How Yan Knew the Ducks Afar</h3>
+
+<p>
+One day as the great Woodpecker lay on his
+back in the shade he said in a tone of lofty
+command:</p>
+<p>
+"Little Beaver, I want to be amused. Come hyar.
+Tell me a story."</p>
+<p>
+"How would you like a lesson in Tutnee?" was
+the Second Chief's reply, but he had tried this before,
+and he found neither Sam nor Guy inclined to take
+any interest in the very dead language.</p>
+<p>
+"Tell me a story, I said," was the savage answer
+of the scowling and ferocious Woodpecker.
+
+"All right," said Little Beaver. "I'll tell you
+a story of such a fine boy&mdash;oh, he was the noblest
+little hero that ever wore pantaloons or got spanked
+in school. Well, this boy went to live in the woods,
+and he wanted to get acquainted with all the living
+wild things. He found lots of difficulties and no one
+to help him, but he kept on and on&mdash;oh! he was so
+noble and brave&mdash;and made notes, and when he
+learned anything new he froze on to it like grim
+death. By and by he got a book that was some help,
+but not much. It told about some of the birds as
+if you had them <i>in your hand</i>. But this heroic youth
+only saw them at a distance and he was stuck. One
+day he saw a wild Duck on a pond so far away he
+could only see some spots of colour, but he made a
+<span class="left"><a name="386">386</a></span>
+<img src="images/sketch209.gif" width="119" height="102" alt="Whistler duck" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+sketch of it, and later he found out from that rough
+sketch that it was a Whistler, and then this wonderful
+boy had an idea. All the Ducks are different; all
+have little blots and streaks that are their labels, or
+like the uniforms of soldiers. 'Now, if I can put
+their uniforms down on paper I'll know the Ducks
+as soon as I see them on a pond a long way off.' So
+he set to work and drew what he could find. One
+of his friends had a stuffed Wood-duck, so the
+'Boy-that-wanted-to-know'
+drew that from a long way off.
+He got another from an engraving and two more from
+the window of a taxidermist shop. But he knew
+perfectly well that there are twenty or thirty different
+kinds of Ducks, for he often saw others at a distance
+and made far-sketches, hoping some day he'd find
+out what they were. Well, one day the 'Boy-that-wanted-to-know'
+sketched a new Duck on a pond,
+and he saw it again and again, but couldn't find out
+what it was, and there was his b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l sketch,
+but no one to tell him its name, so when he saw that
+he just had to go into the teepee and steal the First
+War Chief's last apple and eat it to hide his emotion."</p>
+<p>
+Here Yan produced an apple and began to eat it
+with an air of sadness.</p>
+<p>
+Without changing a muscle, the Great Woodpecker
+continued the tale:</p>
+<p>
+"Then when the First War Chief heard the harrowing
+tale of a blighted life, he said: 'Shucks, I didn't
+want that old apple. It was fished out of the swill-barrel
+anyway, but 'pears to me when a feller sets
+<span class="left"><a name="389">389</a></span>
+out to do a thing an' don't he's a 'dumb failure,'
+which ain't much difference from a 'durn fool.'</p>
+<p>
+"Now, if this heroic youth had had gumption
+enough to come out flat-footed, an' instead of stealing
+rotten apples that the pigs has walked on, had told
+his trouble to the Great Head War Chief, that native-born
+noble Red-man would 'a' said: 'Sonny, quite
+right. When in doubt come to Grandpa. You want
+to get sharp on Duck. Ugh! Good'&mdash;then he'd 'a'
+took that simple youth to Downey's Hotel at
+Downey's Dump an' there showed him every kind o'
+Duck that ever was born, an' all tagged an' labelled.
+Wah! I have spoken."</p>
+<p>
+And the Great Woodpecker scowled ferociously at
+Guy, who was vainly searching his face for a clue, not
+sure but what this whole thing was some subtle
+mockery. But Yan had been on the lookout for
+this. Sam's face throughout had shown nothing
+but real and growing interest. The good sense of
+this last suggestion was evident, and the result was
+an expedition was formed at once for Downey's
+Dump, a little town five miles away, where the
+railroad crossed a long bog on the Skagbog River.
+Here Downey, the contractor, had carried the railroad
+dump across a supposed bottomless morass
+and by good luck had soon made a bottom and in
+consequence a small fortune, with which he built a
+hotel, and was now the great man of the town for
+which he had done so much.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch211.gif" alt="the pig" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="125" height="160" border="0" />
+
+<p><span class="left"><a name="390">390</a></span>
+"Guess we'll leave the Third War Chief in charge
+of camp," said Sam, "an' I think we ought to go
+disguised as Whites."</p>
+<p>
+"You mean to go back to the Settlement and join
+the Whites?"</p>
+<p>
+"Yep, an' take a Horse an' buggy, too. It's five
+miles."</p>
+<p>
+That was a jarring note. Yan's imagination had
+pictured a foot expedition through the woods, but
+this was more sensible, so he yielded.</p>
+<p>
+They went to the house to report and had a loving
+reception from the mother and little Minnie. The
+men were away. The boys quickly harnessed a
+Horse and, charged also with some commissions from
+the mother, they drove to Downey's Dump.</p>
+<p>
+On arriving they went first to the livery-stable to
+put up the horse, then to the store, where Sam
+delivered his mother's orders, and having made sure
+that Yan had pencil, paper and rubber, they went into
+Downey's. Yan's feelings were much like those of
+a country boy going for the first time to a circus&mdash;now
+he is really to see the things he has dreamed of
+so long; now all heaven is his.</p>
+<p>
+And, curiously enough, he was not disappointed.
+Downey was a rough, vigorous business man. He
+took no notice of the boys beyond a brief "Morning,
+Sam," till he saw that Yan was making very fair
+sketches. All the world loves an artist, and now
+there was danger of too much assistance.</p>
+<p>
+The cases could not be opened, but were swung
+around and shades raised to give the best light. Yan
+<span class="left"><a name="393">393</a></span>
+went at once to the bird he had "far-sketched" on the
+pond. To his surprise, it was a female Wood-duck.
+He put in the whole afternoon drawing those Ducks,
+male and female, and as Downey had more than
+fifty specimens Yan felt like Aladdin in the Fairy
+Garden&mdash;overpowered with abundance of treasure.
+The birds were fairly well labelled with the popular
+names, and Yan brought away a lot of sketches,
+which made him very happy. These he afterward
+carefully finished and put together in a Duck Chart
+that solved many of his riddles about the Common
+Duck.</p>
+
+
+   <hr class="medium" />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="387">387</a></span>
+<br /><br />
+<p class="center">
+<img src="images/illus17a1.jpg" width="692" height="265" alt="The Fish-Ducks, Sawbills, or Mergansers" border="0" />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<img src="images/illus17a2.jpg" width="692" height="772" alt="The River Ducks" border="0" />
+</p>
+
+
+
+
+<span class="note2">
+
+
+4. Mallard <i>(Anas boschas</i>). Red feet; male has pale, greenish bill. Known in flight by white tail feathers and
+thin white bar on wing.<br /><br />
+
+5. Black Duck or Dusky Duck (<i>Anas obscura</i>). Dark bill, red feet, no white except in flight, then shows white
+lining of wings.<br /><br />
+
+6. Gadwall or Gray Duck <i>(Anas strepera</i>). Beak flesh-coloured on edges, feet reddish, a white spot on wing
+showing in flight.<br /><br />
+
+7. Widgeon or Baldpate (<i>A. americana</i>). Bill and feet dull blue; a large white spot on wing in flight; female
+has sides reddish.<br /><br />
+
+8. Green-winged Teal (<i>A. carolinensis</i>). Bill and feet dark.<br /><br />
+
+9. Blue-winged Teal (<i>A. discors</i>). Bill and feet dark.<br /><br />
+
+10. Shoveller (<i>Spatula clypeata</i>). Bill dark, feet red, eye yellow-orange; a white patch on wings showing in flight.<br /><br />
+
+11. Pintail or Sprigtail (<i>Dafila acuta</i>). Bill and feet dull blue.<br /><br />
+
+12. Wood Duck or Summer Duck (<i>Aix sponsa</i>). Bill of male red, paddle-box buff, bill of female and feet of both
+dark.<br /><br />
+</span>
+
+<span class="left"><a name="391">391</a></span>
+<p class="center"><img src="images/illus18a.jpg" width="682" height="996" alt="The Sea Ducks" border="0" /></p>
+
+<span class="note2">
+19. Bufflehead or Butterball (<i>Charitonetta albeola</i>).<br /><br />
+
+20. Old-Squaw or Longtail (<i>Harelda hyemalis</i>). This is its winter plumage, in which it is mostly seen.<br /><br />
+
+21. Black Scoter (<i>Oidemia americana</i>). A jet-black Duck with orange bill; no white on it anywhere.<br /><br />
+
+22. White-winged Scoter (<i>0. deglandi</i>). A black Duck with white on cheek and wing; feet and bill orange;
+much white on wing shows as they fly, sometimes none as they swim.<br /><br />
+
+23. Surf Duck or Sea Coot (<i>O. perspicillata</i>). A black Duck with white on head, but none on wings: bill and
+feet orange.<br /><br />
+
+24. Ruddy Duck or Stiff-tailed Duck (<i>Erismatura jamaicensis</i>). Bill and feet bluish; male is in general a dull
+red with white face.<br /><br />
+</span>
+
+    <hr class="medium" />
+<p><span class="left"><a name="393a">(393)</a></span>
+When they got back to camp at dusk they found
+a surprise. On the trail was a white thing, which on
+investigation proved to be a ghost, evidently made
+by Guy. The head was a large puff-ball carved like
+a skull, and the body a newspaper.</p>
+<p>
+But the teepee was empty. Guy probably felt too
+much reaction after the setting up of the ghost to sit
+there alone in the still night.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch212.gif" width="144" height="189" alt="the ghost" align="right" border="0" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+
+<span class="left"><a name="394">394</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3XVII">XVII</a></h3>
+<h3>Sam's Woodcraft Exploit</h3>
+
+<p>
+Sam's "long suit," as he put it, was axemanship.
+He was remarkable even in this land of the axe,
+and, of course, among the "Injuns" he was a
+marvel. Yan might pound away for half an hour at
+some block that he was trying to split and make no
+headway, till Sam would say, "Yan, hit it right there,"
+or perhaps take the axe and do it for him; then at
+one tap the block would fly apart. There was no rule
+for this happy hit. Sometimes it was above the
+binding knot, sometimes beside it, sometimes right
+in the middle of it, and sometimes in the end of the
+wood away from the binder altogether&mdash;often at
+the unlikeliest places. Sometimes it was done by a
+simple stroke, sometimes a glancing stroke, sometimes
+with the grain or again angling, and sometimes a
+compound of one or more of each kind of blow; but
+whatever was the right stroke, Sam seemed to know
+it instinctively and applied it to exactly the right
+spot, the only spot where the hard, tough log was
+open to attack, and rarely failed to make it tumble
+apart as though it were a trick got ready beforehand.
+He did not brag about it. He simply took it for
+granted that he was the master of the art, and as
+such the others accepted him.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="395">395</a></span>
+On one occasion Yan, who began to think he now
+had some skill, was whacking away at a big, tough
+stick till he had tried, as he thought, every possible
+combination and still could make no sign of a crack.
+Then Guy insisted on "showing him how," without
+any better result.</p>
+<p>
+"Here, Sam," cried Yan, "I'll bet this is a baffler
+for you."</p>
+<p>
+Sam turned the stick over, selected a hopeless-looking
+spot, one as yet not touched by the axe,
+set the stick on end, poured a cup of water on
+the place, then, when that had soaked in, he
+struck with all his force a single straight blow at
+the line where the grain spread to embrace the
+knot. The aim was true to a hair and the block
+flew open.</p>
+<p>
+"Hooray!" shouted Little Beaver in admiration.</p>
+<p>
+"Pooh!" said Sapwood. "That was just chance.
+He couldn't do that again."</p>
+<p>
+"Not to the same stick!" retorted Yan. He
+recognized the consummate skill and the cleverness
+of knowing that the cup of water was just what was
+needed to rob the wood of its spring and turn the
+balance.</p>
+<p>
+But Guy continued contemptuously, "I had it
+started for him."</p>
+<p>
+"<i>I</i> think that should count a <i>coup</i>," said Little
+Beaver.</p>
+<p>
+"Coup nothin'," snorted the Third War Chief,
+in scorn. "I'll give you something to do that'll try
+if you can chop. Kin you chop a six-inch tree down
+<span class="left"><a name="396">396</a></span>
+in three minutes an' throw it up the wind?"</p>
+<p>
+"What kind o' tree?" asked the  Woodpecker.</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, any kind."</p>
+<p>
+"I'll bet you five dollars I kin cut down a six-inch
+White Pine in two minutes an' throw it any way
+I want to. You pick out the spot for me to lay it.
+Mark it with a stake an' I'll drive the stake."</p>
+<p>
+"I don't think any of the Tribe has five dollars to
+bet. If you can do it we'll give you a grand coup
+feather," answered Little Beaver.</p>
+<p>
+"No spring pole," said Guy, eager to make it
+impossible.</p>
+<p>
+"All right," replied the Woodpecker; "I'll do it
+without using a spring pole."</p>
+<p>
+So he whetted up his axe, tried the lower margin
+of the head, found it was a trifle out of the true&mdash;that
+is, its under curve centred, not on the handle one
+span down, but half an inch out from the handle.
+A nail driven into the point of the axe-eye corrected
+this and the chiefs went forth to select a tree. A
+White Pine that measured roughly six inches through
+was soon found, and Sam was allowed to clear away
+the brush around it. Yan and Guy now took a
+stout stake and, standing close to the tree, looked up
+<img src="images/treecutting.gif" width="160" height="178" alt="precision tree-cutting" border="0" align="left" hspace="15" />
+the trunk. Of course, every tree in the woods leans
+one way or another, and it was easy to see that
+this leaned slightly southward. What wind there
+was came from the north, so Yan decided to set
+the stake due north.</p>
+<span class="left"><a name="397">397</a></span>
+<p>
+Sam's little Japanese eyes twinkled. But Guy
+who, of course, knew something of chopping, fairly
+exploded with scorn. "Pooh! What do you know?
+That's easy; any one can throw it straight up the
+wind. Give him a cornering shot and let him try.
+There, now," and Guy set the stake off to the north-west.
+"Now, smarty. Let's see you do that."</p>
+<p>
+"All right. You'll see me. Just let me look at it
+a minute."</p>
+<p>
+Sam walked round the tree, studied its lean
+and the force of the wind on its top, rolled up his
+sleeves, slipped his suspenders, spat on his palms,
+and, standing to west of the tree, said <i>"Ready</i>."</p>
+<p>
+Yan had his watch out and shouted "<i>Go</i>."</p>
+<p>
+Two firm, unhasty strokes up on the south side
+of the tree left a clean nick across and two inches
+deep in the middle. The chopper then stepped
+forward one pace and on the north-northwesterly
+side, eighteen inches lower down than the first cut,
+after reversing his hands&mdash;which is what few can do&mdash;he
+rapidly chopped a butt-kerf. Not a stroke was
+hasty; not a blow went wrong. The first chips
+that flew were ten inches long, but they quickly
+dwindled as the kerf sank in. The butt-kerf was
+two-thirds through the tree when Yan called "One
+minute up." Sam stopped work, apparently without
+cause, leaned one hand against the south side of the
+tree and gazed unconcernedly up at its top.</p>
+<p><img src="images/sketch213.gif" width="93" height="356" alt="coup feather for axemanship" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+"Hurry up, Sam. You're losing time!" called
+his friend. Sam made no reply. He was watching
+
+<span class="left"><a name="398">398</a></span>
+the wind pushes and waiting for a strong one. It
+came&mdash;it struck the tree-top. There was an ominous
+crack, but Sam had left enough and pushed hard to
+make sure; as soon as the recoil began he struck in
+very rapid succession three heavy strokes, cutting
+away all the remaining wood on the west side and
+leaving only a three-inch triangle of uncut fibre.
+All the weight was now northwest of this. The
+tree toppled that way, but swung around on the
+uncut part; another puff of wind gave help, the swing
+was lost, the tree crashed down to the northwest and
+drove the stake right out of sight in the ground.</p>
+<p>
+"Hooray! Hooray! Hooray! One minute and
+forty-five seconds!" How Yan did cheer. Sam was
+silent, but his eyes looked a little less dull and stupid
+than usual, and Guy said "Pooh? That's nothin'."</p>
+<p>
+Yan took out his pocket rule and went to the
+stump. As soon as he laid it on, he exclaimed "Seven
+and one-half inches through where you cut," and again
+he had to swing his hat and cheer.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, old man, you surely did it that time. That's
+a grand coup if ever I saw one," and so, notwithstanding
+Guy's proposal to "leave it to Caleb,"
+Sam got his grand Eagle feather as Axeman A1 of
+the Sanger Indians.</p>
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="399">399</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3XVIII">XVIII</a></h3>
+<h3>The Owls And The Night-School</h3>
+
+<p>
+One night Sam was taking a last look at the
+stars before turning in. A Horned Owl had
+been hooting not far away.</p>
+<p>
+"<i>Hoo&mdash;hohoo-hoho&mdash;hoooooo</i>."</p>
+<p>
+And as he looked, what should silently sail to the
+top of the medicine pole stuck in the ground twenty
+yards away but the Owl.</p>
+<p>
+"Yan! Yan! Give me my bow and arrow, quick.
+Here's a Cat-Owl&mdash;a chicken stealer, he's fair game."</p>
+<p>
+"He's only codding you, Yan," said Guy sleepily
+from his blanket. "I wouldn't go."</p>
+<p>
+But Yan rushed out with his own and Sam's
+weapons.</p>
+<p>
+Sam fired at the great feathery creature, but
+evidently missed, for the Owl spread its wings and
+sailed away.</p>
+<p>
+"There goes my best arrow. That was my
+'Sure-death.'"</p>
+<p><img src="images/sketch214.gif" width="70" height="487" alt="the Medicine Pole" border="0"hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+"Pshaw!" growled Yan, as he noted the miss.
+"You can't shoot a little bit."</p>
+<p>
+But as they stood, there was a fluttering of broad
+wings, and there, alighting as before on the medicine
+pole, was the Owl again.</p>
+<p>
+"My turn now! "exclaimed Yan in a gaspy whisper.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="400">400</a></span>
+He drew his bow, the arrow flew, and the Owl slipped
+off unharmed as it had the first time.</p>
+<p>
+"Yan, you're no good. An easy shot like that.
+Why, any idiot could hit that. Why didn't you
+fetch her?"</p>
+<p>
+"'Cause I'm not an idiot, I suppose. I hit the
+same place as you did, anyway, and drew just as
+much blood."</p>
+<p>
+"Ef he comes back again you call me," piped Guy
+in his shrill voice. "I'll show you fellers how to shoot.
+You're no good at all 'thout me. Why, I mind the
+time I was Deer-shooting&mdash;&mdash;" but a fierce dash of
+the whole Tribe for Sappy's bed put a stop to the
+reminiscent flow and replaced it with whines of
+"Now you let me alone. I ain't doin' nothin' to
+you."</p>
+<p>
+During the night they were again awakened by
+the screech in the tree-tops, and Yan, sitting up,
+said, "Say, boys, that's nothing but that big Cat
+Owl."</p>
+<p>
+"So it is," was Sam's answer; "wonder I didn't
+think of that before."</p>
+<p>
+"I did," said Guy; "I knew it all the time."</p>
+<p>
+In the morning they went out to find their arrows.
+The medicine pole was a tall pole bearing a feathered
+shield, with the tribal totem, a white Buffalo, which
+Yan had set up to be in Indian fashion. Sighting in
+line from the teepee over this, they walked on, looking
+far beyond, for they had learned always to draw the
+arrow to the head. They had not gone twenty-five
+feet before Yan burst out in unutterable astonishment:
+<span class="left"><a name="401">401</a></span>
+"Look! Look at that&mdash;and <i>that</i>&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+<p>
+There on the ground not ten feet apart were two
+enormous Horned Owls, both shot fairly through the
+heart, one with Sam's "Sure-death" arrow, the other
+with Yan's "Whistler"; both shots had been true,
+and the boys could only say, "Well, if you saw that
+in print you would say it was a big lie!" It was
+indeed one of those amazing things which happen
+only in real life, and the whole of the Tribe with one
+exception voted a <i>grand coup</i> to each of the hunters.</p>
+<p>
+Guy was utterly contemptuous. "They got so
+close they hit by chance an' didn't know they done
+it. If he had been shooting," etc., etc., etc.</p>
+<p>
+"How about that screech in the tree-tops, Guy?"</p>
+<p>
+"Errrrh."</p>
+<p>
+What a fascination the naturalist always finds in
+a fine Bird. Yan revelled in these two. He measured
+their extent of wing and the length from beak
+to tail of each. He studied the pattern on their
+quills; he was thrilled by their great yellow eyes
+and their long, powerful claws, and he loved their
+every part. He hated to think that in a few days
+these wonderful things would be disgusting and fit
+only to be buried.</p>
+<p>
+"I wish I knew hew to stuff them," he said.</p>
+<p>
+"Why don't you get Si Lee to show you," was
+Sam's suggestion. "Seems to me I often seen
+pictures of Injun medicine men with stuffed birds,"
+he added shrewdly and happily.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="402">402</a></span>
+"Well, that's just what I will do."</p>
+<p>
+Then arose a knotty question. Should he go to
+Si Lee and thereby turn "White" and break the charm
+of the Indian life, or should he attempt the task of
+persuading Si to come down there to work without
+proper conveniences. They voted to bring Si to
+camp. "Da might think we was backing out."
+After all, the things needed were easily carried, and
+Si, having been ambushed by a scout, consented to
+come and open a night-school in taxidermy.</p>
+<p>
+The tools and things that he brought were a
+bundle of tow made by unravelling a piece of rope,
+some cotton wool, strong linen thread, two long
+darning needles, arsenical soap worked up like
+cream, corn-meal, some soft iron wire about
+size sixteen and some of stovepipe size, a file, a
+pair of pliers, wire cutters, a sharp knife, a pair of
+stout scissors, a gimlet, two ready-made wooden
+stands, and last of all a good lamp. The boys
+hitherto had been content with the firelight.</p>
+<p>
+Thus in the forest teepee Yan had his first lesson
+in the art that was to give him so much joy and
+some sorrow in the future.</p>
+<p>
+Guy was interested, though scornful; Sam was
+much interested; Yan was simply rapt, and Si Lee
+was in his glory. His rosy red cheeks and his round
+figure swelled with pride; even his semi-nude head
+and fat, fumbling fingers seemed to partake of his
+general elation and importance.</p>
+<p>
+First he stuffed the Owls' throats and wounds
+with cotton wool.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="403">403</a></span>
+Then he took one, cut a slit from the back of the
+breast-bone nearly to the tail (<i>A</i> to <i>B</i>, Fig. 1, page
+405), while Yan took the other and tried faithfully
+to follow his example.</p>
+<p>
+He worked the skin from the body chiefly by the
+use of his finger nails, till he could reach the knee of
+each leg and cut this through at the joint with the
+knife (<i>Kn,</i> Fig. 1, page 405). The flesh was removed
+from each leg-bone down to the heel-joint (<i>Hl, Hl</i>,
+Fig. 1), leaving the leg and skin as in <i>Lg</i>, Figure 2.
+Then working back on each side of the tail, he cut
+the "pope's nose" from the body and left it as part
+of the skin, with the tail feathers in it, and this, Si
+explained, was a hard place to get around. Sam
+called it "rounding Cape Horn." As the flesh was
+exposed Si kept it powdered thickly with corn-meal,
+and this saved the feathers from soiling.</p>
+<p>
+Once around Cape Horn it was easy sailing. The
+skin was rapidly pushed off till the wings were reached.
+These were cut off at the joint deep in the breast
+(under <i>J J</i>, Fig. 1, or seen on the back, <i>W J</i>, Fig. 2),
+the first bone of each wing was cleared of meat, and
+the skin, now inside out and well mealed, was pushed
+off the neck up to the head.</p>
+<p>
+Here Si explained that in most birds it would slip
+easily over the head, but in Owls, Woodpeckers,
+Ducks and some others one had sometimes to help
+it by a lengthwise slit on the nape (<i>Sn</i>, Fig. 2). "Owls
+is hard, anyway," he went on, "though not so bad
+as Water-fowl. If ye want a real easy bird for a
+starter, take a Robin or a Blackbird, or any land
+<span class="left"><a name="404">404</a></span>
+Bird about that size except Woodpeckers."
+<img src="images/389.gif" alt="Sam called it 'rounding Cape Horn'" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="265" height="109" border="0" /></p>
+<p>
+When the ears were reached they were skinned and
+pulled out of the skull without cutting, then, after
+the eyes were passed, the skin and body looked as
+in Figure 2. Now the back of the head with the neck
+and body was cut off (<i>Ct</i>, Fig. 2), and the first
+operation of the skinning was done.</p>
+<p>
+Yan got along fairly well, tearing and cutting the
+skin once or twice, but learning very quickly to
+manage it.</p>
+<p>
+Now began the cleaning of the skin.</p>
+<p>
+The eyes were cut clean out and the brains and
+flesh carefully scraped away from the skull.</p>
+<p>
+The wing bones were already cleaned of meat
+down to the elbow joint, where the big quill feathers
+began, and the rest of the wing had to be cleared of
+flesh by cutting open the under side of the next joint
+(<i>H</i> to <i>El</i>, Fig. 1). The "pope's nose" and the skin
+generally was freed from meat and grease by scraping
+with a knife and rubbing with the meal.</p>
+<p>
+Then came the poisoning. Every part of the bones
+and flesh had to be painted with the creamy arsenical
+soap, then the head was worked back into its place
+and the skin turned right side out.</p>
+<p>
+When this was done it was quite late. Guy was
+asleep, Sam was nearly so, and Yan was thoroughly
+tired out.</p>
+<p>
+"Guess I'll go now," said Si. "Them skins is in
+good shape to keep, only don't let them dry," so they
+were wrapped up in a damp sack and put away in a
+tin till next night, when Si promised to return and
+finish the course in one more lesson.<br /><br /></p>
+<span class="left"><a name="405">405</a></span>
+<p class="center"><img src="images/sketch216a.jpg" width="392" height="672" alt="Owl-stuffing plate" border="0" /></p>
+
+
+<h5>OWL-STUFFING PLATE</h5>
+<span class="note">
+Fig. 1. The dead Owl, showing the cuts made in skinning it: A to B, for the body; El to H, on each wing, to
+remove the meat of the second joint.<br /><br />
+
+Fig. 2. After the skinning is done the skull remains attached to the skin, which is now inside out, the neck and
+body are cut off at Ct. Sn to Sn shows the slit in the nape needed for Owls and several other kinds.<br /><br />
+
+Fig. 3. Top view of the tow body, neck end up, and neck wire projecting.<br /><br />
+
+Fig. 4. Side view of the tow body, with the neck wire put through it; the tail end is downward.<br /><br />
+
+Fig. 5. The heavy iron wire for neck.<br /><br />
+
+Fig. 6. The Owl after the body is put in; it is now ready to close up, by stitching up the slit on the nape, the
+body slit B to C and the two wing slits El to H, on each wing.<br /><br />
+
+Fig. 7. A dummy as it <i>would look</i> if all the feathers were off; this shows the proper position for legs and wings
+on the body. At W is a glimpse of the leg wire entering the body at the middle of the side.<br /><br />
+
+Fig. 8. Another view of the body without feathers; the dotted lines show the wires of the legs through the hard
+body, and the neck wire.<br /><br />
+
+Fig. 9. Two views of one of the wooden eyes; these are on a much larger scale than the rest of the figures in
+this plate.<br /><br />
+
+Fig. 10. The finished Owl, with the thread wrappings on and the wires still projecting; Nw is end of the neck
+wire; Bp is back-pin&mdash;that is, the wire in the center of the back; Ww and Ww are the wing wires; Tl are
+the cards pinned on the tail to hold it flat while it dries. The last operation is to remove the threads and
+cut all the wires off close so that the feathers hide what remains.<br /><br />
+</span>
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+
+
+<p><span class="left"><a name="407">407</a></span>
+While they were so working Sam had busied himself
+opening the Owls' stomachs&mdash;"looking up their
+records," as he called it. He now reported that one
+had lynched a young Partridge and the other had
+killed a Rabbit for its latest meal.</p>
+<p>
+Next night Si Lee came as promised, but brought
+bad news. He had failed to find the glass Owl eyes
+he had hoped were in his trunk. His ingenuity, however,
+was of the kind that is never balked in a small
+matter. He produced some black and yellow oil
+paints, explaining, "Guess we'll make wooden eyes
+do for the present, an' when you get to town you can
+put glass ones in their place." So Sam was set to
+work whittling four wooden eyes the shape of well-raised
+buns and about three-quarters of an inch
+across. When whittled, scraped and smooth, Si
+painted them brilliant yellow with a central black
+spot and put them away to dry (shown on a large
+scale on page 405, Fig. 9, <i>a</i> and <i>b</i>).</p>
+<p>
+Meanwhile, he and Yan got out the two skins.
+The bloody feathers on the breasts were washed
+clean in a cup of warm water, then dried with cotton
+and dusted all over with meal to soak up any moisture
+left. The leg and wing bones were now wrapped
+with as much tow as would take the place of the
+removed meat. The eye sockets were partly filled
+with cotton, then a long soft roll of tow about the
+length and thickness of the original neck was worked
+<span class="left"><a name="408">408</a></span>
+up into the neck skin and into the skull and left hanging.
+The ends of the two wing bones were fastened
+two inches apart with a shackle of strong string (<i>X</i>,
+Fig. 2 and Fig. 7). Now the body was needed.</p>
+<p>
+For this Si rolled and lashed a wad of tow with
+strong thread until he made a dummy of the same
+size and shape as the body taken out, squeezing and
+sewing it into a hard solid mass. Next he cut about
+two and a half feet of the large wire, filed both ends
+sharp, doubled about four inches of one end back in
+a hook (Fig. 5), then drove the long end through
+the tow body from the tail end out where the neck
+should join on (Figs. 3 and 4). This was driven well
+in so that the short end of the hook was buried out
+of sight. Now Si passed the projecting ends of the
+long wire up the neck in the middle of the tow roll
+or neck already there, worked it through the skull
+and out at the top of the Owl's head, and got the
+tow body properly placed in the skin with the
+string that bound the wing bones across the back
+(<i>X</i>, Fig. 7).</p>
+<p>
+Two heavy wires each eighteen inches long and
+sharp at one end were needed for the legs. These
+were worked up one through the sole of each foot
+under the skin of the leg behind (<i>Lw</i>, Fig. 6), then
+through the tow body at the middle of the side (<i>W</i>,
+Fig. 7), after which the sharp end was bent with
+pliers into a hook and driven back into the hard body
+(after the manner of the neck wire, Fig. 4).</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="409">409</a></span>
+Another wire was sharpened and driven through
+the bones of the tail, fastening that also to the tow
+body (<i>Tw</i>, Fig. 7).</p>
+<p>
+Now a little soft tow was packed into places where
+it seemed needed to fit the skin on, and it remained
+to sew up the opening below (<i>Bc</i> in Fig. 6), the wing
+slits (<i>El, H</i>, Fig. 6 and Fig. 1), and the slit in the
+nape (<i>Sn Sn</i>, Fig. 2) with half a dozen stitches, always
+putting the needle into the skin from the flesh side.</p>
+<p>
+The projecting wires of the feet were put through
+gimlet holes in the perch and made firm, and Si's
+Owls were ready for their positions. They were now
+the most ridiculous looking things imaginable, wings
+floppy, heads hanging.</p>
+<p>
+"Here is where the artist comes in," said Si proudly,
+conscious that this was himself. He straightened
+up the main line of the body by bending the leg wires
+and set the head right by hunching the neck into the
+shoulders. "An Owl always looks over its shoulder,"
+he explained, but took no notice of Sam's query as
+to "whose shoulder he expected it to look over." He
+set two toes of each foot forward on the perch and two
+back to please Yan, who insisted that that was Owly,
+though Si had his doubts. He spread the tail a little
+by pinning it between two pieces of card (<i>Tl</i>, Fig. 10),
+gave it the proper slant, and now had the wings to
+arrange.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch217.gif" alt="stuffed owl" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="150" height="178" border="0" />
+<p>
+They were drooping like those of a clucking hen.
+A sharp wire of the small size was driven into the
+bend of each wing (<i>0</i>, Fig. 7), nailing it in effect to
+the body (<i>Ww</i> and <i>Ww</i>, Fig. 10). A long pin was
+<span class="left"><a name="410">410</a></span>
+set in the middle of the back (<i>Bp</i>, Fig. 10), then using
+these with the wing wires and head wire as lashing
+points, Si wrapped the whole bird with the thread
+(Fig. 10), putting a wad of cotton here or a bit of
+stick there under the wrapping till he had the position
+and "feathering" perfect, as he put it.</p>
+<p>
+"We can put in the eyes now," said he, "or later,
+if we soften the skin around the eye-sockets by putting
+wet cotton in them for twenty-four hours."</p>
+<p>
+Yan had carefully copied Si's method with the
+second Owl, and developed unusual quickness at it.</p>
+<p>
+His teacher remarked, "Wall, I larned lots o'
+fellows to stuff birds, but you ketch on the quickest
+I ever seen."</p>
+<p>
+Si's ideas of perfection might differ from those of a
+trained taxidermist; indeed, these same Owls afforded
+Yan no little amusement in later years, but for the
+present they were an unmitigated joy.</p>
+<p>
+They were just the same in position. Si knew only
+one; all his birds had that. But when they had dried
+fully, had their wrappings removed, the wires cut
+off flush and received the finishing glory of their
+wooden eyes, they were a source of joy and wonder
+to the whole Tribe of Indians.</p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="411">411</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3XIX">XIX</a></h3>
+<h3>The Trial of Grit</h3>
+
+<p>
+The boys had made war bonnets after the "really
+truly" Indian style learned from Caleb. White
+Turkey tail-feathers and white Goose wing-feathers
+dyed black at the tips made good Eagle
+feathers. Some wisps of red-dyed horsehair from
+an old harness tassel; strips of red flannel from an
+old shirt, and some scraps of sheepskin supplied
+the remaining raw material. Caleb took an
+increasing interest, and helped them not only to
+make the bonnet, but also to decide on what things
+should count <i>coup</i> and what <i>grand coup</i>. Sam had
+a number of feathers for shooting, diving, "massacreeing
+the Whites," and his grand tufted feathers for
+felling the pine and shooting the Cat-Owl.</p>
+<p>
+Among other things, Yan had counted coup for
+trailing. The Deer hunt had been made still more
+real by having the "Deer-boy" wear a pair of sandals
+made from old boots; on the sole of each they put two
+lines of hobnails in V shape, pointing forward. These
+made hooflike marks wherever the Deer went. One
+of the difficulties with the corn was that it gave no
+clue to the direction or doubling of the trail, but the
+sandals met the trouble, and with a very little corn to
+help they had an ideal trail. All became very expert,
+<img src="images/sketch218.gif" alt="the 'deer' sandals" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="196" height="128" border="0" />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="412">412</a></span>
+and could follow fast a very slight track, but Yan continued
+the best, for what he lacked in eyesight he
+more than made up in patience and observation.
+He already had a <i>grand coup</i> for finding and shooting
+the Deer in the heart, that time, at first shot before
+the others came up even, and had won six other
+<i>grand coups</i>&mdash;one for swimming 200 yards in five
+minutes, one for walking four measured miles in one
+hour, one for running 100 yards in twelve seconds,
+one for knowing 100 wild plants, one for knowing 100
+birds, and the one for shooting the Horned Owl.</p>
+<p>
+Guy had several good <i>coups</i>, chiefly for eyesight.
+He could see "the papoose on the squaws back,"
+and in the Deer hunt he had several times won <i>coups</i>
+that came near being called <i>grand coup</i>, but so far
+fate was against him, and even old Caleb, who was
+partial to him, could not fairly vote him a <i>grand
+coup</i>.</p>
+<p>
+"What is it that the Injuns most likes in a man: I
+mean, what would they druther have, Caleb?" asked
+Sappy one day, confidently expecting to have his
+keen eyesight praised.</p>
+<p>
+"Bravery," was the reply. "They don't care
+what a man is if he's brave. That's their greatest
+thing&mdash;that is, if the feller has the stuff to back it up.
+An' it ain't confined to Injuns; I tell you there ain't
+anything that anybody goes on so much. Some men
+pretends to think one thing the best of all, an' some
+another, but come right down to it, what every man,
+woman an' child in the country loves an' worships
+is pluck, clear grit, well backed up."</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+<img src="images/sketch219.gif" width="173" height="189" alt="four grand coup feathers" border="0" />
+<img src="images/sketch220.gif" width="138" height="187" alt="three grand coup feathers" border="0" /></p>
+
+
+
+<span class="left"><a name="413">413</a></span>
+
+
+<p>
+"<i>Well, I tell you</i>," said Guy, boiling up with
+enthusiasm at this glorification of grit, "<i>I</i> ain't
+scared o' nothin'."</p>
+<p>
+"Wall, how'd you like to fight Yan there?"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, that ain't fair. He's older an' bigger'n
+I am."</p>
+<p>
+"Say, Sappy, I'll give you one. Suppose you go
+to the orchard alone an' get a pail of cherries. All
+the men'll be away at nine o'clock."</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, and have old Cap chaw me up."</p>
+<p>
+"Thought you weren't scared of anything, an' a
+poor little Dog smaller than a yearling Heifer scares
+you."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I don't like cherries, anyhow."</p>
+<p>
+"Here, now, Guy, I'll give you a real test. You
+see that stone?" and Caleb held up a small round
+stone with a hole in it. "Now, you know where old
+Garney is buried?"</p>
+<p>
+Garney was a dissolute soldier who blew his
+head off, accidentally, his friends claimed, and he
+was buried on what was supposed to be his own land
+just north of Raften's, but it afterward proved to be
+part of the highway where a sidepath joined in, and
+in spite of its diggers the grave was at the <i>crossing
+of two roads</i>. Thus by the hand of fate Bill Garney
+was stamped as a suicide.
+<img src="images/sketch221.gif" alt="suicide at crossroads" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="224" height="116" border="0" /></p>
+<p>
+The legend was that every time a wagon went over
+his head he must groan, but unwilling to waste those
+<span class="left"><a name="414">414</a></span>
+outcries during the rumbling of the wheels, he waited
+till midnight and rolled them out all together. Anyone
+hearing should make a sympathetic reply or
+they would surely suffer some dreadful fate. This
+was the legend that Caleb called up to memory and
+made very impressive by being properly impressed
+himself.</p>
+<p>
+"Now," said he, "I am going to hide this stone
+just behind the rock that marks the head of Garney's
+grave, an' I'll send you to git it some night. Air ye
+game?"</p>
+<p>
+"Y-e-s, I'll go," said the Third War Chief without
+visible enthusiasm.</p>
+<p>
+"If he's so keen for it now, there'll be no holding
+him back when night comes," remarked the Woodpecker.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch222a.gif" width="180" height="198" alt="stone on cord" border="0" align="left" hspace="15" />
+<p>
+"Remember, now," said Caleb, as he left them to
+return to his own miserable shanty, "this is the chance
+to show what you're made of. I'll tie a cord to the
+stone to make sure that you get it."</p>
+<p>
+"We're just going to eat. Won't you stay and
+jine with us," called Sam, but Caleb strode off without
+taking notice of the invitation.</p>
+<p>
+In the middle of the night the boys were aroused
+by a man's voice outside and the scratching of a stick
+on the canvas.</p>
+<p>
+"Boys! Guy&mdash;Yan! Oh, Guy!"</p>
+<p>
+"Hello! Who is it?"</p>
+<p>
+"Caleb Clark! Say, Guy, it's about half-past eleven
+now. You have just about time to go to Garney's
+grave by midnight an' get that stone, and if you
+<span class="left"><a name="415">415</a></span>
+can't find the exact spot <i>you listen for the groaning
+</i>&mdash;<i>that'll guide you</i>."</p>
+<p>
+This cheerful information was given in a hoarse
+whisper that somehow conveyed the idea that the
+old man was as scared as he could be.</p>
+<p>
+"I&mdash;I&mdash;I&mdash;" stammered Guy, "I can't see the
+way."</p>
+<p>
+"This is the chance of your life, boy. You get
+that stone and you'll get a <i>grand coup</i> feather, top
+honours fur grit. I'll wait here till you come back."</p>
+<p>
+"I&mdash;I&mdash;can't find the blamed old thing on such a
+dark night. I&mdash;I&mdash;ain't goin'."</p>
+<p>
+"Errr&mdash;you're scared," whispered Caleb.</p>
+<p>
+"I ain't scared, on'y what's the use of goin'
+when I couldn't find the place? I'll go when it's
+moonlight."</p>
+<p>
+"Err&mdash;anybody here brave enough to go after
+that stone?"</p>
+<p>
+"I'll go," said the other two at the same time,
+though with a certain air of "But I hope I don't
+have to, all the same."</p>
+<p>
+"You kin have the honour, Yan," said the Woodpecker,
+with evident relief.</p>
+<p>
+"Of course, I'd like the chance&mdash;but&mdash;but&mdash;I don't
+want to push ahead of you&mdash;you're the oldest; that
+wouldn't be square," was the reply.</p>
+<p>
+"Guess we'd better draw straws for it."</p>
+<p>
+So Sam sought a long straw while Yan stirred up
+the coals to a blaze. The long straw was broken
+in two unequal pieces and hidden in Sam's hand.
+<span class="left"><a name="416">416</a></span>
+Then after shuffling he held it toward Yan, showing
+only the two tips, and said, "Longest straw takes
+the job." Yan knew from old experience that a
+common trick was to let the shortest straw stick out
+farthest, so he took the other, drew it slowly out and
+out&mdash;it seemed endless. Sam opened his hand and
+showed that the short straw remained, then added
+with evident relief: "You got it. You are the luckiest
+feller I ever did see. Everything comes your way."</p>
+<p>
+If there had been any loophole Yan would have
+taken it, but it was now clearly his duty to go for
+that stone. It was pride rather than courage that
+carried him through. He dressed quietly and nervously;
+his hands trembled a little as he laced his
+shoes. Caleb waited outside when he heard that
+it was Yan who was going. He braced him up by
+telling him: "You're the stuff. I jest love to see grit.
+I'll go with you to the edge of the woods&mdash;'twouldn't
+be fair to go farther&mdash;and wait there till you come
+back. It's easy to find. Go four panels of fence
+past the little Elm, then right across on the other side
+of the road is the big stone. Well, on the side next
+the north fence you'll find the ring pebble. The
+coord is lying kind o' cross the big white stone, so
+you'll find it easy; and here, take this chalk; if your
+grit gives out, you mark on the fence how far you
+did get, but don't you worry about that groaning&mdash;it's
+nothing but a yarn&mdash;don't be scairt."</p>
+<p>
+"I am afraid I am scared, but still I'll go."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="417">417</a></span>
+"That's right," said the Trapper with emphasis.
+"Bravery ain't so much not being scairt as going
+ahead when you are scairt, showing that you kin
+boss your fears."</p>
+<p>
+So they talked till they struck out of the gloom
+of the trees to the comparative light of the open
+field.</p>
+<p>
+"It's just fifteen minutes to midnight," said
+Caleb, looking at his watch with the light of a match,
+"You'll make it easy. I'll wait here."</p>
+<p>
+Then Yan went on alone.</p>
+<p>
+It was a somber night, but he felt his way along
+the field fence to the line fence and climbed that into
+the road that was visible as a less intense darkness
+on the black darkness of the grass. Yan walked
+on up the middle cautiously. His heart beat violently
+and his hands were cold. It was a still night, and
+once or twice little mousey sounds in the fence corner
+made him start, but he pushed on. Suddenly in the
+blackness to the right of the road he heard a loud
+"whisk," then he caught sight of a white thing that
+chilled his blood. It was the shape of a man wrapped
+in white, but lacked a head, just as the story had it.
+Yan stood frozen to the ground. Then his intellect
+came to the rescue of his trembling body. "What
+nonsense! It must be a white stone." But no, it
+moved. Yan had a big stick in his hand. He
+shouted: "Sh, sh, sh!" Again the "corpse" moved.
+Yan groped on the road for some stones and sent
+one straight at the "white thing." <br />
+<img src="images/sketch223.gif" alt="the white thing" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="147" height="137" border="0" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<span class="left"><a name="418">418</a></span>
+He heard a
+"whooff" and a rush. The "white thing" sprang up
+and ran past him with a clatter that told him he had
+been scared by Granny de Neuville's white-faced cow.
+At first the reaction made him weak at the knees,
+but that gave way to a better feeling. If a harmless
+old Cow could lie out there all night, why should he
+fear? He went on more quietly till he neared the
+rise in the road. He should soon see the little Elm.
+He kept to the left of the highway and peered into
+the gloom, going more slowly. He was not so near
+as he had supposed, and the tension of the early part
+of the expedition was coming back more than ever.
+He wondered if he had not passed the Elm&mdash;should he
+go back? But no, he could not bear the idea; that
+would mean retreat. Anyhow, he would put his chalk
+mark here to show how far he did get. He sneaked
+cautiously toward the fence to make it, then to his
+relief made out the Elm not twenty-five feet away.
+
+Once at the tree, he counted off the four panels westward
+and knew that he was opposite the grave of the
+suicide. It must now be nearly midnight. He
+thought he heard sounds not far away, and there
+across the road he saw a whitish thing&mdash;the headstone.
+He was greatly agitated as he crawled quietly
+as possible toward it. Why quietly he did not know.
+He stumbled through the mud of the shallow ditch
+at each side, reached the white stone, and groped
+with clammy, cold hands over the surface for the
+string. If Caleb had put it there it was gone now.
+So he took his chalk and wrote on the stone "Yan."</p>
+<img src="images/sketch224.gif" width="198" height="130" alt="So he took his chalk and wrote on the stone 'Yan.'" border="0" align="left" hspace="15" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<p><span class="left"><a name="419">419</a></span>
+Oh, what a scraping that chalk made! He searched
+about with his fingers around the big boulder. Yes,
+there it was; the wind, no doubt, had blown it off.
+He pulled it toward him. The pebble was drawn
+across the boulder with another and louder rasping
+that sounded fearfully in the night. Then at once
+a gasp, a scuffle, a rush, a splash of something in mud,
+or water&mdash;horrible sounds of a being choking, strangling
+or trying to speak. For a moment Yan sank
+down in terror. His lips refused to move. But the
+remembrance of the cow came to help him. He
+got up and ran down the road as fast as he could go,
+a cold sweat on him. He ran so blindly he almost
+ran into a man who shouted "Ho, Yan; is that you?"
+It was Caleb coming to meet him. Yan could not
+speak. He was trembling so violently that he had
+to cling to the Trapper's arm.</p>
+<p>
+"What was it, boy? I heard it, but what was it?"</p>
+<p>
+"I&mdash;I&mdash;don't know," he gasped; "only it was at
+the g-g-grave."</p>
+<p>
+"Gosh! I heard it, all right," and Caleb showed
+no little uneasiness, but added, "We'll be back in
+camp in ten minutes."</p>
+<p>
+He took Yan's trembling hand and led him for a
+little while, but he was all right when he came to the
+blazed trail. Caleb stepped ahead, groping in the
+darkness.</p>
+<p>
+Yan now found voice to say, "I got the stone all
+right, and I wrote my name on the grave, too."</p>
+<p>
+"Good boy! You're the stuff!" was the admiring
+response.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="420">420</a></span>
+They were very glad to see that there was a fire in
+the teepee when they drew near. At the edge of
+the clearing they gave a loud "<i>O-hoo</i>&mdash;<i>O-hoo</i>&mdash;
+O-hoo-oo," the Owl cry that they had adopted because
+it is commonly used by the Indians as a night
+signal, and they got the same in reply from within.</p>
+<p>
+"All right," shouted Caleb; "he done it, an' he's
+bully good stuff and gets an uncommon <i>grand
+coup</i>."</p>
+<p>
+"Wish I had gone now," said Guy. "I could 'a'
+done it just as well as Yan."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, go on now."</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, there ain't any stone to get now for proof."</p>
+<p>
+"You can write your name on the grave, as I did."</p>
+<p>
+"Ah, that wouldn't prove nothin'," and Guy
+dropped the subject.</p>
+<p>
+Yan did not mean to tell his adventure that night,
+but his excitement was evident, and they soon got
+it out of him in full. They were a weird-looking
+crowd as they sat around the flickering fire, experiencing
+as he told it no small measure of the scare
+he had just been through.</p>
+<p>
+When he had finished Yan said, "Now, Guy, don't
+you want to go and try it?"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, quit," said Guy; "I never saw such a feller
+as you for yammering away on the same subjek."</p>
+<p>
+Caleb looked at his watch now, as though about to
+leave, when Yan said:</p>
+<p>
+"Say, Mr. Clark, won't you sleep here? There's
+lots o' room in Guy's bed."</p>
+<p>
+"Don't mind if I do, seem' it's late."</p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="421">421</a></span>
+<img src="images/sketch225.gif" alt="'Yan'" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="155" height="175" border="0" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<h3><a name="3XX">XX</a></h3>
+<h3>The White Revolver</h3>
+
+<p>
+In the morning Caleb had the satisfaction of
+eating a breakfast prepared by the son of his
+enemy, for Sam was cook that day.</p>
+<p>
+The Great Woodpecker expressed the thought of
+the whole assembly when after breakfast he said:
+"Now I want to go and see that grave. I believe
+Yan wrote his name on some old cow that was
+lying down and she didn't like it and said so out
+loud!"</p>
+<p>
+They arrived at the spot in a few minutes. Yes,
+there it was plainly written on the rude gravestone,
+rather shaky, but perfectly legible&mdash;"Yan."</p>
+<p>
+"Pretty poor writing," was Guy's remark.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, you sure done it! Good boy!" said Sam
+warmly. "Don't believe I'd 'a' had the grit."</p>
+<p>
+"Bet I would," said Guy.</p>
+<p>
+"Here's where I crossed the ditch. See my trail
+in the mud? Out there is where I heard the yelling.
+Let's see if ghosts make tracks. Hallo, what the&mdash;"</p>
+<p>
+There were the tracks in the mud of a big man.
+He had sprawled, falling on his hands and knees.
+Here was the print of his hands several times, and
+in the mud, half hidden, something shining&mdash;Guy
+saw it first and picked it up. It was a white-handled
+Colt's revolver.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="422">422</a></span>
+"Let's see that," said Caleb. He wiped off the
+mud. His eye kindled. "That's my revolver that
+was stole from me 'way back, time I lost my clothes
+and money." He looked it over and, glancing about,
+seemed lost in thought. "This beats me!" He shook
+his head and muttered from time to time, "This
+beats me!" There seemed nothing more of interest
+to see, so the boys turned homeward.</p>
+<p>
+On the way back Caleb was evidently thinking
+hard. He walked in silence till they got opposite
+Granny de Neuville's shanty, which was the nearest
+one to the grave. At the gate he turned and said:
+"Guess I'm going in here. Say, Yan, you didn't
+do any of that hollering last night, did you?"</p>
+<p>
+"No, sir; not a word. The only sound I made
+was dragging the ring-stone over the boulder."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I'll see you at camp," he said, and turned
+in to Granny's.</p>
+<p>
+"The tap o' the marnin' to ye, an' may yer sowl
+rest in pace," was the cheery old woman's greeting.
+"Come in&mdash;come in, Caleb, an' set down. An' how
+is Saryann an' Dick?"</p>
+<p>
+"They seem happy an' prosperin'," said the old
+man with bitterness. "Say, Granny, did you ever
+hear the story about Garney's grave out there on
+the road?"</p>
+<p>
+"For the love av goodness, an' how is it yer after
+askin' me that now? Sure an' I heard the story
+many a time, an' I'm after hearin' the ghost last
+night, an' it's a-shiverin' yit Oi am."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="423">423</a></span>
+"What did you hear, Granny?"</p>
+<p>
+"Och, an' it was the most divilish yells iver let
+out av a soul in hell. Shure the Dog and the Cat
+both av thim was scairt, and the owld white-faced
+cow come a-runnin' an' jumped the bars to get aff
+av the road."</p>
+<p>
+Here was what Caleb wanted, and he kept her going
+by his evident interest. After she tired of providing
+more realistic details of the night's uproar, Caleb
+deliberately tapped another vintage of tittle-tattle in
+hope of further information leaking out.</p>
+<p>
+"Granny, did you hear of a robbery last week
+down this side of Downey's Dump?"</p>
+<p>
+"Shure an' I did not," she exclaimed, her eyes
+ablaze with interest&mdash;neither had Caleb, for that
+matter; but he wanted to start the subject&mdash;"An"
+who was it was robbed?"</p>
+<p>
+"Don't know, unless it was John Evans's place."</p>
+<p>
+"Shure an' I don't know him, but I warrant he
+could sthand to lose. Shure an' it's when the raskils
+come after me an' Cal Conner the moment it was
+talked around that we had sold our Cow; then sez I,
+it's gittin' onraisonable, an' them divils shorely
+seems to know whin a wad o' money passes."</p>
+<p>
+"That's the gospel truth. But when wuz you
+robbed, Granny?"</p>
+<p>
+"Robbed? I didn't say I wuz robbed," and
+she cackled. "But the robbers had the best av
+intintions when they came to me," and she related
+at length her experience with the two who broke in
+when her Cow was reported sold. She laughed over
+<span class="left"><a name="424">424</a></span>
+their enjoyment of the Lung Balm, and briefly told
+how the big man was sulky and the short, broad
+one was funny. Their black beards, the "big wan"
+with his wounded head, his left-handedness and his
+accidental exposure of the three fingers of the right
+hand, all were fully talked over.</p>
+<p>
+"When was it, Granny?"</p>
+<p>
+"Och, shure an' it wuz about three years apast."</p>
+<p>
+Then after having had his lungs treated, old Caleb
+left Granny and set out to do some very hard thinking.</p>
+<p>
+There had been robberies all around for the last
+four years; There was no clue but this: They
+were all of the same character; nothing but cash
+was taken, and the burglars seemed to have inside
+knowledge of the neighbourhood, and timed all their
+visits to happen just after the householder had come
+into possession of a roll of bills.</p>
+<p>
+As soon as Caleb turned in at the de Neuville
+gate, Yan, acting on a belated thought, said:</p>
+<p>
+"Boys, you go on to camp; I'll be after you in
+five minutes." He wanted to draw those tracks in
+the mud and try to trail that man, so went back to
+the grave.</p>
+<p>
+He studied the marks most carefully and by opening
+out the book he was able to draw the boot tracks
+life-size, noting that each had three rows of small
+<img src="images/425.gif" width="130" height="148" alt="three-finger handprint" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+hobnails on the heel, apparently put in at home
+because so irregular, while the sole of the left was
+worn into a hole. Then he studied the hand tracks,
+selected the clearest, and was drawing the right
+<span class="left"><a name="425">425</a></span>
+hand when something odd caught his attention.</p>
+<p>
+Yes! It appeared in all the impressions of that
+hand&mdash;the middle finger was gone.</p>
+<p>
+Yan followed the track on the road a little way,
+but at the corner it turned southward and was lost
+in the grass.</p>
+<p>
+As he was going back to camp he overtook Caleb
+also returning.</p>
+<p>
+"Mr. Clark," he said. "I went back to sketch
+those tracks, and do you know&mdash;that man had only
+three fingers on his right hand?"</p>
+<p>
+"Consarn me!" said Caleb. "Are you sure?"</p>
+<p>
+"Come and see for yourself."</p>
+<p>
+Yes! It surely was true, and Caleb on the road
+back said, "Yan, don't say a word of this to the others
+just now."</p>
+<p>
+The old Trapper went to the Pogue house at once.
+He found the tracks repeated in the dust near the
+door, but they certainly were not made by Dick.
+On a line was a pair of muddy trousers drying.</p>
+<p>
+From this night Yan went up and Guy went down
+in the old man's opinion, for he spoke his own mind
+that day when he gave first place to grit. He
+invited Yan to come to his shanty to see a pair of
+snow-shoes he was making. The invitation was vague
+and general, so the whole Tribe accepted. Yan had
+not been there since his first visit. The first part
+of their call was as before. In answer to their
+knock there was a loud baying from the Hound,
+then a voice ordering him back. Caleb opened the
+<span class="left"><a name="426">426</a></span>
+door, but now said "Step in." If he was displeased
+with the others coming he kept it to himself. While
+Yan was looking at the snow-shoes Guy discovered
+something much more interesting on the old man's
+bunk; that was the white revolver, now cleaned up
+and in perfect order. Caleb's delight at its recovery,
+though not very apparent, was boundless. He had
+not been able to buy himself another, and this was
+as warmly welcomed back as though a long-lost
+only child.</p>
+<p>
+"Say, Caleb, let's try a shot. I bet I kin beat the
+hull gang," exclaimed Sapwood.</p>
+<p>
+Caleb got some cartridges and pointed to a white
+blaze on a stump forty yards away. Guy had three
+or four shots and Yan had the same without hitting
+the stump. Then Caleb said, "Lemme show you."</p>
+<p>
+His big rugged hand seemed to swallow up the
+little gun-stock. His long knobbed finger fitted
+around the lock in a strange but familiar way. Caleb
+was a bent-arm shot, and the short barrel looked like
+his own forefinger pointing at the target as he pumped
+away six times in quick succession. All went into
+the blaze and two into the charcoal spot that marked
+the centre.</p>
+<p>
+"By George! Look at that for shooting!" and the
+boys were loud in their praise.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, twenty year ago I used to be a pretty good
+shot," Caleb proceeded to explain with an air of
+unnecessary humility and a very genial expression
+on his face. "But that's dead easy. I'll show you
+<span class="left"><a name="427">427</a></span>
+some real tricks."</p>
+<p>
+Twenty-five feet away he set up three cartridges in
+a row, their caps toward him, and exploded them in
+succession with three rapid shots. Then he put the
+revolver in the side pocket of his coat, and recklessly
+firing it without drawing, much less sighting or even
+showing it, he peppered a white blaze at twenty
+yards. Finally he looked around for an old fruit
+tin. Then he cocked the revolver, laid it across his
+right hand next the thumb and the tin across the
+fingers. He then threw them both in the air with a
+jerk that sent the revolver up ten feet and the tin
+twenty. As the revolver came down he seized it and
+shot a hole through the tin before it could reach the
+ground.</p>
+<p>
+The boys were simply dumbfounded. They had
+used up all their exclamations on the first simple
+target trial.</p>
+<p>
+Caleb stepped into the shanty to get a cleaning-rag
+for his darling, and Sam burst out:</p>
+<p>
+"Well, now I know he never shot at Da, for if he
+did he'd 'a' got him sure."</p>
+<p>
+It was not meant for Caleb's ears, but it reached
+him, and the old Trapper came to the door at once
+with a long, expressive "H-m-m-mrr."</p>
+<p>
+Thus was broken the dam of silent scorn, for it
+was the first time Caleb had addressed himself to
+Sam. The flood had forced the barrier, but it still
+left plenty of stuff in the channel to be washed away
+by time and wear, and it was long before he talked
+<span class="left"><a name="428">428</a></span>
+to Sam as freely as to the others, but still in time
+he learned.</p>
+<p>
+There was an air of geniality on all now, and Yan
+took advantage of this to ask for something he had
+long kept in mind.</p>
+<p>
+"Mr. Clark, will you take us out for a Coon hunt?
+We know where there are lots of Coons that feed in
+a corn patch up the creek."</p>
+<p>
+If Yan had asked this a month ago he would have
+got a contemptuous refusal. Before the visit to
+Carney's grave it might have been, "Oh, I dunno&mdash;I
+ain't got time," but he was on the right side of
+Caleb now, and the answer was:</p>
+<p>
+"Well, yes! Don't mind if I do, first night it's
+coolish, so the Dog kin run."</p>
+
+<img src="images/sketch226.gif" width="206" height="269" alt="Raccoon" border="0" />
+
+<br /><br /><br />
+<span class="left"><a name="429">429</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3XXI">XXI</a></h3>
+<h3>The Triumph Of Guy</h3>
+
+<p>
+The boys had hunted the Woodchuck quite
+regularly since first meeting it. Their programme
+<img src="images/sketch227.gif" width="116" height="161" alt="Woodchuck hidden in the clover" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+was much the same&mdash;each morning
+about nine or ten they would sneak out to the clover
+field. It was usually Guy who first discovered the
+old Grizzly, then all would fire a harmless shot, the
+Woodchuck would scramble into his den and the incident
+be closed for the day. This became as much a
+part of the day's routine as getting breakfast, and
+much more so than the washing of the dishes. Once
+or twice the old Grizzly had narrow escapes, but so far
+he was none the worse, rather the better, being wiser.
+The boys, on the other hand, gained nothing, with the
+possible exception of Guy. Always quick-sighted,
+his little washed-out optics developed a marvellous
+keenness. At first it was as often Yan or Sam who
+saw the old Grizzly, but later it was always Guy.</p>
+<p>
+One morning Sam approached the game from one
+point, Guy and Yan from another some yards away.
+"No Woodchuck!" was the first opinion, but suddenly
+Guy called "I see him." There in a little hollow
+<img src="images/sketch228.gif" width="59" height="370" alt="'scalp'" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+fully sixty yards from his den, and nearly a hundred
+from the boys, concealed in a bunch of clover, Guy
+saw a patch of gray fur hardly two inches square.
+"That's him, sure."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="430">430</a></span>
+Yan could not see it at all. Sam saw but doubted.
+An instant later the Woodchuck (for it was he) stood
+up on his hind legs, raised his chestnut breast above
+the clover, and settled all doubt.</p>
+<p>
+"By George!" exclaimed Yan in admiration.
+"<i>That is great</i>. You have the most wonderful eyes
+I ever did see. Your name ought to be 'Hawkeye'&mdash;that
+should be your name."</p>
+<p>
+"All right," shrilled out Guy enthusiastically.
+"Will you&mdash;will you, Sam, will you call me Hawkeye?
+I think you ought to," he added pleadingly.</p>
+<p>
+"I think so, Sam," said the Second Chief. "He's
+turned out great stuff, an' it's regular Injun."</p>
+<p>
+"We'll have to call a Council and settle that. Now
+let's to business."</p>
+<p>
+"Say, Sapwood, you're so smart, couldn't you go
+round through the woods to your side and crawl
+through the clover so as get between the old Grizzly
+and his den?" suggested the Head Chief.</p>
+<p>
+"I bet I can, an' I'll bet a dollar&mdash;"</p>
+<p>
+"Here, now," said Yan, "Injuns don't have dollars."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I'll bet my scalp&mdash;my black scalp, I
+mean&mdash;against Sam's that I kill the old Grizzly first."</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, let me do it first&mdash;you do it second," said
+Sam imploringly.</p>
+<p>
+"Errr&mdash;yer scared of yer scalp."</p>
+<p>
+"I'll go you," said Sam.</p>
+<p>
+Each of the boys had a piece of black horsehair
+that he called his scalp. It was tied with a string to
+the top of his head&mdash;and this was what Guy wished
+<span class="left"><a name="431">431</a></span>
+
+to wager.</p>
+<p>
+Yan now interfered: "Quit your squabbling, you
+Great War Chiefs, an' 'tend to business. If Woodpecker
+kills old Grizzly he takes Sapwood's scalp;
+if Sappy kills him he takes the Woodpecker's scalp,
+an' the winner gets a grand feather, too."</p>
+<p>
+Sam and Yan waited impatiently in the woods while
+Guy sneaked around. The Woodchuck seemed
+unusually bold this day. He wandered far from his
+den and got out of sight in hollows at times. The
+boys saw Guy crawl through the fence, though the
+Woodchuck did not. The fact was, that he had
+always had the enemy approach him from the other
+side, and was not watching eastward.</p>
+<p>
+Guy, flat on his breast, worked his way through
+the clover. He crawled about thirty yards and now
+was between the Woodchuck and his den. Still
+old Grizzly kept on stuffing himself with clover and
+watching toward the Raften woods. The boys
+became intensely excited. Guy could see them, but
+not the Woodchuck. They pointed and gesticulated.
+Guy thought that meant "Now shoot." He got
+up cautiously. The Woodchuck saw him and
+bounded straight for its den&mdash;that is, toward Guy.
+Guy fired wildly. The arrow went ten feet over
+the Grizzly's head, and, that "huge, shaking
+mass of fur" bounding straight at him, struck
+terror to his soul. He backed up hastily, not
+knowing where to run. He was close to the den.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="432">432</a></span>
+The Woodchuck chattered his teeth and plunged
+to get by the boy, each as scared as could be. Guy
+gave a leap of terror and fell heavily just as the Woodchuck
+would have passed under him and home. But
+the boy weighed nearly 100 pounds, and all that
+weight came with crushing force on old Grizzly,
+knocking the breath out of his body. Guy scrambled
+to his feet to run for his life, but he saw the Woodchuck
+lying squirming, and plucked up courage
+enough to give him a couple of kicks on the nose that
+settled him. A loud yell from the other two boys
+<img src="images/sketch229.gif" width="139" height="170" alt="Guy and the Woodchuck" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+was the first thing that assured Guy of his victory.
+They came running over and found him standing like
+the hunter in an amateur photograph, holding his
+bow in one hand and the big Woodchuck by the tail
+in the other.</p>
+<p>
+"Now, I guess you fellers will come to me to larn
+you how to kill Woodchucks. Ain't he an old
+socker? I bet he weighs fifty pounds&mdash;yes, near
+sixty." (It weighed about ten pounds.)</p>
+<p>
+"Good boy! Bully boy! Hooray for the Third
+War Chief! Hooray for Chief Sapwood!" and Guy
+had no cause to complain of lack of appreciation on the
+part of the others.</p>
+<p>
+He swelled out his chest and looked proud and
+haughty. "Wished I knew where there was some
+more Woodchucks," he said. "<i>I</i> know how to get
+them, if the rest don't."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, that should count for a <i>grand coup</i>,
+Sappy."</p>
+<span class="left"><a name="433">433</a></span><br />
+<p class="center"><img src="images/illus19a.jpg" width="640" height="446" alt="Guy gave a leap of terror and fell" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br />
+<p><span class="left"><a name="435">435</a></span>
+"You tole me you wuz goin' to call me 'Hawkeye'
+after this morning."</p>
+<p>
+"We'll have to have a Grand Council to fix that
+up," replied the Head Chief.</p>
+<p>
+"All right; let's have it this afternoon, will you?"</p>
+<p>
+"All right."</p>
+<p>
+"'Bout four o'clock?"</p>
+<p>
+"Why, yes; any time."</p>
+<p>
+"And you'll fix me up as 'Hawkeye,' and give me
+a dandy Eagle feather for killing the Woodchuck,
+at four o'clock?"</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, sure, only, why do you want it at four
+o'clock?"</p>
+<p>
+But Guy seemed not to hear, and right away after
+dinner he disappeared.</p>
+<p>
+"He's dodging the dishwashing again," suggested
+the Woodpecker.</p>
+<p>
+"No, he isn't," said the Second Chief. "I believe
+he's going to bring his folks to see him in his triumph."</p>
+<p>
+"That's so. Let's chip right in and make it an
+everlasting old blowout&mdash;kind of a new date in history.
+You'll hear me lie like sixty to help him out."</p>
+<p>
+"Good enough. I'm with you. You go and get
+your folks. I'll go after old Caleb, and we'll fix it up
+to call him 'Hawkeye' and give him his <i>grand coup</i>
+feather all at once."</p>
+<p>
+"'Feard my folks and Caleb wouldn't mix,"
+replied Sam, "but I believe for a splurge like this
+Guy'd ruther have my folks. You see, Da has the
+mortgage on their place."</p><br />
+
+
+<p><span class="left"><a name="436">436</a></span>
+So it was agreed Sam was to go for his mother,
+while Yan was to prepare the Eagle feather and
+skin the Woodchuck.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch232.gif" width="136" height="69" alt="Guy's claw necklace" border="0" align="left" hspace="15" />
+<p>
+It was not "as big as a bear," but it was a very
+large Woodchuck, and Yan was as much elated
+over the victory as any of them. He still had an
+hour or more before four o'clock, and eager to make
+Guy's triumph as Indian as possible, he cut off all
+the Woodchuck's claws, then strung them on a string,
+with a peeled and pithed Elder twig an inch long
+between each two. Some of the claws were very,
+very small, but the intention was there to make a
+Grizzly-claw necklace.</p>
+<p>
+Guy made for home as fast as he could go. His
+father hailed him as he neared the garden and evidently
+had plans of servitude, but Guy darted into
+the dining-room-living-room-bedroom-kitchen-room,
+which constituted nine-tenths of the house.</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, Maw, you just ought to seen me; you just
+want to come this afternoon&mdash;I'm the Jim Dandy
+of the hull Tribe, an they're going to make me Head
+Chief. I killed that whaling old Woodchuck that
+pooty nigh killed Paw. They couldn't do a thing
+without me&mdash;them fellers in camp. They tried an'
+tried more'n a thousand times to get that old
+Woodchuck&mdash;yes, I bet they tried a million times,
+an' I just waited till they was tired and give up,
+then I says, 'Now, I'll show you how.' First I
+had to point him out. Them fellers is no good
+to see things. Then I says, 'Now, Sam and Yan,
+you fellers stay here, an' just to show how easy
+<span class="left"><a name="437">437</a></span>
+it is when you know how, I'll leave all my bosenarrers
+behind an' go with nothing.' Wall, there
+they stood an' watched me, an' I s-n-e-a-k-e-d round
+the fence an' c-r-a-w-l-e-d in the clover just like an
+Injun till I got between him an' his hole, and then
+I hollers and he come a-snortin' an' a-chatterin' his
+teeth at me to chaw me up, for he seen I had no stick
+nor nothin', an' I never turned a hair; I kep' cool an'
+waited till jest as he was going to jump for my throat,
+then I turned and gave him one kick on the snoot that
+sent him fifty feet in the air, an' when he come down
+he was deader'n Kilsey's hen when she was stuffed
+with onions. Oh, Maw, I'm just the bully boy; they
+can't do nothin' in camp 'thout me. I had to larn
+'em to hunt Deer an' see things&mdash;an'&mdash;an'&mdash;an'&mdash;lots
+o' things, so they are goin' to make me Head
+Chief of the hull Tribe, an' call me 'Hawkeye,' too;
+that's the way the Injuns does. It's to be at four
+o'clock this afternoon, an' you got to come."</p>
+<p>
+Burns scoffed at the whole thing and told Guy to
+get to work at the potatoes, and if he left down the
+bars so that the Pig got out he'd skin him alive; he
+would have no such fooling round his place. But
+Mrs. Burns calmly informed him that <i>she</i> was going.
+It was to her much like going to see a university
+degree conferred on her boy.</p>
+<p>
+Since Burns would not assist, the difficulty of the
+children now arose. This, however, was soon settled.
+They should go along. It was two hours' toil for
+the mother to turn the four brown-limbed, nearly
+<span class="left"><a name="438">438</a></span>
+naked, dirty, happy towsle-tops into four little
+martyrs, befrocked, beribboned, becombed and be-booted.
+Then they all straggled across the field,
+Mrs. Burns carrying the baby in one arm and a pot of
+jam in the other. Guy ran ahead to show the way,
+and four-year-old, three-year-old and two-year-old,
+hand in hand, formed a diagonal line in the wake of
+the mother.</p>
+<p>
+They were just a little surprised on getting to camp
+to find Mrs. Raften and Minnie there in holiday
+clothes. Marget's first feeling was resentment, but
+her second thought was a pleasant one. That "stuck-up"
+woman, the enemy's wife, should see her boy's
+triumph, and Mrs. Burns at once seized on the chance
+to play society cat.</p>
+<p>
+"How do ye do, Mrs. Raften; hope you're well,"
+she said with a tinge of malicious pleasure and a
+grand attempt at assuming the leadership.</p>
+<p>
+"Quite well, thank you. We came down to see
+how the boys were getting on in camp."</p>
+<p>
+"They've got on very nicely <i>sense my boy j'ined
+them</i>," retorted Mrs. Burns, still fencing.</p>
+<p>
+"So I understand; the other two have become
+very fond of him," returned Mrs. Raften, seeking
+to disarm her enemy.</p>
+<p>
+This speech had its effect. Mrs. Burns aimed only
+to forestall the foe, but finding to her surprise that
+the enemy's wife was quite gentle, a truce was made,
+and by the time Mrs. Raften had petted and praised
+the four tow-tops and lauded Guy to the utmost
+<span class="left"><a name="439">439</a></span>
+the air of latent battle was replaced by one of
+cordiality.</p>
+<p>
+The boys now had everything ready for the grand
+ceremony. On the Calfskin rug at one end was the
+Council; Guy, seated on the skin of the Woodchuck
+and nearly hiding it from view, Sam on his left hand and
+Yan with the drum, on his right. In the middle the
+Council fire blazed. To give air, the teepee cover
+was raised on the shady side and the circle of visitors
+was partly in the teepee and partly out.</p>
+<p>
+The Great War Chief first lighted the peace pipe,
+puffed for a minute, then blew off the four smokes
+to the four winds and handed it to the Second and
+Third War Chiefs, who did the same.</p>
+<p>
+Little Beaver gave three thumps on the drum for
+silence, and the Great Woodpecker rose up:</p>
+<p>
+"Big Chiefs, Little Chiefs, Braves, Warriors, Councillors,
+Squaws, and Papooses of the Sanger Indians:
+When our Tribe was at war with them&mdash;them&mdash;them&mdash;other
+Injuns&mdash;them Birchbarks, we took prisoner
+one of their warriors and tortured him to death two
+or three times, and he showed such unusual stuff that
+we took him into our Tribe&mdash;"</p>
+<p>
+Loud cries of "How&mdash;How&mdash;How," led by Yan.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch233.gif" alt="Yan with drum" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="154" height="266" border="0" />
+<p>
+"We gave a sun-dance for his benefit, but he didn't
+brown&mdash;seemed too green&mdash;so we called him Sapwood.
+From that time he has fought his way up from the
+ranks and got to be Third War Chief&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>
+"How&mdash;How&mdash;How."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="440">440</a></span>
+"The other day the hull Tribe j'ined to attack an'
+capture a big Grizzly and was licked bad, when the
+War Chief Sapwood came to the rescue an' settled
+the owld baste with one kick on the snoot. Deeds
+like this is touching. A feller that kin kick like that
+didn't orter be called Sapwood nor Saphead nor
+Sapanything. No, sirree! It ain't right. He's the
+littlest Warrior among the War Chiefs, but he kin
+see farder an' do it oftener an' better than his betters.
+He kin see round a corner or through a tree. 'Cept
+maybe at night, he's the swell seer of the outfit, an'
+the Council has voted to call him 'Hawkeye.'"</p><br />
+<img src="images/sketch234.gif" width="151" height="63" alt="Guy's 'coup de grace'" border="0" align="left" hspace="15" />
+<p>
+"How&mdash;How&mdash;How&mdash;How&mdash;How&mdash;"</p>
+<p class="indent">
+Here Little Beaver handed the Head War Chief
+a flat white stick on which was written in large letters
+"Sapwood."</p><br />
+<p><img src="images/sketch235.gif" width="59" height="256" alt="Guy's Grand coup feather" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+"Here's the name he went by before he was great
+an' famous, an' this is the last of it." The Chief put
+the stick in the fire, saying, "Now let us see if you're
+too green to burn." Little Beaver then handed Woodpecker
+a fine Eagle feather, red-tufted, and bearing
+in outline a man with a Hawk's head and an arrow
+from his eye. "This here's a swagger Eagle feather
+for the brave deed he done, and tells about him being
+Hawkeye, too" (the feather was stuck in Guy's hair
+and the claw necklace put about his neck amid
+loud cries of "How&mdash;How&mdash;" and thumps of the
+drum), "and after this, any feller that calls him
+Sapwood has to double up and give Hawkeye a
+free kick."</p>
+<img src="images/sketch236.gif" width="162" height="86" align="right" hspace="10" alt="any feller that calls him Sapwood has to double up and give Hawkeye a free kick" border="0" />
+<p><span class="left"><a name="441">441</a></span>
+There was a great chorus of "How&mdash;How." Guy
+tried hard to look dignified and not grin, but it got
+beyond him. He was smiling right across and half
+way round. His mother beamed with pride till her
+eyes got moist and overflowed.</p>
+<p>
+Every one thought the ceremony was over, but
+Yan stood up and began: "There is something
+that has been forgotten, Chiefs, Squaws and Pappooses
+of the Sanger Nation: When we went out
+after this Grizzly I was witness to a bargain between
+two of the War Chiefs. According to a custom of
+our Tribe, they bet their scalps, each that he would
+be the one to kill the Grizzly. The Head Chief
+Woodpecker was one and Hawkeye was the other.
+Hawkeye, you can help yourself to Woodpecker's
+scalp."</p>
+<img src="images/sketch237.gif" width="167" height="139" alt="the end of'Sapwood'" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+<p>
+Sam had forgotten about this, but he bowed his
+head. Guy cut the string, and holding up the scalp,
+he uttered a loud, horrible war-whoop which every
+one helped with some sort of noise. It was the
+crowning event. Mrs. Burns actually wept for joy
+to see her heroic boy properly recognized at last.</p>
+<p>
+Then she went over to Sam and said, "Did you
+bring your folks here to see my boy get praised?"</p>
+<p>
+Sam nodded and twinkled an eye.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I don't care who ye are, Raften or no
+Raften, you got a good heart, an' it's in the right
+place. I never did hold with them as says 'There
+ain't no good in a Raften.' I always hold there's
+some good in every human. I know your Paw <i>did</i>
+buy the mortgage on our place, but I never did
+<span class="left"><a name="442">442</a></span>
+believe your Maw stole our Geese, <i>an' I never will</i>,
+an' next time I hear them runnin' on the Raftens
+I'll jest open out an' tell what I know."</p>
+<p class="center"><img src="images/sketch238.gif" width="491" height="223" alt="The picture on the Teepee Lining, to record Guy's Exploit" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+<span class="left"><a name="443">443</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3XXII">XXII</a></h3>
+<h3>The Coon Hunt</h3>
+
+<p>
+Yan did not forget the proposed Coon hunt&mdash;in
+fact, he was most impatient for it, and within
+two days the boys came to Caleb about sundown
+and reminded him of his promise. It was a sultry
+night, but Yan was sure it was just right for a Coon
+hunt, and his enthusiasm carried all before it. Caleb
+was quietly amused at the "<i>cool night</i>" selected, but
+reckoned it would be "better later."</p>
+<p>
+"Set down&mdash;set down, boys," he said, seeing them
+standing ready for an immediate start. "There's
+no hurry. Coons won't be running for three or four
+hours after sundown."</p>
+<p>
+So he sat and smoked, while Sam vainly tried
+to get acquainted with old Turk; Yan made notes
+on some bird wings nailed to the wall, and Guy
+got out the latest improved edition of his exploits
+in Deer-hunting and Woodchuck killing, as well as
+enlarged on his plans for gloriously routing any Coon
+they might encounter.</p>
+<p>
+By insisting that it would take an hour to get
+to the place, Yan got them started at nine o'clock,
+Caleb, on a suggestion from Guy, carrying a small
+axe. Keeping old Turk well in hand, they took the
+highway, and for half an hour tramped on toward
+the "Corners." Led by Sam, they climbed a fence
+<span class="left"><a name="444">444</a></span>
+crossed a potato field, and reached the corn patch
+by the stream.</p>
+<p>
+"Go ahead, Turk. Sic him! Sic him! Sic him!"
+and the company sat in a row on the fence to await
+developments.</p>
+<p>
+Turk was somewhat of a character. He hunted
+what he pleased and when he pleased. His master
+could bring him on the Coon grounds, but he couldn't
+make him hunt Coon nor anything else unless it
+suited his own fancy. Caleb had warned the boys to
+be still, and they sat along the fence in dead silence,
+awaiting the summons from the old Hound. He
+had gone off beating and sniffing among the cornstalks.
+His steps sounded very loud and his sniffs
+like puffs of steam. It was a time of tense attention;
+but the Hound wandered, farther away, and even his
+noisy steps were lost.</p>
+<p>
+They had sat for two long minutes, when a
+low yelp from a distant part of the field, then a
+loud "<i>bow-wow"</i> from the Hound, set Yan's heart
+jumping.</p>
+<p>
+"Game afoot," said Sam in a low voice.</p>
+<p>
+"Bet I heered him first," piped Guy.</p>
+<p>
+Yan's first thought was to rush pell-mell after
+the Dog. He had often read of the hunt following
+furiously the baying of the Hounds, but Caleb
+restrained him.</p>
+<p>
+"Hold on, boy; plenty of time. Don't know yet
+what it is."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="445">445</a></span>
+For Turk, like most frontier Hounds, would run
+almost any trail&mdash;had even been accused of running
+on his own&mdash;and it rested with those who knew him
+best to discover from his peculiar style of tonguing
+just what the game might be. But they waited
+long and patiently without getting another bay
+from the Hound. Presently a rustling was heard
+and Turk came up to his master and lay down
+at his feet.</p>
+<p>
+"Go ahead, Turk, put him up," but the Dog
+stirred not. "Go ahead," and Caleb gave him a rap
+with a small stick. The Dog dodged away, but
+lay down again, panting.</p>
+<p>
+"What was it, Mr. Clark?" demanded Yan.</p>
+<p>
+"Don't hardly know. Maybe he only spiked
+himself on a snag. But this is sure; there's no Coons
+here to-night. There won't be after this. We come
+too early, and it's too hot for the Dog, anyway."</p>
+<p>
+"We could cross the creek and go into Boyle's
+bush," suggested the Woodpecker. "We're like
+to strike anything there. Larry de Neuville swears
+<img src="images/sketch239a.gif" width="138" height="268" alt="Larry de Neuville swears he saw a Unicorn" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+he saw a Unicorn there the night he came back
+from Garney's wake."</p>
+<p>
+"How can you tell the kind of game by the Dog's
+barking?" asked Yan.</p>
+<p>
+"H-m!" answered Caleb, as he put a fresh quid
+in his lantern jaw. "You surely can if you know
+the country an' the game an' the Dog. Course, no
+two Dogs is alike; you got to study your Dog, an'
+if he's good he'll larn you lots about trailing."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="446">446</a></span>
+The brook was nearly dry now, so they crossed
+where they would. Then feeling their way through
+the dark woods with eyes for the most part closed,
+they groped toward Boyle's open field, then across
+it to the heavy timber. Turk had left them at the
+brook, and, following its course till he came to a pool,
+had had a bath. As they entered the timber
+tract he joined them, dripping wet and ready for
+business.</p>
+<p>
+"Go ahead, Turk," and again all sat down to
+await the opinion of the expert.</p>
+<p>
+It came quickly. The old Hound, after circling
+about in a way that seemed to prove him independent
+of daylight, began to sniff loudly, and gave
+a low whine. He followed a little farther, and now
+his tail was heard to '<i>tap, tap, tap</i>' the brush as he
+went through a dry thicket.</p>
+<p>
+"Hear that? He's got something this time," said
+Caleb in a low voice. "Wait a little."</p>
+<p>
+The Hound was already working out a puzzle,
+and when at last he got far enough to be sure, he
+gave a short bark. There was another spell of
+<img src="images/sketch240b.gif" width="180" height="240" alt="the Dog half-way in a hole under a stump" border="0" align="left" hspace="15" />
+sniffing, then another bark, then several little barks
+at intervals, and at last a short bay; then the baying
+recommenced, but was irregular and not full-chested.
+The sounds told that the Hound was running in a
+circle about the forest, but at length ceased moving,
+for all the barking was at one place. When the
+hunters got there they found the Dog half-way in a
+hole under a stump, barking and scratching.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="447">447</a></span>
+"Humph," said Caleb; "nothing but a Cottontail.
+Might 'a' knowed that by the light scent an'
+the circling without treeing."</p>
+<p>
+So Turk was called off and the company groped
+through the inky woods in quest of more adventures.</p>
+<p>
+"There's a kind of swampy pond down the lower
+end of the bush&mdash;a likely place for Coons on a Frog-hunt,"
+suggested the Woodpecker.</p><br />
+<p>
+So the Hound was again "turned on" near the
+pond. The dry woods were poor for scent, but the
+damp margin of the marsh proved good, and Turk
+became keenly interested and very sniffy. A preliminary
+"<i>Woof!</i>" was followed by one or two yelps
+and then a full-chested "<i>Boooow!"</i> that left no doubt
+he had struck a hot trail at last. Oh, what wonderfully
+thrilling horn-blasts those were! Yan for the
+first time realized the power of the "full cry," whose
+praises are so often sung.</p>
+<p>
+The hunters sat down to await the result, for, as
+Caleb pointed out, there was "no saying where the
+critter might run."</p>
+<p>
+The Hound bayed his fullest, roundest notes at
+quick intervals, but did not circle. The sound of
+his voice told them that the chase was straight
+away, out of the woods, easterly across an open field,
+and at a hot pace, with regular, full bellowing, unbroken
+by turn or doubt.</p>
+<p>
+"I believe he's after the old Callaghan Fox," said
+the Trapper. "They've tried it together before now,
+an' there ain't anything but a Fox will run so
+straight and fetch such a tune out of Turk."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="448">448</a></span>
+The baying finally was lost in the distance, probably
+a mile away, but there was nothing for it but
+to wait. If Turk had been a full-bred and trained
+Foxhound he would have stuck to that trail all night,
+but in half an hour he returned, puffing and hot, to
+throw himself into the shallow pond.</p>
+<p>
+"Everything scared away now," remarked Caleb.
+"We might try the other side of the pond." Once
+or twice the dog became interested, but decided that
+there was nothing in it, and returned to pant by his
+master's feet.</p>
+<p>
+They had now travelled so far toward home that
+a very short cut across fields would bring them into
+their own woods.
+<img src="images/sketch241a.gif" width="180" height="286" alt="The moon arose..." border="0" align="left" hspace="15" />
+</p>
+<p>
+The moon arose as they got there, and after their
+long groping in the murky darkness this made the
+night seem very bright and clear.</p>
+<p>
+They had crossed the brook below Granny de
+Neuville's, and were following the old timber trail
+that went near the stream, when Turk stopped to
+sniff, ran back and forth two or three times, then
+stirred the echoes with a full-toned bugle blast and
+led toward the water.</p>
+<p>
+"<i>Bow&mdash;bow&mdash;bow&mdash;bow</i>," he bawled for forty
+yards and came to a stop. The baying was exactly
+the same that he gave on the Fox trail, but the
+course of the animal was crooked, and now there
+was a break.</p>
+<p>
+They could hear the dog beating about close at
+hand and far away, but silent so far as tongue was
+concerned.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="449">449</a></span>
+"What is it, Caleb?" said Sam with calm assurance,
+forgetting how recent was their acquaintance.</p>
+<p>
+"Dunno," was the short reply.</p>
+<p>
+"'Tisn't a Fox, is it?" asked Yan.</p>
+<p>
+But a sudden renewal of "<i>Bow&mdash;bow&mdash;bow&mdash;</i>"
+from the Hound one hundred yards away, at the
+fence, ended all discussion. The dog had the hot
+trail again. The break had been along the line of a
+fence that showed, as Caleb said, "It was a Coon,
+'cept it might be some old house Cat maybe; them
+was the only things that would run along top of a
+fence in the night time."</p>
+<p>
+It was easy to follow now; the moonlight was good,
+and the baying of the Hound was loud and regular.
+It led right down the creek, crossing several pools
+and swamps.</p>
+<p><img src="images/sketch242.gif" alt="The Hound was barking and leaping against a big Basswood" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="200" height="362" border="0" />
+"That settles it," remarked the Trapper decisively.
+"Cats don't take to the water. That's a Coon," and
+as they hurried they heard a sudden change in the
+dog's note, no longer a deep rich '<i>B-o-o-w-w</i>.' It
+became an outrageous clamour of mingled yelps,
+growls and barks.</p>
+<p>
+"Ha&mdash;heh. That means he's right on it. That is
+what he does when he <i>sees</i> the critter."</p>
+<p>
+But the "view halloo" was quickly dropped and
+the tonguing of the dog was now in short, high-pitched
+yelps <i>at one place</i>.</p>
+<p>
+"Jest so! He's treed! That's a Coon, all right!"
+and Caleb led straight for the place.</p>
+<p>
+The Hound was barking and leaping against a
+big Basswood, and Caleb's comment was: "Hm,
+<span class="left"><a name="450">450</a></span>
+never knowed a Coon to do any other way&mdash;always
+gets up the highest and tarnalest tree to climb in the
+hull bush. Now who's the best climber here?"</p>
+<p>
+"Yan is," volunteered Sam.</p>
+<p>
+"Kin ye do it, Yan?"</p>
+<p>
+"I'll try."</p>
+<p>
+"Guess we'll make a fire first and see if we can't
+see him," said the Woodpecker.</p>
+<p>
+"If it was a Woodchuck I'd soon get him for you,"
+chimed in Hawkeye, but no one heeded.</p>
+<p>
+Sam and Yan gathered stuff and soon had a flood
+of flickering red light on all the surrounding trees.
+They scanned the big Basswood without getting
+sight of their quarry. Caleb took a torch and
+found on the bark some fresh mud. By going
+back on the trail to where it had crossed the
+brook they found the footprint&mdash;undoubtedly that
+of a large Coon.</p>
+<p>
+"Reckon he's in some hollow; he's surely up that
+tree, and Basswood's are always hollow."</p>
+<p>
+Yan now looked at the large trunk in doubt as to
+whether he could manage it.</p>
+<p>
+Caleb remarked his perplexity and said: "Yes;
+that's so. You ain't fifteen foot spread across the
+wings, are you? But hold on&mdash;"</p>
+<p>
+He walked to a tall thin tree near at hand, cut
+it through with the axe in a few minutes, and threw
+it so as to rest against the lowest branch of the big
+Basswood. Up this Yan easily swarmed, carrying
+a stout Elm stick tied behind. When he got to the
+<span class="left"><a name="451">451</a></span>
+great Basswood he felt lost in the green mass, but
+the boys below carried torches so as to shed light on
+each part in turn. At first Yan found neither hole
+in the trunk nor Coon, but after long search in the
+upper branches he saw a great ball of fur on a high
+crotch and in it two glowing eyes that gave him a
+thrill. He yelled: "Here he is! Look out below."
+He climbed up nearer and tried to push the Coon off,
+but it braced itself firmly and defied him until he
+climbed above it, when it leaped and scrambled to a
+lower branch.</p>
+<p>
+Yan followed it, while his companions below got
+greatly excited, as they could see nothing, and only
+judged by the growling and snarling that Yan and
+the Coon were fighting. After another passage at
+<img src="images/sketch243.gif" alt="Yan's way up" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="210" height="357" border="0" />
+arms the Coon left the second crotch and scrambled
+down the trunk till it reached the leaning sapling,
+and there perched, glaring at the hunters below.
+The old Hound raised a howl when he saw the
+quarry, and Caleb, stepping to one side, drew his
+revolver and fired. The Coon fell dead into their
+midst. Turk sprang to do battle, but he was not
+needed, and Caleb fondly and proudly wiped the old
+white pistol as though it alone were to be thanked
+for the clever shot.</p>
+<p>
+Yan came down quickly, though he found it harder
+to get down than up. He hurried excitedly into the
+ring and stroked the Coon with a mixture of feelings&mdash;admiring
+its fur&mdash;sorry, after all, that it was
+killed, and triumphant that he had led the way.
+<span class="left"><a name="452">452</a></span>
+<i>It was his Coon</i>, and all admitted that. Sam
+"hefted" it by one leg and said, "Weighs thirty
+pounds, I bet."</p>
+<p>
+Guy said: "Pooh! Tain't half as big as that
+there big Woodchuck I killed, an' you never would
+have got him if I hadn't thought of the axe."</p>
+<p>
+Yan thought it would weigh thirty-five pounds.
+Caleb guessed it at twenty-five (and afterward they
+found out that it barely weighed eighteen). While
+they were thus talking the Dog broke into an angry
+barking such as he gave for strangers&mdash;his "human
+voice," Caleb called it&mdash;and at once there stepped
+into the circle William Raften. He had seen the
+lights in the woods, and, dreading a fire at this dry
+season, had dressed and come out.</p>
+<p>
+"Hello, Da; why ain't you in bed, where you
+ought to be?"</p>
+<p>
+Raften took no notice of his son, but said sneeringly
+to Caleb: "Ye ain't out trying to get another shot at
+me, air ye?" 'Tain't worth your while; I hain't got
+no cash on me to-night."
+<img src="images/sketch245a.gif" width="180" height="232" alt="Raften" border="0" align="left" hspace="15" />
+</p>
+<p>
+"Now see here, Da," said Sam, interrupting before
+Caleb could answer, "you don't play fair. I know,
+an' you ought to know, that's all rot about Caleb
+shooting at you. If he had, he'd 'a' got you sure.
+I've seen him shoot."</p>
+<p>
+"Not when he was drunk."</p>
+<p>
+"Last time I was drunk we was in it together,"
+said Caleb fiercely, finding his voice.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="453">453</a></span>
+"Purty good for a man as swore he had no revolver,"
+and Raften pointed to Caleb's weapon. "I seen you
+with that ten years ago. An' sure I'm not scairt
+of you an' yer revolver," said Raften, seeing Caleb
+fingering his white pet; "an' I tell ye this. I won't
+have ye and yer Sheep-killing cur ramatacking
+through my woods an' making fires this dry saison."</p>
+<p>
+"D&mdash;&mdash; you, Raften, I've stood all I'm goin' to
+stand from you." The revolver was out in a flash,
+and doubtless Caleb would have lived up to his
+reputation, but Sam, springing to push his father
+back, came between, and Yan clung to Caleb's
+revolver arm, while Guy got safely behind a tree.</p>
+<p>
+"Get out o' the way, you kids!" snarled Caleb.</p>
+<p>
+"By all manes," said Raften scoffingly; "now
+that he's got me unarrumed again. You dhirty
+coward! Get out av the way, bhoys, an Oi'll settle
+him," for Raften was incapable of fear, and the
+boys would have been thrust aside and trouble
+follow, but that Raften as he left the house had
+called his two hired men to follow and help fight the
+fire, and now they came on the scene. One of them
+was quite friendly with Caleb, the other neutral,
+and they succeeded in stopping hostilities for a time,
+while Sam exploded:</p>
+<p>
+"Now see here, Da, 'twould just 'a' served you right
+if you'd got a hole through you. You make me sick,
+running on Caleb. He didn't make that fire; 'twas
+me an' Yan, an' we'll put it out safe enough. You
+skinned Caleb an' he never done you no harm.
+You run on him just as Granny de Neuville done
+<span class="left"><a name="454">454</a></span>
+on you after she grabbed your groceries. You
+ought to be ashamed of yourself. Tain't square,
+an' 'tain't being a man. When you can't prove
+nothin' you ought to shut up."</p>
+<p>
+Raften was somewhat taken aback by this outburst,
+especially as he found all the company against
+him. He had often laughed at Granny de Neuville's
+active hatred against him when he had done her
+nothing but good. It never occurred to him that he
+was acting a similar part. Most men would have been
+furious at the disrespectful manner of their son,
+but Raften was as insensitive as he was uncowardly.
+His first shock of astonishment over, his only thought
+of Sam was, "Hain't he got a cheek! My! but he
+talks like a lawyer, an' he sasses right back like a
+fightin' man; belave I'll make him study law instid
+of tooth-pullin'."</p>
+<p>
+The storm was over, for Caleb's wrath was of the
+short and fierce kind, and Raften, turning away in
+moral defeat, growled: "See that ye put that fire out
+safe. Ye ought all to be in yer beds an' aslape,
+like dacint folks."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, ain't you dacint?" retorted Sam.</p>
+<p>
+Raften turned away, heeding neither that nor
+Guy's shrill attempt to interpolate some details of
+his own importance in this present hunt&mdash;"Ef it
+hadn't been for me they wouldn't had no axe along,
+Mr. Raften"&mdash;but William had disappeared.
+<img src="images/sketch247.gif" alt="Guy brought the axe" hspace="15" style="float: left" width="204" height="107" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<p>
+The boys put out the fire carefully and made
+somewhat silently for camp. Sam and Yan carried
+<span class="left"><a name="455">455</a></span>
+the Coon between them on a stick, and before they
+reached the teepee they agreed that the carcass
+weighed at least eighty pounds.</p>
+<p>
+Caleb left them, and they all turned in at once
+and slept the sleep of the tired camper.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch248.gif" alt="Sam and Yan carried the coon" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="209" height="62" border="0" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<span class="left"><a name="456">456</a></span>
+<img src="images/sketch249.gif" width="80" height="92" alt="the curious hoof-mark" align="left" border="0" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<h3><a name="3XXIII">XXIII</a></h3>
+<h3>The Banshee's Wail and the Huge Night Prowler</h3>
+
+<p>
+Next day while working on the Coon-skin Sam
+and Yan discussed thoroughly the unpleasant
+incident of the night before, but they decided
+that it would be unwise to speak of it to Caleb
+unless he should bring up the subject, and Guy was
+duly cautioned.</p>
+<p>
+That morning Yan went to the mud albums on
+one of his regular rounds and again found, first that
+curious hoof-mark that had puzzled him before, and
+down by the pond album the track of a very large
+bird&mdash;much like a Turkey track, indeed. He brought
+<img src="images/sketch250a.gif" width="120" height="121" alt="Blue Crane tracks" border="0" align="left" hspace="15" />
+Caleb to see them. The Trapper said that one was
+probably the track of a Blue Crane (Heron), and
+the other, "Well, I don't hardly know; but it looks
+to me mighty like the track of a big Buck&mdash;only
+there ain't any short of the Long Swamp, and that's
+ten miles at least. Of course, <i>when there's only out
+it ain't a track</i>; it's an accident."</p>
+<p>
+"Yes; but I've found lots of them&mdash;a trail every
+time, but not quite enough to follow."</p>
+<p>
+That night after dark, when he was coming to
+camp with the product of a "massacree," Yan heard
+a peculiar squawking, guttural sound that rose from
+the edge of the pond and increased in strength,
+<span class="left"><a name="457">457</a></span>
+drawing nearer, till it was a hideous and terrifying
+uproar. It was exactly the sound that Guy had
+provoked on that first night when he came and
+tried to frighten the camp. It passed overhead,
+and Yan saw for a moment the form of a large
+slow-flying bird.</p>
+<p>
+Next day it was Yan's turn to cook. At sunrise,
+as he went for water, he saw a large Blue Heron rise
+from the edge of the pond and fly on heavy pinions
+away over the tree-tops. It was a thrilling sight.
+The boy stood gazing after it, absolutely rapt with
+delight, and when it was gone he went to the place
+where it rose and found plenty of large tracks just
+like the one he had sketched. Unquestionably it was
+the same bird as on the night before, and the mystery
+of the Wolf with the sore throat was solved. This
+explanation seemed quite satisfactory to everybody
+but Guy. He had always maintained stoutly that
+the woods were full of Bears right after sundown.
+Where they went at other times was a mystery, but
+he "reckoned he hadn't yet run across the bird
+that could scare him&mdash;no, nor the beast, nuther."</p>
+<img src="images/sketch251.gif" width="140" height="192" alt="wolf with a sore throat" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<p>
+Caleb agreed that the grating cry must be that of
+the Blue Crane, but the screech and wail in the tree-tops
+at night he could shed no light on.</p>
+<p>
+There were many other voices of the night that
+became more or less familiar. Some of them were
+evidently birds; one was the familiar Song-Sparrow,
+and high over the tree-tops from the gloaming sky
+they often heard a prolonged sweet song. It was
+<span class="left"><a name="458">458</a></span>
+not till years afterward that Yan found out this to
+be the night-song of the Oven-bird, but he was able
+to tell them at once the cause of the startling outcry
+that happened one evening an hour after sundown.</p>
+<p>
+The Woodpecker was outside, the other two
+inside the teepee. A peculiar sound fell on his ear.
+It kept on&mdash;a succession of long whines, and getting
+stronger. As it gave no sign of ending, Sam called
+the other boys. They stood in a row there and heard
+this peculiar "<i>whine, whine, whine</i>" develop into
+a loud, harsh "<i>whow, whow, whow</i>."</p>
+<p>
+"It must be some new Heron cry," Yan whispered.</p>
+<p>
+But the sound kept on increasing till it most
+resembled the yowling of a very strong-voiced Cat,
+and still grew till each separate "<i>meow</i>" might have
+been the yell of a Panther. Then at its highest
+and loudest there was a prolonged "<i>meow"</i> and
+<img src="images/sketch252.gif" width="116" height="193" alt="the lynx" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+silence, followed finally by the sweet chant of the
+Song-sparrow.</p>
+<p>
+A great light dawned on Little Beaver. Now
+he remembered that voice in Glenyan so long ago,
+and told the others with an air of certainty:</p>
+<p>
+"Boys, that's the yelling of a Lynx," and the next
+day Caleb said that Yan was right.</p>
+<p>
+Some days later they learned that another lamb
+had been taken from the Raften flock that night.</p>
+<p>
+In the morning Yan took down the tom-tom for a
+little music and found it flat and soft.</p>
+<p>
+"Hallo," said he; "going to rain."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="459">459</a></span>
+Caleb looked up at him with an amused expression.
+"You're a reg'lar Injun. It's surely an Injun trick
+that. When the tom-tom won't sing without being
+warmed at the fire they allus says 'rain before night.'"</p>
+<p>
+The Trapper stayed late that evening. It had been
+cloudy all the afternoon, and at sundown it began to
+rain, so he was invited to supper. The shower grew
+heavier instead of ending. Caleb went out and dug
+a trench all round the teepee to catch the rain, then a
+leader to take it away. After supper they sat around
+the campfire in the teepee; the wind arose and the rain
+beat down. Yan had to go out and swing the smoke
+poles, and again his ear was greeted with <i>the screech</i>.
+He brought in an armful of wood and made the
+inside of the teepee a blaze of cheerful light. A
+high wind now came in gusts, so that the canvas
+flopped unpleasantly on the poles.</p>
+<p>
+"Where's your anchor rope?" asked the Trapper.</p>
+<p>
+Sam produced the loose end; the other was fastened
+properly to the poles above. It had never been
+used, for so far the weather had been fine; but now
+Caleb sunk a heavy stake, lashed the anchor rope
+to that, then went out and drove all the pegs a
+little deeper, and the Tribe felt safe from any ordinary
+storm.</p>
+<p>
+There was nothing to attract the old Trapper to his
+own shanty. His heirs had begun to forget that he
+needed food, and what little they did send was of
+vilest quality. The old man was as fond of human
+society as any one, and was easily persuaded now to
+stay all night, "if you can stand Guy for a bedfeller."
+So Caleb and Turk settled down for a
+<span class="left"><a name="460">460</a></span>
+comfortable evening within, while the storm raged
+without.</p>
+<p>
+"Say, don't you touch that canvas, Guy; you'll
+make it leak."</p>
+<p>
+"What, me? Oh, pshaw! How can it leak for a
+little thing like that?" and Guy slapped it again in
+bravado.</p>
+<p>
+"All right, it's on your side of the bed," and sure
+enough, within two minutes a little stream of water
+was trickling from the place he had rubbed, while
+elsewhere the canvas turned every drop.</p>
+<p>
+This is well known to all who have camped
+under canvas during a storm, and is more easily
+remembered than explained.</p>
+<p>
+The smoke hung heavy in the top of the teepee
+and kept crowding down until it became unpleasant.</p>
+<p>
+"Lift the teepee cover on the windward side, Yan.
+There, that's it&mdash;but hold on," as a great gust came
+in, driving the smoke and ashes around in whirlwinds.
+"You had ought to have a lining. Give me that canvas:
+that'll do." Taking great care not to touch the
+teepee cover, Caleb fastened the lining across three
+pole spaces so that the opening under the canvas
+was behind it. This turned the draught from their
+backs and, sending it over their heads, quickly cleared
+the teepee of smoke as well as kept off what little rain
+entered by the smoke hole.</p>
+<p>
+"It's on them linings the Injuns paint their records
+and adventures. They mostly puts their totems on
+the outside an' their records on the lining."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="461">461</a></span>
+"Bully," said Sam; "now there's a job for you.
+Little Beaver; by the time you get our adventures
+on the inside and our totems on the out I tell you
+we'll be living in splendour."</p>
+<p>
+"I think," answered Yan indirectly, "we ought
+to take Mr. Clark into the Tribe. Will you be our
+Medicine Man?" Caleb chuckled in a quiet way,
+apparently consenting. "Now I have four totems
+to paint on the outside," and this was the beginning
+of the teepee painting that Yan carried out with yellow
+clay, blue clay dried to a white, yellow clay burned
+to red, and charcoal, all ground in Coon grease and
+Pine gum, to be properly Indian. He could easily
+have gotten bright colours in oil paint, but scorned
+such White-man's truck, and doubtless the general
+effect was all the better for it.</p>
+<p>
+"Say, Caleb," piped Guy, "tell us about the
+Injuns&mdash;about their bravery. Bravery is what <i>I</i>
+like," he added with emphasis, conscious of being
+now on his own special ground. "Why, I mind the
+time that old Woodchuck was coming roaring at me&mdash;I
+bet some fellers would just 'a' been so scared&mdash;"</p>
+<img src="images/sketch253.gif" width="123" height="274" alt="the banshee" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<p>
+"<i>Hssh!</i>" said Sam.</p>
+<p>
+Caleb smoked in silence. The rain pattered on
+the teepee without; the wind heaved the cover. They
+all sat silently. Then sounded loud and clear a terrifying
+"<i>scrrrrrr&mdash;oouwurr</i>." The boys were startled&mdash;would
+have been terrified had they been outside
+or alone.</p>
+<p>
+"That's it&mdash;that's the Banshee," whispered Sam.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="462">462</a></span>
+Caleb looked up sharply.</p>
+<p>
+"What is it?" queried Yan. "We've heard it a
+dozen times, at least."</p>
+<p>
+Caleb shook his head, made no reply, but turned
+to his Dog. Turk was lying on his side by the fire,
+and at this piercing screech he had merely lifted his
+head, looked backward over his shoulder, turned his
+big sad eyes on his master, then laid down again.</p>
+<p>
+"Turk don't take no stock in it."</p>
+<p>
+"Dogs never hear a Banshee," objected Sam, "no
+more than they can see a ghost; anyway, that's what
+Granny de Neuville says." So the Dog's negative
+testimony was the reverse of comforting.</p>
+<p>
+"Hawkeye," said the Woodpecker, "you're the
+bravest one of the crowd. Don't you want to go out
+and try a shot at the Banshee? I'll lend you my
+Witch-hazel arrow. We'll give you a <i>grand coup</i>
+feather if you hit him. Go ahead, now&mdash;you know
+bravery is what <i>you</i> like."</p>
+<p>
+"Yer nothin' but a passel o' blame dumb fools,"
+was the answer, "an' I wouldn't be bothered talking
+to ye. Caleb, tell us something about the Indians."</p>
+<p>
+"What the Injuns love is bravery," said the
+Medicine Man with a twinkle in his eye, and everybody
+but Guy laughed, not very loudly, for each was
+restrained by the thought that <i>he</i> would rather not
+be called upon to show his bravery to-night.</p>
+<p>
+"I'm going to bed," said Hawkeye with unnecessary
+energy.</p>
+<p>
+"Don't forget to roost under the waterspout you
+<span class="left"><a name="463">463</a></span>
+started when you got funny," remarked the Woodpecker.</p>
+<p class="center"><img src="images/sketch254.gif" width="178" height="209" alt="the waterspout" border="0" /></p>
+<p>
+Yan soon followed Guy's example, and Sam, who
+had already learned to smoke, sat up with Caleb.
+Not a word passed between them until after Guy's
+snore and Yan's regular puffs told of sound sleep, when
+Sam, taking advantage of a long-awaited chance,
+opened out rather abruptly:</p>
+<p>
+"Say, Caleb, I ain't going to side with no man
+against Da, but I know him just about as well as he
+knows me. Da's all right; he's plumb and square,
+and way down deep he's got an awful kind heart;
+it's pretty deep, I grant you, but it's there, O.K. The
+things he does on the quiet to help folks is done on
+the quiet and ain't noticed. The things he does to
+beat folks&mdash;an' he does do plenty&mdash;is talked all over
+creation. But I know he has a wrong notion of you,
+just as you have of him, and it's got to be set right."</p>
+<p>
+Sam's good sense was always evident, and now,
+when he laid aside his buffoonery, his voice and
+manner were very impressive&mdash;more like those of a
+grown man than of a fifteen-year-old boy.</p>
+<p>
+Caleb simply grunted and went on smoking, so
+Sam continued, "I want to hear your story, then
+Ma an' me'll soon fix Da."</p>
+<p>
+The mention of "Ma" was a happy stroke. Caleb
+had known her from youth as a kind-hearted girl.
+She was all gentleness and obedience to her husband
+except in matters of what she considered right and
+wrong, and here she was immovable. She had
+always believed in Caleb, even after the row, and
+<span class="left"><a name="464">464</a></span>
+had not hesitated to make known her belief.</p>
+<p>
+"There ain't much to tell," replied Caleb bitterly.
+"He done me on that Horse-trade, an' crowded me
+on my note so I had to pay it off with oats at sixty
+cents, then he turned round and sold them within
+half an hour for seventy-five cents. We had words
+right there, an' I believe I did say I'd fix him for it.
+I left Downey's Dump early that day. He had about
+<img src="images/sketch255.gif" width="123" height="206" alt="pipe" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+$300 in his pocket&mdash;$300 of my money&mdash;the last I
+had in the world. He was too late to bank it, so was
+taking it home, when he was fired at in going through
+the 'green bush'. My tobacco pouch and some letters
+addressed to me was found there in the morning.
+Course he blamed me, but I didn't have any shootin'-iron
+then; my revolver, the white one, was stole from
+me a week before&mdash;along with them same letters, I
+expect. I consider they was put there to lay the
+blame on me, an' it was a little overdone, most folks
+would think. Well, then your Da set Dick Pogue on
+me, an' I lost my farm&mdash;that's all."</p>
+<p>
+Sam smoked gravely for awhile, then continued:</p>
+<p>
+"That's true about the note an' the oats an' the
+Horse-trade&mdash;just what Da would do; that's all in the
+game: but you're all wrong about Dick Pogue&mdash;that's
+too dirty for Da."</p>
+<p>
+"<i>You</i> may think so, but <i>I don't</i>."</p>
+<p>
+Sam made no answer, but after a minute laid his
+hand on Turk, who responded with a low growl.
+This made Caleb continue: "Down on me, down on
+my Dog. Pogue says he kills Sheep 'an' every one is
+<span class="left"><a name="465">465</a></span>
+ready to believe it. I never knowed a Hound turn
+Sheep-killer, an' I never knowed a Sheep-killer kill
+at home, an' I never knowed a Sheep-killer content
+with one each night, an' I never knowed a Sheep-killer
+leave no tracks, an' Sheep was killed again
+and again when Turk was locked up in the shanty
+with me."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, whose Dog is it does it?"</p>
+<p>
+"I don't know as it's any Dog, for part of the Sheep
+was eat each time, they say, though I never seen one
+o' them that was killed or I could tell. It's more
+likely a Fox or a Lynx than a Dog."</p>
+<p>
+There was a long silence, then outside again the
+hair-lifting screech to which the Dog paid no heed,
+although the Trapper and the boy were evidently
+startled and scared.</p>
+<p>
+They made up a blazing fire and turned in silently
+for the night.</p>
+<p>
+The rain came down steadily, and the wind swept
+by in gusts. It was the Banshee's hour, and two or
+three times, as they were dropping off, that fearful,
+quavering human wail, "like a woman in distress,"
+came from the woods to set their hearts a-jumping,
+not Caleb and Sam only, but all four.</p>
+<p>
+In the diary which Yan kept of those times each
+day was named after its event; there was Deer day,
+Skunk-and-Cat day, Blue Crane day, and this was
+noted down as the night of the Banshee's wailing.</p>
+<p>
+Caleb was up and had breakfast ready before the
+others were fully awake. They had carefully kept
+<span class="left"><a name="466">466</a></span>
+and cleaned the Coon meat, and Caleb made of it a
+"prairie pie," in which bacon, potatoes, bread, one
+<img src="images/sketch256.gif" width="96" height="321" alt="and now he's treed it" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+small onion and various scraps of food were made
+important. This, warmed up for breakfast and
+washed down with coffee, made a royal meal, and
+feasting they forgot the fears of the night.</p>
+<p>
+The rain was over, but the wind kept on. Great
+blockish clouds were tumbling across the upper sky
+Yan went out to look for tracks. He found none
+but those of raindrops.</p>
+<p>
+The day was spent chiefly about camp, making
+arrows and painting the teepee.</p>
+<p>
+Again Caleb was satisfied to sleep in the camp.
+The Banshee called once that night, and again Turk
+seemed not to hear, but half an hour later there was
+a different and much lower sound outside, a light,
+nasal "<i>wow</i>." The boys scarcely heard it, but Turk
+sprang up with bristling hair, growling, and forcing
+his way out under the door, he ran, loudly barking,
+into the woods.</p>
+<p>
+"He's after something now, all right," said his
+master; "and now he's treed it," as the Dog began
+his high-pitched yelps.</p>
+<p>
+"Good old Dog; he's treed the Banshee," and Yan
+rushed out into the darkness. The others followed,
+and they found Turk barking and scratching at a big
+leaning Beech, but could get no hint of what the
+creature up it might be like.</p>
+<p>
+"How does he usually bark for a Banshee?" asked
+the Woodpecker, but got no satisfaction, and wondering
+<span class="left"><a name="467">467</a></span>
+why Turk should bother himself so mightily over
+a little squeal and never hear that awful scream,
+they retired to camp.</p>
+<p>
+Next morning in the mud not far from the teepee
+Yan found the track of a common Cat, and shrewdly
+guessed that this was the prowler that had been heard
+and treed by the Dog; probably it was his old friend
+of the Skunk fight. The wind was still high, and
+as Yan pored over the tracks he heard for the first
+time in broad daylight the appalling screech. It
+certainly was <i>loud</i>, though less dreadful than at night,
+and peering up Yan saw <i>two large limbs that crossed
+and rubbed each other, when the right puff of wind came</i>.
+This was the Banshee that did the wailing that had
+scared them all&mdash;<i>all but the Dog</i>. His keener senses,
+unspoiled by superstition, had rightly judged the
+awful sound as the harmless scraping of two limbs
+in the high wind, but the lower, softer noise made
+by the prowling Cat he had just as truly placed and
+keenly followed up.</p>
+<p>
+Guy was the only one not convinced. He clung
+to his theory of Bears.</p>
+<p>
+Late in the night the two Chiefs were awakened
+by Guy. "Say, Sam&mdash;Sam. Yan&mdash;Yan&mdash;Yan&mdash;Yan,
+get up; that big Bear is 'round again. I told you
+there was a Bear, an' you wouldn't believe me."</p>
+<p>
+There was a loud champing sound outside, and
+occasionally growls or grumbling.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="468">468</a></span>
+"There's surely something there, Sam. I wish
+Turk and Caleb were here now."</p>
+<p><img src="images/454.gif" width="130" height="280" alt="" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+The boys opened the door a little and peered out.
+There, looming up in the dim starlight, was a huge
+black animal, picking up scraps of meat and digging
+up the tins that were buried in the garbage hole.
+All doubts were dispelled. Guy had another triumph,
+and he would have expressed his feelings to the full
+but for fear of the monster outside.</p>
+<p>
+"What had we better do?"</p>
+<p>
+"Better not shoot him with arrows. That'll only
+rile him. Guy, you blow up the coals and get a blaze."</p>
+<p>
+All was intense excitement now, "Oh, why
+haven't we got a gun!"</p>
+<p>
+"Say, Sam, while Sap&mdash;I mean Hawkeye&mdash;makes
+a blaze, let's you and me shoot with blunt arrows,
+if the Bear comes toward the teepee." So they
+arranged themselves, Guy puttering in terror at the
+fire and begging them not to shoot.</p>
+<p>
+"What's the good o' riling him? It&mdash;it&mdash;it's
+croo-oo-el."</p>
+<p>
+Sam and Yan stood with bows ready and arrows
+nocked.</p>
+<p>
+Guy was making a failure of the fire, and the Bear
+began nosing nearer, champing his teeth and grunting.
+Now the boys could see the great ears as the monster
+threw up its head.</p>
+<p>
+"Let's shoot before he gets any nearer." At
+this Guy promptly abandoned further attempts to
+make a fire and scrambled up on a cross stick that
+<span class="left"><a name="469">469</a></span>
+was high in the teepee for hanging the pot. He broke
+out into tears when he saw Sam and Yan actually
+drawing their bows.</p>
+<p>
+"He'll come in and eat us, he will."</p>
+<p>
+But the Bear was coming anyway, and having the
+two tomahawks ready, the boys let fly. At once the
+Bear wheeled and ran off, uttering the loud, unmistakable
+squeal of an old Pig&mdash;Burns's own Pig&mdash;for
+young Burns had again forgotten to put up the bars
+that crossed his trail from the homestead to the camp.</p>
+<p>
+Guy came down quickly to join in the laugh. "I
+tole you fellers not to shoot. I just believed it was
+our old Hog, an' I couldn't help crying when I thought
+how mad Paw'd be when he found out."</p>
+<p>
+"I s'pose you got up on that cross pole to see if
+Paw was coming, didn't you?"</p>
+<p>
+"No; he got up there to show how brave he was."</p>
+<p>
+This was the huge night prowler that Guy had seen,
+and in the morning one more mystery was explained,
+for careful examination of Yan's diary of the big
+Buck's track showed that it was nothing more than
+the track of Burns's old Hog. Why had Caleb and
+Raften both been mistaken? First, because it was
+a long time since they had seen a Buck track, and
+second, because this Pig happened to have a very
+unpiggy foot&mdash;one as much like that of a Buck as
+of a Hog.</p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="470">470</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3XXIV">XXIV</a></h3>
+<h3>Hawkeye Claims Another Grand Coup</h3>
+
+<p>
+"<i>Wa wa wa wa wa! Wa wa wa wa wa! Wa wa
+wa wa wa!</i>" Three times it echoed through
+the woods&mdash;a loud, triumphant cry.</p>
+<p>
+"That's Hawkeye with a big story of bravery; let's
+hide."</p>
+<p>
+So Sam and Yan scrambled quickly into the teepee,
+hid behind the lining and watched through an "arrow
+hole." Guy came proudly stepping, chin in air,
+uttering his war-whoop at intervals as he drew near,
+and carrying his coat bundled up under one arm.</p>
+<p>
+"<i>Coup! Grand coup! Wa wa wa wa!</i>" he yelled
+again and again, but looked simple and foolish when
+he found the camp apparently deserted.</p>
+<p>
+So he ceased his yells and, walking deliberately into
+the teepee, pulled out the sugar box and was stuffing
+a handful into his mouth when the other two Chiefs
+let off their wildest howls and, leaping from their
+concealment, chased him into the woods&mdash;not far, for
+Yan laughed too much, and Sam had on but one boot.</p>
+<p><img src="images/sketch258.gif" width="101" height="253" alt="the three straws" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+This was their re-gathering after a new search for
+adventures. Early in the morning, as he wiped off
+the breakfast knives by sticking them into the sod,
+the Second War Chief had suggested: "Say, boys, in
+old days Warriors would sometimes set out in different
+directions in search of adventure, then agree to meet
+<span class="left"><a name="471">471</a></span>
+at a given time. Let's do that to-day and see what
+we run across."</p>
+<p>
+"Get your straws," was Woodpecker's reply, as he
+returned from putting the scraps on the Wakan Rock.</p>
+<p>
+"No you don't," put in Hawkeye hastily; "at least,
+not unless you let me hold the straws. I know you'll
+fix it so I'll have to go home."</p>
+<p>
+"All right. You can hold the three straws; long
+one is Woodpecker&mdash;that's his head with a bit of red
+flannel to prevent mistakes; the middle-sized thin one
+is me; and the short fat one is you. Now let them
+drop. Sudden death and no try over."</p>
+<p>
+The straws fell, and the two boys gave a yell as
+Hawkeye's fate pointed straight to the Burns homestead.</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, get out; that's no good. We'll take the other
+end," he said angrily, and persisted in going the
+opposite way.</p>
+<p>
+"Now we all got to go straight till we find something,
+and meet here again when that streak of sunlight
+gets around in the teepee to that pole."</p>
+<p>
+As the sunstreak, which was their Indian clock,
+travelled just about one pole for two hours, this
+gave about four hours for adventures.</p>
+<p>
+Sam and Yan had been back some minutes, and
+now Guy, having recovered his composure, bothered
+not to wipe the stolen sugar from his lips, but broke
+out eagerly:</p>
+<p>
+"Say, fellers, I bet I'm the bully boy. I bet you I&mdash;"</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="472">472</a></span>
+"Silence!" roared Woodpecker. "You come last."</p>
+<p>
+"All right; I don't care. I bet I win over all of
+you. I bet a million dollars I do."</p>
+<p>
+"Go ahead, Chief Woodpecker-settin'-on-the-edge."</p>
+<p>
+So Sam began:</p>
+<p>
+"I pulls on my boots" [he went barefooted half
+the time]. "Oh, I tell you I know when to wear my
+boots&mdash;an' I set out following my straw line straight
+out. I don't take no back track. <i>I'm</i> not scared of
+the front trail," and he turned his little slit eyes sadly
+on Guy, "and I kep' right on, and when I came to
+the dry bed of the creek it didn't turn <i>me</i>; no, not a
+dozen rods; and I kept right till I came to a Wasp's
+nest, and I turned and went round that coz it's cruel
+to go blundering into a nest of a lot of poor innocent
+little Wasps&mdash;and I kep' on, till I heard a low
+growl, and I looked up and didn't see a thing. Then
+the growling got louder, and I seen it was a hungry
+Chipmunk roaring at me and jest getting ready to
+spring. Then when I got out my bonearrer he says
+to me, he says, as bold as brass 'Is your name
+Woodpecker?' Now that scared me, and so I told a
+lie&mdash;my very first. I says, says I. 'No,' says I. 'I'm
+Hawkeye.' Well, you should 'a seen him. He just
+turned pale; every stripe on his back faded <i>when I said
+that name</i>, and he made for a hollow log and got in.
+Now I was mad, and tried to get him out, but when
+I'd run to one end he'd run to the other, so we ran
+up and down till I had a deep-worn trail alongside
+the log, an' he had a deep-worn trail inside the log,
+an' I was figgerin' to have him wear it right through
+<span class="left"><a name="473">473</a></span>
+at the bottom so the log'd open, but all of a sudden
+I says, 'I know what to do for you.' I took off my
+boot and stuffs the leg into one end of the log. Then
+I rattles a stick at the other end and I heard him run
+into the boot. Then I squeezes in the leg and ties
+a string around it an' brings him home, me wearing
+one boot and the Chipmunk the other, and there he
+is in it now," and Sam curled up his free bunch of
+toes in graphic comment and added: "Humph! I
+s'pose you fellers thought I didn't know what I was
+about when I drawed on my long boots this morning."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I just want to see that Chipmunk an' maybe
+I'll believe you."</p>
+<p>
+"In there hunting for a loose patch," and Sam
+held up the boot.</p>
+<p>
+"Let's turn him out," suggested the Second
+Chief.</p>
+<p>
+So the string was cut and the Chipmunk scrambled
+out and away to a safer refuge.</p>
+<p>
+"Now, sonny," said Sam, as it disappeared, "don't
+tell your folks what happened you or they'll swat
+you for a liar."</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, shucks! That's no adventure. Why, I&mdash;"</p>
+<p>
+"Hold on, Hawkeye; Little Beaver next."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I don't care. I bet I&mdash;"</p>
+<p>
+Sam grabbed his knife and interrupted: "Do you
+know what Callahan's spring lamb did when it saw
+the old man gathering mint? Go ahead, Little
+Beaver."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="474">474</a></span>
+"I hadn't much of an adventure, but I went straight
+through the woods where my straw pointed and ran
+into a big dead stub. It was too old and rotten for
+Birds to use now, as well as too late in the season, so
+I got a pole and pushed it over, and I found the whole
+history of a tenement in that stub. First of all, a
+<img src="images/sketch259.gif" width="96" height="240" alt="the history of a tenement" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+Flicker had come years ago and dug put a fine big
+nesting-place, and used it maybe two or three times.
+When he was through, or maybe between seasons,
+the Chickadees made a winter den of it, for there
+were some Chickadee tail-feathers in the bottom.
+Next a Purple Blackbird came and used the hole,
+piling up a lot of roots with mud on them. Next
+year it seems it came again and made another nest
+on top of the last; then that winter the Chickadees
+again used it for a cubby-hole, for there were some
+more Chickadee feathers. Next year a Blue Jay
+found it out and nested there. I found some of her
+egg-shells among the soft stuff of the nest. Then I
+suppose a year after a pair of Sparrow-hawks happened
+on the place, found it suited them, and made
+their nest in it and hatched a brood of little Sparrow-hawks.
+Well, one day this bold robber brought
+home to his little ones a Shrew."</p><br />
+<img src="images/sketch260.gif" width="147" height="96" alt="blue jay and hawk with shrew" align="left" hspace="10" border="0" />
+<p>
+"What's that?"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, a little thing like a Mouse, only it isn't a
+Mouse at all; it is second cousin to a Mole."</p>
+<p>
+"I allus thought a Mole <i>was</i> a Mouse specie,"
+remarked Hawkeye, not satisfied with Yan's distinction.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch261.gif" width="108" height="338" alt="Section of Flicker's Nest (half of trunk cut away, to show chamber)" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<p><span class="left"><a name="475">475</a></span>
+"Oh, you!" interrupted Sam. "You'll try to make
+out the Burnses is some kin to the Raftens next."</p>
+<p>
+"I bet I won't!" and for once Guy got even.</p>
+<p>
+"Well," Yan continued, "it so happened&mdash;about
+the first time in about a million years&mdash;the little
+Hawks were not hungry just then. The Shrew
+wasn't gobbled up at once, and though wounded, it
+set to work to escape as soon as it was free of the old
+one's claws. First it hid under the little ones, then
+it began to burrow down through the feather-bed of
+the Sparrow-hawk's nest, then through the Blue
+Jay's nest, then through the soft stuff of the Blackbird's
+nest and among the old truck left by the
+Chickadees till it struck the hard mud floor of the
+Blackbird's nest, and through that it could not dig.
+Its strength gave out now, and it died there and lay
+hidden in the lowest nest of the house, till years
+after I came by and broke open the old stub and
+made it tell me a sad and mournful story&mdash;that&mdash;maybe&mdash;never
+happened at all. But there's the
+drawing I made of it at the place, showing all the
+nests just as I found them, and there's the dried up
+body of the little Shrew."</p>
+<p>
+Sam listened with intense interest, but Guy was at
+no pains to conceal his contempt. "Oh, pshaw!
+That's no adventure&mdash;just a whole lot of 's'posens'
+without a blame thing doing. Now I'll tell you
+what I done. I&mdash;"</p>
+<p>
+"Now, Hawkeye," Sam put in, "please don't be
+rough about it. Leave out the awful things: I ain't
+well to-day. You keep back the scary parts till
+<span class="left"><a name="476">476</a></span>
+to-morrow."</p>
+<p>
+"I tell you I left here and went straight as a
+die, an' I seen a Woodchuck, but he wasn't in line,
+so I says: 'No, some other day. I kin get you <i>easy</i>
+any time.' Then I seen a Hawk going off with a
+Chicken, but that was off my beat, an' I found lots o'
+old stumps an' hundreds o' Chipmunks an' wouldn't
+be bothered with them. Then I come to a farmhouse
+<img src="images/sketch262.gif" width="128" height="155" alt="Guy's claim" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+an'&mdash;an' I went around that so's not to scare the
+Dog, an' I went pretty near as far as Downey's
+Dump&mdash;yes, a little a-past it&mdash;only to one side&mdash;when
+up jumps a Partridge as big as a Turkey, an' a hull
+gang of young ones&mdash;about thirty or forty. I bet I
+seen them forty rod away, an' they all flew, but one
+that lighted on a tree as far as&mdash;oh, 'cross that field,
+anyway. I bet you fellers wouldn't 'a' seen it at all.
+Well, I jest hauled off as ca'm as ca'm an' let him
+have it. I aimed straight for his eye&mdash;an' that's
+where I hit him. <i>Now who gets a grand coup, for
+there he is</i>!" Hawkeye unrolled his coat and turned
+out a bobtailed young Robin in the speckled plumage,
+shot through the body.</p>
+<p>
+"So that's your Partridge. I call that a young
+Robin," said the First Chief with slow emphasis.
+"Rules is broke. Killed a Song-bird. Little Beaver,
+arrest the criminal."</p>
+<p>
+But Hawkeye struggled with all the ferocity
+born of his recent exploit, and had to be bound
+hand and foot while a full Council was called to try
+the case. The angry protests weakened when he
+<span class="left"><a name="477">477</a></span>
+found how serious the Councillors were. Finally
+he pleaded "guilty" and was condemned to wear
+a black feather of disgrace and a white feather for
+cowardice for three days, as well as wash the dishes
+for a week. They would also have made him cook
+for that term, but that they had had some unhappy
+experiences with some dishes of Guy's make.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I won't do it, that's all," was the prisoner's
+defiant retort. "I'll go home first."</p>
+<p>
+"And hoe the garden? Oh, yes; I think I see you."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I won't do it. You better let me 'lone."</p>
+<p>
+"Little Beaver, what do they do when an Injun
+won't obey the Council?"</p>
+<p>
+"Strip him of his honours. Do you remember
+that stick we burned with 'Sapwood' on it?"</p>
+<p>
+"Good idee. We'll burn Hawkeye for a name
+and dig up the old one"</p>
+<p>
+"No, you won't, you dirty mean Skunks! Ye
+promised me you'd never call me that again. I <i>am</i>
+Hawkeye. I kin see farder'n&mdash;n&mdash;" and he
+began to weep.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, will you obey the Council?"</p>
+<p>
+"Yes; but I won't wear no white feather&mdash;I'm
+<i>brave</i>, boohoo!"</p>
+<p><img src="images/sketch263.gif" alt="Guy dishwashing, wearing black feather" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="200" height="174" border="0" />
+"All right. We'll leave that off; but you must
+do the other punishments.</p>
+<p>
+"Will I still be Hawkeye?"</p>
+<p>
+"Yes."</p>
+<p>
+"All right. I'll do it." </p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+<img src="images/sketch264.gif" width="112" height="157" alt="the three-fingered print" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<span class="left"><a name="478">478</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3XXV">XXV</a></h3>
+<h3>The Three-Fingered Tramp</h3>
+
+<p><img src="images/sketch265.gif" width="111" height="164" alt="the three-fingered print" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: left" />
+Broad-shouldered, beetle-browed, brutal
+and lazy was Bill Hennard, son of a prosperous
+settler. He had inherited a fine farm, but he was
+as lazy as he was strong, and had soon run through his
+property and followed the usual course from laziness
+
+to crime. Bill had seen the inside of more than one
+jail. He was widely known in the adjoining township
+of Emolan; many petty thefts were traced to
+him, and it was openly stated that but for the help
+of a rich and clever confederate he would certainly be
+in the penitentiary. It was darkly hinted, further,
+that this confederate was a well-to-do Sangerite who
+had many farms and a wife and son and a little daughter,
+and his first name was William, and his second
+name Ra&mdash;&mdash; "But never mind; and don't for the
+world say I told you." Oh, it's easy to get rich&mdash;if
+you know how. Of course, these rumours never
+reached the parties chiefly concerned.</p>
+<p>
+Hennard had left Downey's Dump the evening
+before, and avoiding the roads, had struck through the
+woods, to visit his partner, with important matters
+to arrange&mdash;very important for Hennard. He was
+much fuddled when he left Downey's, the night
+was cloudy, and consequently he had wandered round and round till he was completely lost.</p>
+<span class="left"><a name="480">480</a></span>
+<p class="center"><img src="images/illus20a.jpg" width="640" height="479" alt="Well, sonny, cookin' dinner?" border="0" /></p>
+<span class="left"><a name="481">481</a></span>
+<p>He slept under a tree (a cold, miserable sleep it was), and
+in the sunless morning he set out with little certainty
+to find his "pal." After some time he stumbled
+on the trail that led him to the boys' camp. He was
+now savage with hunger and annoyance, and reckless
+with bottle assistance, for he carried a flask. No
+longer avoiding being seen, he walked up to the teepee
+just as Little Beaver was frying meat for the noonday
+meal he expected to eat alone. At the sound of
+footsteps Yan turned, supposing that one of his companions
+had come back, but there instead was a big,
+rough-looking tramp.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, sonny, cookin' dinner? I'll be glad to j'ine
+ye," he said with an unpleasant and fawning smile.</p>
+<p>
+His manner was as repulsive as it could be, though
+he kept the form of politeness.</p>
+<p>
+"Where's your folks, sonny?"</p>
+<p>
+"Haven't any&mdash;here," replied Yan, in some fear,
+remembering now the tramps of Glenyan.</p>
+<p>
+"H-m&mdash;all alone&mdash;camped all alone, are ye?"</p>
+<p>
+"The other fellers are away till the afternoon."</p>
+<p>
+"Wall, how nice. Glad to know it. I'll trouble
+you to hand me that stick," and now the tramp's
+manner changed from fawning to command, as he
+pointed to Yan's bow hanging unstrung.</p>
+<p>
+"That's my bow!" replied Yan, in fear and
+indignation.</p>
+<p>
+"I won't tell ye a second time&mdash;hand me that
+stick, or I'll spifflicate ye."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="482">482</a></span>
+Yan stood still. The desperado strode forward,
+seized the bow, and gave him two or three blows on
+the back and legs.</p>
+<p>
+"Now, you young Pup, get me my dinner, and
+be quick about it, or I'll break yer useless neck."</p>
+<p>
+Yan now realized that he had fallen into the power
+of the worst enemy of the harmless camper, and saw
+too late the folly of neglecting Raften's advice to
+have a big Dog in camp. He glanced around and
+would have run, but the tramp was too quick for
+him and grabbed him by the collar. "Oh, no you
+don't; hold on, sonny. I'll fix you so you'll do as
+you're told." He cut the bowstring from its place,
+and violently throwing Yan down, he tied his feet
+so that they had about eighteen inches' play.</p>
+<p>
+"Now rush around and get my dinner; I'm hungry.
+An' don't you spile it in the cooking or I'll use the gad
+on you; an' if you holler or cut that cord I'll kill ye.
+See that?" and he got out an ugly-looking knife.</p>
+<p>
+Tears of fear and pain ran down Yan's face as he
+limped about to obey the brute's orders.</p>
+<p>
+"Here, you move a little faster!" and the tramp
+turned from poking the fire with the bow to give
+another sounding blow. If he had looked down the
+trail he would have seen a small tow-topped figure
+that turned and scurried away at the sound.</p>
+<p>
+Yan was trained to bear punishment, but the
+tyrant seemed careless of even his life.</p>
+<p>
+"Are you going to kill me?" he burst out, after
+another attack for stumbling in his shackles.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch267.gif" width="220" height="123" alt="shackles" border="0" align="left" hspace="15" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<p><span class="left"><a name="483">483</a></span>
+"Don't know but I will when I've got through
+with ye," replied the desperado with brutal coolness.
+"I'll take some more o' that meat&mdash;an' don't you let
+it burn, neither. Where's the sugar for the coffee?
+I'll get a bigger club if ye don't look spry," and so
+the tramp was served with his meal. "Now bring
+me some tobaccer."</p>
+<p>
+Yan hobbled into the teepee and reached down
+Sam's tobacco bag.</p>
+<p>
+"Here, what's that box? Bring that out here,"
+and the tramp pointed to the box in which they
+kept some spare clothes. Yan obeyed in fear and
+trembling. "Open it."</p>
+<p>
+"I can't. It's locked, and Sam has the key."</p>
+<p>
+"He has, has he? Well, I have a key that will
+open it," and so he smashed the lid with the axe; then
+he went through the pockets, got Yan's old silver
+watch and chain, and in Sam's trousers pocket he
+got two dollars.</p>
+<p>
+"Ha! That's just what I want, sonny," and the
+tramp put them in his own pockets. "'Pears to me the
+fire needs a little wood," he remarked, as his eye fell
+on Yan's quiverful of arrows, and he gave that a
+kick that sent many of them into the blaze.
+<img src="images/sketch268.gif" width="130" height="232" alt="...arrows into the blaze" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" /></p>
+<p>
+"Now, sonny, don't look at me quite so hard, like
+you was taking notes, or I may have to cut your
+throat and put you in the swamp hole to keep ye
+from telling tales."</p>
+<p>
+Yan was truly in terror of his life now.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch269.gif" width="162" height="143" alt="the knife" border="0" align="left" hspace="15" />
+<p class="indent">
+"Bring me the whetstone," the tyrant growled, "an'
+some more coffee." Yan did so. The tramp began
+<span class="left"><a name="484">484</a></span>
+whetting his long knife, and Yan saw two things
+that stuck in his memory: first, the knife, which was
+of hunting pattern, had a brass Deer on the handle;
+second, the hand that grasped it had only three
+fingers.</p>
+<p>
+"What's that other box in there?"</p>
+<p>
+"That's&mdash;that's&mdash;only our food box."</p>
+<p>
+"You lie to me, will ye?" and again the stick
+descended. "Haul it out."</p>
+<p>
+"I can't."</p>
+<p>
+"Haul it out or I'll choke ye."</p>
+<p>
+Yan tried, but it was too heavy.</p>
+<p>
+"Get out, you useless Pup!" and the tramp walked
+into the teepee and gave Yan a push that sent him
+headlong out on the ground.</p>
+<p>
+The boy was badly bruised, but saw his only
+chance. The big knife was there. He seized it,
+cut the cord on his legs, flung the knife afar in the
+swamp and ran like a Deer. The tramp rushed
+out of the teepee yelling and cursing. Yan might have
+gotten away had he been in good shape, but the
+tramp's cruelty really had crippled him, and
+the brute was rapidly overtaking him. As he sped
+down the handiest, the south trail, he sighted in
+the trees ahead a familiar figure, and yelling with
+all his remaining strength, "Caleb! Caleb!! Caleb
+Clark!!!" he fell swooning in the grass.</p>
+<p>
+There is no mistaking the voice of dire distress.
+Caleb hurried up, and with one impulse he and the
+tramp grappled in deadly struggle. Turk was not
+<span class="left"><a name="485">485</a></span>
+with his master, and the tramp had lost his knife, so
+it was a hand-to-hand conflict. A few clinches, a
+few heavy blows, and it was easy to see who must
+win. Caleb was old and slight. The tramp, strong,
+heavy-built, and just drunk enough to be dangerous,
+was too much for him, and after a couple of rounds
+the Trapper fell writhing with a foul blow. The
+tramp felt again for his knife, swore savagely,
+looked around for a club, found only a big stone,
+and would have done no one knows what, when there
+was a yell from behind, another big man crashed
+down the trail, and the tramp faced William Raften,
+puffing and panting, with Guy close behind. The
+stone meant for Caleb he hurled at William, who
+dodged it, and now there was an even fight. Had
+the tramp had his knife it might have gone hard
+with Raften, but fist to fist the farmer had the odds.
+His old-time science turned the day, and the desperado
+went down with a crusher "straight from the
+shoulder."</p>
+<p>
+It seemed a veritable battle-field&mdash;three on the
+ground and Raften, red-faced and puffing, but sturdy
+and fearless, standing in utter perplexity.</p>
+<p>
+"Phwhat the divil does it all mane?"</p>
+<p>
+"I'll tell you, Mr. Raften," chirped in Guy, as he
+stole from his safe shelter.</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, ye're here, are ye, Guy? Go and git a rope
+at camp&mdash;quick now," as the tramp began to move.</p>
+<p>
+As soon as the rope came Raften tied the fellow's
+arms safely.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="486">486</a></span>
+"'Pears to me Oi've sane that hand befoore,"
+remarked Raften, as the three fingers caught his
+eye.</p>
+<p>
+Yan was now sitting up, gazing about in a dazed
+way. Raften went over to his old partner and said:
+"Caleb, air ye hurrt? It's me&mdash;it's Bill Raften.
+Air ye hurrt?"</p>
+<p>
+Caleb rolled his eyes and looked around.</p>
+<p>
+Yan came over now and knelt down. "Are you
+hurt, Mr. Clark?"</p>
+<p>
+He shook his head and pointed to his chest.</p>
+<p>
+"He's got his wind knocked out," Raften explained;
+"he'll be all right in a minute or two. Guy, bring
+some wather."</p>
+<p>
+Yan told his story and Guy supplied an important
+chapter. He had returned earlier than expected,
+and was near to camp, when he heard the tramp
+beating Yan. His first impulse to run home to his
+puny father was replaced with the wiser one to go
+for brawny Mr. Raften.</p>
+<p>
+The tramp was now sitting up and grumbling
+savagely.</p>
+<p>
+"Now, me foine feller," said William. "We'll
+take ye back to camp for a little visit before we take
+ye to the 'Pen.' A year in the cooler will do ye
+moore good, Oi'm thinkin', than anny other tratement.
+Here, Guy, you take the end av the rope
+and fetch the feller to camp, while I help Caleb."</p>
+<p>
+Guy was in his glory. The tramp was forced to go
+ahead; Guy followed, jerking the rope and playing
+Horse, shouting, "Ch'&mdash;ch'&mdash;ch'&mdash;get up, Horsey,"
+<span class="left"><a name="487">487</a></span>
+while William helped old Caleb with a gentleness
+that recalled a time long ago when Caleb had so
+helped him after a falling tree had nearly killed him
+in the woods.</p>
+<p>
+At camp they found Sam. He was greatly
+astonished at the procession, for he knew nothing
+of the day's events, and fearfully disappointed he
+was on learning what he had missed.</p>
+<p>
+Caleb still looked white and sick when they got
+him to the fire, and Raften said, "Sam, go home and
+get your mother to give you a little brandy."</p>
+<img src="images/sketch270.gif" width="100" height="95" alt="the brandy cup" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<p>
+"You don't need to go so far," said Yan, "for that
+fellow has a bottle in his pocket."</p>
+<p>
+"I wouldn't touch a dhrap of annything he has, let
+alone give it to a <i>sick friend</i>," was William's reply.</p>
+<p>
+So Sam went for the brandy and was back with it
+in half an hour.</p>
+<p>
+"Here now, Caleb," said William, "drink that
+now an' ye'll feel better," and as he offered the cup
+he felt a little reviving glow of sympathy for his
+former comrade.</p>
+<p>
+When Sam went home that morning it was with a
+very clear purpose. He had gone straight to his
+mother and told all he knew about the revolver and
+the misunderstanding with Caleb, and they two
+had had a long, unsatisfactory interview with the
+father. Raften was brutal and outspoken as usual.
+Mrs. Raften was calm and clear-witted. Sam was
+shrewd. The result was a complete defeat for
+William&mdash;a defeat that he would not acknowledge;
+<span class="left"><a name="488">488</a></span>
+and Sam came back to camp disappointed for the time
+being, but now to witness the very thing he had been
+striving for&mdash;his father and the Trapper reconciled;
+deadly enemies two hours ago, but now made friends
+through a fight. Though overpowered in argument,
+Raften's rancour was not abated, but rather increased
+toward the man he had evidently misused, until the
+balance was turned by the chance of his helping
+that man in a time of direst straits.</p>
+<p class="center"><img src="images/sketch271.gif" width="162" height="309" alt="...but now made friends through a fight" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="489">489</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3XXVI">XXVI</a></h3>
+<h3>Winning Back The Farm</h3>
+
+<p>
+Oh, the magic of the campfire! No unkind feeling
+long withstands its glow. For men to meet
+at the same campfire is to come closer, to
+have better understanding of each other, and to lay the
+foundations of lasting friendship. "He and I camped
+together once!" is enough to explain all cordiality
+between the men most wide apart, and Woodcraft days
+are days of memories happy, bright and lifelong.</p>
+<p>
+To sit at the same camp fireside has always been
+a sacred bond, and the scene of twenty years before
+was now renewed in the Raften woods, thanks to
+that campfire lit a month before&mdash;the sacred fire.
+How well it had been named! William and Caleb
+were camped together in good fellowship again,
+marred though it was with awkwardness as yet, but
+still good fellowship.</p>
+<p>
+Raften was a magistrate. He sent Sam with an
+order to the constable to come for the prisoner.
+Yan went to the house for provisions and to bring
+Mrs. Raften, and Guy went home with an astonishing
+account of his latest glorious doings. The tramp
+desperado was securely fastened to a tree; Caleb
+was in the teepee lying down. Raften went in for
+a few minutes, and when he came out the tramp
+was gone. His bonds were cut, not slipped. How
+<span class="left"><a name="490">490</a></span>
+could he nave gotten away without help?</p>
+<p>
+"Never mind," said Raften. "That three-fingered
+hand is aisy to follow. Caleb, ain't that Bill
+Hennard?"</p>
+<p>
+"I reckon."</p>
+<p>
+The men had a long talk. Caleb told of the loss
+of his revolver&mdash;he was still living in the house with
+the Pogues then&mdash;and of its recovery. They both
+remembered that Hennard was close by at the time
+of the quarrel over the Horse-trade. There was
+much that explained itself and much of mystery
+that remained.</p>
+<p>
+But one thing was clear. Caleb had been tricked
+out of everything he had in the world, for it was
+just a question of days now before Pogue would, in
+spite of Saryann, throw off all pretense and order
+Caleb from the place to shift for himself.</p>
+<p>
+Raften sat a long time thinking, then said:</p>
+<p>
+"Caleb, you do exactly as Oi tell ye and ye'll get
+yer farrum back. First, Oi'll lend ye wan thousand
+dollars for wan week."</p>
+<p>
+<i>A thousand dollars!!!</i> Caleb's eyes opened, and
+what was next he did not then learn, for the boys
+came back and interrupted, but later the old Trapper
+was fully instructed.</p>
+<p>
+When Mrs. Raften heard of it she was thunderstruck.
+A thousand dollars in Sanger was like one
+hundred thousand dollars in a big city. It was
+untold wealth, and Mrs. Raften fairly gasped.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch272.gif" alt="A thousand dollars in Sanger was like one hundred thousand dollars in a big city" hspace="15" style="float: left" width="159" height="124" border="0" />
+
+<p><span class="left"><a name="491">491</a></span>
+"A thousand dollars, William! Why! isn't that a
+heavy strain to put on the honesty of a man who
+thinks still that he has some claim on you? Is it safe
+to risk it?"</p>
+<p>
+"Pooh!" said William. "Oi'm no money-lender,
+nor spring gosling nayther. Thayer's the money
+Oi'll lend him," and Raften produced a roll of counterfeit
+bills that he as magistrate had happened to have
+in temporary custody. "Thayer's maybe five hundred
+or six hundred dollars, but it's near enough."</p>
+<p>
+Caleb, however, was allowed to think it real
+money, and fully prepared, he called at his own&mdash;the
+Pogue house&mdash;the next day, knocked, and
+walked in.</p>
+<p>
+"Good morning, father," said Saryann, for she
+had some decency and kindness.</p>
+<p>
+"What do you want here?" said Dick savagely;
+"bad enough to have you on the place, without
+forcing yerself on us day and night."</p>
+<p>
+"Hush now, Dick; you forget&mdash;"</p>
+<p>
+"Forget&mdash;I don't forget nothin'," retorted Dick,
+interrupting his wife. "He had to help with the
+chores an' work, an' he don't do a thing and expects
+to live on me."</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, well, you won't have me long to bother you,"
+said Caleb sadly, as he tottered to a chair. His face
+was white and he looked sick and shaky.</p>
+<p>
+"What's the matter, father?"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, I'm pretty bad. I won't last much longer
+You'll be quit o' me before many days."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="492">492</a></span>
+"Big loss!" grumbled Dick.</p>
+<p>
+"I&mdash;I give you my farm an' everything I had&mdash;"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, shut up. I'm sick of hearing about it."</p>
+<p>
+"At least&mdash;'most&mdash;everything. I&mdash;I&mdash;I&mdash;didn't
+say nothing about a little wad o'&mdash;o'&mdash;bills I had
+stored away. I&mdash;I&mdash;" and the old man trembled
+violently&mdash;"I'm so cold."</p>
+<p>
+"Dick, do make a fire," said his wife.</p>
+<p>
+"I won't do no sich fool trick. It's roastin' hot
+now."</p>
+<p>
+"'Tain't much," went on the trembling old man,
+"only fif&mdash;fif&mdash;teen hundred&mdash;dollars. I got it here
+now," and he drew out the roll of greenbacks.</p>
+<p>
+<i>FIFTEEN HUNDRED DOLLARS!</i> Twice as
+much as the whole farm and stock were worth!
+Dick's eyes fairly popped out, and Caleb was careful
+to show also the handle of the white revolver.</p>
+<p>
+"Why, father," exclaimed Saryann, "you are ill:
+Let me go get you some brandy. Dick, make a fire.
+Father is cold as ice."</p>
+<p>
+"Yes&mdash;please&mdash;fire&mdash;I'm all of&mdash;a&mdash;tremble&mdash;with
+&mdash;cold."</p>
+<p>
+Dick rushed around now and soon the big fire
+place was filled with blaze and the room unpleasantly
+warm.</p>
+<p><img src="images/sketch273.gif" alt="Quinine" style="float: left" width="178" height="166" border="0" />
+"Here, father, have some brandy and water,"
+said Dick, in a very different tone. "Would you like
+a little quinine?"</p>
+<p>
+"No, no&mdash;I'm better now; but I was saying&mdash;I
+only got a few days to live, an' having no legal kin&mdash;
+this here wad'd go to the gover'ment, but I spoke
+<span class="left"><a name="493">493</a></span>
+to the lawyer, an' all I need do&mdash;is&mdash;add&mdash;a word
+to the deed o' gift&mdash;for the farm&mdash;to include
+this&mdash;an' it's very right you should have it, too." Old
+Caleb shook from head to foot and coughed terribly.</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, father, let me send for the doctor," pleaded
+Saryann, and Dick added feebly, "Yes, father, let
+me go for the doctor."</p>
+<p>
+"No, no; never mind. It don't matter. I'll
+be better off soon. Have you the deed o' gift here?"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, yes, Dick has it in his chest." Dick ran to
+get the deed, for these were the days before registration
+in Canada; possession of the deed was possession
+of the farm, and to lose the deed was to lose
+the land.</p>
+<p>
+The old man tremblingly fumbled over the money,
+seeming to count it&mdash;"Yes&mdash;just&mdash;fif-teen hun'erd,"
+as Dick came clumping down the ladder with the
+deed.</p>
+<p>
+"Have you got a&mdash;pen&mdash;and ink&mdash;"</p>
+<p>
+Dick went for the dried-up ink bottle while Saryann
+hunted for <i>the</i> pen. Caleb's hand trembled violently
+as he took the parchment, glanced carefully
+over it&mdash;yes, this was it&mdash;the thing that had made
+him a despised pauper. He glanced around quickly.
+Dick and Saryann were at the other end of the room.
+He rose, took one step forward and stuffed the deed
+into the blazing fire. Holding his revolver in his right
+hand and the poker in the left, he stood erect and firm,
+all sign of weakness gone; his eyes were ablaze, and
+with voice of stern command he hissed "<i>Stand back!</i>"
+<span class="left"><a name="494">494</a></span>
+And pointed the pistol as he saw Dick rushing to
+rescue the deed. In a few seconds it was wholly
+consumed, and with that, as all knew, the last claim
+of the Pogues on the property, for Caleb's own possessory
+was safe in a vault at Downey's.</p>
+<p>
+"Now," thundered Caleb, "you dirty paupers,
+get out of my house! Get off my land, and don't
+you dare touch a thing belonging to me."</p>
+<p>
+He raised his voice in a long "halloo" and rapped
+three times on the table. Steps were heard outside.
+Then in came Raften with two men.</p>
+<p>
+"Magistrate Raften, clear my house of them interlopers,
+if ye please."</p>
+<p>
+Caleb gave them a few minutes to gather up their
+own clothes, then they set out on foot for Downey's,
+wild with helpless rage, penniless wanderers in the
+world, as they had meant to leave old Caleb.</p>
+<p>
+Now he was in possession of his own again, once
+more comfortably "fixed." After the men had had
+their rough congratulations and uproarious laughter
+over the success of the trick, Raften led up to the
+question of money, then left a blank, wondering
+what Caleb would do. The good old soul pulled
+out the wad.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch274.gif" width="148" height="203" alt="In a few seconds it was wholly consumed" border="0" align="left" hspace="15" />
+<p class="indent">
+"There it is, Bill. I hain't even counted it, and
+a thousand times obliged. If ever you need a
+friend, call on me."</p>
+<p>
+<img src="images/sketch275.gif" width="138" height="207" alt="masks" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+Raften chuckled, counted the greenbacks and
+said "All right!" and to this day Caleb doesn't know
+that the fortune he held in his hand that day was
+<span class="left"><a name="495">495</a></span>
+nothing but a lot of worthless paper.</p>
+<p>
+A week later, as the old Trapper sat alone getting
+his evening meal, there was a light rap at the door.</p>
+<p>
+"Come in."</p>
+<p>
+A woman entered. Turk had sprung up growling,
+but now wagged his tail, and when she lifted a veil
+Caleb recognized Saryann.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch276.gif" width="71" height="105" alt="mask" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<p>
+"What do you want?" he demanded savagely.</p>
+<p>
+"'Twasn't my doing, father; you know it wasn't;
+and now he's left me for good." She told him
+her sorrowful story briefly. Dick had not
+courted Saryann, but the farm, and now that that
+was gone he had no further use for her. He had
+been leading a bad life, "far worse than any one
+knew," and now he had plainly told her he was done
+with her.</p>
+<p>
+Caleb's hot anger never lasted more than five
+minutes. He must have felt that her story was true,
+for the order of former days was reestablished, and
+with Saryann for housekeeper the old man had a
+comfortable home to the end of his days.</p>
+<p>
+Pogue disappeared; folks say he went to the States.
+The three-fingered tramp never turned up again, and
+about this time the serious robberies in the region
+ceased. Three years afterward they learned that
+two burglars had been shot while escaping from an
+American penitentiary. One of them was undoubtedly
+Dick Pogue, and the other was described as a
+big dark man with three fingers on the right hand.</p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="496">496</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3XXVII">XXVII</a></h3>
+<h3>The Rival Tribe</h3>
+
+<p>
+The winning back of the farm, according to Sanger
+custom must be celebrated in a "sociable" that
+took the particular form of a grand house-warming,
+in which the Raftens, Burnses and Boyles
+were fully represented, as Char-less was Caleb's fast
+friend. The Injun band was very prominent, for
+Caleb saw that it was entirely owing to the meetings
+at the camp that the glad event had come about.</p>
+<p>
+Caleb acted as go-between for Char-less Boyle and
+William Raften, and their feud was forgotten&mdash;for
+the time at least&mdash;as they related stories of their
+early hunting days, to the delight of Yan and the
+Tribe. There were four other boys there whom
+Little Beaver met for the first time. They were
+Wesley Boyle, a dark-skinned, low-browed, active
+boy of Sam's age; his brother Peter, about twelve,
+fair, fat and freckled, and with a marvellous squint;
+and their cousin Char-less Boyle, Jr., good-natured,
+giggly, and of spongy character; also Cyrus Digby,
+a smart city boy, who was visiting "the folks," and
+who usually appeared in white cuffs and very
+high stand-up collar. These boys were greatly
+interested in the Sanger Indian camp, and one
+outcome of the meeting at Caleb's was the formation
+of another Tribe of Indians, composed of the three
+<span class="left"><a name="497">497</a></span>
+Boyle boys and their town friend.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch277.gif" width="82" height="160" alt="Blackhawk" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<p>
+Since most of these were Boyles and the hunting-ground
+was the Boyles woods about that marshy pond,
+and especially because they had read of a band of
+Indians named Boilers or Stoneboilers (Assineboines),
+they called themselves the "Boilers." Wesley was
+the natural leader. He was alert as well as strong,
+and eager to do things, so made a fine Chief. His
+hooked nose and black hair and eyes won for him
+the appropriate name of "Blackhawk." The city
+boy being a noisy "show-off," who did little work,
+was called "Bluejay" Peter Boyle was "Peetweet,"
+and Char-less, from his peculiar snickering
+and showing two large front teeth, was called
+"Red-squirrel."</p>
+<p>
+They made their camp as much as possible like
+that of the Sangers, and adopted their customs; but
+a deadly rivalry sprang up between them from the
+first. The Sangers felt that they were old and experienced
+Woodcrafters. The Boilers thought they
+knew as much and more, and they outnumbered
+the Sangers. Active rivalry led to open hostilities.
+There was a general battle with fists and mud; that
+proved a draw. Then a duel between leaders was
+arranged, and Blackhawk won the fight and the
+Woodpecker's scalp. The Boilers were wild with
+enthusiasm. They proposed to take the whole Sanger
+camp, but in a hand-to-hand fight of both tribes it
+was another draw. Guy, however, scored a glorious
+triumph over Char-less and secured his scalp at the
+<span class="left"><a name="498">498</a></span>
+moment of victory.</p>
+<p>
+Now Little Beaver sent a challenge to Blackhawk.
+It was scornfully accepted. Again the Boiler Chief
+was victor and won another scalp, while Little Beaver
+got a black eye and a bad licking, but the enemy
+retired.</p>
+<p>
+Yan had always been considered a timid boy at
+Bonnerton, but that was largely the result of his
+repressive home training. Sanger was working great
+changes. To be treated with respect by the head of
+the house was a new and delightful experience. It
+developed his self-respect. His wood life was making
+him wonderfully self-reliant, and improved health
+helped his courage, so next day, when the enemy
+appeared in full force, every one was surprised when
+Yan again challenged Blackhawk. It really cost
+him a desperate and mighty effort to do so, for it is
+one thing to challenge a boy that you think you can
+"lick" and another to challenge one the very day after
+he has licked you. Indeed, if the truth were known,
+Yan did it in fear and trembling, and therein lay the
+courage&mdash;in going ahead when fear said "Go back."</p>
+<p>
+It is quite certain that a year before he would not
+have ventured in such a fight, and he only did it now
+because he had realized that Blackhawk was left-handed,
+and a plan to turn this to account had
+suggested itself. Every one was much surprised at
+the challenge, but much more so when, to the joy
+of his tribe, Little Beaver won a brilliant victory.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="499">499</a></span>
+Inspired by this, they drove the Boilers from the
+field, scored a grand triumph, and Sam and Yan
+each captured a scalp.
+<img src="images/sketch278.gif" width="120" height="352" alt="Sam and Yan each captured a scalp" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" /></p>
+<p>
+The Sangers held a Council and scalp-dance in
+celebration that night around an outdoor fire. The
+Medicine Man was sent for to be in it.</p>
+<p>
+After the dance, Chief Beaver, his face painted
+to hide his black eye, made a speech. He claimed
+that the Boilers would surely look for reinforcements
+and attempt a new attack, and that, therefore, the
+Sangers should try to add to their number, too.</p>
+<p>
+"I kin lick Char-less any time," piped in Guy
+proudly, and swung the scalp he had won.</p>
+<p>
+But the Medicine Man said: "If I were you boys
+I'd fix up a peace. Now you've won you ought to
+ask them to a big pow-wow."</p>
+<p>
+These were the events that led to the friendly meeting
+of the two Tribes in full war-paint.</p>
+<p>
+Chief Woodpecker first addressed them: "Say,
+fellers&mdash;Brother Chiefs, I mean&mdash;this yere quar'lin'
+don't pay. We kin have more fun working together.
+Let's be friends an' join in one Tribe. There's more
+fun when there's a crowd."</p>
+<p>
+"All right," said Blackhawk; "but we'll call the
+tribe the 'Boilers,' coz we have the majority, and
+leave me Head Chief."</p>
+<p>
+"You are wrong about that. Our Medicine Men
+makes us even number and more than even weight.
+We've got the best camp&mdash;have the swimming-pond,
+and we are the oldest Tribe, not to speak of the success
+we had in a certain leetle business not long ago which
+<span class="left"><a name="500">500</a></span>
+the youngest of us kin remember," and Guy grinned
+in appreciation of this evident reference to his exploit.</p>
+<p>
+As a matter of fact, it was the swimming-pond that
+turned the day. The Boilers voted to join the
+Sangers. Their holiday was only ten days, the
+Sangers had got a week's extension, and all knew
+that they could get most out of their time by going
+to the pond camp. The question of a name was
+decided by Little Beaver.</p>
+<p>
+"Boiler Warriors," said he, "it is the custom of
+the Indians to have the Tribes divided in clans. We
+are the Sanger clan. You are the Boiler clan. But
+as we all live in Sanger we are all Sanger Indians."</p>
+<p>
+"Who's to be Head Chief?"</p>
+<p>
+Blackhawk had no notion of submitting to
+Woodpecker, whom he had licked, nor would Woodpecker
+accept a Chief of the inferior tribe. One
+suggested that Little Beaver be Chief, but out of
+loyalty to his friend, the Woodpecker, Yan declined.</p>
+<p>
+"Better leave that for a few days till you get
+acquainted," was the Medicine Man's wise suggestion.</p>
+<p>
+That day and the next were spent in camp. The
+Boilers had their teepee to make and beds to prepare.
+The Sangers merrily helped, making a "bee" of it.</p>
+<p>
+Bow and arrow making were next to do. Little
+Beaver had not fully replaced his own destroyed by
+the robber. A hunt of the Burlap Deer was a pleasant
+variation of the second day, though there were but
+two bows for all, and the Boilers began to realize
+that they were really far behind the Sangers in
+<span class="left"><a name="501">501</a></span>
+knowledge of Woodcraft.</p>
+<p>
+At swimming Blackhawk was easily first. Of
+course, this greatly increased his general interest in
+the swimming-pond, and he chiefly was responsible
+for the making of a canoe later on.</p>
+<p>
+The days went on right merrily&mdash;oh, so fast!
+Little Beaver showed all the things of interest in
+his kingdom. How happy he was in showing them&mdash;playing
+experienced guide as he used to dream it!
+Peetweet took a keen interest; so did the city boy.
+Char-less took a little interest in it all, helped a little,
+was generally a little in everything, and giggled
+a good deal. Hawkeye was disposed to bully
+Char-less, since he found him quite lickable. His
+tone was high and haughty when he spoke to
+him&mdash;not at all like his whining when addressing
+the others. He volunteered to discipline Char-less
+if he should ill-treat any of the others, and was
+about to administer grievous personal punishment
+for some trifling offense, when Blackhawk gave
+him a warning that had good effect.</p>
+<p><img src="images/sketch279.gif" alt="the Boilers' teepee" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="147" height="153" border="0" />
+Yan's note-book was fully discussed and his drawings
+greatly admired. He set to work at once with
+friendly enthusiasm to paint the Boilers' teepee.
+Not having any adventures that seemed important,
+except, perhaps, Blackhawk's defeat of Woodpecker
+and Little Beaver, subjects that did not interest the
+artist, the outside decorations were the totem of
+the clan and its members.</p>
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="502">502</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3XXVIII">XXVIII</a></h3>
+<h3>White-Man's Woodcraft</h3>
+
+<p>
+Blackhawk was the introducer of a new
+game which he called "judging."</p>
+<p>
+"How far is it from here to that tree?" he
+would ask, and when each had written down his guess
+they would measure, and usually it was Woodpecker
+or Blackhawk that came nearest to the truth. Guy
+still held the leadership "for far sight," for which
+reason he suggested that game whenever a change
+of amusement was wanted.</p>
+<p>
+Yan, following up Blackhawk's suggestion, brought
+in the new game of "White-man's Woodcraft."</p>
+<p>
+"Can you," asked he, "tell a Dog's height by its
+track?"</p>
+<p>
+"No; nor you nor any one else," was the somewhat
+scornful reply.</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, yes, I can. Take the length in inches of his
+forefoot track, multiply it by 8, and that gives
+his height at the shoulder. You try it and you'll
+see. A little Dog has a 2&frac14; inch foot and stands
+about 18 inches, a Sheep Dog with a 3-inch track
+stands 24 inches, and a Mastiff or any big Dog
+with a 4-inch track gives 30 to 32 inches."</p>
+<p>
+"You mean every Dog is 8 feet high?" drawled
+Sam, doubtfully, but Yan went on. "And you can
+tell his weight, too, by the track. You multiply
+<span class="left"><a name="503">503</a></span>
+the width of his forefoot in inches by the length,
+and multiply that by 5, and that gives pretty near
+his weight in pounds. I tried old Cap. His foot
+is 3&frac12; by 3; that equals 10&frac12;, multiplied by 5
+equals 52&frac12; pounds: just about right."</p>
+<p>
+"I'll bet I seen a Dog at the show that that wouldn't
+work on," drawled Sam. "He was as long as my
+two arms, he had feet as big as a young Bear, an'
+he wasn't any higher than a brick. He was jest
+about the build of a Caterpiller, only he didn't have
+but four legs at the far ends. They was so far
+apart he couldn't keep step. He looked like he was
+raised under a bureau. I think when they was cutting
+down so on his legs they might have give him
+more of them; a row in the middle would 'a' been
+'bout right."</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, I know him. That's a Dachshund. But you
+can't reckon on freaks; nothing but straight Dog.
+It works on wild animals, too&mdash;that is, on Wolves
+and Foxes and maybe other things," then changing
+the subject Beaver continued:</p>
+<img src="images/489.gif" alt="dachshund" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="203" height="104" border="0" />
+<p>
+"Can you tell the height of a tree by its shadow?"</p>
+<p>
+"Never thought of that. How do you do it?"</p>
+<p>
+"Wait till your own shadow is the same length as
+yourself&mdash;that is, about eight in the morning or four
+in the afternoon&mdash;then measure the tree's shadow.
+That gives its length."</p>
+<p>
+"You'd have to wait all day to work that, and you
+can't do it at all in the woods or on a dull day,"
+objected Blackhawk. "I'd rather do it by guess."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="504">504</a></span>
+"I'll bet my scalp against yours I can tell the
+height of that tree right now without climbing it,
+and get closer than you can by guessing," said
+Little Beaver.</p>
+<p>
+"No, I won't bet scalps on that&mdash;but I'll bet who's
+to wash the dishes."</p>
+<p>
+"All right. To the top of that tree, how much
+is it?"</p>
+<p>
+"Better not take the top, 'cause we can't get there
+to measure it, but say that knot," was the rejoinder.
+"Here, Woodpecker, you be judge."</p>
+<p>
+"No, I want to be in this guessing. The loser
+takes the next turn of dishwashing for each of the
+others."</p>
+<p>
+So Blackhawk studied the knot carefully and wrote
+down his guess&mdash;Thirty-eight feet.</p>
+<p>
+Sam said, "Blackhawk! Ground's kind of uneven.
+I'd like to know the exact spot under the tree that
+you'd measure to. Will you mark it with a peg?"</p>
+<p>
+So Blackhawk went over and put in a white peg,
+at the same time unwittingly giving Woodpecker
+what he wanted&mdash;a gauge, for he knew Blackhawk
+was something more than five feet high; judging then
+as he stood there Sam wrote down Thirty-five feet.</p>
+<p>
+Now it was Yan's turn to do it by "White-man's
+Woodcraft," as he called it. He cut a pole exactly
+ten feet long, and choosing the smoothest ground, he
+walked about twenty yards from the tree, propped
+the pole upright, then lay down so that his eye
+was level with the tree base and in line with the
+top of the pole and the knot on the tree.</p>
+<p class="center"><img src="images/504c.gif" width="400" height="235" alt="...the height of the knot" border="0" /></p>
+ <p>A peg
+<span class="left"><a name="505">505</a></span>
+marked the spot.</p>
+<p>
+Now he measured from this "eye peg" to the foot
+of the pole; it was 31 feet. Then from the eye peg
+to the peg under the tree; it was 87 feet. Since
+the 10-foot pole met the line at 31 feet, then 31
+is to 10 as 87 is to the tree&mdash;or 28 feet. Now one of
+the boys climbed and measured the height of the
+knot. It was 29 feet, and Yan had an easy victory.</p>
+<p>
+"Here, you close guessers, do you want another
+try, and I'll give you odds this time, if you come
+within ten feet you'll win. I want only two feet to
+come and go on."</p>
+<p>
+"All right. Pick your trees."</p>
+<p>
+"'Tisn't a tree this time, but the distance across
+that pond, from this peg (H) to that little
+Hemlock (D). You put down your guesses and I'll
+show you another trick."</p>
+<p>
+Sam studied it carefully and wrote Forty feet.
+Wes put down Forty-five.</p>
+<p>
+"Here, I want to be in this. I'll show you fellers
+how," exclaimed Guy in his usual scornful manner,
+and wrote down Fifty feet.</p>
+<p>
+"Let's all try it for scalps," said Char-less, but this
+was ruled too unimportant for scalps, and again the
+penalty of failure was dishwashing, so the other boys
+came and put down their guesses close to that of their
+Chief&mdash;Forty-four, Forty-six and Forty-nine feet.</p>
+<p>
+"Now we'll find out exactly," and Little Beaver,
+with an air of calm superiority, took three straight
+poles of exactly the same length and pegged them
+<span class="left"><a name="506">506</a></span>
+together in a triangle, leaving the pegs sticking up.
+He placed this triangle on the bank at <i>A B C</i>,
+sighting the line <i>A B</i> for the little Hemlock <i>D</i>, and
+put three pegs in the ground exactly under the three
+pegs where the triangle was; moved the triangle to
+<i>E F G</i> and placed it so that <i>F G</i> should line with
+<i>A C</i> and <i>E G</i> with <i>D</i>. Now <i>A G D</i> also must be
+an equilateral triangle; therefore, according to
+arithmetic, the line <i>D H</i> must be seven-eighths of <i>A G.
+A G</i> was easily measured&mdash;70 feet. Seven-eighths of
+70 equals 61-1/4 feet. The width of the pond&mdash;they
+measured it with tape line&mdash;was found to be 60
+feet, so Yan was nearest, but Guy claimed that 50
+feet was within 10 feet of it, which was allowed.
+Thus there were two winners&mdash;two who escaped dishwashing;
+and Hawkeye's bragging became insufferable.
+He never again got so close in a guess, but no number
+of failures could daunt him after such a success.</p>
+<img src="images/492a2.gif" alt="distance across the pond" width="300" height="234" border="0" align="left" hspace="20"/>
+
+<p>
+Sam was interested in the White-man's Woodcraft
+chiefly on Yan's account, but Blackhawk was evidently
+impressed with the study itself, and said:</p>
+<p>
+"Little Beaver, I'll give you one more to do. Can
+you measure how far apart those two trees are on
+that bank, without crossing?"</p>
+<p>
+"Yes," said Yan; "easily." So he cut three poles
+6, 8 and 10 feet long and pegged them together in a
+triangle. "Now," said he, "<i>A B C</i>
+is a right angle; it must be, when the legs of the
+triangle are 6, 8 and 10; that's a law."</p>
+
+<p><span class="left"><a name="507">507</a></span>
+He placed this on the shore, the side <i>A B</i> pointing to
+the inner side of the first tree, and the side <i>B C</i> as nearly
+as possible parallel with the line between the two
+trees. Then he put in a stake at <i>B</i>, another at <i>C</i>,
+and continued this line toward <i>K</i>. Now he slid his
+triangle along this till the side <i>G F</i> pointed to <i>E</i>, and
+the side <i>H G</i> in line with <i>C B</i>. The distance from
+<i>D</i> to <i>E</i>, of course, is equal to <i>B G</i>, which can be
+measured, and again the tape line showed Yan to
+be nearly right.</p>
+<p>
+This White-man's Woodcraft was easy for him,
+and he volunteered to teach the other Indians, but
+they thought it looked "too much like school." They
+voted him a <i>coup</i> on finding how well he could
+do it. But when Raften heard of it he exclaimed
+in wonder and admiration, "My, but that's mightiful!"
+and would not be satisfied till the <i>coup</i> was
+made a <i>grand coup</i>.</p>
+<p>
+"Say, Beaver," said Woodpecker sadly, harking
+back, "if a Dog's front foot is 3-1/2 inches long and
+3 inches wide, what colour is the end of his tail?"</p>
+<p>
+"White," was the prompt reply; "'cause a Dog
+with feet that size and shape is most likely to be a
+yaller Dog, and a yaller Dog always has some white
+hairs in the end of his tail."</p>
+<p>
+"Well, this 'un hadn't, 'cause his tail was cut off
+in the days of his youth!"</p><br /><br />
+<img src="images/493d.gif" width="500" height="274" alt="distance between two trees across the creek" border="0" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="508">508</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3XXIX">XXIX</a></h3>
+<h3>The Long Swamp</h3>
+
+<p>
+The union of the tribes, however, was far from
+complete. Blackhawk was inclined to be turbulent.
+He was heavier than Beaver. He could
+not understand how that slighter, younger boy could
+throw him, and he wished to try again. Now Yan
+was growing stronger every day. He was quick
+and of very wiry build. In the first battle, which
+was entirely fisty, he was worsted; on the try-over,
+which cost him such an effort, he had arranged "a
+rough-and-tumble," as they called it, and had won
+chiefly by working his only trick. But now Blackhawk
+was not satisfied, and while he did not care to
+offer another deadly challenge, by way of a feeler he
+offered, some days after the peace, to try a friendly
+throw for scalps.</p>
+<p>
+"Fists left out!" Just what Beaver wanted,
+and the biggest boy was sent flying. "If any other
+Boiler would like to try I'd be pleased to oblige him,"
+said Yan, just a little puffed up, as he held up the
+second scalp he had won from Blackhawk.</p>
+<p>
+Much to his surprise, Bluejay, the city boy,
+accepted, and he was still more surprised when the
+city boy sent <i>him</i> down in the dust.</p>
+<p>
+"Best out of three!" shouted Woodpecker quickly,
+in the interest of his friend, taking advantage of an
+<span class="left"><a name="509">509</a></span>
+unwritten law that when it is not stated to be in
+one try, usually called "sudden death," it is "best
+two out of three" that counts.</p>
+<p>
+Yan knew now that he had found a worthy foe.
+He dodged, waiting for an opening&mdash;gripped&mdash;locked&mdash;and
+<img src="images/sketch285.gif" width="129" height="318" alt="Little Beaver's collection of scalps" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+had him on the hip, he thought, but the
+city boy squirmed in time, yielding instead of resisting,
+and both went down tight-gripped. For a
+minute it was doubtful.</p>
+<p>
+"Go it, Yan."</p>
+<p>
+"Give it to him, Bluejay."</p>
+<p>
+But Yan quickly threw out one leg, got a little
+purchase, and turned the city boy on his back.</p>
+<p>
+"Hooray for Little Beaver!"</p>
+<p>
+"One try more! So far even!" cried Blackhawk.</p>
+<p>
+They closed again, but Yan was more than ever
+careful. The city boy was puffing hard. The real
+trial was over and Cy went down quite easily.</p>
+<p>
+"Three cheers for Little Beaver!" A fourth
+scalp was added to his collection, and Sam patted
+him on the back, while Bluejay got out a pocket
+mirror and comb and put his hair straight.</p>
+<p>
+But this did not help out in the matter of leadership,
+and when the Medicine Man heard of the
+continued deadlock he said:</p>
+<p>
+"Boys, you know when there is a doubt about who
+is to lead the only way is for all Chiefs to resign and
+have a new election." The boys acted on this suggestion
+but found another deadlock. Little Beaver
+refused to be put up. Woodpecker got three votes,
+<span class="left"><a name="510">510</a></span>
+Blackhawk four, and Guy one (his own), and the
+Sangers refused to stand by the decision.</p>
+<p>
+"Let's wait till after the 'hard trip'&mdash;that will
+show who is the real Chief&mdash;then have a new election,"
+suggested Little Beaver, with an eye to Woodpecker's
+interest, for this hard trip was one that had
+been promised them by Caleb&mdash;a three-days' expedition
+in the Long Swamp.</p>
+<p>
+This swamp was a wild tract, ten miles by thirty,
+that lay a dozen miles north of Sanger. It was
+swampy only in parts, but the dry places were mere
+rocky ridges, like islands in the bogs. The land on
+these was worthless and the timber had been ruined
+by fire, so Long Swamp continued an uninhabited
+wilderness.</p>
+<p>
+There was said to be a few Deer on the hardwood
+ridges. Bears and Lynx were occasionally seen,
+and Wolves had been heard in recent winters. Of
+course there were Foxes, Grouse and Northern
+Hare. The streams were more or less choked with
+logs, but were known to harbour a few Beavers and
+an occasional Otter. There were no roads for summer
+use, only long, dim openings across the bogs,
+known as winter trails and timber roads. This
+was the region that the boys proposed to visit
+under Caleb's guidance.</p>
+<p>
+Thus at last they were really going on an "Indian
+trip"&mdash;-to explore the great unknown, with every
+probability of adventure.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="511">511</a></span>
+At dawn Yan tapped the tom-tom. It sang a
+<img src="images/sketch286.gif" width="139" height="150" alt="Quaking Aspen" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+high and vibrant note, in guarantee of a sunny day.</p>
+<p>
+They left camp at seven in the morning, and after
+three hours' tramp they got to the first part of the
+wilderness, a great tract of rocky land, disfigured
+with blackened trees and stumps, but green in places
+with groves of young Poplars or quaking Aspen.</p>
+<p>
+The Indians were very ready to camp now, but the
+Medicine Man said, "No; better keep on till we
+find water." In another mile they reached the first
+stretch of level Tamarack bog and a welcome halt
+for lunch was called. "Camp!" shouted the leader,
+and the Indians ran each to do his part. Sam got
+wood for the fire and Blackhawk went to seek water,
+and with him was Blue jay, conspicuous in a high
+linen collar and broad cuffs, for Caleb unfortunately
+had admitted that he once saw an Indian Chief in
+high hat and stand-up collar.</p>
+<p>
+Beaver was just a little disappointed to see the
+Medicine Man light the fire with a match. He
+wanted it all in truly Indian style, but the Trapper
+remarked, "Jest as well to have some tinder and a
+thong along when you're in the woods, but matches
+is handier than rubbing-sticks."</p>
+<p>
+Blackhawk and Bluejay returned with two pails of
+dirty, tepid, swampy water.</p>
+<p>
+"Why, that's all there is!" was their defense.</p>
+<p>
+"Yan, you go and show them how to get good
+water," said Caleb, so the Second Sanger Chief,
+remembering his training, took the axe and quickly
+made a wooden digger, then went to the edge of the
+<span class="left"><a name="512">512</a></span>
+swamp, and on the land twenty feet from the bog
+he began to dig a hole in the sandy loam. He made
+it two feet across and sunk it down three feet. The
+roily water kept oozing in all around, and Bluejay
+was scornful. "Well, I'd rather have what we got."
+Beaver dug on till there was a foot of dirty water
+in the hole. Then he took a pail and bailed it all
+out as fast as possible, left it to fill, bailed it out
+a second time, and ten minutes later cautiously
+dipped out with a cup a full pail of crystal-clear cold
+water, and thus the Boilers learned how to make an
+Indian well and get clear water out of a dirty puddle.</p><br />
+<img src="images/sketch287a.gif" width="180" height="300" alt="If you get lost, make two smokes" border="0" align="left" hspace="15" />
+<p>
+After their simple meal of tea, bread and meat
+Caleb told his plan. "You never get the same good
+of a trip if you jest wander off; better have a plan&mdash;something
+to do; and do it without a guide if ye want
+adventures. Now eight is too many to travel together;
+you'd scare everything with racket and never see a
+livin' thing. Better divide in parties. I'll stay in
+camp and get things ready for the night."</p>
+<p>
+Thus the leaders, Sam and Yan, soon found themselves
+paired with Guy and Peetweet. Wes felt
+bound to take care of his little cousin Char-less.</p>
+<p>
+Bluejay, finding himself the odd man, decided to
+stay with Caleb, especially as the swamp evidently
+was without proper footpaths.</p>
+<p>
+"Now," said Caleb, "northwest of here there is
+a river called the Beaver, that runs into Black
+River. I want one of you to locate that. It's thirty
+or forty feet wide and easy to know, for it's the
+<span class="left"><a name="513">513</a></span>
+only big stream in the swamp. Right north there
+is an open stretch of plain, with a little spring creek,
+where there's a band of Injuns camped. Somewhere
+northeast they say there's a tract of Pine bush
+not burned off, and there is some Deer there. None
+of the places is ten miles away except, maybe, the
+Injuns' camp. I want ye to go scoutin' and report.
+You kin draw straws to say who goes where."</p>
+<img src="images/sketch288.gif" alt="camp" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="301" height="106" border="0" />
+<br />
+<p>
+So the straws were marked and drawn. Yan drew
+the timber hunt. He would rather have had the one
+after the Indians. Sam had to seek the river, and
+Wesley the Indian camp. Caleb gave each of them
+a few matches and this parting word:</p>
+<p>
+"I'll stay here till you come back. I'll keep up
+a fire, and toward sundown I'll make a smoke with
+rotten wood and grass so you kin find your way back.
+Remember, steer by the sun; keep your main lines of
+travel; don't try to remember trees and mudholes;
+and if you get lost, you make <i>two smokes</i> well apart
+and stay right there and holler every once in awhile;
+some one will be sure to come."</p>
+<p>
+So about eleven o'clock the boys set out eagerly.
+As they were going Blackhawk called to the others,
+"First to carry out his job wins a <i>grand coup</i>!"</p>
+<p>
+"Let the three leaders stake their scalps," said the
+Woodpecker.</p>
+<p>
+"All right. First winner home gets a scalp from
+each of the others and saves his own."</p>
+<p>
+"Say, boys, you better take along; your hull outfit,
+some grub an' your blankets," was the Medicine
+<span class="left"><a name="514">514</a></span>
+Man's last suggestion. "You may have to stay out
+all night."</p>
+<p>
+Yan would rather have had Sam along, but that
+couldn't be, and Peetweet proved a good fellow,
+though rather slow. They soon left the high ground
+and came to the bog&mdash;flat and seemingly endless and
+with a few tall Tamaracks. There were some Cedar-birds
+catching Flies on the tall tree-tops, and a single
+Flycatcher was calling out: "<i>Whoit&mdash;whoit&mdash;whoit!</i>"
+Yan did not know until long after that it was the
+Olive-side. A Sparrow-hawk sailed over, and later
+a Bald Eagle with a Sparrow-hawk in hot and noisy
+pursuit. But the most curious thing was the surface
+of the bog. The spongy stretch of moss among the
+scattering Tamaracks was dotted with great masses
+of Pitcher Plant, and half concealed by the curious
+leaves were thousands of Droseræ, or fly-eating
+plants, with their traps set to secure their prey.</p>
+<p>
+The bog was wonderful, but very bad walking.
+The boys sank knee-deep in the soft moss, and as
+they went farther, steering only by the sun, they
+found the moss sank till their feet reached the water
+below and they were speedily wet to the knees. Yan
+cut for each a long pole to carry in the hand; in case
+the bog gave way this would save them from sinking.
+After two miles of this Peetweet wanted to go back,
+but was scornfully suppressed by Little Beaver.</p>
+<p>
+Shortly afterward they came to a sluggish little
+stream in the bog with a peculiar red-and-yellow
+scum along its banks. It was deep and soft-bottomed.
+<span class="left"><a name="515">515</a></span>
+Yan tried it with the pole&mdash;did not dare to wade, so
+they walked along its course till they found a small
+tree lying from bank to bank, then crossed on this.
+Half a mile farther on the bog got dryer, and a mass
+of green ahead marked one of the islands of high
+land. Over this they passed quickly, keeping the
+northwest course. They now had a succession of
+small bogs and large islands. The sun was hot here,
+and Peetweet was getting tired. He was thirsty,
+too, and persisted in drinking the swamp water whenever
+he found a hole.</p>
+<p>
+"Say, Peetweet, you'll suffer for that if you don't
+quit; that water isn't fit to drink unless you boil it."</p>
+<p>
+But Peetweet complained of burning thirst and
+drank recklessly. After two hours' tramp he was
+very tired and wanted to turn back. Yan sought a
+dry island and then gathered sticks for a fire, but
+found all the matches they had were soaking wet
+with wading through the bog. Peetweet was much
+upset by this, not on account of fire now, but in
+case they should be out all night.</p>
+<p>
+"You wait and see what an Indian does," said
+Little Beaver. He sought for a dried Balsam Fir,
+cut the rubbing-sticks, made a bow of a slightly bent
+branch, and soon had a blazing fire, to Peter's utter
+amazement, for he had never seen the trick of making
+a fire by rubbing-sticks.</p>
+<p>
+After drinking some tea and eating a little, Pete
+felt more encouraged.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="516">516</a></span>
+"We have travelled more than six miles now, I
+reckon," said the Chief; "an hour longer and we
+shall be in sight of the forest if there is one," and
+Yan led off across swamps more or less open and
+islands of burned timber.</p>
+<p>
+Pete began to be appalled by the distance they
+were putting between them and their friends.
+"What if we should get lost? They never could
+find us."</p>
+<p>
+"We won't get lost," said Yan in some impatience;
+"and if we did, what of it? We have only to keep
+on straight north or south for four or five hours and
+we reach some kind of a settlement."</p>
+<p>
+After an hour's tramp northeast they came to an
+island with a tall tree that had branches right to the
+ground. Yan climbed up. A vast extent of country
+lay all about him&mdash;open flat bogs and timber islands,
+and on far ahead was a long, dark mass of solid ever-green&mdash;surely
+the forest he sought. Between him
+and it he saw water sparkling.</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, Pete, you ought to be up here," he shouted
+joyfully; "it's worth the climb to see this view."</p>
+<p>
+"I'd rather see our own back-yard," grumbled
+Pete.</p>
+<p>
+Yan came down, his face aglow with pleasure, and
+exclaimed: "It's close to, now! I saw the Pine
+woods. Just off there."</p>
+<p>
+"How far?"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, a couple of miles, at most."</p>
+<p>
+"That's what you have been saying all along."</p>
+<p class="center"><img src="images/sketch289.gif" width="395" height="118" alt="How far? Oh, a couple of miles, at most" border="0" /></p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="517">517</a></span>
+"Well, I saw it this time; and there is water out
+there. I saw that, too."</p>
+<p>
+He tramped on, and in half an hour they came to
+the water, a deep, clear, slow stream, fringed with
+scrub willows, covered with lily-pads, and following
+the middle of a broad, boggy flat. Yan had looked
+for a pond, and was puzzled by the stream. Then
+it struck him. "Caleb said there was only one big
+stream through this swamp. This must be it. This
+is Beaver River."</p>
+<p>
+The stream was barely forty feet across, but it was
+clearly out of the question to find a pole for a bridge,
+so Yan stripped off, put all his things in a bundle,
+and throwing them over, swam after them. Pete
+had to come now or be left.</p>
+<p>
+As they were dressing on the northern side there
+was a sudden loud "<i>Bang&mdash;swish</i>!" A torrent
+of water was thrown in the air, with lily-pads broken
+from their mooring, the water pattered down, the
+wavelets settled, and the boys stood in astonishment
+to see what strange animal had made this disturbance;
+but nothing more of it was seen, and the mystery
+remained unsolved.</p>
+<p>
+Then Yan heard a familiar "<i>Quack!</i>" down the
+stream. He took his bow and arrow, while Pete sat
+gloomily on a hummock. As soon as he peered
+through the rushes in a little bay he saw three Mallard
+close at hand. He waited till two were in line, then
+fired, killing one instantly, and the others flew away.
+<br />
+<img src="images/sketch290.gif" alt="the Beaver River" hspace="15" style="float: right" width="392" height="194" border="0" />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+The breeze wafted it within reach of a stick, and he
+seized it and returned in triumph to Pete, but found
+<span class="left"><a name="518">518</a></span>
+him ready to cry. "I want to go home!" he said
+miserably. The sight of the Mallard cheered him
+a little, and Yan said: "Come now, Pete, don't
+spoil everything, there's a good fellow. Brace up,
+and if I don't show you the Pine woods in twenty
+minutes I'll turn and take you home."</p>
+<p>
+As soon as they got to the next island they saw
+the Pine wood&mdash;a solid green bank not half a mile
+away, and the boys gave a little cheer, and felt, no
+doubt, as Mungo Park did when first he sighted the
+Niger. In fifteen minutes they were walking in its
+dry and delightful aisles.</p>
+<p>
+"Now we've won," said Yan, "whatever the others
+do, and all that remains is to get back."</p>
+<p>
+"I'm awfully tired," said Pete; "let's rest awhile."</p>
+<p>
+Yan looked at his watch. "It's four o'clock. I
+think we'd better camp for the night."</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, no; I want to go home. It looks like rain."</p>
+<p>
+It certainly did, but Yan replied, "Well, let's eat
+first." He delayed as much as possible so as to compel
+the making of a camp, and the rain came unexpectedly,
+before he even had a fire. Yet to his own delight
+and Peter's astonishment he quickly made a rubbing-stick
+fire, and they hung up their wet clothes
+about it. Then he dug an Indian well and took lots
+of time in the preparation, so it was six o'clock before
+they began to eat, and seven when finished&mdash;evidently
+too late to move out even though the rain seemed to
+be over. So Yan collected firewood, made a bed of
+Fir boughs and a windbreak of bushes and bark. The
+<span class="left"><a name="519">519</a></span>
+weather was warm, and with the fire and two blankets
+they passed a comfortable night. They heard their
+old friend the Horned Owl, a Fox barked his querulous
+"<i>Yap-yurr!</i>" close at hand, and once or twice they
+were awakened by rustling footsteps in the leaves,
+but slept fairly well.</p>
+<p>
+At dawn Yan was up. He made a fire and heated
+some water for tea. They had very little bread left,
+but the Mallard was untouched.</p>
+<p>
+Yan cleaned it, rolled it in wet clay, hid it in the
+ashes and covered it with glowing coals. This is an
+Indian method of cooking, but Yan had not fully
+mastered it. In half an hour he opened his clay pie
+and found the Duck burned on one side and very raw
+on the other. Part of it was good, however, so he
+called his companion to breakfast. Pete sat up white-faced
+and miserable, evidently a sick boy. Not only
+had he caught cold, but he was upset by the swamp
+water he had taken. He was paying the penalty
+of his indiscretion. He ate a little and drank some
+tea, then felt better, but clearly was unable to travel
+that day. Now for the first time Yan felt a qualm
+of fear. Separated by a dozen miles of swamp from
+all help, what could he do with a sick boy? He
+barked a small dead tree with a knife, then on the
+smooth surface wrote with a pencil, "Yan Yeoman
+and Pete Boyle camped here August 10, 18&mdash;"</p>
+
+<img src="images/506b.gif" alt="High tree and view" width="289" height="356" border="0" align="left" hspace="20" />
+
+<p>
+He made Pete comfortable by the fire, and, looking
+for tracks, he found that during the night two Deer
+had come nearly into the camp; then he climbed a
+<span class="left"><a name="520">520</a></span>
+high tree and scanned the southern horizon for a
+smoke sign. He saw none there, but to the northwest,
+beyond some shining yellow hills, he discovered
+a level plain dotted over with black Fir clumps; from
+one of these smoke went up, and near it were two or
+three white things like teepees.</p>
+<p>
+Yan hurried down to tell Pete the good news, but
+when he confessed that it was two miles farther from
+home Pete had no notion of going to the Indian camp;
+so Yan made a smoke fire, and knife-blazing the
+saplings on two sides as he went, he set out alone for
+the Indian camp. Getting there in half an hour, he
+found two log shanties and three teepees. As he
+came near he had to use a stick to keep off the numerous
+Dogs. The Indians proved shy, as usual, to
+White visitors. Yan made some signs that he had
+learned from Caleb. Pointing to himself, he held up
+two fingers&mdash;meaning that he was two. Then he
+pointed to the Pine woods and made sign of the other
+lying down, and added the hungry sign by pressing
+in his stomach with the edges of the hands, meaning
+"I am cut in two here." The Chief Indian offered
+him a Deer-tongue, but did not take further interest.
+Yan received it thankfully, made a hasty sketch of
+the camp, and returned to find Pete much better,
+but thoroughly alarmed at being so long alone. He
+was able and anxious now to go back. Yan led off,
+carrying all the things of the outfit, and his comrade
+followed slowly and peevishly. When they came to
+the river, Pete held back in fear, believing that the
+<span class="left"><a name="521">521</a></span>
+loud noise they had heard was made by some monster
+of the deep, who would seize them.</p>
+<p>
+Yan was certain it could be only an explosion of
+swamp gas, and forced Pete to swim across by setting
+the example. What the cause really was they never
+learned.</p>
+<p>
+They travelled very fast now for a time. Pete
+was helped by the knowledge that he was really going
+home. A hasty lunch of Deer-tongue delayed them
+but little. At three they sighted Caleb's smoke signal,
+and at four they burst into camp with yells of triumph.</p>
+<p>
+Caleb fired off his revolver, and Turk bayed his
+basso profundo full-cry Fox salute. All the others
+had come back the night before.</p>
+<p>
+Sam said he had "gone ten mile and never got a
+sight of that blamed river." Guy swore they had
+gone forty miles, and didn't believe there was any
+such river.</p>
+<p>
+"What kind o' country did you see?"</p>
+<p>
+"Nothin' but burned land and rocks."</p>
+<p>
+"H-m, you went too far west&mdash;was runnin' parallel
+with Beaver River."</p>
+<p>
+"Now, Blackhawk, give an account of yourself to
+Little Beaver," said Woodpecker. "Did you two
+win out?"</p>
+<p>
+"Well," replied the Boiler Chief, "if Hawkeye
+travelled forty miles, we must have gone sixty. We
+pointed straight north for three hours and never saw
+a thing but bogs and islands of burned timber&mdash;never
+a sign of a plain or of Indians. I don't believe there
+<span class="left"><a name="522">522</a></span>
+are any."</p>
+<p>
+"Did you see any sandhills?" asked Little Beaver.</p>
+<p>
+"No."</p>
+<p>
+"Then you didn't get within miles of it."</p>
+<p>
+Now he told his own story, backed by Pete, and he
+was kind enough to leave out all about Peetweet's
+whimpering. His comrade responded to this by
+giving a glowing account of Yan's Woodcraft, especially
+dwelling on the feat of the rubbing-stick fire in
+the rain, and when they finished Caleb said:</p>
+<p>
+"Yan, you won, and you more than won, for you
+found the green timber you went after, you found
+the river Sam went after, an' the Injuns Wesley went
+after. Sam and Wesley, hand over your scalps."</p>
+<p class="indent2">
+<img src="images/sketch292.gif" alt="Little Beaver's collection of scalps" width="182" height="310" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="523">523</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3XXX">XXX</a></h3>
+<h3>A New Kind of Coon</h3>
+
+<p>
+A merry meal now followed, chaffing and jokes
+passed several hours away, but the boys were
+rested and restless by nine o'clock and eager
+for more adventures.</p>
+<p>
+"Aren't there any Coons 'round here, Mr. Clark?"</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, I reckon so. Y-e-s! Down a piece in the
+hardwood bush near Widdy Biddy Baggs's place
+there's lots o' likely Cooning ground."</p>
+<p>
+That was enough to stir them all, for the place
+was near at hand. Peetweet alone was for staying
+in camp, but when told that he might stay and keep
+house by himself he made up his mind to get all the
+fun he could. The night was hot and moonless,
+Mosquitoes abundant, and in trampling and scrambling
+through the gloomy woods the hunters had
+plenty of small troubles, but they did not mind that
+so long as Turk was willing to do his part. Once or
+twice he showed signs of interest in the trail, but soon
+decided against it.</p>
+<p><img src="images/510.gif" width="135" height="274" alt="the muddy puddle" border="0" align="left" hspace="15" />
+Thus they worked toward the Widdy Baggs's till
+they came to a dry brook bed. Turk began at once
+to travel up this, while Caleb tried to make him go
+down. But the Dog recognized no superior officer
+when hunting. After leading his impatient army a
+quarter of a mile away from the really promising
+<span class="left"><a name="524">524</a></span>
+
+heavy timber, Turk discovered what <i>he</i> was after, and
+that was a little muddy puddle. In this he calmly
+lay down, puffing, panting and lapping with energy,
+and his humble human followers had nothing to
+do but sit on a log and impatiently await his lordship's
+pleasure. Fifteen minutes went by, and Turk
+was still enjoying himself, when Sam ventured at
+last:</p>
+<p>
+"'Pears to me if I owned a Dog I'd own him."</p>
+<p>
+"There's no use crowdin' him," was the answer.
+"He's runnin' this hunt, an' he knows it. A Dog
+without a mind of his own is no 'count."</p>
+<p>
+So when Turk had puffed like a Porpoise, grunted
+and wallowed like a Hog, to his heart's content and
+to the envy of the eight who sat sweltering and
+impatient, he arose, all dribbling ooze, probably to
+seek a new wallowing place, when his nose discovered
+something on the bank that had far more effect than
+all the coaxings and threats of the "waiting line,"
+and he gave a short bark that was a note of joy for
+the boys. They were all attention now, as the old
+Hound sniffed it out, and in a few moments stirred the
+echoes with an opening blast of his deepest strain.</p>
+<p>
+"Turk's struck it rich!" opined Caleb.</p>
+<p>
+The old Dog's bawling was strong now, but not
+very regular, showing that the hunted animal's
+course was crooked. Then there was a long break
+in it, showing possibly that the creature had run a
+fence or swung from one tree to another.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="525">525</a></span>
+"That's a Coon," said Yan eagerly, for he had not
+forgotten any detail of the other lesson.</p>
+<p>
+Caleb made no reply.</p>
+<p>
+The Hound tongued a long way off, but came back
+to the pond and had one or two checks.</p>
+<p>
+"It's a great running for a Coon," Yan remarked,
+at length in doubt. Then to Caleb, "What do you
+think?"</p>
+<p>
+Caleb answered slowly: "I dunno what to think.
+It runs too far for a Coon, an' 'tain't treed yet; an'
+I kin tell by the Dog's voice he's mad. If you was
+near him now you'd see all his back hair stannin' up."</p>
+<p>
+Another circle was announced by the Dog's baying,
+and then the long, continuous, high-pitched yelping
+told that the game was treed at last.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, that puts Fox and Skunk out of it," said
+the Trapper, "but it certainly don't act like a Coon on
+the ground."</p>
+<p>
+"First there gets the Coon!" shouted Blackhawk,
+and the boys skurried through the dark woods,
+getting many a scratch and fall. As it was, Yan and
+Wesley arrived together and touched the tree at the
+same moment. The rest came straggling up, with
+Char-less last and Guy a little ahead of him. Guy
+wanted to relate the full particulars of his latest
+glorious victory over Char-less, but all attention
+was now on old Turk, who was barking savagely up
+the tree.</p>
+<p>
+"Don't unnerstan' it at all, at all," said Caleb.
+"Coony kind o' tree, but Dog don't act Coony."</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="526">526</a></span>
+"Let's have a fire," said the Woodpecker, and the
+two crowds of boys began each a fire and strove
+hard to get theirs first ablaze.</p>
+<p>
+The firelight reached far up into the night, and
+once or twice the hunters thought they saw the
+shining eyes of the Coon.</p>
+<p>
+"Now who's to climb?" asked the Medicine Man.</p>
+<p>
+"I will, I will," etc., seven times repeated; even
+Guy and Char-less chimed in.</p>
+<p>
+"You're mighty keen hunters, but I want you to
+know I can't tell what it is that's up that tree. It
+may be a powerful big Coon, but seems to me the Dog
+acts a little like it was a Cat, and 'tain't so long since
+there was Painter in this county. The fact of him
+treeing for Turk don't prove that he's afraid of a
+Dog; lots of animals does that 'cause they don't
+want to be bothered with his noise. If it's a Cat,
+him as climbs is liable to get his face scratched.
+Judging by the actions of the Dog, <i>I think it's
+something dangerous</i>. Now who wants the job?"</p>
+<p>
+For awhile no one spoke. Then Yan, "I'll go if
+you'll lend me the revolver."</p>
+<p>
+"So would I," said Wesley quickly.</p>
+<p>
+"Well, now, we'll draw straws"&mdash;and Yan won.
+Caleb felled a thin tree against the big one and Yan
+climbed as he had done once before.</p>
+<p>
+There was an absence of the joking and chaffing
+that all had kept up when on the other occasion
+Yan went after the Coon. There was a tension that
+held them still and reached the climber to thrill him
+with a weird sense of venturing into black darkness
+<span class="left"><a name="527">527</a></span>
+to face a fearful and mysterious danger. The
+feeling increased as he climbed from the leaning
+tree to the great trunk of the Basswood, to lose sight
+of his comrades in the wilderness of broad leaves and
+twisted tree-arms. The dancing firelight sent shadow-blots
+and light-spots in a dozen directions with fantastic
+effect. Some of the feelings of the night at
+Garney's grave came back to him, but this time
+with the knowledge of real danger. A little higher
+and he was out of sight of his friends below. The
+danger began to appal him; he wanted to go back, and
+to justify the retreat he tried to call out, "No Coon
+here!" but his voice failed him, and, as he clung to
+the branch, he remembered Caleb's words, "There's
+nothing ahead of grit, an' grit ain't so much not
+bein' scairt as it is goin' straight ahead when you <i>are</i>
+scairt." No; he would go on, come what would.</p>
+<p>
+"Find anything?" drawled a cheery voice below,
+just at the right time.</p>
+<p>
+Yan did not pause to answer, but continued to
+climb into the gloom. Then he thought he
+heard a Coon snarl above him. He swung to
+a higher branch and shouted, "Coon here, all
+right!" but the moment he did so a rattling
+growl sounded close to him, and looking down
+he saw a huge grey beast spring to a large branch
+between him and the ground, then come climbing
+savagely toward him. As it leaped to a
+still nearer place Yan got a dim view of a curious
+four-cornered face, shaggy and striped, like the one
+<span class="left"><a name="528">528</a></span>
+he saw so long ago in Glenyan&mdash;it was an enormous <i>Lynx</i>.</p>
+<p class="center"><img src="images/sketch294.gif" width="153" height="164" alt="the Lynx" border="0" /></p>
+<p>
+Yan got such a shock that he nearly lost his hold,
+but quickly recovering, he braced himself in a crotch,
+and got out the revolver just as the Lynx with a fierce
+snarl leaped to a side branch that brought it nearly
+on a level with him. He nervously cocked the
+pistol, and scarcely attempting to sight in the darkness,
+he fired and missed. The Lynx recoiled a little
+and crouched at the report. The boys below raised a
+shout and Turk outdid them all in racket.</p>
+<p>
+"A Lynx!" shouted Yan, and his voice betrayed
+his struggle with fear.</p>
+<p>
+"Look out!" Caleb called. "You better not let
+him get too close."</p>
+<p>
+The Lynx was growling ferociously. Yan put
+forth all his will-power to control his trembling hand,
+took more deliberate aim, and fired. The fierce
+beast was struck, but leaped wildly at the boy.
+He threw up his arm and it buried its teeth in his
+flesh, while Yan clung desperately to the tree with
+the other arm. In a moment he knew he would be
+dragged off and thrown to the ground, yet felt less
+fear now than he had before. He clutched for the
+revolver with the left hand, but it found only the
+fur of the Lynx, and the revolver dropped from his
+grasp. Now he was indeed without hope, and dark
+fear fell on him.</p>
+<span class="left"><a name="530">530</a></span>
+<p class="center"><img src="images/illus21a.jpg" width="556" height="739" alt="He nervously fired and missed" border="0" /></p>
+<span class="left"><a name="531">531</a></span>
+<p>
+But the beast was severely wounded.
+Its hind quarters were growing heavy. It loosed
+its hold of Yan and struggled to get on the limb.
+A kick from his right foot upset its balance; it slipped
+from the tree and flopped to the ground below,
+wounded, but full of fight. Turk rushed at it, but
+got a blow from its armed paw that sent him off
+howling.</p>
+<p>
+A surge of reaction came over Yan. He might
+have fainted, but again he remembered the Trapper's
+words, "Bravery is keeping on even when you <i>are</i>
+skairt." He pulled himself together and very
+cautiously worked his way back to the leaning tree.
+Hearing strange sounds, yells, growls, sounds of
+conflict down below, expecting every moment to hear
+the Lynx scramble up the trunk again, to finish
+him, dimly hearing but not comprehending the
+shouts, he rested once at the leaning tree and
+breathed freely.</p>
+<p>
+"Hurry up, Yan, with that revolver," shouted
+Blackhawk.</p>
+<p>
+"I dropped it long ago."</p>
+<p>
+"Where is it?"</p>
+<p>
+Yan slid down the sapling without making reply.
+The Lynx had gone, but not far. It would have got
+away, but Turk kept running around and bothering
+it so it could not even climb a tree, and the noise
+they made in the thicket was easy to follow.</p>
+<p>
+"Where's the revolver?" shouted Caleb, with
+unusual excitement.</p>
+<p>
+"I dropped it in the fight."</p>
+<p>
+"I know. I heard it fall in the bushes," and Sam
+soon found it.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="532">532</a></span>
+Caleb seized it, but Yan said feebly, "Let me!
+Let me! It's my fight!"</p>
+<p>
+Caleb surrendered the pistol, said "Look out for
+the Dog!" and Yan crawled through the bushes till
+that dark moving form was seen again. Another
+shot and another. The sound of combat died away,
+and the Indians raised a yell of triumph&mdash;all but
+Little Beaver. A giddiness came over him; he
+trembled and reeled, and sank down on a root. Caleb
+and Sam came up quickly.</p>
+<p>
+"What's the matter, Yan?"</p>
+<p>
+"I'm sick&mdash;I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+<p>
+Caleb took his arm. It was wet. A match was
+struck.</p>
+<p>
+"Hallo, you're bleeding."</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, he had me&mdash;he caught me up the tree. I&mdash;I&mdash;thought
+I was a goner."</p>
+<p>
+All interest was now turned from the dead Lynx
+to the wounded boy.</p>
+<p>
+"Let's get him to the water."</p>
+<p>
+"Guess the camp well is the nearest."</p>
+<p>
+Caleb and Sam took care of Yan, while the others
+brought the Lynx. Yan grew better as they moved
+slowly homeward. He told all about the attack
+of the Lynx.</p>
+<p>
+"Gosh! I'd 'a' been scared out o' my wits," said
+Sam.</p>
+<p>
+"Guess I would, too," added Caleb, to the surprise
+of the Tribe; "up there, helpless, with a wounded
+Lynx&mdash;I tell you!"</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="533">533</a></span>
+"Well, I <i>was</i> scared&mdash;just as scared as I could be,"
+admitted Yan.</p>
+<p>
+At camp a blazing fire gave its lurid light. Cold
+water was handy and Yan's bleeding arm was laid
+bare. He was shocked and yet secretly delighted to
+see what a mauling he had got, for his shirt sleeve
+was soaked with blood, and the wondering words
+of his friends was sweetest music to his ears.</p>
+<p>
+Caleb and the city boy dressed his wounds, and
+when washed they did not look so very dreadful.</p>
+<p>
+They were too much excited to sleep for an hour
+at least, and as they sat about the fire&mdash;that they
+did not need but would not dream of doing without&mdash;Yan
+found no lack of enthusiasm in the circle, and
+blushed with pleasure to be the hero of the camp.
+Guy didn't see anything to make so much fuss about,
+but Caleb said, "I knowed it; I always knowed you
+was the stuff, after the night you went to Garney's
+grave."
+<img src="images/sketch295.gif" width="196" height="306" hspace="15" align="right" alt="Garney's Grave" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="534">534</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3XXXI">XXXI</a></h3>
+<h3>On the Old Camp Ground</h3>
+
+<p>
+It was threatening to rain again in the morning and
+the Indians expected to tramp home heavy laden
+in the wet. But their Medicine Man had a
+surprise in store. "I found an old friend not far
+from here and fixed it up with him to take us all
+home in his wagon." They walked out to the edge
+of the rough land and found a farm wagon with
+two horses and a driver. They got in, and in little
+less than a hour were safely back to the dear old
+camp by the pond.</p>
+<p>
+The rain was over now, and as Caleb left for his
+own home he said:</p>
+<p>
+"Say, boys, how about that election for Head
+Chief? I reckon it's due now. Suppose you wait
+till to-morrow afternoon at four o'clock an' I'll show
+you how to do it."</p>
+<p>
+That night Yan and his friend were alone in their
+teepee. His arm was bound up, and proud he was
+of those bandages and delighted with the trifling
+red spots that appeared yet on the last layer; but
+he was not in pain, nor, indeed, the worse for the
+adventure, for, thanks to his thick shirt, there was
+no poisoning. He slept as usual till long after
+midnight, then awoke in bed with a peculiar feeling
+of well-being and clearness of mind. He had no
+<span class="left"><a name="535">535</a></span>
+bodily sense; he seemed floating alone, not in the
+teepee nor in the woods, but in the world&mdash;not
+dreaming, but wide awake&mdash;more awake than ever
+in his life before, for all his life came clearly into
+view as never before: his stern, religious training;
+his father, refined and well-meaning, but blind,
+compelling him to embark in a profession to which
+he was little inclined, and to give up the one thing
+next his heart&mdash;his Woodcraft lore.</p>
+<p>
+Then Raften stepped into view, loud-voiced,
+externally coarse, but blessed with a good heart and a
+sound head. The farmer suffered sadly in contrast
+with the father, and yet Yan had to suppress the
+wish that Raften were his father. What had they in
+common? Nothing; and yet Raften had given him
+two of the dearest things in life. He, the head of
+the house, a man of force and success, had treated
+Yan with respect. Yan was enough like his own
+father to glory in the unwonted taste; and like that
+other rugged stranger long ago in Glenyan, Raften
+had also given him sympathy. Instead of considering
+his Woodcraft pursuits mere trifling, the farmer
+had furthered them, and even joined to follow for a
+time. The thought of Bonnerton came back. Yan
+knew he must return in a year at most; he knew that
+his dearest ambition of a college course in zoology
+was never to be realized, for his father had told him
+he must go as errand boy at the first opening. Again
+his rebellious spirit was stirred, to what purpose
+he did not know. He would rather stay here on the
+<span class="left"><a name="536">536</a></span>
+farm with the Raftens. But his early Scriptural
+training was not without effect. "Honour thy father
+and thy mother" was of lasting force. He felt it
+to be a binding duty. He could not rebel if he
+would. No, he would obey; and in that resolution
+new light came. In taking him from college and
+sending him to the farm his father had apparently
+cut off his hope of studies next his heart.
+Instead of suffering loss by this obedience, he had
+come to the largest opportunity of his life.</p>
+<p>
+Yes! He would go back&mdash;be errand boy or anything
+to make a living, but in his hours of freedom
+he would keep a little kingdom of his own. The road
+to it might lie through the cellar of a grocer's shop,
+but he would not flinch. He would strive and struggle
+as a naturalist. When he had won the insight he
+was seeking, the position he sought would follow, for
+every event in the woodland life had shown him&mdash;had
+shown them all, that his was the kingdom of the
+Birds and Beasts and the power to comprehend them.</p>
+<p>
+And he seemed to float, happy in the fading of all
+doubt, glad in the sense of victory. There was a
+noise outside. The teepee door was forced gently;
+a large animal entered. At another time Yan might
+have been alarmed, but the uplift of his vision was
+on him still. He watched it with curious unalarm.
+It gently came to his bed, licked his hand and laid
+down beside him. It was old Turk, and this was
+the first time he had heeded any of them but Caleb.
+<img src="images/sketch296.gif" width="242" height="118" align="right" alt="Turk" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="537">537</a></span>
+<h3><a name="3XXXII">XXXII</a></h3>
+<h3>The New War Chief</h3>
+
+<p>
+Caleb had been very busy all the day before
+doing no one knew what, and Saryann was
+busy, too. She had been very busy for long,
+but now she was bustling. Then, it seems, Caleb had
+gone to Mrs. Raften, and she was very busy, and Guy
+made a flying visit to Mrs. Burns, and she had become
+busy. Thus they turned the whole neighbourhood
+into a "bee."</p>
+<p>
+For this was Sanger, where small gatherings held
+the same place as the club, theatre and newspaper
+do in the lives of city folk. No matter what the
+occasion, a christening, wedding or funeral, a logging,
+a threshing, a home-coming or a parting, the finishing
+of a new house or the buying of a new harness
+or fanning-mill, any one of these was ample
+grounds for one of their "talking bees"; so it was
+easy to set the wheels a-running.</p>
+<p>
+At three o'clock three processions might have
+been seen wending through the woods. One was
+from Burns's, including the whole family; one from
+Raften's, comprising the family and the hired men;
+one from Caleb's, made up of Saryann and many of
+the Boyles. All brought baskets.</p>
+<p>
+They were seated in a circle on the pleasant grassy
+bank of the pond. Caleb and Sam took charge of the
+<span class="left"><a name="538">538</a></span>
+ceremonies. First, there were foot-races, in which
+Yan won in spite of his wounded arm, the city boy
+making a good second; then target-shooting and
+"Deer-hunting," that Yan could not take part in.
+It was not in the programme, but Raften insisted
+on seeing Yan measure the height of a knot in a tree
+without going to it, and grinned with delight when
+he found it was accurate.</p>
+<p>
+"Luk at that for eddication, Sam!" he roared.
+"When will ye be able to do the like? Arrah, but
+ye're good stuff, Yan, an' I've got something here'll
+plase ye."</p>
+<p>
+Raften now pulled out his purse and as magistrate
+paid over with evident joy the $5 bounty due for
+killing the Lynx. Then he added: "An' if it turns
+out as ye all claim" [and it did] "that this yer beast
+is the Sheep-killer instid av old Turk, I'll add that
+other tin."</p>
+<p>
+Thus Yan came into the largest sum be had ever
+owned in his life.</p>
+<p>
+Then the Indians went into their teepees. Caleb
+set up a stake in the ground and on that a new shield
+of wood covered with rawhide; over the rawhide was
+lightly fastened a piece of sacking.</p>
+<p>
+The guests were in a circle around this; at one
+side were some skins&mdash;Yan's Lynx and Coon&mdash;and
+the two stuffed Owls.</p>
+<p>
+Then the drum was heard, "Túm-tum&mdash;túm-tum&mdash;túm-tum&mdash;túm-tum&mdash;&mdash;"
+There was a volley of
+war-whoops, and out of the teepees dashed the Sanger
+<span class="left"><a name="539">539</a></span>
+Indians in full war paint.</p>
+
+<p class="indent2">
+"Ki ki&mdash;ki yi&mdash;ki yi yi yi<br />
+&nbsp;Ki yi&mdash;ki yi&mdash;ki yi yi yi!"
+</p>
+<img src="images/sketch297.gif" width="134" height="203" alt="The Great Woodpecker" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<p>
+They danced in exact time to the two-measure of
+the drum that was pounded by Blackhawk. Three
+times round the central post with the shield they
+danced, then the drum stopped, and they joined
+in a grand final war-whoop and squatted in a circle
+within that of the guests.</p>
+<p>
+The Great Woodpecker now arose&mdash;his mother had
+to be told who it was&mdash;and made a characteristic
+speech:</p>
+<p>
+"Big Chiefs, Little Chiefs, and Squapooses of the
+Sanger Indians: A number of things has happened
+to rob this yer nation of its noble Head Chief; they
+kin never again expect to have his equal, but this
+yer assembly is for to pick out a new one. We had
+a kind of whack at it the other day, but couldn't
+agree. Since then we had a hard trip, and things
+has cleared up some, same as puttin' Kittens in a
+pond will tell which one is the swimmer, an' we're
+here to-day to settle it."</p>
+<p>
+Loud cries of "How&mdash;how&mdash;how&mdash;how&mdash;" while
+Blackhawk pounded the drum vigorously.</p>
+<p>
+"O' course different ones has different gifts. Now
+who in all this Tribe is the best runner? That's
+Little Beaver."</p>
+<p>
+("How&mdash;how&mdash;how&mdash;how&mdash;how&mdash;" and drum.)</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="540">540</a></span>
+"That's my drum, Ma!" said Guy aside, forgetting
+to applaud.</p>
+<p>
+"Who is the best trailer and climber? Little
+Beaver, again, I reckon."</p>
+<p>
+("How&mdash;how&mdash;how&mdash;how&mdash;" and drum.)</p>
+<p>
+("He can't see worth a cent!" whispered Guy to
+his mother.)</p>
+<p>
+"Who was it won the trial of grit at Garney's
+grave? Why, it was Little Beaver."</p>
+<p>
+("An' got pretty badly scared doin' it!" was Guy's
+aside.)</p>
+<p>
+"But who was it shot the Cat-Owl plumb in the
+heart, an' fit the Lynx hand to hand, not to speak
+of the Coon? Little Beaver every time."</p>
+<p>
+("He never killed a Woodchuck in his life, Ma!")</p>
+<p>
+"Then, again, which of us can lay all the others on
+his back? Little Beaver, I s'pose."</p>
+<p>
+("Well, I can lick Char-less, any time," was Guy's
+aside.)</p>
+<p>
+"Which of us has most <i>grand coups</i> and scalps?"</p>
+<p>
+"Ye're forgittin' his eddication," put in Raften
+to be scornfully ignored; even Little Beaver resented
+this as un-Indian.</p>
+<p>
+"Which has most scalps?" Sam repeated with
+sternness. "Here's a scalp won in battle with the
+inimy," Woodpecker held it up, and the Medicine
+Man fastened it on the edge of the shield that hung
+from the post.
+<img src="images/sketch298.gif" alt="the Shield" width="139" height="180"  border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" /></p>
+<p>
+"Here is one tuk from the Head Chief of the hostiles,"
+<span class="left"><a name="541">541</a></span>
+and Caleb fastened that to the shield. "Here
+is another tuk from the Second Chief of the hostiles,"
+and Caleb placed it. "Here is one tuk from the Great
+Head War Chief of the Sangers, and here is one from
+the Head Chief of the Boilers, and another tuk in
+battle. Six scalps from six famous warriors. This
+yere is the record for the whole Tribe, an' Little
+Beaver done it; besides which, he draws pictures,
+writes poethry and cooks purty good, an' I say Little
+Beaver is the one for Chief! What says the rest?"
+and with one voice they shouted, "Hoorah for Little
+Beaver!"</p>
+<p>
+"How&mdash;how&mdash;how&mdash;how&mdash;how&mdash;<i>thump, thump,
+thump, thump</i>."</p>
+<p>
+"Any feller anything to say agin it?"</p>
+<p>
+"I eh&mdash;" Guy began.</p>
+<img src="images/sketch299.gif" width="139" height="339" alt="Little Beaver, the New War Chief" border="0" hspace="15" style="float: right" />
+<p>
+&mdash;"has got to lick the Chief," Sam continued,
+and Guy did not complete his objection, though he
+whispered to his mother, "If it was Char-less I bet
+I'd show him."</p>
+<p>
+Caleb now pulled the cover off the shield that he
+fastened the scalps to, and it showed the white Buffalo
+of the Sangers with a Little Beaver above it. Then
+he opened a bundle lying near and produced a gorgeous
+war-shirt of buff leather, a pair of leggins and
+moccasins, all fringed, beaded and painted, made by
+Saryann under Caleb's guidance. They were quickly
+put on the new Chief; his war bonnet, splendid with
+the plumes of his recent exploits, was all ready; and
+proud and happy in his new-found honours, not
+least of which were his wounds, he stepped forward.</p>
+<p><span class="left"><a name="542">542</a></span>
+Caleb viewed him with paternal pride and said: "I
+knowed ye was the stuff the night ye went to Garney's
+grave, an' I knowed it again when ye crossed
+the Big Swamp. Yan, ye could travel anywhere
+that man could go," and in that sentence the boy's
+happiness was complete. He surely was a Woodcrafter
+now. He stammered in a vain attempt to
+say something appropriate, till Sam relieved him by:
+"Three cheers for the Head War Chief!" and when
+the racket was over the women opened their baskets
+and spread the picnic feast. Raften, who had been
+much gratified by his son's flow of speech, recorded
+a new vow to make him study law, but took
+advantage of the first gap in the chatter to say:</p>
+<p>
+"Bhise, ye'r two weeks' holiday with wan week
+extension was up at noon to-day. In wan hour an' a
+half the Pigs is fed."</p>
+<p class="center"><img src="images/sketch300.gif" width="243" height="145" alt="In wan hour an' a half the Pigs is fed" border="0" /></p>
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<span class="left"><a name="543">543</a></span>
+<h2><a name="Index">INDEX</a></h2>
+<p class="center">
+<a href="#A">A</a> | <a href="#B">B</a> | <a href="#C">C</a> | <a href="#D">D</a> |
+<a href="#E">E</a> | <a href="#F">F</a> | <a href="#G">G</a> | <a href="#H">H</a> |
+<a href="#In">I</a> | <a href="#J">J</a> | <a href="#K">K</a> | <a href="#L">L</a> |
+<a href="#M">M</a> | <a href="#N">N</a> | <a href="#O">O</a> | <a href="#P">P</a> |
+Q | <a href="#R">R</a> | <a href="#S">S</a> | <a href="#T">T</a> |
+<a href="#U">U</a> | <a href="#V">V</a> | <a href="#W">W</a> | X |
+<a href="#Y">Y</a> | Z</p>
+<p class="note">NOTE: The Index entries are linked to the relevant page (or first of consecutive pages).
+In most instances, the link is the name. In the case of two or more separate entries for one word,
+the link to the later entry/entries is the later page number/s.
+</p>
+
+<table width="100%" align="center" summary="Index-A" border="0">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+
+<span class="right"><a name="A">303</a></span><a href="#303">Arapahoes</a><br />
+<a href="#181">Arrows</a>&mdash;<br />
+<span class="right">179-181</span><span class="indent"><a href="#179">How to make</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">187</span><span class="indent"><a href="#187">Individuality of</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">179</span><a href="#179">Arrow-wood</a><br />
+</td>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right">180</span><span class="indent"><a href="#180">Illustration of</a></span><br />
+<a href="#78">Ash</a>&mdash;<br />
+<span class="right">78</span><span class="indent"><a href="#78">White</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">80</span><span class="indent"><a href="#80">Illustration of</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">78</span><span class="indent"><a href="#78">Black</a></span><br />
+ </td>
+ </tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br />
+
+<table width="100%" align="center" summary="Index-B" border="0">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right"><a name="B">523</a></span><a href="#523">Bagg's, Widdy, place</a><br />
+<span class="right">514</span><a href="#514">Bald Eagle</a><br />
+<span class="right">195</span><a href="#195">Bald-Eagle-Settin'-on-a-Rock-with-his-Tail-Hangin'-over-the-Edge</a><br />
+<span class="right">78</span><a href="#78">Balsam</a><br />
+<span class="right">170, 171, <a href="#255">255</a></span><a href="#170">Balsam-fir</a><br />
+<span class="right">369</span><span class="indent"><a href="#369">Balsam bark, used for tanning</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">255</span><span class="indent"><a href="#255">Boughs for bed</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">171</span><span class="indent"><a href="#171">Wood for rubbing-sticks</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">234</span><span class="indent"><a href="#234">Illustration of</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">461, <a href="#467">467</a></span><a href="#461">Banshee, the</a><br />
+<span class="right">170</span><a href="#170">Basswood</a><br />
+<span class="right">450</span><span class="indent"><a href="#450">Usually hollow</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">48</span><span class="indent"><a href="#48">Leaf illustration</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">197</span><a href="#197">Beavering</a><br />
+<span class="right">468</span><a href="#468">Bear hunt</a><br />
+<span class="right">512</span><a href="#512">Beaver River</a><br />
+<span class="right">78</span><a href="#78">Beech</a><br />
+<span class="right">78</span><span class="indent"><a href="#78">Illustration of</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">206</span><span class="indent"><a href="#206">Blue, illustration of</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">71-75</span><a href="#71">Biddy</a><br />
+<a href="#78">Birch</a>&mdash;<br />
+<span class="right">78</span><span class="indent"><a href="#78">White</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">78</span><span class="indent"><a href="#78">Black</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">118, <a href="#218">218</a></span><span class="indent"><a href="#118">Canoe</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">63, <a href="#196">196</a></span><span class="indent"><a href="#63">Dishes</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">218</span><span class="indent"><a href="#218">Mahogany</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">218</span><span class="indent"><a href="#218">Sweet</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">218</span><span class="indent"><a href="#218">Black</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">78</span><span class="indent"><a href="#78">Illustration of</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">162</span><a href="#162">Blackbirds, Red-winged</a><br />
+<span class="right">215</span><a href="#215">Blackbird, purple (Jack)</a><br />
+<span class="right">76</span><a href="#76">Black Cherry</a><br />
+</td>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right">77</span><span class="indent"><a href="#77">Lung balm</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">78</span><span class="indent"><a href="#78">As a remedy</a></span><br />
+<a href="#166">Blaze</a>&mdash;<br />
+<span class="right">166</span><span class="indent"><a href="#166">Special</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">166</span><span class="indent"><a href="#166">Road</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">232</span><a href="#232">Blood Robin</a><br />
+<span class="right">71</span><a href="#71">Blood Root</a><br />
+<span class="right">197</span><a href="#197">Bloody-Thundercloud-in-the-Afternoon</a><br />
+<span class="right">162</span><a href="#162">Bluebird</a><br />
+<span class="right">316</span><a href="#316">Blue-bottle Flies</a><br />
+<span class="right">316, 317</span><span class="indent"><a href="#316">Plague</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">201</span><a href="#201">Blue Cohosh</a><br />
+<span class="right">456, 457</span><a href="#456">Blue Crane (Heron)</a><br />
+<span class="right">344, <a href="#474">474</a></span><a href="#344">Blue-jay</a><br />
+<span class="right">34, <a href="#64">64</a></span><a href="#34">Bobolink</a><br />
+<span class="right">497</span><a href="#497">Boilers, the</a><br />
+<span class="right">203</span><a href="#203">Boneset (Eupatorium perfoliatum)</a><br />
+<a href="#58">Bow</a>&mdash;<br />
+<span class="right">177</span><span class="indent"><a href="#177">How to make</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">178</span><span class="indent"><a href="#178">Bowstring</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">81</span><a href="#81">Bow-drill Yan makes</a><br />
+<span class="right">171, 172</span><span class="indent"><a href="#171">How to light a fire with</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">105, 106, <a href="#243">243</a></span><a href="#105">Boyle Char-less</a><br />
+<span class="right">219</span><a href="#219">Burns, Guy</a><br />
+<span class="right">220</span><span class="indent"><a href="#220">Is captured by Yan and Sam</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">230</span><span class="indent"><a href="#230">Becomes a member of the tribe</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">289</span><span class="indent"><a href="#289">His stuffed Deer</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">415</span><span class="indent"><a href="#415">His test of courage</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">432</span><span class="indent"><a href="#432">Kills the Woodchuck</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">440</span><span class="indent"><a href="#440">Name changed to Hawkeye</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">42</span><a href="#42">Butterfly, black</a><br />
+<a href="#54">Butternuts</a>&mdash;<br />
+<span class="right">54, <a href="#71">71</a></span><span class="indent"><a href="#54">Used for dyeing</a></span><br />
+</td>
+ </tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br />
+
+<table width="100%" align="center" summary="Index-C" border="0">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right"><a name="C">130</a>, 131, <a href="#141">141</a></span><a href="#131">Caleb Clark</a><br />
+<span class="right">146</span><span class="indent"><a href="#146">His description of a teepee</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">300, <a href="#303">303</a></span><span class="indent"><a href="#300">His Indian adventures</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">305</span><span class="indent"><a href="#305">Makes Indian war bonnet</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">308</span><span class="indent"><a href="#308">His standard of a good shot</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">359</span><span class="indent"><a href="#359">He tells Yan how to find his way in the woods</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">366</span><span class="indent"><a href="#366">Shows the boys how to skin a horse</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">368</span><span class="indent">&nbsp;&nbsp;<a href="#368">and how to tan skin</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">371</span><span class="indent"><a href="#371">How to make moccasins</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">374</span><span class="indent"><a href="#374">His opinion of hunters and hunting</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">427</span><span class="indent"><a href="#427">His marksmanship</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">452</span><span class="indent"><a href="#452">Encounter with Mr. Raften on the coon hunt</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">464</span><span class="indent"><a href="#464">Story of his quarrel with Mr. Raften</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">485</span><span class="indent"><a href="#485">Encounter with Bill Hennard</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">494</span><span class="indent"><a href="#494">Gets possession of his farm</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">110</span><a href="#110">Calfskins, sold by boys</a><br />
+<span class="right">320</span><span class="indent"><a href="#320">Used as drum-heads</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">368</span><span class="indent"><a href="#368">Tanning of</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">328</span><a href="#328">Cardinal flowers</a><br />
+<span class="right">329</span><a href="#329">Cat</a><br />
+<span class="right">332</span><span class="indent"><a href="#332">Fight with Skunk</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">342</span><span class="indent"><a href="#342">Adopts young Squirrels</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">378</span><span class="indent"><a href="#378">Is caught in the ketch-alive</a></span><br />
+<a href="#205">Catnip</a>&mdash;<br />
+<span class="right">71</span><span class="indent"><a href="#71">Tea</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">205</span><span class="indent"><a href="#205">How it cured the Cat</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">78, <a href="#177">177</a></span><a href="#78">Cedar</a><br />
+</td>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right">514</span><a href="#514">Cedar-birds</a><br />
+<span class="right">497</span><a href="#497">Char-less (Red-squirrel)</a><br />
+<span class="right">204</span><a href="#204">Chenopodium</a><br />
+<span class="right">350</span><a href="#350">Chipmunk</a><br />
+<span class="right">473</span><span class="indent"><a href="#473">Sam's Chipmunk capture</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">350, <a href="#474">474</a></span><a href="#350">Chickadee, cock</a><br />
+<span class="right">76</span><a href="#76">Choke-cherry</a><br />
+<span class="right">78</span><a href="#78">Clam shells</a><br />
+<span class="right">202</span><a href="#202">Cohosh</a><br />
+<span class="right">207</span><a href="#207">Connor, Kitty</a><br />
+<a href="#443">Coon</a>&mdash;<br />
+<span class="right">69</span><span class="indent"><a href="#69">Hairs</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">165, <a href="#443">443</a></span><span class="indent"><a href="#165">Hunt</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">66, <a href="#273">273</a></span><span class="indent"><a href="#66">Tracks</a></span><br />
+<a href="#170">Cottonwood root</a><br />
+<span class="right">170</span><span class="indent"><a href="#170">Indians use to light fires</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">435</span><a href="#435">Council, the Grand</a><br />
+<span class="right">299, <a href="#303">303</a>, 304, <a href="#308">308</a></span><a href="#299">Coup, Grand</a><br />
+<span class="right">327</span><a href="#327">Cow-bird</a><br />
+<span class="right">349</span><a href="#349">Crawfish</a><br />
+<span class="right">350</span><a href="#350">Creeper</a><br />
+<a href="#79">Crow</a>&mdash;<br />
+<span class="right">72</span><span class="indent"><a href="#72">Split tongue</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">79</span><span class="indent"><a href="#79">Common, tracks of</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">344</span><a href="#344">Cuckoo, black-billed</a><br />
+<span class="right">201</span><a href="#201">Cypripedium</a><br />
+</td>
+ </tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br />
+
+<table width="100%" align="center" summary="Index-D" border="0">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right"><a name="D">503</a></span><a href="#503">Dachshund</a><br />
+<span class="right">72</span><a href="#72">Daddy Longlegs and the cows</a><br />
+<a href="#188">Dam</a>&mdash;<br />
+<span class="right">191</span><span class="indent"><a href="#191">The boys build</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">71</span><a href="#71">Dandelion roots</a><br />
+<span class="right">73</span><span class="indent"><a href="#73">Coffee</a></span><br />
+<a href="#288">Deer</a>&mdash;<br />
+<span class="right">289</span><span class="indent"><a href="#289">Guy's stuffed</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">294</span><span class="indent"><a href="#294">Shooting game</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">124, 125, <a href="#131">131</a></span><a href="#124">De Neuville, Granny</a><br />
+<span class="right">132</span><span class="indent"><a href="#132">Mr. Raften buys her Pigs</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">133</span><span class="indent"><a href="#133">Her love of flowers and birds</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">136</span><span class="indent"><a href="#136">She prescribes for Sam's leg</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">200, 201, 2O2, 203, 204, 205</span><span class="indent"><a href="#200">Her herb lore</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">208, 209</span><span class="indent"><a href="#208">Her visit from the robbers</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">257</span><a href="#257">Dew-cloth</a><br />
+<span class="right">497</span><a href="#497">Digby, Cyrus, (Blue-jay)</a><br />
+<span class="right">312</span><a href="#312">Dipper</a><br />
+</td>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right">88, <a href="#134">134</a>, <a href="#141">141</a></span><a href="#88">Dog</a>&mdash;<br />
+<span class="right">502</span><span class="indent"><a href="#502">How to tell height by track</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">103</span><a href="#103">Dogans</a><br />
+<span class="right">423</span><a href="#423">Downey's Dump</a><br />
+<span class="right">514</span><a href="#514">Droser&aelig; (Fly-eating plants)</a><br />
+<span class="right">363</span><a href="#363">Ducks, flock of</a><br />
+<a href="#209">Dyeing</a>&mdash;<br />
+<span class="right">54, <a href="#71">71</a></span><span class="indent"><a href="#54">With Butternuts</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">71</span><span class="indent"><a href="#71">With Hemlock</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">71</span><span class="indent"><a href="#71">With Goldthread</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">210</span><span class="indent"><a href="#210">With Goldenrod</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">210</span><span class="indent"><a href="#210">With Berries</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">211</span><span class="indent"><a href="#211">With Pokeweed</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">211</span><span class="indent"><a href="#211">With Elder shoots</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">211</span><span class="indent"><a href="#211">With Oak chips</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">211</span><span class="indent"><a href="#211">With Hickory bark</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">211</span><span class="indent"><a href="#211">With Birch</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">211</span><span class="indent"><a href="#211">With Dogwood</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">211</span><span class="indent"><a href="#211">With Indigo herb</a></span><br />
+</td>
+ </tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br />
+
+<table width="100%" align="center" summary="Index-E" border="0">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<a href="#303">Eagle Feathers</a><a name="E">&mdash;</a><br />
+<span class="right">299</span><span class="indent"><a href="#299">As worn by Indian Warriors</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">81</span><a href="#81">Elderberry-shoot, used for pipestem</a><br />
+<span class="right">77</span><a href="#77">Ellis, Bud, is cured by Lung Balm</a><br />
+<a href="#47">Elm</a>&mdash;<br />
+</td>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right">74, <a href="#78">78</a></span><span class="indent"><a href="#74">Slippery</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">78</span><span class="indent"><a href="#78">Swamp</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">119, <a href="#122">122</a></span><span class="indent"><a href="#119">Bark for teepees</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">104</span><a href="#104">Emmy Grants</a><br />
+<span class="right">203</span><a href="#203">Eupatorium perfoliatum (Boneset)</a><br />
+</td>
+ </tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br />
+
+<table width="100%" align="center" summary="Index-F" border="0">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right"><a name="F">62</a>, <a href="#80">80</a>-81, <a href="#167">167</a>-170</span><a href="#62">Fire</a>&mdash;<br />
+<span class="right">171, 172</span><span class="indent"><a href="#171">How to light without matches</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">124, <a href="#170">170</a>, <a href="#268">268</a></span><span class="indent"><a href="#124">Right woods to use</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">359</span><span class="indent"><a href="#359">Signal</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">351</span><a href="#351">Flicker</a><br />
+<span class="right">475</span><span class="indent"><a href="#475">Illustration of nest</a></span><br />
+  </td>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right">337</span><a href="#337">Flying-squirrel</a><br />
+<a href="#345">Fox</a>&mdash;<br />
+<span class="right">353</span><span class="indent"><a href="#353">His Rabbit hunt</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">447</span><span class="indent"><a href="#447">Callaghan</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">163</span><a href="#163">Frogs</a><br />
+</td>
+ </tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br />
+
+<table width="100%" align="center" summary="Index-G" border="0">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right"><a name="G">203</a></span><a href="#203">Galium</a><br />
+<span class="right">413</span><a href="#413">Garney, Bill, grave of</a><br />
+<span class="right">71, <a href="#74">74</a></span><a href="#71">Ginseng</a><br />
+<a href="#210">Goldenrod</a>&mdash;<br />
+<span class="right">210</span><span class="indent"><a href="#210">Used for dyeing</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">360</span><span class="indent"><a href="#360">Usually points north</a></span><br />
+  </td>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right">201</span><a href="#201">Golden Seal</a> (Hydrastis Canadensis)<br />
+<span class="right">71, <a href="#204">204</a></span><a href="#71">Goldthread</a><br />
+<span class="right">161</span><a href="#161">Graybird</a><br />
+<span class="right">89</span><a href="#89">Grip, the Dog</a><br />
+<span class="right">227</span><a href="#227">Gyascutus</a><br />
+</td>
+ </tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br />
+
+<table width="100%" align="center" summary="Index-H" border="0">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<a href="#63">Hawk</a><a name="H">&mdash;</a><br />
+<span class="right">64</span><span class="indent"><a href="#64">Sharpshin</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">158</span><span class="indent"><a href="#158">Fight with King-bird</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">346</span><span class="indent"><a href="#346">Chicken</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">351</span><span class="indent"><a href="#351">Red-shouldered</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">64, <a href="#474">474</a>, <a href="#514">514</a></span><span class="indent"><a href="#64">Sparrow</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">196</span><a href="#196">Hearne, Samuel</a><br />
+<span class="right">71</span><a href="#71">Hemlock, bark</a><br />
+<span class="right">78</span><span class="indent"><a href="#78">Tree</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">369</span><span class="indent"><a href="#369">Used for tanning</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">65</span><a href="#65">Henbane</a><br />
+<span class="right">478</span><a href="#478">Hennard, Bill</a><br />
+</td>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right">71-75</span><a href="#71">Herb-lore, Biddy's</a><br />
+<span class="right">200-211</span><span class="indent"><a href="#200">Granny's</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">456, 457</span><a href="#456">Heron (Blue Crane)</a><br />
+<span class="right">203</span>"<a href="#203">Highbelier</a>"<br />
+<span class="right">42</span><a href="#42">Hornet, blue</a><br />
+<span class="right">366</span><a href="#366">Horse, how to skin</a><br />
+<a href="#72">Horse-hair</a>&mdash;<br />
+<span class="right">72</span><span class="indent"><a href="#72">Turns to a snake</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">232, <a href="#340">340</a></span><a href="#232">Humming-bird</a><br />
+<span class="right">201</span><a href="#201">Hydrastis Canadensis</a> (Golden Seal)<br />
+<span class="right">41</span><a href="#41">Hyla pickeringii</a> (Frog)<br />
+</td>
+ </tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br />
+
+<table width="100%" align="center" summary="Index-I" border="0">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<a href="#27">Indian</a><a name="In">&mdash;</a><br />
+<span class="right">44</span><span class="indent"><a href="#44">Sense of smell</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">146</span><span class="indent"><a href="#146">Teepees</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">299</span><span class="indent"><a href="#299">Head-dresses</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">300</span><span class="indent"><a href="#300">Telegram of good luck</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">303</span><span class="indent"><a href="#303">Meaning of Eagle feathers</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">305</span><span class="indent"><a href="#305">War bonnet</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">306</span><span class="indent"><a href="#306">Ability to foretell storms</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">309, 310</span><span class="indent"><a href="#309">Games</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">312</span><span class="indent"><a href="#312">Tests of eyes</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">318, <a href="#512">512</a>, <a href="#518">518</a></span><span class="indent"><a href="#318">Well</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">320, 321</span><span class="indent"><a href="#320">Drum</a></span><br />
+  </td>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right">355, 356</span><span class="indent"><a href="#355">Smoke signs</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">356</span><span class="indent"><a href="#356">Trail signs</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">368</span><span class="indent"><a href="#368">Method of tanning skins</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">461</span><span class="indent"><a href="#461">Paints</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">69</span><a href="#69">Indian cucumber</a><br />
+<span class="right">71</span><a href="#71">Indian cup</a><br />
+<a href="#307">Indian squaw</a>&mdash;<br />
+<span class="right">195, 196</span><span class="indent"><a href="#195">Yan's story of</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">74, <a href="#200">200</a></span><a href="#74">Indian turnips</a><br />
+<span class="right">211</span><a href="#211">Indigo herb</a><br />
+<span class="right">71, <a href="#73">73</a>, <a href="#202">202</a></span><a href="#71">Injun tobacco</a><br />
+<span class="right"> 78</span><a href="#78">Ironwood</a><br />
+</td>
+ </tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br />
+
+<table width="100%" align="center" summary="Index-J" border="0">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right"><a name="J">74</a>, <a href="#200">200</a></span><a href="#74">Jack-in-the-Pulpit</a><br />
+<span class="right">340</span><a href="#340">Jewel-flower</a><br />
+</td>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right">328</span><a href="#328">Jewelweed</a><br />
+</td>
+ </tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br />
+
+<table width="100%" align="center" summary="Index-K" border="0">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right"><a name="K">377</a></span><a href="#377">Ketchalive, how to make a</a><br />
+<span class="right">157</span><a href="#157">Kingbird</a><br />
+<span class="right">158</span><span class="indent"><a href="#158">Fight with Hawk</a></span><br />
+  </td>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right">162, <a href="#346">346</a></span><a href="#162">Kingfishers</a><br />
+<span class="right">201</span><a href="#201">Kingroot</a><br />
+</td>
+ </tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br />
+
+<table width="100%" align="center" summary="Index-L" border="0">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right"><a name="L">177</a></span><a href="#177">Lancewood</a><br />
+<span class="right">206</span><a href="#206">Larry, how he made brooms</a><br />
+<span class="right">71</span><a href="#71">Lavender tea</a><br />
+<span class="right">121, 221</span><a href="#121">Leatherwood</a><br />
+<span class="right">203</span><a href="#203">Lindera Benzoin (Spicebush)</a><br />
+<span class="right">197</span><a href="#197">Little Beaver</a><br />
+<span class="right">41</span><a href="#41">Lizard, Whistling,</a><br />
+</td>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right">203</span><a href="#203">Lobelia</a><br />
+<span class="right">510</span><a href="#510">Long Swamp, trip to</a><br />
+<span class="right">363</span><a href="#363">Loon</a><br />
+<span class="right">77</span><a href="#77">Lung Balm</a><br />
+<a href="#88">Lynx</a><br />
+<span class="right">90</span><span class="indent"><a href="#90">Yan meets</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">532</span><span class="indent"><a href="#532">Is killed in Long Swamp</a></span><br />
+</td>
+ </tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br />
+
+<table width="100%" align="center" summary="Index-M" border="0">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right"><a name="M">517</a></span><a href="#517">Mallard Duck</a><br />
+<span class="right">201</span><a href="#201">Mandrakes</a><br />
+<span class="right">78</span><a href="#78">Maple</a><br />
+<span class="right">162</span><a href="#162">Martins, Sand</a><br />
+<span class="right">282, <a href="#327">327</a></span><a href="#282">"Massacrees"</a><br />
+<span class="right">201</span><a href="#201">May Apple</a><br />
+<span class="right">273, <a href="#341">341</a>, <a href="#346">346</a></span><a href="#273">Mink</a><br />
+<span class="right">348</span><span class="indent"><a href="#348">Kills Muskrat</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">373</span><span class="indent"><a href="#373">How to catch</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">247</span><a href="#247">Minnie, makes peace between Yan and Sam</a><br />
+</td>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right">346</span><a href="#346">Minnow</a><br />
+<span class="right">202</span><a href="#202">Moccasin</a><br />
+<span class="right">370</span><span class="indent"><a href="#370">How to make</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">316</span><a href="#316">Mosquitoes, how to keep out of teepee</a><br />
+<span class="right">341, <a href="#350">350</a></span><a href="#341">Mouse, Field</a><br />
+<span class="right">270, <a href="#274">274</a>, 275, <a href="#278">278</a></span><a href="#270">Mud albums</a><br />
+<span class="right">79, <a href="#263">263</a>, <a href="#273">273</a>, <a href="#341">341</a>, <a href="#345">345</a></span><a href="#79">Muskrat</a><br />
+<span class="right">348</span><span class="indent"><a href="#348">Killed by Mink</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">349</span><span class="indent"><a href="#349">Burrows hole in dam</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">78</span><a href="#78">Mussel shells</a><br />
+</td>
+ </tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br />
+
+<table width="100%" align="center" summary="Index-N" border="0">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right"><a name="N">63</a></span><a href="#63">Needles, made of Catfish bones</a><br />
+<span class="right">98</span><a href="#98">Niagara, Yan visits</a><br />
+</td>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right">312</span><a href="#312">North Star</a><br />
+</td>
+ </tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br />
+
+<table width="100%" align="center" summary="Index-O" border="0">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right"><a name="O">123</a></span><a href="#123">Oak, pick to make holes for sewing bark</a><br />
+<span class="right">370</span><a href="#370">Ojibwa</a><br />
+<span class="right">105, <a href="#275">275</a></span><a href="#105">O'Leary, Phil</a><br />
+<span class="right">177</span><a href="#177">Osage orange</a><br />
+<span class="right">458</span><a href="#458">Oven bird</a><br />
+<span class="right">113</span><a href="#113">Owl, Stuffed</a><br />
+</td>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right">163</span><span class="indent"><a href="#163">Hoot</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">165</span><span class="indent"><a href="#165">Screech</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">263</span><span class="indent"><a href="#263">Horned</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">399</span><span class="indent"><a href="#399">Cat</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">399, 400</span><span class="indent"><a href="#399">Horned Owls, killed by Yan and Sam</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">402, <a href="#404">404</a></span><span class="indent"><a href="#402">How to stuff</a></span><br />
+</td>
+ </tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br />
+
+<table width="100%" align="center" summary="Index-P" border="0">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right"><a name="P">111</a>, 112</span><a href="#111">Parlour, the Raftens'</a><br />
+<span class="right">373</span><a href="#373">Partridge head for Mink bait</a><br />
+<span class="right">41</span><a href="#41">Peeper</a><br />
+<span class="right">42</span><a href="#42">Pelopæus, Mud-wasp</a><br />
+<span class="right">497</span><a href="#497">Peter (Peetweet)</a><br />
+<span class="right">78</span><a href="#78">Pine</a><br />
+<span class="right">63</span><a href="#63">Pine Grosbeak</a><br />
+</td>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right">71, <a href="#204">204</a></span><a href="#71">Pipsissewa</a><br />
+<span class="right">312</span><a href="#312">Pleiades</a><br />
+<span class="right">204</span><a href="#204">Pleurisy root</a><br />
+<span class="right">380, <a href="#494">494</a></span><a href="#380">Pogue, Dick</a><br />
+<span class="right">211</span><a href="#211">Pokeweed</a><br />
+<span class="right">103, <a href="#106">106</a>, <a href="#211">211</a>, <a href="#216">216</a></span><a href="#103">Prattisons</a><br />
+<span class="right">124</span><a href="#124">Prayer-sticks</a><br />
+</td>
+ </tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br />
+
+<table width="100%" align="center" summary="Index-R" border="0">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right"><a name="R">354</a></span><a href="#354">Rabbit, how he escaped the Fox</a><br />
+<a href="#28">Rad</a>&mdash;<br />
+<span class="right">30</span><span class="indent"><a href="#30">Unkindness to Yan</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">93</span><span class="indent"><a href="#93">Goes Lynx-hunting with Yan</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">115</span><a href="#115">Raften, Bud</a><br />
+<span class="right">107</span><a href="#107">Raften, Mrs., kindness to Yan</a><br />
+<span class="right">103, <a href="#105">105</a></span><a href="#103">Raften, Wm.</a><br />
+<span class="right">108, 109</span><span class="indent"><a href="#108">His characteristics</a></span><br />
+</td>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right">255</span><span class="indent"><a href="#256">Helps the boys make their bed in teepee</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">489, <a href="#490">490</a></span><span class="indent"><a href="#489">Makes friends with Caleb and helps him out of his trouble</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">64</span><a href="#64">Rail</a><br />
+<span class="right">350</span><span class="indent"><a href="#350">Sora rails</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">80, <a href="#338">338</a></span><a href="#80">Red Squirrels</a><br />
+<span class="right">339</span><span class="indent"><a href="#339">Nest robbed by boys</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">162</span><a href="#162">Robin</a><br />
+<span class="right">476</span><span class="indent"><a href="#476">Guy kills</a></span><br />
+</td>
+ </tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br />
+
+<table width="100%" align="center" summary="Index-S" border="0">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right"><a name="S">107</a></span><a href="#107">Sam</a><br />
+<span class="right">112</span><span class="indent"><a href="#112">His collection of birds' eggs</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">200</span><span class="indent"><a href="#200">He visits Granny de Neuville</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">397, 398</span><span class="indent"><a href="#397">His skill with the axe</a></span><br />
+<a href="#23">Sander</a><br />
+<span class="right">23</span><span class="indent"><a href="#23">Taxidermist's shop</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">24</span><span class="indent"><a href="#24">Exhibit of birds</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">170</span><a href="#170">Sage-brush root, Indians use to light fires</a><br />
+<span class="right">411</span><a href="#411">Sandals, worn when Dear-hunting</a><br />
+<span class="right">71, <a href="#101">101</a></span><a href="#71">Sanger</a>&mdash;<br />
+<span class="right">103, 104</span><span class="indent"><a href="#103">Account of settlers</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">112</span><span class="indent"><a href="#112">Custom of framing coffin-plates</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">300</span><a href="#300">Santees (Sioux)</a><br />
+<span class="right">71</span><a href="#71">Sassafras</a><br />
+<span class="right">232, <a href="#279">279</a></span><a href="#232">Scarlet Tanager</a><br />
+<span class="right">207</span><a href="#207">Sees Yan again at Granny de Neuville's</a><br />
+<span class="right">64</span><a href="#64">Sharp-shin</a><br />
+<a href="#78">Shells</a>&mdash;<br />
+<span class="right">78</span><span class="indent"><a href="#78">Mussel</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">78</span><span class="indent"><a href="#78">Clam</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">97</span><a href="#97">Shore-lark</a><br />
+<span class="right">158</span><a href="#158">Meadow-lark, pursued by Hawk</a><br />
+</td>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right">474</span><a href="#474">Shrew, Yan finds body of</a><br />
+<span class="right">155, 156, <a href="#165">165</a></span><a href="#155">Si Lee</a><br />
+<span class="right">402-405</span><span class="indent"><a href="#402">Teaches the boys how to stuff Horned Owls</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">332</span><a href="#332">Skunk, fight with Cat</a><br />
+<span class="right">202</span><a href="#202">Skunk Cabbage</a><br />
+<span class="right">202</span><a href="#202">Skunk-root</a><br />
+<span class="right">355</span><a href="#355">Smoke, signs used by Indians</a><br />
+<span class="right">74</span><a href="#74">Snake, dies at sundown</a><br />
+<span class="right">349</span><a href="#349">Snipe, Teetering (Tipup)</a><br />
+<span class="right">74, <a href="#200">200</a></span><a href="#74">"Sorry-plant"</a><br />
+<a href="#161">Sparrow&mdash;</a><br />
+<span class="right">161, 162</span><span class="indent"><a href="#161">Vesper</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">162, 163, <a href="#457">457</a></span><span class="indent"><a href="#162">Song</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">63, <a href="#474">474</a>, <a href="#514">514</a></span><a href="#63">Sparrow-hawk</a><br />
+<span class="right">204</span><a href="#204">Spear-mint</a><br />
+<span class="right">203</span><a href="#203">Spicewood (Lindera Benzoin)</a><br />
+<span class="right">73</span><a href="#73">Spider, kill a spider to make it rain</a><br />
+<span class="right">210</span><a href="#210">Squaw berries</a><br />
+<span class="right">65</span><a href="#65">Stramonium</a><br />
+<span class="right">72</span><a href="#72">Superstitious sayings, Biddy's</a><br />
+<span class="right">72</span><a href="#72">Swallows, shooting</a><br />
+<span class="right">72, <a href="#162">162</a></span><span class="indent"><a href="#72">Keep off lightning</a></span><br />
+</td>
+ </tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br />
+
+<table width="100%" align="center" summary="Index-T" border="0">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right"><a name="T">402</a></span><a href="#402">Taxidermy, Si Lee gives a lesson in</a><br />
+<a href="#118">Teepee</a>&mdash;<br />
+<span class="right">119</span><span class="indent"><a href="#119">Is begun</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">125, 126</span><span class="indent"><a href="#125">Does not prove satisfactory, smokes, leaks</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">129</span><span class="indent"><a href="#129">Is blown down</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">146</span><span class="indent"><a href="#146">Caleb Clark's description</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">151</span><span class="indent"><a href="#151">Second teepee is begun</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">154</span><span class="indent"><a href="#154">Storm-cap</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">167, 168</span><span class="indent"><a href="#167">How to place poles and ropes</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">169</span><span class="indent"><a href="#169">Should face east</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">460</span><span class="indent"><a href="#460">How to secure in a storm</a></span><br />
+  </td>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right">72, <a href="#163">163</a></span><a href="#72">Toads, give warts</a><br />
+<a href="#52">Trails</a>&mdash;<br />
+<span class="right">294</span><span class="indent"><a href="#294">Paper</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">297</span><span class="indent"><a href="#297">Corn</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">356</span><span class="indent"><a href="#356">Signs of</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">360</span><a href="#360">Trees, points of compass indicated by</a><br />
+<span class="right">504, 505</span><span class="indent"><a href="#504">How to tell height by shadow</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">506, 507</span><span class="indent"><a href="#506">How to measure distance between trees</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">263, <a href="#344">344</a></span><a href="#263">Tree-frog</a><br />
+<span class="right">179</span><a href="#179">Turkey feathers for arrows</a><br />
+<span class="right">79</span><a href="#79">Turtle, mud</a><br />
+<span class="right">57</span><a href="#57">Tutnee</a><br />
+</td>
+ </tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br />
+
+<table width="100%" align="center" summary="Index-U" border="0">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right"><a name="U">201</a></span><a href="#201">Umbil, or "Sterrick-root"</a><br />
+</td>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">&nbsp;</td>
+ </tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br />
+
+<table width="100%" align="center" summary="Index-V" border="0">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right"><a name="V">352</a></span><a href="#352">Veery</a><br />
+</td>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right">267</span><a href="#267">Vireo, Red-eyed</a><br />
+</td>
+ </tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br />
+
+<table width="100%" align="center" summary="Index-W" border="0">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right"><a name="W">317</a>, 318</span><a href="#317">Wakan Rock</a><br />
+<span class="right">411</span><a href="#411">War bonnets</a><br />
+<span class="right">42</span><a href="#42">Wasp, mud</a><br />
+<span class="right">497</span><a href="#497">Wesley (Blackhawk)</a><br />
+<span class="right">274</span><a href="#274">Whangerdoodle</a><br />
+<span class="right">163</span><a href="#163">Whippoorwill</a><br />
+<span class="right">71</span><a href="#71">White-man's Foot</a><br />
+<span class="right">168</span><a href="#168">White Oak pins for teepee</a><br />
+<span class="right">303</span><a href="#303">Whooping Crane</a><br />
+<span class="right">119</span><a href="#119">Willow, withes for tying teepee poles</a><br />
+<span class="right">308</span><a href="#308">Wind, how to tell direction of</a><br />
+<span class="right">74</span><a href="#74">Wintergreen</a><br />
+</td>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+
+<a href="#73">Witch-hazel&mdash;</a><br />
+<span class="right">73</span><span class="indent"><a href="#73">Will find water</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">137</span><span class="indent"><a href="#137">Granny de Neuville's medicine</a></span><br />
+<a href="#261">Woodchuck&mdash;</a><br />
+<span class="right">280</span><span class="indent"><a href="#280">Sam's story</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">432</span><span class="indent"><a href="#432">Guy kills the old Woodchuck</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">393</span><a href="#393">Wood-duck</a><br />
+<span class="right">80</span><a href="#80">Wood-mouse</a><br />
+<span class="right">344</span><a href="#344">Wood-peewee</a><br />
+<span class="right">162, <a href="#338">338</a>, <a href="#350">350</a></span><a href="#162">Woodpecker, Red-headed</a><br />
+<span class="right">72</span><a href="#72">Worm, measuring</a><br />
+<span class="right">204</span><a href="#204">Wormweed</a><br />
+</td>
+ </tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br />
+
+<table width="100%" align="center" summary="Index-Y" border="0">
+<tr>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<a href="#19">Yan</a><a name="Y">&mdash;</a><br />
+<span class="right">19</span><span class="indent"><a href="#19">Homelife</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">25</span><span class="indent"><a href="#25">His attempts to buy Owl</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">26</span><span class="indent"><a href="#26">Love for spring</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">33</span><span class="indent"><a href="#33">How he made the last dime for his first nature book</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">40</span><span class="indent"><a href="#40">His meeting with the unknown naturalist</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">47</span><span class="indent"><a href="#47">Discovery of Glenyan</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">51</span><span class="indent"><a href="#51">Building of the shanty</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">61</span><span class="indent"><a href="#61">Imitation of Indians</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">63</span><span class="indent"><a href="#63">Makes a drawing of a Hawk</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">69</span><span class="indent"><a href="#69">Identifies Coon-hairs</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">70</span><span class="indent"><a href="#70">Is made ill by chewing leaves of strange plant</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">78</span><span class="indent"><a href="#78">His list of trees</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">80</span><span class="indent"><a href="#80">Tries to kill Wood-mouse</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">81</span><span class="indent"><a href="#81">Makes a pipe and learns to smoke</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">82</span><span class="indent"><a href="#82">Is punished for caricaturing his teacher</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">83</span><span class="indent"><a href="#83">Finds his shanty destroyed by tramps</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">84, 85</span><span class="indent"><a href="#84">His illness</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">88</span><span class="indent"><a href="#88">Begins to recover and visits Glenyan</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">89</span><span class="indent"><a href="#89">His adventure with a Lynx</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">93</span><span class="indent"><a href="#93">Takes Rad hunting</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">97</span><span class="indent"><a href="#97">Is reproved by his mother for killing the Shore-lark</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">103, <a href="#106">106</a></span><span class="indent"><a href="#103">He goes to Sanger</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">110</span><span class="indent"><a href="#110">His duties</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">114</span><span class="indent"><a href="#114">He sees Sam's treasures</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">119</span><span class="indent"><a href="#119">He and Sam begin the teepee</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">124</span><span class="indent"><a href="#124">They light a fire in the teepee</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">126</span><span class="indent"><a href="#126">Which smokes them out</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">129</span><span class="indent"><a href="#129">They find the teepee blown down</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">135</span><span class="indent"><a href="#135">Their visit to Granny de Neuville</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">135</span><span class="indent"><a href="#135">Yan sees Biddy again</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">141</span><span class="indent"><a href="#141">They visit Caleb Clark</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">151</span><span class="indent"><a href="#151">They begin their second teepee</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">165</span><span class="indent"><a href="#165">The canvas is sewn by Si Lee</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">172</span><span class="indent"><a href="#172">Caleb teaches them to light a fire without matches</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">172</span><span class="indent"><a href="#172">First fire in new teepee</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">177, <a href="#186">186</a></span><span class="indent"><a href="#177">They make bows and arrows; practice w. them</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">191</span><span class="indent"><a href="#191">They build a dam</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">196</span><span class="indent"><a href="#196">Yan's story of the Indian squaw</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">200</span><span class="indent"><a href="#200">He visits the Sanger Witch again</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">212-214</span><span class="indent"><a href="#212">Takes dinner with her</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">220, <a href="#232">232</a></span><span class="indent"><a href="#220">They capture Guy Burns; admit him into Tribe</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">237, 238</span><span class="indent"><a href="#237">Yan fights Sam and Guy</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">244</span><span class="indent"><a href="#244">Comes to the assistance of the school trustees</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">252</span><span class="indent"><a href="#252">Goes with Sam to live in the teepee for two weeks</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">262-267</span><span class="indent"><a href="#262">Their first night in the woods</a></span><br />
+  </td>
+       <td width="5%">&nbsp;</td>
+	   <td class="index" width="45%" valign="top">
+<span class="right">270</span><span class="indent"><a href="#270">They are joined by Guy</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">282-287</span><span class="indent"><a href="#282">Their foraging trip</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">291</span><span class="indent"><a href="#291">Their Deer-shooting game</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">299</span><span class="indent"><a href="#299">Their visit from Caleb</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">315</span><span class="indent"><a href="#315">They sun their blankets</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">316</span><span class="indent"><a href="#316">How they kept off Mosquitoes</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">317</span><span class="indent"><a href="#317">They clean their camp</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">318</span><span class="indent"><a href="#318">Carry their remnants of food to Wakan Rock</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">319</span><span class="indent"><a href="#319">Dig an Indian well</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">320, 321</span><span class="indent"><a href="#320">Make an Indian drum</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">332</span><span class="indent"><a href="#332">Yan sees fight between Cat and Skunk</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">339</span><span class="indent"><a href="#339">They destroy a Red-squirrel's nest</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">359</span><span class="indent"><a href="#359">He learns to build signal fire</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">360</span><span class="indent"><a href="#360">Caleb tells him how to find his way in the woods</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">364</span><span class="indent"><a href="#364">The boys learn how to tan skins</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">371</span><span class="indent"><a href="#371">And how to make moccasins</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">377</span><span class="indent"><a href="#377">Makes a ketchalive</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">379</span><span class="indent"><a href="#379">Their visit from Mr. Raften</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">385</span><span class="indent"><a href="#385">Yan's story of the Boy-that-wanted-to-know</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">389</span><span class="indent"><a href="#389">The trip to Downey's Dump</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">401</span><span class="indent"><a href="#401">They kill two Horned Owls</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">402</span><span class="indent"><a href="#402">Si Lee gives them a lesson in taxidermy</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">417</span><span class="indent"><a href="#417">Yan's test of grit</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">424</span><span class="indent"><a href="#424">He draws the tracks near Bill Garney's grave</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">435</span><span class="indent"><a href="#435">The Grand Council</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">443</span><span class="indent"><a href="#443">The Coon-hunt</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">468</span><span class="indent"><a href="#468">The Bear-hunt</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">474</span><span class="indent"><a href="#474">Yan finds a Shrew</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">482</span><span class="indent"><a href="#482">Is ill-treated by Bill Hennard</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">497</span><span class="indent"><a href="#497">Trouble with the Boilers</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">498</span><span class="indent"><a href="#498">He wins the fight with Blackhawk</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">499</span><span class="indent"><a href="#499">The Boilers join the Sangers</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">509</span><span class="indent"><a href="#509">Yan beats the city boy in wrestling-match</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">510</span><span class="indent"><a href="#510">They start on hard trip</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">513</span><span class="indent"><a href="#513">Yan and Pete make an exploring trip</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">520</span><span class="indent"><a href="#520">Yan finds the Indian village</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">528</span><span class="indent"><a href="#528">His fight with the Lynx</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">538</span><span class="indent"><a href="#538">Receives bounty for killing lynx</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">541</span><span class="indent"><a href="#541">Is made War Chief</a></span><br />
+<a href="#76">Yan's Mother</a>&mdash;<br />
+<span class="right">95</span><span class="indent"><a href="#95">Her morbidly religious nature</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">97</span><span class="indent"><a href="#97">She reproves Yan for killing Shore-lark</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">327</span><a href="#327">Yellow Warbler</a><br />
+<a href="#177">Yew</a>&mdash;<br />
+<span class="right">177</span><span class="indent"><a href="#177">Spanish</a></span><br />
+<span class="right">177</span><span class="indent"><a href="#177">Oregon</a></span><br />
+</td>
+ </tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br />
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13499 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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diff --git a/13499-h/images/witchhazela.gif b/13499-h/images/witchhazela.gif
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