Rolf In The Woods
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If you excel in these three things, you can down your partridge
and squirrel every time; you can get five or six out of each
flock of birds; you can kill your deer at twenty- five yards, and
so need never starve in the woods where there is game.
Of course, Rolf was keen to go forth and try in the real chase,
but it was many a shot he missed and many an arrow lost or
broken, before he brought in even a red squirrel, and he got, at
least, a higher appreciation of the skill of those who could
count on the bow for their food.
For those, then, who think themselves hunters and woodmen,
let this be a test and standard: Can you go forth alone into
the wilderness where there is game, take only a bow and arrows for
weapons, and travel afoot 250 miles, living on the country as you go?
The Thunder-storm and the Fire Sticks
When first Rolf noticed the wigwam's place, he wondered that
Quonab had not set it somewhere facing the lake, but he soon
learned that it is best to have the morning sun, the afternoon
shade, and shelter from the north and west winds.
The first two points were illustrated nearly every day; but it
was two weeks before the last was made clear.
That day the sun came up in a red sky, but soon was lost to view
in a heavy cloud-bank. There was no wind, and, as the morning
passed, the day grew hotter and closer. Quonab prepared for a
storm; but it came with unexpected force, and a gale of wind from
the northwest that would indeed have wrecked the lodge, but for
the great sheltering rock. Under its lea there was hardy a
breeze; but not fifty yards away were two trees that rubbed
together, and in the storm they rasped so violently that fine
shreds of smoking wood were dropped and, but for the rain, would
surely have made a blaze. The thunder was loud and lasted long,
and the water poured down in torrents. They were ready for rain,
but not for the flood that rushed over the face of the cliff ,
soaking everything in the lodge except the beds, which, being
four inches off the ground, were safe; and lying on them the two
campers waited patiently, or impatiently, while the weather raged
for two drenching hours. And then the pouring became a
pattering; the roaring, a swishing; the storm, a shower which
died away, leaving changing patches of blue in the lumpy sky, and
all nature calm and pleased, but oh, so wet! Of course the fire
was out in the lodge and nearly all the wood was wet. Now Quonab
drew from a small cave some dry cedar and got down his tinder-box
with flint and steel to light up; but a serious difficulty
appeared at once -- the tinder was wet and useless.
These were the days before matches were invented. Every one counted
on flint and steel for their fire, but the tinder was an essential,
and now a fire seemed hopeless; at least Rolf thought so.
"Nana Bojou was dancing that time," said the Indian.
"Did you see him make fire with those two rubbing trees? So he
taught our fathers, and so make we fire when the tricks of the
white man fail us."
Quonab now cut two pieces of dry cedar, one three fourths of an
inch thick and eighteen inches long, round, and pointed at both
ends; the other five eighths of an inch thick and flat. In the
flat one he cut a notch and at the end of the notch a little pit.
Next he made a bow of a stiff, curved stick, and a buckskin
thong: a small pine knot was selected and a little pit made in it
with the point of a knife. These were the fare-making sticks,
but it was necessary to prepare the firewood, lay the fire, and
make some fibre for tinder. A lot of fine cedar shavings,
pounded up with cedar bark and rolled into a two-inch ball, made
good tinder, and all was ready. Quonab put the bow thong once
around the long stick, then held its point in the pit of the flat
stick, and the pine knot on the. top to steady it. Now he drew
the bow back and forth, slowly, steadily, till the long stick or
drill revolving ground smoking black dust out of the notch. Then
faster, until the smoke was very strong and the powder filled the
notch. Then he lifted the flat stick, fanning the powder with
his hands till a glowing coal appeared. Over this he put the
cedar tinder and blew gently, till it flamed, and soon the wigwam
was aglow.
The whole time taken, from lifting the sticks to the blazing
fire, was less than one minute.
This is the ancient way of the Indian; Rolf had often heard of it
as a sort of semi-myth; never before had he seen it, and so far
as he could learn from the books, it took an hour or two of hard
work, not a few deft touches and a few seconds of time.
He soon learned to do it himself, and in the years which
followed, he had the curious experience of showing it to many
Indians who had forgotten how, thanks to the greater portability
of the white man's flint and steel.
As they walked in the woods that day, they saw three trees that
had been struck by lightning during the recent storm; all three
were oaks. Then it occurred to Rolf that he had never seen any
but an oak struck by lightning.
"Is it so, Quonab?"
"No, there are many others; the lightning strikes the oaks most
of all, but it will strike the pine, the ash, the hemlock, the
basswood, and many more. Only two trees have I never seen
struck, the balsam and the birch."
"Why do they escape?"
"My father told me when I was a little boy it was because they
sheltered and warmed the Star-girl, who was the sister of the
Thunder-bird."
"I never heard that; tell me about it."
"Sometime maybe, not now."
Hunting the Woodchucks
Cornmeal and potatoes, with tea and apples, three times a day,
are apt to lose their charm. Even fish did not entirely satisfy
the craving for flesh meat. So Quonab and Rolf set out one
morning on a regular hunt for food. The days of big game were
over on the Asamuk, but there were still many small kinds and
none more abundant than the woodchuck, hated of farmers. Not
without reason. Each woodchuck hole in the field was a menace to
the horses' legs. Tradition, at least, said that horses' legs
and riders' necks had been broken by the steed setting foot in
one of these dangerous pitfalls: besides which, each chuck den
was the hub centre of an area of desolation whenever located, as
mostly it was, in the cultivated fields. Undoubtedly the damage
was greatly exaggerated, but the farmers generally agreed that
the woodchuck was a pest.
Whatever resentment the tiller of the soil might feel against the
Indian's hunting quail on his land, he always welcomed him as a
killer of woodchucks.
And the Indian looked on this animal as fair game and most
excellent eating.
Rolf watched eagerly when Quonab, taking his bow and arrows, said
they were going out for a meat hunt. Although there were several
fields with woodchucks resident, they passed cautiously from one
to another, scanning the green expanse for the dark-brown spots
that meant woodchucks out foraging. At length they found one,
with a large and two small moving brown things among the clover.
The large one stood up on its hind legs from time to time, ever
alert for danger. It was a broad, open field, without cover; but
close to the cleared place in which, doubtless, was the den,
there was a ridge that Quonab judged would help him to approach.
Rolf was instructed to stay in hiding and make some Indian signs
that the hunter could follow when he should lose sight of the
prey. First, "Come on" (beckoning); and, second, "Stop," (hand
raised, palm forward); "All right" (hand drawn across level and
waist high); forefinger moved forward, level, then curved
straight down, meant "gone in hole." But Rolf was not to sign
anything or move, unless Quonab asked him by making the question
sign (that is waving his hand with palm forward and spread
fingers).
Quonab went back into the woods, then behind the stone walls to
get around to the side next the ridge, and crawling so flat on
his breast in the clover that, although it was but a foot high,
he was quite invisible to any one not placed much above him.
In this way he came to the little ridge back of the woodchuck
den, quite unknown to its occupants. But now he was in a
difficulty. He could not see any of them.
They were certainly beyond range of his bow, and it was difficult
to make them seek the den without their rushing into it. But he
was equal to the occasion. He raised one hand and made the query
sign, and watching Rolf he got answer, "All well; they are there."
(A level sweep of the flat hand and a finger pointing steadily.)
Then he waited a few seconds and made exactly the same sign,
getting the same answer.
He knew that the movement of the distant man would catch the eye
of the old woodchuck; she would sit up high to see what it was,
and when it came a second time she would, without being exactly
alarmed, move toward the den and call the young ones to follow.
The hunter had not long to wait. He heard her shrill, warning
whistle, then the big chuck trotted and waddled into sight,
stopping occasionally to nibble or look around. Close behind her
were the two fat cubs. Arrived near the den their confidence was
restored, and again they began to feed, the young ones close to
the den. Then Quonab put a blunt bird dart in his bow and laid
two others ready. Rising as little as possible, he drew the bow.
'Tsip! the blunt arrow hit the young chuck on the nose and turned
him over. The other jumped in surprise and stood up. So did the
mother. 'Tsip! another bolt and the second chuck was kicking.
But the old one dashed like a flash into the underground safety
of her den. Quonab knew that she had seen nothing of him and
would likely come forth very soon. He waited for some time; then
the gray-brown muzzle of the fat old clover-stealer came partly
to view; but it was not enough for a shot, and she seemed to have
no idea of coming farther. The Indian waited what seemed like a
long time, then played an ancient trick. He began to whistle a
soft, low air. Whether the chuck thinks it is another woodchuck
calling, or merely a pleasant sound, is not known, but she soon
did as her kind always does, came out of the hole slowly and ever
higher, till she was half out and sitting up, peering about.
This was Quonab's chance. He now drew a barbed hunting arrow to
the head and aimed it behind her shoulders. 'Tsip! and the chuck
was transfixed by a shaft that ended her life a minute later, and
immediately pre- vented that instinctive scramble into the hole,
by which so many chucks elude the hunter, even when mortally
wounded.
Now Quonab stood up without further concealment, and beckoned to
Rolf, who came running. Three fat woodchucks meant abundance of
the finest fresh meat for a week; and those who have not tried it
have no idea what a delicacy is a young, fat, clover-fed
woodchuck, pan-roasted, with potatoes, and served at a blazing
campfire to a hunter who is young, strong, and exceedingly hungry.
The Fight with the Demon of the Deep
One morning, as they passed the trail that skirts the pond,
Quonab pointed to the near water. There was someting afloat like
a small, round leaf, with two beads well apart, on it. Then Rolf
noticed, two feet away, a larger floating leaf, and now he knew
that the first was the head and eyes, the last the back, of a
huge snapping turtle. A moment more and it quickly sank from
view. Turtles of three different kinds were common, and snappers
were well known to Rolf; but never before had he seen such a huge
and sinister-looking monster of the deep.
"That is Bosikado. I know him; he knows me," said the red man.
"There has long been war between us; some day we will settle it.
I saw him here first three years ago. I had shot a duck; it
floated on the water. Before I could get to it something pulled
it under, and that was the last of it. Then a summer duck came
with young ones. One by one he took them, and at last got her.
He drives all ducks away, so I set many night lines for him. I
got some little snappers, eight and ten pounds each. They were
good to eat, and three times already I took Bosikado on the
hooks, but each time when I pulled him up to the canoe, he broke
my biggest line and went down. He was as broad as the canoe; his
claws broke through the canoe skin; he made it bulge and tremble.
He looked like the devil of the lake. I was afraid!
"But my father taught me there is only one thing that can shame a
man -- that is to be afraid, and I said I will never let fear be
my guide. I will seek a fair fight with Bosikado. He is my
enemy. He made me afraid once; I will make him much afraid. For
three years we have been watching each other. For three years he
has kept all summer ducks away, and robbed my fish-lines, my
nets, and my muskrat traps. Not often do I see him -- mostly
like today.
"Before Skookum I had a little dog, Nindai. He was a good little
dog. He could tree a coon, catch a rabbit, or bring out a duck,
although he was very small. We were very good friends. One time
I shot a duck; it fell into the lake; I called Nindai. He jumped
into the water and swam to the duck. Then that duck that I
thought dead got up and flew away, so I called Nindai. He came
across the water to me. By and by, over that deep place, he
howled and splashed. Then he yelled, like he wanted me. I ran
for the canoe and paddled quick; I saw my little dog Nindai go
down. Then I knew it was that Bosikado again. I worked a long
time with a pole, but found nothing; only five days later one of
Nindai's paws floated down the stream. Some day I will tear open
that Bosikado!
"Once I saw him on the bank. He rolled down like a big stone to
the water. He looked at me before he dived, and as we looked in
each other's eyes I knew he was a Manito; but he is evil, and my
father said, 'When an evil Manito comes to trouble you, you must
kill him.'
"One day, when I swam after a dead duck, he took me by the toe,
but I reached shallow water and escaped him; and once I drove my
fish-spear in his back, but it was not strong enough to hold him.
Once he caught Skookum's tail, but the hair came out; the dog has
not since swum across the pond.
"Twice I have seen him like today and might have killed him with
the gun, but I want to meet him fighting. Many a time I have sat
on the bank and sung to him the 'Coward's Song,' and dared him to
come and fight in the shallow water where we are equals. He
hears me. He does not come.
"I know he made me sick last winter; even now he is making
trouble with his evil magic. But my magic must prevail, and some
day we shall meet. He made me afraid once. I uill make him much
afraid, and will meet him in the water."
Not many days were to pass before the meeting. Rolf had gone for
water at the well, which was a hole dug ten feet from the shore
of the lake. He had learned the hunter's cautious trick of going
silently and peering about, before he left cover. On a mud bank
in a shallow bay, some fifty yards off, he described a peculiar
gray and greenish form that he slowly made out to be a huge
turtle, sunning itself. The more he looked and gauged it with
things about, the bigger it seemed. So he slunk back quickly and
silently to Quonab. "He is out sunning himself -- Bosikado -- on
the bank!"
The Indian rose quickly, took his tomahawk and a strong line.
Rolf reached for the gun, but Quonab shook his head. They went
to the lake. Yes! There was the great, goggle-eyed monster,
like a mud-coloured log. The bank behind him was without cover.
It would be impossible to approach the watchful creature within
striking distance before he could dive. Quonab would not use the
gun; in this case he felt he must atone by making an equal fight.
He quickly formed a plan; he fastened the tomahawk and the coiled
rope to his belt, then boldly and silently slipped into the lake,
to approach the snapper from the water side -- quite the easiest
in this case, not only because the snapper would naturally watch
on the land side, but because there was a thick clump of rushes
behind which the swimmer could approach.
Then, as instructed, Rolf went back into the woods, and came
silently to a place whence he could watch the snapper from a
distance of twenty yards.
The boy's heart beat fast as he watched the bold swimmer and the
savage reptile. There could be little doubt that the creature
weighed a hundred pounds. It is the strongest for its size and
the fiercest of all reptiles. Its jaws, though toothless, have
cutting edges, a sharp beak, and power to the crushing of bones.
Its armour makes it invulnerable to birds and beasts of prey.
Like a log it lay on the beach, with its long alligator tail
stretched up the bank and its serpentine head and tiny wicked
eyes vigilantly watching the shore. Its shell, broad and
ancient, was fringed with green moss, and its scaly armpits
exposed, were decked with leeches, at which a couple of peetweets
pecked with eager interest, apparently to the monster's
satisfaction. Its huge limbs and claws were in marked contrast
to the small, red eyes. But the latter it was that gave the
thrill of unnervement.
Sunk down nearly out of sight, the Indian slowly reached the
reeds. Here he found bottom, and pausing, he took the rope in
one hand, the tomahawk in the other, and dived, and when he
reappeared he was within ten yards of the enemy, and in water but
four feet deep.
With a sudden rush the reptile splashed into the pond and out of
sight, avoiding the rope noose. But Quonab clutched deep in the
water as it passed, and seized the monster's rugged tail. Then
it showed its strength. In a twinkling that mighty tail was
swung sidewise, crushing the hand with terrible force against the
sharp-edged points of the back armour. It took all the Indian's
grit to hold on to that knife-edged war club. He dropped his
tomahawk, then with his other hand swung the rope to catch the
turtle's head, but it lurched so quickly that the rope missed
again, slipped over the shell, and, as they struggled, encircled
one huge paw. The Indian jerked it tight, and they were bound
together. But now his only weapon was down at the bottom and the
water all muddied. He could not see, but plunged to grope for
the tomahawk. The snapper gave a great lurch to escape, releasing
the injured hand, but jerking the man off his legs. Then,
finding itself held by a forepaw, it turned with gaping, hissing
jaws, and sprang on the foe that struggled in bottom of the
water.
The snapper has the bulldog habit to seize and hold till the
piece tears out. In the muddy water it had to seize in the dark,
and fending first the left arm of its foe, fastened on with
fierce beak and desperate strength. At this moment Quonab
recovered his tomahawk; rising into the air he dragged up the
hanging snapper, and swung the weapon with all the force of his
free arm. The blow sank through the monster's shell, deep into
its back, without any visible effect, except to rob the Indian of
his weapon as he could not draw it out.
Then Rolf rushed into the water to help. But Quonab gasped, "No,
no, go back -- I'm alone."
The creature's jaws were locked on his arm, but its front claws,
tearing downward and outward, were demolishing the coat that had
protected it, and long lines of mingled blood were floating on
the waves.
After a desperate plunge toward shallow water, Quonab gave
another wrench to the tomahawk - it moved, loosed; another, and
it was free. Then "chop, chop, chop," and that long, serpentine
neck was severed; the body, waving its great scaly legs and
lashing its alligator tail, went swimming downward, but the huge
head, blinking its bleary, red eyes and streaming with blood, was
clinched on his arm. The Indian made for the bank hauling the
rope that held the living body, and fastened it to a tree, then
drew his knife to cut the jaw muscles of the head that ground its
beak into his flesh. But the muscles were protected by armour
plates and bone; he could not deal a stab to end their power. In
vain he fumbled and slashed, until in a spasmodic quiver the jaws
gaped wide and the bloody head fell to the ground. Again it
snapped, but a tree branch bore the brunt; on this the strong
jaws clinched, and so remained.
For over an hour the headless body crawled, or tried to crawl,
always toward the lake. And now they could look at the enemy.
Not his size so much as his weight surprised them. Although
barely four feet long, he was so heavy that Rolf could not lift
him. Quonab's scratches were many but slight; only the deep bill
wound made his arm and the bruises of the jaws were at all
serious and of these he made light. Headed by Skookum in full
'yap,' they carried the victim's body to camp; the head, still
dutching the stick, was decorated with three feathers, then set
on a pole near the wigwam. And the burden of the red man's song
when next he sang was:
"Bosikado, mine enemy was mighty, But I went into his country And
made him afraid!"
Selectman Horton Appears at the Rock
Summer was at its height on the Asamuk. The woodthrush was
nearing the end of its song; a vast concourse of young robins in
their speckled plumage joined chattering every night in the
thickest cedars; and one or two broods of young ducks were seen
on the Pipestave Pond.
Rolf had grown wonderfully well into his wigwam life. He knew now
exactly how to set the flap so as to draw out all the smoke, no
matter which way the wind blew; he had learned the sunset signs,
which tell what change of wind the night might bring. He knew
without going to the shore whether the tide was a little ebb,
with poor chances, or a mighty outflow that would expose the
fattest oyster beds. His practiced fingers told at a touch
whether it was a turtle or a big fish on his night line; and by
the tone of the tom-tom he knew when a rainstorm was at hand.
Being trained in industry, he had made many improvements in their
camp, not the least of which was to clean up and burn all the
rubbish and garbage that attracted hordes of flies. He had
fitted into the camp partly by changing it to fit himself, and he
no longer felt that his stay there was a temporary shift. When
it was to end, he neither knew nor cared. He realized only that
he was enjoying life as he never had done before. His canoe had
passed a lot of rapids and was now in a steady, unbroken stream
-- but it was the swift shoot before the fall. A lull in the
clamour does not mean the end of war, but a new onset preparing;
and, of course, it came in the way least looked for.
Selectman Horton stood well with the community; he was a man of
good judgment, good position, and kind heart. He was owner of
all the woods along the Asamuk, and thus the Indian's landlord on
the Indian's ancestral land. Both Rolf and Quonab had worked for
Horton, and so they knew him well, and liked him for his
goodness.
It was Wednesday morning, late in July, when Selectman Horton,
clean-shaven and large, appeared at the wigwam under the rock.
"Good morrow to ye both!" Then without wasting time he plunged
in. "There's been some controversy and much criticism of the
selectmen for allowing a white lad, the child of Christian
parents, the grandson of a clergyman, to leave all Christian folk
and folds, and herd with a pagan, to become, as it were, a mere
barbarian. I hold not, indeed, with those that out of hand would
condemn as godless a good fellow like Quonab, who, in my certain
knowledge and according to his poor light, doth indeed maintain
in some kind a daily worship of a sort. Nevertheless, the
selectmen, the magistrates, the clergy, the people generally, and
above all the Missionary Society, are deeply moved in the matter.
It hath even been made a personal charge against myself, and with
much bitterness I am held up as unzealous for allowing such a
nefarious stronghold of Satan to continue on mine own demesne,
and harbour one, escaped, as it were, from grace. Acting,
therefore, not according to my heart, but as spokesman of the
Town Council, the Synod of Elders, and the Society for the
Promulgation of Godliness among the Heathen, I am to state that
you, Rolf Kittering, being without kinsfolk and under age, are in
verity a ward of the parish, and as such, it hath been arranged
that you become a member of the household of the most worthy
Elder Ezekiel Peck, a household filled with the spirit of
estimable piety and true doctrine; a man, indeed, who,
notwithstanding his exterior coldness and severity, is very sound
in all matters regarding the Communion of Saints, and, I may even
say in a measure a man of fame for some most excellent remarks he
hath passed on the shorter catechism, beside which he hath gained
much approval for having pointed out two hidden meanings in the
27th verse of the 12th chapter of Hebrews; one whose very
presence, therefore, is a guarantee against levity, laxity, and
false preachment.
"There, now, my good lad, look not so like a colt that feels the
whip for the first time. You will have a good home, imbued with
the spirit of a most excellent piety that will be ever about
you."
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