Rolf In The Woods - Ernest Thompson Seton (interesting books to read for teens .TXT) 📗
- Author: Ernest Thompson Seton
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Removed. Rolf Had Hard Work To Hold Him, And Any One Not Knowing
The Case Might Have Thought That The Two Men Were Deliberately
Holding The Dog To Administer The Most Cruel Torture.
But None Of The Quills Had Sunk Very Deep. All Were Got Out At
Last And The Little Dog Set Free.
Now Rolf Thought Of Vengeance On The Quill-Pig Snugly Sitting In
The Tree Near By.
Ammunition Was Too Predous To Waste, But Rolf Was Getting Ready
To Climb When Quonab Said: "No, No; You Must Not. Once I Saw
White Man Climb After The Kahk; It Waited Till He Was Near, Then
Backed Down, Lashing Its Tail. He Put Up His Arm To Save His
Face. It Speared His Arm In Fifty Places And He Could Not Save
His Face, So He Tried To Get Down, But The Kahk Came Faster,
Lashing Him; Then He Lost His Hold And Dropped. His Leg Was
Broken And His Arm Was Swelled Up For Half A Year. They Are Very
Poisonous. He Nearly Died."
"Well, I Can At Least Chop Him Down," And Rolf Took The Axe.
"Wah!" Quonab Said, "No; My Father Said You Must Not Kill The
Kahk, Except You Make Sacrifice And Use His Quills For Household
Work. It Is Bad Medicine To Kill The Kahk."
So The Spiny One Was Left Alone In The Place He Had So Ably
Fought For. But Skookum, What Of Him? He Was Set Free At Last.
To Be Wiser? Alas, No! Before One Hour He Met With Another
Porcupine And Remembering Only His Hate Of The Creature Repeated
The Same Sad Mistake, And Again Had To Have The Painful Help,
Without Which He Must Certainly Have Died. Before Night,
However, He Began To Feel His Real Punishment And Next Morning No
One Would Have Known The Pudding-Headed Thing That Sadly Followed
The Hunters, For The Bright Little Dog That A Day Before Had Run
So Joyously Through The Woods. It Was Many A Long Day Before He
Fully Recovered And At One Time His Life Was In The Balance; And
Yet To The Last Of His Days He Never Fully Realized The Folly Of
His Insensate Attacks On The Creature That Fights With Its Tail.
"It Is Ever So," Said The Indian. "The Lynx, The Panther, The
Wolf, The Fox, The Eagle, All That Attack The Kahk Must Die.
Once My Father Saw A Bear That Was Killed By The Quills. He Had
Tried To Bite The Kahk; It Filled His Mouth With Quills That He
Could Not Spit Out. They Sunk Deeper And His Jaws Swelled So He
Could Not Open Or Shut His Mouth To Eat; Then He Starved. My
People Found Him Near A Fish Pond Below A Rapid. There Were Many
Fish. The Bear Could Kill Them With His Paw But Not Eat, So With
His Mouth Wide Open And Plenty About Him He Died Of Starvation In
That Pool.
"There Is But One Creature That Can Kill The Kahk That Is The
Ojeeg The Big Fisher Weasel. He Is A Devil. He Makes Very
Strong Medicine; The Kahk Cannot Harm Him. He Turns It On Its
Back And Tears Open Its Smooth Belly. It Is Ever So. We Not
Know, But My, Father Said, That It Is Because When In The Flood
Nana Bojou Was Floating On The Log With Kahk And Ojeeg, Kahk Was
Insolent And Wanted The Highest Place, But Ojeeg Was Respectful
To Nana Bojou, He Bit The Kahk To Teach Him A Lesson And Got
Lashed With The Tail Of Many Stings. But The Manito Drew Out The
Quills And Said: 'It Shall Be Ever Thus; The Ojeeg Shall Conquer
The Kahk And The Quills Of Kahk Shall Never Do Ojeeg Any Harm.'"
Chapter 25 (The Otter Slide)
It Was Late Now And The Hunters Camped In The High Cool Woods.
Skookum Whined In His Sleep So Loudly As To Waken Them Once Or
Twice. Near Dawn They Heard The Howling Of Wolves And The
Curiously Similar Hooting Of A Horned Owl. There Is, Indeed,
Almost No Differece Between The Short Opening Howl Of A She-Wolf
And The Long Hoot Of The Owl. As He Listened, Half Awake, Rolf
Heard A Whirr Of Wings Which Stopped Overhead, Then A Familiar
Chuckle. He Sat Up And Saw Skookum Sadly Lift His Misshapen Head
To Gaze At A Row Of Black-Breasted Grouse Partridge On A Branch
Above, But The Poor Doggie Was Feeling Too Sick To Take Any
Active Interest. They Were Not Ruffed Grouse, But A Kindred
Kind, New To Rolf. As He Gazed At The Perchers, He Saw Quonab
Rise Gently, Go To Nearest Willow And Cut A Long Slender Rod At
Least Two Feet Long; On The Top Of This He Made A Short Noose Of
Cord. Then He Went Cautiously Under The Watching Grouse, The
Spruce Partridges, And Reaching Up Slipped The Noose Over The
Neck Of The First One; A Sharp Jerk Then Tightened Noose, And
Brought The Grouse Tumbling Out Of The Tree While Its Companions
Merely Clucked Their Puzzlement, Made No Effort To Escape.
A Short, Sharp Blow Put The Captive Out Of Pain. The Rod Was
Reached Again And A Second, The Lowest Always, Was Jerked Down,
And The Trick Repeated Till Three Grouse Were Secured. Then Only
Did It Dawn On The Others That They Were In A Most Perilous
Neighbourhood, So They Took Flight.
Rolf Sat Up In Amazement. Quonab Dropped The Three Birds By The
Fire And Set About Preparing Breakfast.
"These Are Fool Hens," He Explained. "You Can Mostly Get Them
This Way; Sure, If You Have A Dog To Help, But Ruffed Grouse Is
No Such Fool."
Rolf Dressed The Birds And As Usual Threw The Entrails Skookum.
Poor Little Dog! He Was, Indeed, A Sorry Sight. He Looked Sadly
Out Of His Bulging Eyes, Feebly Moved Swollen Jaws, But Did Not
Touch The Food He Once Would Have Pounced On. He Did Not Eat
Because He Could Not Open His Mouth.
At Camp The Trappers Made A Log Trap And Continued The Line With
Blazes And Deadfalls, Until, After A Mile, They Came To A Broad
Tamarack Swamp, And, Skirting Its Edge, Found A Small, Outflowing
Stream That Brought Them To An Eastward-Facing Hollow.
Everywhere There Were Signs Game, But They Were Not Prepared For
The Scene That Opened As They Cautiously Pushed Through The
Thickets Into A High, Hardwood Bush. A Deer Rose Out Of The
Grass And Stared Curiously At Them; Then Another And Another
Until Nearly A Dozen Were In Sight; Still Farther Many Others
Appeared; To The Left Were More, And Movements Told Of Yet Others
To The Right. Then Their White Flags Went Up And All Loped Gently
Away On The Slope That Rose To The North. There May Have Been
Twenty Or Thirty Deer In Sight, But The General Effect Of All
Their White Tails, Bobbing Away, Was That The Woods Were Full Of
Deer. They Seemed To Be There By The Hundreds And The Joy Of
Seeing So Many Beautiful Live Things Was Helped In The Hunters By
The Feeling That This Was Their Own Hunting-Ground. They Had,
Indeed, Reached The Land Of Plenty.
The Stream Increased As They Marched; Many Springs And Some
Important Rivulets Joined On. They Found Some Old Beaver Signs
But None New; And They Left Their Deadfalls Every Quarter Mile Or Less.
The Stream Began To Descend More Quickly Until It Was In A Long,
Narrow Valley With Steep Clay Sides And Many Pools. Here They
Saw Again And Again The Tracks And Signs Of Otter And Coming
Quietly Round A Turn That Opened A New Reach They Heard A Deep
Splash, Then Another And Another.
The Hunters' First Thought Was To Tie Up Skookum, But A Glance
Showed That This Was Unnecessary. They Softly Dropped The Packs
And The Sick Dog Lay Meekly Down Beside Them. Then They Crept
Forward With Hunter Caution, Favoured By An Easterly Breeze.
Their First Thought Was Of Beaver, But They Had Seen No Recent
Sign, Nor Was There Anything That Looked Like A Beaver Pond. The
Measured Splash, Splash, Splash -- Was Not So Far Ahead. It Might
Be A Bear Snatching Fish, Or -- No, That Was Too Unpleasant -- A
Man Baling Out A Canoe. Still The Slow Splash, Splash, Went On
At Intervals, Not Quite Regular.
Now It Seemed But Thirty Yards Ahead And In The Creek.
With The Utmost Care They Crawled To The Edge Of The Clay And
Opposite They Saw A Sight But Rarely Glimpsed By Man. Here Were
Six Otters; Two Evidently Full-Grown, And Four Seeming Young Of
The Pair, Engaged In A Most Hilarious And Human Game Of Tobogganing
Down A Steep Clay Hill To Plump Into A Deep Part At Its Foot.
Plump Went The Largest, Presumably The Father; Down He Went, To
Reappear At The Edge, Scramble Out And Up An Easy Slope To The
Top Of The Twenty-Foot Bank. Splash, Splash, Splash, Came Three
Of The Young Ones; Splash, Splash, The Mother And One Of The Cubs
Almost Together.
"Scoot" Went The Big Male Again, And The Wet Furslopping And
Rubbing On The Long Clay Chute Made It Greasier And Slipperier
Every Time.
Splash, Plump, Splash -- Splash, Plump, Splash, Went The Otter
Family Gleefully, Running Up The Bank Again, Eager Each To Be
First, It Seemed, And To Do The Chute The Oftenest.
The Gambolling Grace, The Obvious Good Humour, The Animal
Hilarity Of It All, Was Absorbingly Amusing. The Trappers Gazed
With Pleasure That Showed How Near Akin Are Naturalist And
Hunter. Of Course, They Had Some Covetous Thought Connected With
Those Glossy Hides, But This Was September Still, And Even Otter
Were Not Yet Prime. Shoot, Plump, Splash, Went The Happy Crew
With Apparently Unabated Joy And Hilarity. The Slide Improved
With Use And The Otters Seemed Tireless; When All At Once A Loud
But Muffled Yelp Was Heard And Skookum, Forgetting All Caution,
Came Leaping Down The Bank To Take A Hand.
With A Succession Of Shrill, Birdy Chirps The Old Otters Warned
Their Young. Plump, Plump, Plump, All Shot Into The Pool, But To
Reappear, Swimming With Heads Out, For They Were But Slightly
Alarmed. This Was Too Much For Quonob; He Levelled His Flintlock;
Snap, Bang, It Went, Pointed At The Old Male, But He Dived At The
Snap And Escaped. Down The Bank Now Rushed The Hunters,
Joined By Skookum, To Attack The Otters In The Pool, For It Was
Small And Shallow; Unless A Burrow Led From It, They Were Trapped.
But The Otters Realized The Peril. All Six Dashed Out Of The
Pool, Down The Open, Gravelly Stream The Old Ones Uttering Loud
Chirps That Rang Like Screams. Under The Fallen Logs And Brush
They Glided, Dodging Beneath Roots And Over Banks, Pursued By The
Hunters, Each Armed With A Club And By Skookum Not Armed At All.
The Otters Seemed To Know Where They Were Going And Distanced All
But The Dog. Forgetting His Own Condition Skookum Had Almost
Overtaken One Of The Otter Cubs When The Mother Wheeled About
And, Hissing And Snarling, Charged. Skookum Was Lucky To Get Off
With A Slight Nip, For The Otter Is A Dangerous Fighter. But The
Unlucky Dog Was Sent Howling Back To The Two Packs That He Never
Should Have Left.
The Hunters Now Found An Open Stretch Of Woods Through Which
Quonab Could Run Ahead And Intercept The Otters As They Bounded
On Down The Stream Bed, Pursued By Rolf, Who Vainly Tried To Deal
A Blow With His Club. In A Few Seconds The Family Party Was Up
To Quonab, Trapped It Seemed, But There Is No More Desperate
Assailant Than An Otter Fighting For Its Young. So Far From
Being Cowed The Two Old Ones Made A Simultaneous, Furious Rush At
The Indian. Wholly Taken By Surprise, He Missed With His Club,
And Sprang Aside To Escape Their Jaws. The Family Dashed Around
Then Past Him, And, Urged By The Continuous Chirps Of The Mother,
They Plunged Under A Succession Of Log Jams And Into A Willow
Swamp That Spread Out Into An Ancient Beaver Lake And Were
Swallowed Up In The Silent Wilderness.
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