Rolf In The Woods - Ernest Thompson Seton (interesting books to read for teens .TXT) 📗
- Author: Ernest Thompson Seton
Book online «Rolf In The Woods - Ernest Thompson Seton (interesting books to read for teens .TXT) 📗». Author Ernest Thompson Seton
Was Two Fingers Wider On Every Side, And A Hand-Breadth Longer
Than Quonab's; Be- Sides The Right Frame Had Been Broken And The
Binding Of Rawhide Was Faintly Seen In The Snow Mark. It Was A
Mark They Had Seen All Winter, And Now It Was Headed As Before
For The West.
When Night Came Down, They Camped In A Hollow. They Were Used To
Snow Camps. In The Morning They Went On, But Wind And Snow Had
Hidden Their Tell-Tale Guide.
What Was The Next Move? Rolf Did Not Ask, But Wondered.
Quonab Evidently Was Puzzled.
At Length Rolf Ventured: "He Surely Lives By Some River -- That
Way -- And Within A Day's Journey. This Track Is Gone, But We
May Strike A Fresh One. We'll Know It When We See It."
The Friendly Look Came Back To The Indian's Face. "You Are
Nibowaka."
They Had Not Gone Half A Mile Before They Found A Fresh Track --
Their Old Acquaintance. Even Skookum Showed His Hostile
Recognition. And In A Few Minutes It Led Them To A Shanty. They
Slipped Off Their Snowshoes, And Hung Them In A Tree. Quonab
Opened The Door Without Knocking. They Entered, And In A Moment
Were Face To Face With A Lanky, Ill-Favoured White Man That All
Three, Including Skookum, Recognized As Hoag, The Man They Had
Met At The Trader's.
That Worthy Made A Quick Reach For His Rifle, But Quonab Covered
Him And Said In Tones That Brooked No Discussion, "Sit Down!"
Hoag Did So, Sullenly, Then Growled: "All Right; My Partners Will
Be Here In Ten Minutes."
Rolf Was Startled. Quonab And Skookum Were Not.
"We Settled Your Partners Up In The Hills," Said The Former,
Knowing That One Bluff Was As Good As Another. Skookum Growled
And Sniffed At The Enemy's Legs. The Prisoner Made A Quick Move
With His Foot.
"You Kick That Dog Again And It's Your Last Kick," Said The Indian.
"Who's Kicked Yer Dog, And What Do You Mean Coming Here With Yer
Cutthroat Ways? You'll Find There's Law In This Country Before
Yer Through," Was The Answer.
"That's What We're Looking For, You Trap Robber, You Thief.
We're Here First To Find Our Traps; Second To Tell You This: The
Next Time You Come On Our Line There'll Be Meat For The Ravens.
Do You Suppose I Don't Know Them? And The Indian Pointed To A
Large Pair Of Snowshoes With Long Heels And A Repair Lashing On
The Right Frame. "See That Blue Yarn," And The Indian Matched It
With A Blue Sash Hanging To A Peg.
"Yes, Them Belongs To Bill Hawkins; He'll Be 'Round In Five
Minutes Now."
The Indian Made A Gesture Of Scorn; Then Turning To Rolf Said:
"Look 'Round For Our Traps." Rolf Made A Thorough Search In And
About The Shanty And The Adjoining Shed. He Found Some Traps But
None With His Mark; None Of A Familiar Make Even.
"Better Hunt For A Squaw And Papoose," Sneered Hoag, Who Was
Utterly Puzzled By The Fact That Now Rolf Was Obviously A White
Lad.
But All The Search Was Vain. Either Hoag Had Not Stolen The
Traps Or Had Hidden Them Elsewhere. The Only Large Traps They
Found Were Two Of The Largest Size For Taking Bear.
Hoag's Torrent Of Bad Language Had Been Quickly Checked By The
Threat Of Turning Skookum Loose On His Legs, And He Looked Such A
Grovelling Beast That Presently The Visitors Decided To Leave Him
With A Warning.
The Indian Took The Trapper's Gun, Fired It Off Out Of Doors, Not
In The Least Perturbed By The Possibility Of Its Being Heard By
Hoag's Partners. He Knew They Were Imaginary. Then Changing
His Plan, He Said "Ugh! You Find Your Gun In Half A Mile On Our
Trail. But Don't Come Farther And Don't Let Me See The Snowshoe
Trail On The Divide Again. Them Ravens Is Awful Hungry."
Skookum, To His Disappointment, Was Called Off And, Talking The
Trapper's Gun For A Time, They Left It In A Bush And Made For
Their Own Country.
Chapter 42 (Skookum's Panther)
"Why Are There So Few Deer Tracks Now?"
"Deer Yarded For Winter," Replied The Indian; No Travel In Deep Snow."
"We'll Soon Need Another," Said Rolf, Which Unfortunately Was
True. They Could Have Killed Many Deer In Early Winter, When The
Venison Was In Fine Condition, But They Had No Place To Store It.
Now They Must Get It As They Could, And Of Course It Was Thinner
And Poorer Every Week.
They Were On A High Hill Some Days Later. There Was A Clear View
And They Noticed Several Ravens Circling And Swooping.
"Maybe Dead Deer; Maybe Deer Yard," Said The Indian.
It Was Over A Thick, Sheltered, And Extensive Cedar Swamp Near
The Woods Where Last Year They Had Seen So Many Deer, And They
Were Not Surprised To Find Deer Tracks In Numbers, As Soon As
They Got Into Its Dense Thicket.
A Deer Yard Is Commonly Supposed To Be A Place In Which The Deer
Have A Daily "Bee" At Road Work All Winter Long And Deliberately
Keep The Snow Hammered Down So They Can Run On A Hard Surface
Everywhere Within Its Limits. The Fact Is, The Deer Gather In A
Place Where There Is Plenty Of Food And Good Shelter. The Snow
Does Not Drift Here, So The Deer, By Continually Moving About,
Soon Make A Network Of Tracks In All Directions, Extending Them
As They Must To Seek More Food. They May, Of Course, Leave The
Yard At Any Time, But At Once They Encounter The Dreaded Obstacle
Of Deep, Soft Snow In Which They Are Helpless.
Once They Reached The Well-Worn Trails, The Hunters Took Off
Their Snowshoes And Went Gently On These Deer Paths. They Saw One
Or Two Disappearing Forms, Which Taught Them The Thick Cover Was
Hiding Many More. They Made For The Sound Of The Ravens, And
Found That The Feast Of The Sable Birds Was Not A Deer But The
Bodies Of Three, Quite Recently Killed.
Quonab Made A Hasty Study Of The Signs And Said, "Panther."
Yes, A Panther, Cougar, Or Mountain Lion Also Had Found The Deer
Yard; And Here He Was Living, Like A Rat In A Grocer Shop With
Nothing To Do But Help Himself Whenever He Felt Like Feasting.
Pleasant For The Panther, But Hard On The Deer; For The Killer Is
Wasteful And Will Often Kill For The Joy Of Murder.
Not A Quarter Of The Carcasses Lying Here Did He Eat; He Was
Feeding At Least A Score Of Ravens, And Maybe Foxes, Martens, And
Lynxes As Well.
Before Killing A Deer, Quonab Thought It Well To Take A Quiet
Prowl Around In Hopes Of Seeing The Panther. Skookum Was Turned
Loose And Encouraged To Display His Talents.
Proud As A General With An Ample And Obedient Following, He
Dashed Ahead, Carrying Fresh Dismay Among The Deer, If One Might
Judge From The Noise. Then He Found Some New Smell Of
Excitement, And Voiced The New Thrill In A New Sound, One Not
Unmixed With Fear. At Length His Barking Was Far Away To The
West In A Rocky Part Of The Woods. Whatever The Prey, It Was
Treed, For The Voice Kept One Place.
The Hunters Followed Quickly And Found The Dog Yapping Furiously
Under A Thick Cedar. The First Thought Was Of Porcupine; But A
Nearer View Showed The Game To Be A Huge Panther On The Ground,
Not Greatly Excited, Disdaining To Climb, And Taking Little
Notice Of The Dog, Except To Curl His Nose And Utter A Hissing
Kind Of Snarl When The Latter Came Too Near.
But The Arrival Of The Hunters Gave A New Colour To The Picture.
The Panther Raised His Head, Then Sprang Up A Large Tree And
Ensconced Himself On A Fork, While The Valorous Skookum Reared
Against The Trunk, Threatening Loudly To Come Up And Tear Him To
Pieces.
This Was A Rare Find And A Noble Chance To Conserve Their Stock
Of Deer, So The Hunters Went Around The Tree Seeking For A Fair
Shot. But Every Point Of View Had Some Serious Obstacle. It
Seemed As Though The Branches Had Been Told Off To Guard The
Panther's Vitals, For A Big One Always Stood In The Bullet's Way.
After Vainly Going Around, Quonab Said To Rolf: "Hit Him With
Something, So He'll Move."
Rolf Always Was A Good Shot With Stones, But He Found None To
Throw. Near Where They Stood, However, Was An Unfreezing Spring,
And The Soggy Snow On It Was Easily Packed Into A Hard, Heavy
Snowball. Rolf Threw It Straight, Swift, And By Good Luck It Hit
The Panther Square On The Nose And Startled Him So That He Sprang
Right Out Of The Tree And Flopped Into The Snow.
Skookum Was On Him At Once, But Got A Slap On The Ear That
Changed His Music, And The Panther Bounded Away Out Of Sight With
The Valiant Skookum Ten Feet Behind, Whooping And Yelling Like
Mad.
It Was Annoyance Rather Than Fear That Made That Panther Take To
A Low Tree While Skookum Boxed The Compass, And Made A Beaten Dog
Path All Around Him. The Hunters Approached Very Carefully Now,
Making Little Sound And Keeping Out Of Sight. The Panther Was
Wholly Engrossed With Observing The Astonishing Impudence Of That
Dog, When Quonab Came Quietly Up, Leaned His Rifle Against A Tree
And Fired. The Smoke Cleared To Show The Panther On His Back,
His Legs Convulsively Waving In The Air, And Skookum Tugging
Valiantly At His Tail.
"My Panther," He Seemed To Say; "Whatever Would You Do Without Me?"
A Panther In A Deer Yard Is Much Like A Wolf Shut Up In A
Sheepfold. He Would Probably Have Killed All The Deer That
Winter, Though There Were Ten Times As Many As He Needed For
Food; And Getting Rid Of Him Was A Piece Of Good Luck For Hunters
And Deer, While His Superb Hide Made A Noble Trophy That In Years
To Come Had Unexpected Places Of Honour.
Chapter 43 (Sunday In The Woods)
Rolf Still Kept To The Tradition Of Sunday, And Quonab Had In A
Manner Accepted It. It Was A Curious Fact That The Red Man Had
Far More Toleration For The White Man's Religious Ideas Than The
White Man Had For The Red's.
Quonab's Songs To The Sun And The Spirit, Or His Burning Of A
Tobacco Pinch, Or An Animal's Whiskers Were To Rolf But Harmless
Nonsense. Had He Given Them Other Names, Calling Them Hymns And
Incense, He Would Have Been Much Nearer Respecting Them. He Had
Forgotten His Mother's Teaching: "If Any Man Do Anything
Sincerely, Believing That Thereby He Is Worshipping God, He Is
Worshipping God." He Disliked Seeing Quonab Use An Axe Or A Gun
On Sunday, And The Indian, Realizing That Such Action Made "Evil
Medicine" For Rolf, Practically Abstained. But Rolf Had Not Yet
Learned To Respect The Red Yarns The Indian Hung From A Deer's
Skull, Though He Did Come To Understand That He Must Let Them
Alone Or Produce Bad Feeling In Camp.
Sunday Had Become A Day Of Rest And Quonab Made It Also A Day Of
Song And Remembrance.
They Were Sitting One Sunday Night By The Fire In The Cabin,
Enjoying The Blaze, While A Storm Rattled On The Window And Door.
A White-Footed Mouse, One Of A Family That Lived In The Shanty,
Was Trying
Comments (0)