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
Noose Around The Coon's Neck, Then, With Some Rather
Rough Handling, The Animal Was Dragged Down, Maneuvered
Into The Sack, And Carried Back To Camp, Where It Was
Chained Up To Serve In Future Lessons; The Next Two Or Three
Being To Tree The Coon, As Before; In The Next, The Coon
Was To Be Freed And Allowed To Get Out Of Sight, So That The
Dog Might Find It By Trailing, And The Last, In Which The
Coon Was To Be Trailed, Treed, And Shot Out Of The Tree,
So That The Dog Should Have The Final Joy Of Killing A
Crippled Coon, And The Reward Of A Coon-Meat Feast. But
The Last Was Not To Be, For The Night Before It Should Have
Taken Place The Coon Managed To Slip Its Bonds, And Nothing
But The Empty Collar And Idle Chain Were Found In The
Captive's Place Next Morning.
These Things Were In The Future However. Rolf Was
Intensely Excited Over All He Had Seen That Day. His Hunting
Instincts Were Aroused. There Had Been No Very Obvious
Or Repellant Cruelty; The Dog Alone Had Suffered, But
He Seemed Happy. The Whole Affair Was So Exactly In The
Line Of His Tastes That The Boy Was In A Sort Of Ecstatic
Uplift, And Already Anticipating A Real Coon Hunt, When
The Dog Should Be Properly Trained. The Episode So
Contrasted With The Sordid Life He Had Left An Hour Before That
He Was Spellbound. The Very Animal Smell Of The Coon
Seemed To Make His Fibre Tingle. His Eyes Were Glowing
With A Wild Light. He Was So Absorbed That He Did Not
Notice A Third Party Attracted By The Unusual Noise Of The
Chase, But The Dog Did. A Sudden, Loud Challenge Called
All Attention To A Stranger On The Ridge Behind The Camp.
There Was No Mistaking The Bloated Face And White
Moustache Of Rolf's Uncle.
"So, You Young Scut! That Is How You Waste Your Time.
I'll Larn Ye A Lesson."
The Dog Was Tied, The Indian Looked Harmless, And The
Boy Was Cowed, So The Uncle's Courage Mounted High. He
Had Been Teaming In The Nearby Woods, And The Blacksnake
Whip Was In His Hands. In A Minute Its Thong Was
Lapped, Like A Tongue Of Flame, Around Rolf's Legs. The
Boy Gave A Shriek And Ran, But The Man Followed And
Furiously Plied The Whip. The Indian, Supposing It Was Rolf's
Father, Marvelled At His Method Of Showing Affection, But
Said Nothing, For The Fifth Commandment Is A Large One
In The Wigwam. Rolf Dodged Some Of The Cruel Blows, But
Was Driven Into A Corner Of The Rock. One End Of The Lash
Crossed His Face Like A Red-Hot Wire.
"Now I've Got You!" Growled The Bully.
Rolf Was Desperate. He Seized Two Heavy Stones And
Hurled The First With Deadly Intent At His Uncle's Head.
Mick Dodged In Time, But The Second, Thrown Lower, Hit
Him On The Thigh. Mick Gave A Roar Of Pain. Rolf
Hastily Seized More Stones And Shrieked Out, "You Come On
One Step And I'll Kill You!"
Then That Purple Visage Turned A Sort Of Ashen Hue.
Its Owner Mouthed In Speechless Rage. He "Knew It Was
The Indian Had Put Rolf Up To It. He'd See To It Later," And
Muttering, Blasting, Frothing, The Hoary-Headed Sinner
Went Limping Off To His Loaded Wagon.
*"Skookum" Or "Skookum Chuck," In Chinook Means "Troubled Waters."
Chapter 5 (Good-Bye To Uncle Mike)
For Counsel Comes With The Night, And Action Comes With The Day;
But The Gray Half Light, Neither Dark Nor Bright, Is A Time To
Hide Away.
Rolf Had Learned One Thing At Least -- His Uncle Was A Coward.
But He Also Knew That He Himself Was In The Wrong, For He Was
Neglecting His Work And He Decided To Go Back At Once And Face
The Worst. He Made Little Reply To The Storm Of Scolding That
Met Him. He Would Have Been Disappointed If It Had Not Come. He
Was Used To It; It Made Him Feel At Home Once More. He Worked
Hard And Silently.
Mick Did Not Return Till Late. He Had Been Drawing Wood For
Horton That Day, Which Was The Reason He Happened In Quonab's
Neighbourhood; But His Road Lay By The Tavern, And When He
Arrived Home He Was Too Helpless To Do More Than Mutter.
The Next Day There Was An Air Of Suspended Thunder. Rolf
Overheard His Uncle Cursing "That Ungrateful Young Scut - Not
Worth His Salt." But Nothing Further Was Said Or Done. His Aunt
Did Not Strike At Him Once For Two Days. The Third Night Micky
Disappeared. On The Next He Returned With Another Man; They Had
A Crate Of Fowls, And Rolf Was Told To Keep Away From "That There
Little Barn."
So He Did All Morning, But He Peeped In From The Hayloft When A
Chance Came, And Saw A Beautiful Horse. Next Day The "Little
Barn" Was Open And Empty As Before.
That Night This Worthy Couple Had A Jollification With Some
Callers, Who Were Strangers To Rolf. As He Lay Awake, Listening
To The Carouse, He Overheard Many Disjointed Allusions That He
Did Not Understand, And Some That He Could Guess At: "Night Work
Pays Better Than Day Work Any Time," Etc. Then He Heard His Own
Name And A Voice, "Let's Go Up And Settle It With Him Now."
Whatever Their Plan, It Was Clear That The Drunken Crowd,
Inspired By The Old Ruffian, Were Intent On Doing Him Bodily
Harm. He Heard Them Stumbling And Reeling Up The Steep Stairs.
He Heard, "Here, Gimme That Whip," And Knew He Was In Peril,
Maybe Of His Life, For They Were Whiskey-Mad. He Rose Quickly,
Locked The Door, Rolled Up An Old Rag Carpet, And Put It In His
Bed. Then He Gathered His Clothes On His Arm, Opened The Window,
And Lowered Himself Till His Head Only Was Above The Sill, And
His Foot Found A Resting Place. Thus He Awaited. The Raucous
Breathing Of The Revellers Was Loud On The Stairs; Then The Door
Was Tried; There Was Some Muttering; Then The Door Was Burst Open
And In Rushed Two, Or Perhaps Three, Figures. Rolf Could Barely
See In The Gloom, But He Knew That His Uncle Was One Of Them.
The Attack They Made With Whip And Stick On That Roll Of Rags In
The Bed Would Have Broken His Bones And Left Him Shapeless, Had
He Been In Its Place. The Men Were Laughing And Took It All As A
Joke, But Rolf Had Seen Enough; He Slipped To The Ground And
Hurried Away, Realizing Perfectly Well Now That This Was
"Good-Bye."
Which Way? How Naturally His Steps Turned Northward Toward
Redding, The Only Other Place He Knew. But He Had Not Gone A
Mile Before He Stopped. The Yapping Of A Coon Dog Came To Him
From The Near Woods That Lay To The Westward Along Asamuk. He
Tramped Toward It. To Find The Dog Is One Thing, To Find The
Owner Another; But They Drew Near At Last. Rolf Gave The Three
Yelps And Quonab Responded.
"I Am Done With That Crowd," Said The Boy. "They Tried To Kill
Me Tonight. Have You Got Room For Me In Your Wigwam For A Couple
Of Days?"
"Ugh, Come," Said The Indian.
That Night, For The First Time, Rolf Slept In The Outdoor Air Of
A Wigwam. He Slept Late, And Knew Nothing Of The World About Him
Till Quonab Called Him To Breakfast.
Chapter 6 (Skookum Accepts Rolf At Last)
Rolf Expected That Micky Would Soon Hear Of His Hiding Place And
Come Within A Few Days, Backed By A Constable, To Claim His
Runaway Ward. But A Week Went By And Quonab, Passing Through
Myanos, Learned, First, That Rolf Had Been Seen Tramping
Northward On The Road To Dumpling Pond, And Was Now Supposed To
Be Back In Redding; Second, That Micky Kittering Was Lodged In
Jail Under Charge Of Horse-Stealing And Would Certainly Get A
Long Sentence; Third, That His Wife Had Gone Back To Her Own
Folks At Norwalk, And The House Was Held By Strangers.
All Other Doors Were Closed Now, And Each Day That Drifted By
Made It The More Clear That Rolf And Quonab Were To Continue
Together. What Boy Would Not Exult At The Thought Of It? Here
Was Freedom From A Brutal Tyranny That Was Crushing Out His Young
Life; Here Was A Dream Of The Wild World Coming True, With
Gratification Of All The Hunter Instincts That He Had Held In His
Heart For Years, And Nurtured In That Single, Ragged Volume Of
"Robinson Crusoe." The Plunge Was Not A Plunge, Except It Be One
When An Eagle, Pinion-Bound, Is Freed And Springs From A Cliff Of
The Mountain To Ride The Mountain Wind.
The Memory Of That Fateful Cooning Day Was Deep And Lasting.
Never Afterward Did Smell Of Coon Fail To Bring It Back; In Spite
Of The Many Evil Incidents It Was A Smell Of Joy.
"Where Are You Going, Quonab?" He Asked One Morning, As He Saw
The Indian Rise At Dawn And Go Forth With His Song Drum, After
Warming It At The Fire. He Pointed Up To The Rock, And For The
First Time Rolf Heard The Chant For The Sunrise. Later He Heard
The Indian's Song For "Good Hunting," And Another For "When His
Heart Was Bad." They Were Prayers Or Praise, All Addressed To The
Great Spirit, Or The Great Father, And It Gave Rolf An Entirely
New Idea Of The Red Man, And A Startling Light On Himself. Here
Was The Indian, Whom No One Considered Anything But A Hopeless
Pagan, Praying To God For Guidance At Each Step In Life, While He
Himself, Supposed To Be A Christian, Had Not Prayed Regularly For
Months -- Was In Danger Of Forgetting How.
Yet There Was One Religious Observance That Rolf Never Forgot --
That Was To Keep The Sabbath, And On That Day Each Week He Did
Occasionally Say A Little Prayer His Mother Had Taught Him. He
Avoided Being Seen At Such Times And Did Not Speak Of Kindred
Doings. Whereas Quonab Neither Hid Nor Advertised His Religious
Practices, And It Was Only After Many Sundays Had Gone That
Quonab Remarked:
"Does Your God Come Only One Day Of The Week? Does He Sneak In
After Dark? Why Is He Ashamed That You Only Whisper To Him?
Mine Is Here All The Time. I Can Always Reach Him With My Song;
All Days Are My Sunday."
The Evil Memories Of His Late Life Were Dimming Quickly, And The
Joys Of The New One Growing. Rolf Learned Early That, Although
One May Talk Of The Hardy Savage, No Indian Seeks For Hardship.
Everything Is Done That He Knows To Make Life Pleasant, And Of
Nothing Is He More Careful Than The Comfort Of His Couch. On The
Second Day, Under Guidance Of His Host, Rolf Set About Making His
Own Bed. Two Logs, Each Four Inches Thick And Three Feet Long,
Were Cut. Then Two Strong Poles, Each Six Feet Long, Were Laid
Into Notches At The Ends Of The Short Logs. About Seventy-Five
Straight Sticks Of Willow Were Cut And Woven With Willow Bark
Into A Lattice, Three Feet Wide And Six Feet Long. This, Laid On
The Poles, Furnished A Spring Mattress, On Which A Couple Of
Blankets Made A
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