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
And When He Realized That He Might Be All Summer With Quonab He Said
Bluntly:
"You Let Me Stay Here A Couple Of Months. I'll Work Out Odd Days,
And Buy Enough Stuff To Keep Myself Any Way." Quonab Said Nothing,
But Their Eyes Met, And The Boy Knew It Was Agreed To.
Rolf Went That Very Day To The Farm Of Obadiah Timpany, And Offered
To Work By The Day, Hoeing Corn And Root Crops. What Farmer Is Not
Glad Of Help In Planting Time Or In Harvest? It Was Only A Question
Of What Did He Know And How Much Did He Want? The First Was Soon Made
Clear; Two Dollars A Week Was The Usual Thing For Boys In Those Times,
And When He Offered To Take It Half In Trade, He Was Really Getting
Three Dollars A Week And His Board. Food Was As Low As Wages, And At
The End Of A Week, Rolf Brought Back To Camp A Sack Of Oatmeal, A Sack
Of Cornmeal, A Bushel Of Potatoes, A Lot Of Apples, And One Dollar Cash.
The Dollar Went For Tea And Sugar, And The Total Product Was Enough To
Last Them Both A Month; So Rolf Could Share The Wigwam With A Good
Conscience.
Of Course, It Was Impossible To Keep The Gossipy Little Town Of Myanos
From Knowing, First, That The Indian Had A White Boy For Partner; And,
Later, That That Boy Was Rolf. This Gave Rise To Great Diversity Of
Opinion In The Neighbourhood. Some Thought It Should Not Be Allowed,
But Horton, Who Owned The Land On Which Quonab Was Camped, Could Not
See Any Reason For Interfering.
Ketchura Peck, Spinster, However, Did See Many Most Excellent Reasons.
She Was A Maid With A Mission, And Maintained It To Be An Outrage That
A Christian Boy Should Be Brought Up By A Godless Pagan. She Worried
Over It Almost As Much As She Did Over The Heathen In Central Africa,
Where There Are No Sunday Schools, And Clothes Are As Scarce As Churches.
Failing To Move Parson Peck And Elder Knapp In The Matter, And Despairing
Of An Early Answer To Her Personal Prayers, She Resolved On A Bold Move,
"An' It Was Only After Many A Sleepless, Prayerful Night," Namely, To
Carry The Bible Into The Heathen's Stronghold.
Thus It Was That One Bright Morning In June She Might Have Been Seen,
Prim And Proper -- Almost Glorified, She Felt, As She Set Her Lips Just
Right In The Mirror -- Making For The Pipestave Pond, Bible In Hand And
Spectacles Clean Wiped, Ready To Read Appropriate Selections To The
Unregenerate.
She Was Full Of The Missionary Spirit When She Left Myanos, And Partly
Full When She Reached The Orchard Street Trail; But The Spirit Was
Leaking Badly, And The Woods Did Appear So Wild And Lonely That She
Wondered If Women Had Any Right To Be Missionaries. When She Came
In Sight Of The Pond, The Place Seemed Unpleasantly Different From
Myanos And Where Was The Indian Camp? She Did Not Dare To Shout;
Indeed, She Began To Wish She Were Home Again, But The Sense Of Duty
Carried Her Fully Fifty Yards Along The Pond, And Then She Came To An
Impassable Rock, A Sheer Bank That Plainly Said, "Stop!" Now She Must
Go Back Or Up The Bank. Her Yankee Pertinacity Said, "Try First Up The
Bank," And She Began A Long, Toilsome Ascent, That Did Not End Until
She Came Out On A Bigh, Open Rock Which, On Its Farther Side, Had A
Sheer Drop And Gave A View Of The Village And Of The Sea.
Whatever Joy She Had On Again Seeing Her Bome Was Speedily Queued In
The Fearsome Discovery That She Was Right Over The Indian Camp, And
The Two Inmates Looked So Utterly, Dreadfully Savage That She Was
Thankful They Had Not Seen Her. At Once She Shrank Back; But On
Recovering Sufficiently To Again Peer Down, She Saw Something Roasting
Before The Fire -- "A Tiny Arm With A Hand That Bore Five Fmgers," As
She Afterward Said, And "A Sickening Horror Came Over Her. " Yes, She
Had Heard Of Such Things. If She Could Only Get Home In Safety! Why
Had She Tempted Providence Thus? She Backed Softly And Prayed Only To
Escape. What, And Never Even Deliver The Bible? "It Would Be Wicked
To Return With It!" In A Cleft Of The Rock She Placed It, And Then,
To Prevent The Wind Blowing Off Loose Leaves, She Placed A Stone On
Top, And Fled From The Dreadful Place.
That Night, When Quonab And Rolf Had Finished Their Meal Of Corn And
Roasted Coon, The Old Man Climbed The Rock To Look At The Sky. The
Book Caught His Eye At Once, Evidently Hidden There Carefully, And
Therefore In Cache. A Cache Is A Sacred Thing To An Indian. He Disturbed
It Not, But Later Asked Rolf, "That Yours?"
"No."
It Was Doubtless The Property Of Some One Who Meant To Return For It,
So They Left It Untouched. It Rested There For Many Months, Till The
Winter Storms Came Down, Dismantling The Covers, Dissolving The Pages,
But Leaving Such Traces As, In The Long Afterward, Served To Identify
The Book And Give The Rock The Other Name, The One It Bears To-Day -
"Bible Rock, Where Quonab, The Son Of Cos Cob, Used To Live."
Chapter 11 (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."
Chapter 12 (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
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