rolf in the woods- 第12部分

accounts。　　Flour；　oatmeal；　pork；　potatoes；　tea；　tobacco；　sugar；

salt；　powder；　ball；　shot；　clothes；　lines；　an　inch…auger；　nails；

knives；　awls；　needles；　files；　another　axe；　some　tin　plates；　and　a

frying　pan　were　selected　and　added　to　Hendrik's　account。



〃If　I　was　you；　I'd　take　a　windy…sash；　you'll　find　it　mighty

convenient　in　cold　weather。〃　The　store　keeper　led　them　into　an

outhouse　where　was　a　pile　of　six…lighted　window…frames　all

complete。　　So　the　awkward　thing　was　added　to　their　load。



〃Can't　I　sell　you　a　fine　rifle？〃　and　he　took　down　a　new；　elegant

small　bore　of　the　latest　pattern。　　〃Only　twenty…　five　dollars。〃

Rolf　shook　his　head；　〃part　down；　and　I'll　take　the　rest　in　fur

next　spring。〃　Rolf　was　sorely　tempted；　however；　he　had　an　early

instilled　horror　of　debt。　　He　steadfastly　said：　〃No。〃　But　many

times　he　regretted　it　afterward！　　The　small　balance　remaining　was

settled　in　cash。



As　they　were　arranging　and　selecting；　they　heard　a　most　hideous

yelping　outdoors；　and　a　minnute　later　Skookum　limped　in；　crying

as　if　half…killed。　　Quonab　was　out　in　a　moment。



〃Did　you　kick　my　dog？〃



The　brutal　loafer　changed　countenance　as　he　caught　the　red　man's

eye。　　〃Naw！　never　touched　him；　hurted　himself　on　that　rake。〃



It　was　obviously　a　lie；　but　better　to　let　it　pass；　and　Quonab

came　in　again。



Then　the　rough　stranger　appeared　at　the　door　and　growled：　〃Say；

Warren！　ain't　you　going　to　let　me　have　that　rifle？　　I　guess　my

word's　as　good　as　the　next　man's。〃



〃No；〃　said　Warren；　〃I　told　you；　no！〃



〃Then　you　can　go　to　blazes；　and　you'll　never　see　a　cent's　worth

of　fur　from　the　stuff　I　got　last　year。〃



〃I　don't　expect　to；〃　was　the　reply；　〃I've　learned　what　your

word's　worth。〃　And　the　stranger　slouched　away。



〃Who　vas　he？〃　asked　Hendrik。



〃I　only　know　that　his　name　is　Jack　Hoag；　he's　a　little　bit　of　a

trapper　and　a　big　bit　of　a　bum；　stuck　me　last　year。　He　doesn't

come　out　this　way；　they　say　he　goes　out　by　the　west　side　of　the

mountains。〃



New　light　on　their　course　was　secured　from　Warren；　and　above　all；

the　important　information　that　the　mouth　of　Jesup's　River　was

marked　by　an　eagle's　nest　in　a　dead　pine。　　〃Up　to　that　point　keep

the　main　stream；　and　don't　forget　next　spring　I'm　buying　fur。〃



The　drive　across　Five…mile　portage　was　slow。　　It　took　over　two

hours　to　cover　it；　but　late　that　day　they　reached　the　Schroon。



Here　the　Dutchman　said　〃Good…bye：　Coom　again　some　noder　time。〃

Skookum　saluted　the　farmer　with　a　final　growl；　then　Rolf　and

Quonab　were　left　alone　in　the　wilderness。



It　was　after　sundown；　so　they　set　about　camping　for　the　night。　　A

wise　camper　always　prepares　bed　and　shelter　in　daylight；　if

possible。　　While　Rolf　made　a　fire　and　hung　the　kettle；　Quonab

selected　a　level；　dry　place　between　two　trees；　and　covered　it

with　spruce　boughs　to　make　the　beds；　and　last　a　low　tent　was　made

by　putting　the　lodge　cover　over　a　pole　between　the　trees。　　The

ends　of　the　covers　were　held　down　by　loose　green　logs　quickly　cut

for　the　purpose；　and　now　they　were　safe　against　weather。



Tea；　potatoes；　and　fried　pork；　with　maple　syrup　and　hard…tack；

made　their　meal　of　the　time；　after　which　there　was　a　long　smoke。

Quonab　took　a　stick　of　red　willow；　picked　up…in　the　daytime；　and

began　shaving　it　toward　one　end；　leaving　the　curling　shreds　still

on　the　stick。　　When　these　were　bunched　in　a　fuzzy　mop；　he　held

them　over　the　fire　until　they　were　roasted　brown；　then；　grinding

all　up　in　his　palm　with　some　tobacco；　and　filling　his　pipe　he

soon　was　enveloped　in　that　odour　of　woodsy　smoke　called　the

〃Indian　smell；〃　by　many　who　do　not　know　whence　or　how　it　comes。

Rolf　did　not　smoke。　　He　had　promised　his　mother　that　he　would　not

until　he　was　a　man；　and　something　brought　her　back　home　now　with

overwhehning　force；　that　was　the　beds　they　had　made　of　fragrant

balsam　boughs。　　〃Cho…ko…　tung　or　blister　tree〃　as　Quonab　called

it。　　His　mother　had　a　little　sofa　pillow；　brought　from　the　North

　a　〃northern　pine〃　pillow　they　called　it；　for　it　was　stuffed

with　pine　needles　of　a　kind　not　growing　in　Connecticut。　　Many　a

time　had　Rolf　as　a　baby　pushed　his　little　round　nose　into　that

bag　to　inhale　the　delicious　odour　it　gave　forth；　and　so　it　became

the　hallowed　smell　of　all　that　was　dear　in　his　babyhood；　and　it

never　lost　its　potency。　　Smell　never　does。　Oh；　mighty　aura！　that；

in　marching　by　the　nostrils；　can　reach　and　move　the　soul；　how

wise　the　church　that　makes　this　power　its　handmaid；　and　through

its　incense　overwhelms　all　alien　thought　when　the　worshipper；

wandering；　doubting；　comes　again　to　see　if　it　be　true；　that　here

doubt　dies。　　Oh；　queen　of　memory　that　is　master　of　the　soul！　how

fearful　should　we　be　of　letting　evil　thought　associated　grow　with

some　recurrent　odour　that　we　love。　　Happy；　indeed；　are　they　that

find　some　ten　times　pure　and　consecrated　fragrance；　like　the

pine；　which　entering　in　is　master　of　their　moods；　and　yet　through

linking　thoughts　has　all　its　power；　uplifting；　full　of　sweetness

and　blessed　peace。　　So　came　to　Rolf　his　medicine　tree。



The　balsam　fir　was　his　tree　of　hallowed　memory。　　Its　odour　never

failed；　and　he　slept　that　night　with　its　influence　all　about　him。



Starting　in　the　morning　was　no　easy　matter。　　There　was　so　much　to

be　adjusted　that　first　day。　　Packs　divided　in　two；　new

combinations　to　trim　the　canoe；　or　to　raise　such　and　such　a

package　above　a　possible　leak。　　The　heavy　things；　like　axes　and

pans；　had　to　be　fastened　to　the　canoe　or　to　packages　that　would

float　in　case　of　an　upset。　　The　canoe　itself　had　to　be　gummed　in

one　or　two　places；　but　they　got　away　after　three　hours；　and　began

the　voyage　down　the　Schroon。



This　was　Rolf's　first　water　journey。　　He　had　indeed　essayed　the

canoe　on　the　Pipestave　Pond；　but　that　was　a　mere　ferry。　　This　was

real　travel。　　He　marvelled　at　the　sensitiveness　of　the　frail

craft；　the　delicacy　of　its　balance；　its　quick　response　to　the

paddle；　the　way　it　seemed　to　shrink　from　the　rocks；　and　the

unpleasantly　suggestive　bend…up　of　the　ribs　when　the　bottom

grounded　upon　a　log。　It　was　a　new　world　for　him。　　Quonab　taught

him　never　to　enter　the　canoe　except　when　she　was　afloat；　never　to

rise　in　her　or　move　along　without　hold　of　the　gunwale；　never　to

make　a　sudden　move；　and　he　also　learned　that　it　was　easier　to

paddle　when　there　were　six　feet　of　water　underneath　than　when

only　six　inches。



In　an　hour　they　had　covered　the　five　miles　that　brought　them　to

the　Hudson；　and　here　the　real　labour　began；　paddling　up　stream。

Before　long　they　came　to　a　shallow　stretch　with　barely　enough

water　to　float　the　canoe。　Here　they　jumped　out　and　waded　in　the

stream；　occasionally　lifting　a　stone　to　one　side；　till　they

reached　the　upper　stretch　of　deep　water　and　again　went　merrily

paddling。　Soon　they　came　to　an　impassable　rapid；　and　Rolf　had　his

first　taste　of　a　real　carry　or　portage。　　Quonab's　eye　was

watching　the　bank　as　soon　as　the　fierce　waters　appeared；　for　the

first　question　was；　where　shall　we　land？　and　the　next；　how　far　do

we　carry？　　There　are　no　rapids　on　important　rivers　in　temperate

America　that　have　not　been　portaged　more　or　less　for　ages。　　No

canoe　man　portages　without　considering　most　carefully　when；

where；　and　how　to　land。　　His　selection　of　the　place；　then；　is　the

result　of　careful　study。　　He　cannot　help　leaving　some　mark　at　the

place；　slight　though　it　be；　and　the　next　man　looks　for　that　mark

to　save　himself　time　and　trouble。



〃Ugh〃　was　the　only　sound　that　Rolf　heard　from　his　companion；　and

the　canoe　headed　for　a　flat　rock　in　the　pool　below　the　rapids。

After　landing；　they　found　traces　of　an　old　camp　fire。　　It　was

near　noon　now；　so　Rolf　prepared　the　meal　while　Quonab　took　a

light　pack　and　went　on　to　learn　the　trail。　　It　was　not　well

marked；　had　not　been　used　for　a　year　or　two；　evidently；　but　there

are　certain　rules　that　guide　one。　　The　trail　keeps　near　the

water；　unless　there　is　some　great　natural　barrier；　and　it　is

usually　the　easiest　way　in　sight。　　Quonab　kept　one　eye　on　the

river；　for　navigable　water　was　the　main　thing；　and　in　about　one

hundred　yards　he　was　again　on　the　stream's　edge；　at　a　good

landing　above　the　rapid。



After　the　meal　was　finished　and　the　Indian　had　smoked；　they　set

to　work。　　In　a　few　loads　each；　the　stuff　was　portaged　across；　and

the　canoe　was　carried　over　and　moored　to　the　bank。



The　cargo　replaced；　they　went　on　again；　but　in　half　an　hour　after

passing　more　shoal　water；　saw　another　rapid；　not　steep；　but　too

shallow　to　float　the　canoe；　even　with　both　men　wading。　　Here

Quonab　made　what　the　Frenchmen　call　a　demi…charge。　　He　carried

half　the　stuff　to　the　bank；　then；　wading；　one　at　each　end；　they

hauled　the　canoe　up　the　portage　and　reloaded　her　above。　　Another

strip　of　good　going　was　succeeded　by　a　long　stretch　of　very　swift

water　that　was　two　or　three　feet　deep　and　between　shores　that

were　densely　grown　with　alders。　　The　Indian　landed；　cut　two

light；　strong　poles；　and　now；　one　at　the　bow；　the　other　at　the

stern；　they　worked　their　way　foot　by　foot　up　the　fierce　current

until　safely　on　the　upper　level。



Yet　one　more　style　of　canoe　propulsion　was　forced　on　them。　　They

came　to　a　long　stretch　of　smooth；　deep；　very　swift　water；　almost

a　rapid…one　of　the　kind　that　is　a　joy　when　you　are　coming　down

stream。　　It　differed　from　the　last　in　having　shores　that　were　not

alder…hidden；　but　open　gravel　banks。　　Now　did　Quonab　take　a　long；

strong　line　from　his　war　sack。　　One　end　he　fastened；　not　to　the

bow；　but　to　the　forward　part　of　the　canoe；　the　other　to　a

buckskin　band　which　he　put　across　his　breast。　　Then；　with　Rolf　in

the　stern　to　steer　and　the　Indian　hauling　on　the　bank；　the　canoe

was　safely　〃tracked〃　up　the　〃strong　waters。〃



Thus　they　fought　their　way　up　the　hard　river；　day　after　day；

making　sometimes　only　five　miles　after　twelve　hours'　toilsome

travel。　　Rapids；　shoals；　portages；　strong　waters；　abounded；