rolf in the woods- 第27部分

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　how　close　he　could　come　to　Skookum's　nose　without

being　caught；　while　Rolf　looked　on。　　Quonab　was　lying　back　on　a

pile　of　deer　skins；　with　his　pipe　in　his　mouth；　his　head　on　the

bunk；　and　his　hands　clasped　back　of　his　neck。



There　was　an　atmosphere　of　content　and　brotherly　feeling；　the

evening　was　young；　when　Rolf　broke　silence：



〃Were　you　ever　married；　Quonab？〃



〃Ugh；〃　was　the　Indian's　affirmative。



〃Where？〃



〃Myanos。〃



Rolf　did　not　venture　more　questions；　but　left　the　　influence　of

the　hour　to　work。　　It　was　a　moment　of　delicate　poise；　and　Rolf

knew　a　touch　would　open　the　door　or　double　bar　it。　　He　wondered

how　he　might　give　that　touch　as　he　wished　it。　　Skookum　still

slept。　　Both　men　watched　the　mouse；　as；　with　quick　movements　it

crept　about。　Presently　it　approached　a　long　birch　stick　that

stood　up　against　the　wall。　　High　hanging　was　the　song…drum。　　Rolf

wished　Quonab　would　take　it　and　let　it　open　his　heart；　but　he

dared　not　offer　it；　that　might　have　the　exact　wrong　effect。　　Now

the　mouse　was　behind　the　birch　stick。　　Then　Rolf　noticed　that　the

stick　if　it　were　to　fall　would　strike　a　drying　line；　one　end　of

which　was　on　the　song…drum　peg。　So　he　made　a　dash　at　the　mouse

and　displaced　the　stick；　the　jerk　it　gave　the　line　sent　the

song…drum　with　hollow　bumping　to　the　ground。　　The　boy　stooped　to

replace　it；　as　he　did；　Quonab　grunted　and　Rolf　turned　to　see　his

hand　stretched　for　the　drum。　　Had　Rolf　officiously　offered　it；　it

would　have　been　refused；　now　the　Indian　took　it；　tapped　and

warmed　it　at　the　fire；　and　sang　a　song　of　the　Wabanaki。　　It　was

softly　done；　and　very　low；　but　Rolf　was　close；　for　almost　the

first　time　in　any　long　rendition；　and　he　got　an　entirely　new

notion　of　the　red　music。　　The　singer's　face　brightened　as　he

tummed　and　sang　with　peculiar　grace　notes　and　throat　warbles　of

〃Kaluscap's　war　with　the　magi；〃　and　the　spirit　of　his　people；

rising　to　the　sweet　magic　of　melody；　came　shining　in　his　eyes。

He　sang　the　lovers'　song；　〃The　Bark　Canoe。〃　（See　F。　R。　Burton's

〃American　Primitive　Music。）



〃While　the　stars　shine　and　falls　the　dew；　I　seek　my　love　in　bark　canoe。〃



And　then　the　cradle　song；



〃The　Naked　Bear　Shall　Never　Catch　Thee。〃



When　he　stopped；　he　stared　at　the　fire；　and　after　a　long　pause

Rolf　ventured；　〃My　mother　would　have　loved　your　songs。〃



Whether　he　heard　or　not；　the　warm　emanation　surely　reached　the

Indian；　and　he　began　to　answer　the　question　of　an　hour　before：



〃Her　name　was　Gamowini；　for　she　sang　like　the　sweet　night　bird　at

Asamuk。　　I　brought　her　from　her　father's　house　at　Saugatuck。　　We

lived　at　Myanos。　　She　made　beautiful　baskets　and　moccasins。　　I

fished　and　trapped；　we　had　enough。　　Then　the　baby　came。　　He　had

big　round　eyes；　so　we　called　him　Wee…wees；　'our　little　owl；'　and

we　were　very　happy。　　When　Gamowini　sang　to　her　baby；　the　world

seemed　full　of　sun。　　One　day　when　Wee…wees　could　walk　she　left

him　with　me　and　she　went　to　Stamford　with　some　baskets　to　sell。

A　big　ship　was　in　the　harbour。　　A　man　from　the　ship　told　her　that

his　sailors　would　buy　all　her　baskets。　She　had　no　fear。　　On　the

ship　they　seized　her　for　a　runaway　slave；　and　hid　her　till　they

sailed　away。



〃When　she　did　not　come　back　I　took　Wee…wees　on　my　shoulder　and

went　quickly　to　Stamford。　　I　soon　found　out　a　little；　but　the

people　did　not　know　the　ship；　or　whence　she　came；　or　where　she

went；　they　said。　　They　did　not　seem　to　care。　　My　heart　grew

hotter　and　wilder。　　I　wanted　to　fight。　　I　would　have　killed　the

men　on　the　dock；　but　they　were　many。　　They　bound　me　and　put　me　in

jail　for　three　months。　　'When　I　came　out　Wee…wees　was　dead。　　They

did　not　care。　　I　have　heard　nothing　since。　　Then　I　went　to　live

under　the　rock；　so　I　should　not　see　our　first　home。　I　do　not

know；　she　may　be　alive。　　But　I　think　it　killed　her　to　lose　her　baby。〃



The　Indian　stopped；　then　rose　quickly。　　His　face　was　hard　set。

He　stepped　out　into　the　snowstorm　and　the　night。　　Rolf　was　left

alone　with　Skookum。



Sad；　sad；　everything　seemed　sad　in　his　friend's　life；　and　Rolf；

brooding　over　it　with　wisdom　beyond　his　years；　could　not　help

asking：　〃Had　Quonab　and　Gamowini　been　white　folk；　would　it　have

happened　so？　　Would　his　agony　have　been　received　with　scornful

indifference？　　Alas！　he　knew　it　would　not。　　He　realized　it　would

have　been　a　very　different　tale；　and　the　sequent　questions　that

would　not　down；　were；　〃Will　this　bread　cast　on　the　waters　return

after　many　days？〃　〃Is　there　a　God　of　justice　and　retribution？〃

〃On　whom　will　the　flail　of　vengeance　fall　for　all　these　abominations？〃



Two　hours　later　the　Indian　returned。　　No　word　was　spoken　as　he

entered。　　He　was　not　cold。　　He　must　have　walked　far。　　Rolf

prepared　for　bed。　　The　Indian　stooped；　picked　up　a　needle　from

the　dusty　ground；　one　that　had　been　lost　the　day　before；　silently

handed　it　to　his　　companion；　who　gave　only　a　recognizant　〃Hm；〃

and　dropped　it　into　the　birch…bark　box。







Chapter　44。　The　Lost　Bundle　of　Furs



There　had　been　a　significant　cessation　of　robbery　on　their　trap

line　after　the　inconclusive　visit　to　the　enemy's　camp。　　But　a　new

and　extreme　exasperation　　arose　in　the　month　of　March；　when　the

alternation　　of　thaw　and　frost　had　covered　the　snow　with　a　hard

crust　that　rendered　snowshoes　unnecessary　and　made　it　easy　to　run

anywhere　and　leave　no　track。



They　had　gathered　up　a　fisher　and　some　martens　before　they

reached　the　beaver　pond。　　They　had　no　beaver　traps　now；　but　it

was　interesting　to　call　and　see　how　many　of　the　beavers　were

left；　and　what　they　were　doing。



Bubbling　springs　on　the　bank　of　the　pond　had　made　open　water　at

several　places；　now　that　the　winter　frost　was　weakening。　　Out　of

these　the　beavers　often　came；　as　was　plainly　seen　in　the　tracks；

so　the　trappers　approached　them　carefully。



They　were　scrutinizing　one　of　them　from　behind　a　log；　Quonab　with

ready　gun；　Rolf　holding　the　unwilling　Skookum；　　when　the　familiar

broad；　flat　head　appeared。　　A　large　beaver　swam　around　the　hole；

sniffed　and　looked；　then　silently　climbed　the　bank；　evidently

making　for　a　certain　aspen　tree　that　he　had　already　been　cutting。

He　was　in　easy　range；　and　the　gunner　was　about　to　fire　when　Rolf

pressed　his　arm　and　pointed。　　Here；　wandering　through　the　wood；

came　a　large　lynx。　　It　had　not　seen　or　smelt　any　of　the　living

creatures　ahead；　as　yet；　but　speedily　sighted　the　beaver　now

working　away　to　cut　down　his　tree。



As　a　pelt；　the　beaver　was　worth　more　than　the　lynx；　but　the

naturalist　is　strong　in　most　hunters；　and　they　watched　to　see

what　would　happen。



The　lynx　seemed　to　sink　into　the　ground；　and　was　lost　to　sight　as

soon　as　he　knew　of　a　possible　prey　ahead。　　And　now　he　began　his

stalk。　　The　hunters　sighted　him　once　as　he　crossed　a　level

opening　in　the　snow。　　He　seemed　less　than　four　inches　high　as　he

crawled。　　Logs；　ridges；　trees；　or　twigs；　afforded　ample

concealment；　till　his　whiskers　appeared　in　a　thicket　within

fifteen　feet　of　the　beaver。



All　this　was　painfully　exciting　to　Skookum；　who；　though　he　could

not　see；　could　get　some　thrilling　whiffs；　and　he　strained　forward

to　improve　his　opportunities。　　The　sound