The Big Otter by R. M. Ballantyne (best novels ever .txt) đ
Read free book «The Big Otter by R. M. Ballantyne (best novels ever .txt) đ» - read online or download for free at americanlibrarybooks.com
- Author: R. M. Ballantyne
Read book online «The Big Otter by R. M. Ballantyne (best novels ever .txt) đ». Author - R. M. Ballantyne
From Maggie thenâlong afterwardsâI learned the details.
My father sat down after smiting the table, gasped once or twice; pulled off and wiped his spectacles; put them on again, and, laying strong constraint on himself, read the whole through, aloud, and without a word of comment till he reached the end, when he ejaculatedââin-con-ceivable!â laid the letter down, and, looking up, glared at the cat. As that creature took no notice of him he incontinently flung his napkin at it, and swept it off the table. Then he gave vent to a prolonged âwhâsh!â burst into a fiendish laugh, and gave a slap to his thigh that shattered the catâs peace of mind for the remainder of that morning, after which he re-opened the letter, spread it carefully out on the table, and, in the most intensely cynical tones, began a disjointed commentary on it as follows:â
âYour âdear father,â indeed! Thatâs the first piece of humbug in your precious letter. Very âdearâ I am to you, no doubt. And youâyouâa chitâa mere boy (he forgot that several years had elapsed since I left him). Oh! noâIâm neither surprised nor displeasedânot at all. The state of my mind is not to be expressed by such phraseologyâby no means! And you were always such a smooth-faced, quiet little beggar thatâwellâno matter. âCouldnât help it!â indeed. Hâm. âQuite a lady!â Oh! of course. Necessarily so, when you condescended to fall in love with her! âHumility!â well! âGiven up the service,â too! âColorado!â âOne of the wildest partsââas if a tame part wouldnât have done just as well! A âfarmer!â Much you know about farming! You donât tell all this âdefiantly.â Oh! no, certainly not, but if you donât do it defiantly, I have misunderstood the meaning of the word self-will till I am bald. Why didnât you âconsultâ me, then? Much you care for my blessingâand âthe thing is fixed!ââ
Exasperation was too much developed at this point to permit of blowing off steam in the form of sarcastic remark. My poor father hit the table with such force that the cream spurted out of its pot over the clothâand my father didnât care! The cat cared, however, when, at a later period, it had the cleaning up of that little matter all to itself! This last explosion caused so much noiseâmy cousin told meâas to attract the attention of my fatherâs only domestic, who bounced into the room and asked, âdid âe ring.â To which my father returned such a thundering âNo!â that the domestic fled precipitately, followed by the catârampant.
âYour âEve!â indeed,â said my father, resuming the sarcastic vein. ââMother an Indianââa Hottentot, I suppose, or something of that sortâshort skirt of peacock feathers; no upper part worth mentioning, flat nose and lips, and smeared all over with fat, I dare say. Charming mother-in-law. Calculated to create some impression on English society. No wonder youâve chosen the wilds of Colorado! Ah, now, as to âmy Eve herselfââjust let us have it strong, my boyâhâm, âsweetââyes, yesââamiable,â exactly, âfair hair and blue eyesââha, you expect me to swallow that! oh, âgraceful,â ha! âperfection,â undoubtedly. âForgiveâ you! Noâboy, Iâll never forgive you. Youâre the most arrant assâidiotâbut this caps allââcome out here and live with us!â Theyâll give me one quarter of the wigwam, I supposeâcurtained off with birch-bark, perhaps, or deerskin. âYour affectionateââdolt! whâwhyâwhat do you glare like that for?â
This last question was put to my small cousin, who, in the horror of her belief that my father had gone mad, had agitated the window-curtain and revealed herself!
My poor dear father! I can imagine the scene well, and would not have detailed it so minutely here ifâbut enough. I must not forecast.
The afternoon on which this letter was despatched Big Otter returned to Sunny Creek cottage with a haunch of fat venison on his lusty shoulders.
He found us all grouped round the rustic table in front of the door, enjoying a cup of fragrant tea, and admiring the view. Eve was sitting on a low stool at the feet of Mrs Liston, engaged in ornamenting a bright blue fire-bag with bead and quill work of the most gorgeous colouring and elegant design. The design, of course, was her own. Mrs Liston was knitting small squares of open cotton-work, of a stitch so large that wooden needles about the size of a goose-quill were necessary. It was the only work that the poor old ladyâs weak eyesight and trembling hands could accomplish, and the simple stitch required little exercise of mind or muscle. When Mrs Liston completed a square she rolled it away. When sixteen squares were finished, she sewed them together and formed a strip about eight feet long and six inches broad. When sixteen such strips were completed, she sewed them all together and thus produced a bed-quilt. Quilts of this sort she presented periodically, with much ceremony and demonstration of regard, to her most intimate friends. In that region the old lady had not many intimate friends, but then it luckily took much time to produce a quilt.
The quilt then in handâat that time near its completionâwas for Eve.
âThank you so much for your venison,â said Mrs Liston, as the hunter, with an air of native dignity, laid the haunch at her feet. âTake it to the kitchen, dear,â she added to Mrs Temple, who was pouring out the tea.
âIt has just come in time,â said Mrs Temple, with a pleasant nod to Big Otter; âwe had quite run out of fresh meat, and your friend Muxbee is such a lazy boy that he never touches a gun. In fact I donât know how to get him out of the house even for an hour.â
As this was said in English, Big Otter did not understand it, but when he saw the speaker stoop to pick up the venison, he stepped quickly forward and anticipated her. âThank you, carry it this way,â said Aunt Temple (as I had begun to style her), leading the Indian to the pantry in rear of the cottage.
âWell, Big Otter,â said I, when they returned, ânow do you find the country round here in regard to game?â
âThere is much game,â he answered.
âThen youâll make up your mind to pitch your wigwam here, I hope, and make it your home.â
âNo, Big Otterâs heart is in his own land in the far north. He will go back to it.â
âWhat! and forsake Waboose?â said Eve, looking up from her work with an expression of real concern.
With a gratified air the Indian replied, âBig Otter will return.â
âSoon!â I asked.
âNot very long.â
âWhen do you start?â
âBefore yon sun rises again,â said Big Otter, pointing to the westward, where the heavens above, and the heavens reflected in the lake below, were suffused with a golden glow.
âThen I shall have to spend the most of the night writing,â said I, âfor I cannot let you go without a long letter to my friend Lumley, and a shorter one to Macnab. I have set my heart on getting them both to leave the service, and come here to settle alongside of me.â
âYou see, your friend Muxbee,â said Aunt Temple, using the Indianâs pronunciation of my name, âis like the fox which lost his tail. He wishes all other foxes to cut off their tails so as to resemble him.â
âAm I to translate that?â I asked.
âIf you can and will.â
Having done so, I continued,ââBut seriously, Big Otter, I hope you will try to persuade them to come here. Give them a glowing account of the country and the climate, and say Iâll not marry till they come to dance at my wedding. I would not wait for that however, if it were not that Eve thinks she is a little too young yet, and besides, she has set her heart on my father being present. Iâll explain all that in my letters, of course, but do you press it on them.â
âAnd be sure you tell the dark-haired pale-face,â said Eve, âthat Waboose expects her to come. Give these from her friend Fairhairâshe was fond of calling me Fairhair.â
Eve rose as she spoke, and produced a pair of beautiful moccasins, which had been made and richly ornamented by her own hands. At the same time she presented the fire-bag to the Indian, adding that she was glad to have had it so nearly ready when he arrived.
âFor whom are these pretty things, my dear?â asked Mrs Liston.
âThe fire-bag, mother, is for Big Otter, and the moccasins isââ
âAre, Eveâareâplural you know.â
âIs,â replied Eve, with emphasis, âfor my dear friend, Jessie, the black-haired pale-face.â
âWell done, Waboose!â exclaimed Aunt Temple. âIâm glad to see that you improve under my tuition.â
âYou canât spoil her,â I retorted, quietly.
âWell, my dear,â said Mrs Liston, âsend a message from me to your dark-haired pale-face that I shall begin a quilt for her next week.â
âI hope she will come to receive it,â said Aunt Temple. âTell her that, Muxbee, with my love, and add that I hope we shall be good friends when we meet. Though I doubt it, for I canât bear Highlandersâtheyâre so dreadfully enthusiastic.â
âHow much of that message am I to send?â I asked.
âAs much as you please. I can trust to your discretion.â
That evening I retired to my snug little attic-room earlier than usual, and, spreading out a large sheet of narrow-ruled foolscap paper before me, began a letter to my old chum on the banks of lake Wichikagan. I had much to relate, for much had happened since I had sent off the brief note by Salamander, and I found it difficult to check my pen when once it had got into the flow of description and the rush of reminiscence and the gush of reiterative affection. I had covered the whole of the first sheet of narrow-ruled foolscap, and got well into the second sheetâwhich I had selected unruled, that I might write still more narrowlyâwhen I heard a gentle tap at the door.
I knew the tap wellâsprang up and opened the door. Eve stood there, looking as modest and beautiful and elegant as everâwhich is saying a good deal, for, in deference to Mrs Listonâs prejudices, she had exchanged her old graceful tunic reaching to a little below the knee, and her pretty bead-wrought leggings, and other picturesque accompaniments of Indian life, for the long dress of civilisation. However, I consoled myself with the fact that nothing could spoil her, and recalled with satisfaction the words (I donât quite remember them), which refer to a rose smelling equally sweet under any other name.
âPrayers,â said Eve.
Lest any one should feel perplexed by the brevity of her announcement, I may mention that dear old Mrs Listonâs habit was to recognise her âBest Benefactorâ night and morning by having worship in the household, and invariably conducted it herself in her soft, slightly tremulous, but still musical voice.
As we descended the stairs, Eve said,ââYou must sit beside me to-night, Geoâge. When you sit opposite you gaze too much and make me uncomfortable.â
âCertainly, dear one,â said I. âBut pray donât call me Geoâgeâsay Geoârâge. Thereâs an r in it, you know.â
âYes, Geoâoâoârârârârâge!â
âEve,â I whispered, as we sat on the sofa together, while Mrs Liston was wiping her spectacles, âIâve been earnestly considering that last attempt of yours, and I think upon the whole, that âGeoâgeâ is better.â
Turn we once again to the great wilderness, and if we do
Comments (0)