Rolf In The Woods by Ernest Thompson Seton (phonics story books .txt) 📕

Buck,  Already Spent,  Reared,  Wheeled,  And Fell. Before He Could

Recover Skookum Pounced Upon Him By The Nose And Hung On Like A

Vice.  The Buck Could Swing His Great Neck A Little,  And Drag The

Dog,  But He Could Not Shake Him Off.  Rolf Saw The Chance,  Rose

To His Tottering Legs,  Seized His Hatchet,  Stunned The Fierce

Brute With A Blow. Then Finding On The Snow His Missing Knife He

Gave The Hunter Stroke That Spilled The Red Life-Blood And Sank

On The Ground To Know No More Till Quonab Stood Beside Him.

Rolf Was Lying By A Fire When He Came To,  Quonab Bending Over Him

With A Look Of Grave Concern. When He Opened His Eyes,  The Indian

Smiled; Such A Soft,  Sweet Smile,  With Long,  Ivory Rows In Its

Background.

Then He Brought Hot Tea,  And Rolf Revived So He Could Sit Up And

Tell The Story Of The Morning.

"He Is An Evil Manito," And He Looked Toward The Dead Buck; "We

Must Not Eat Him.  You Surely Made Medicine To Bring Skookum."

"Yes,  I Made Medicine With My Mouth," Was The Answer,   "I Called,

I Yelled,  When He Came At Me."

"It Is A Long Way From Here To The Cabin," Was Quonab's Reply.

"I Could Not Hear You; Skookum Could Not Hear You; But Cos Cob,

My Father,  Told Me That When You Send Out A Cry For Help,  You

Send Medicine,  Too,  That Goes Farther Than The Cry.  May Be So; I

Do Not Know: My Father Was Very Wise."

"Did You See Skookum Come,  Quonab?  "

"No; He Was With Me Hours After You Left,  But He Was Restless And

Whimpered.  Then He Left Me And It Was A Long Time Before I Heard

Him Bark.  It Was The 'Something- Wrong' Bark.  I Went.  He

Brought Me Here."

"He Must Have Followed My Track All 'Round The Line."

After An Hour They Set Out For The Cabin.  The Ravens "Ha-Ha-Ed"

And "Ho-Ho-Ed" As They Went.  Quonab Took The Fateful Horn That

Rolf Had Chopped Off,  And Hung It On A Sapling With A Piece Of

Tobacco And A Red Yam Streamer     ',  To Appease The Evil Spirit

That Surely Was Near.  There It Hung For Years After,  Until The

Sapling Grew To A Tree That Swallowed The Horn,  All But The Tip,

Which Rotted Away.

Skookum Took A Final Sniff At His Fallen Enemy,  Gave The Body The

Customary Expression Of A Dog's Contempt,  Then Led The Procession

Homeward.

Not That Day,  Not The Next,  But On The First Day Of Calm,  Red,

Sunset Sky,  Went Quonab To His Hill Of Worship; And When The

Little Fire That He Lit Sent Up Its Thread Of Smoke,  Like A

Plumb-Line From The Red Cloud Over Bim,  He Burnt A Pinch Of

Tobacco,  And,  With Face And Arms Upraised In The Red Light,  He

Sang A New Song:

"The Evil One Set A Trap For My Son,  But The Manito Saved Him; In

The Form Of A Skookum He Saved Him."

Rolf Was Sore And Stiff For A Week Afterward; So Was Skookum.

There Were Times When Quonab Was Cold,  Moody,  And Silent For

Days.  Then Some Milder Wind Would Blow In The Region Of His

Heart And The Bleak Ice Surface Melted Into Running Rills Of

Memory Or Kindly Emanation.

Just Before The Buck Adventure,  There Had Been An  Unpleasant

Time Of Chill And Aloofness.  It Arose Over Little. Since The

Frost Had Come,  Sealing The Waters Outside,  Quonab Would Wash His

Hands In The Vessel That Was Also The Bread Pan.  Rolf Had New

England Ideas Of Propriety In Cooking Matters,  And Finally He

Forgot The Respect Due To Age And Experience.  That Was One

Reason Why He Went Out Alone That Day.  Now,  With Time To Think

Things Over,  The Obvious Safeguard Would Be To Have A Wash Bowl;

But Where To Get It?  In Those Days,  Tins Were Scarce And Ex-

Pensive.  It Was The Custom To Look In The Woods For Nearly All

The Necessaries Of Life; And,  Guided By Ancient Custom And

Experience,  They Seldom Looked In Vain.  Rolf Had Seen,  And

Indeed Made,  Watering Troughs,  Pig Troughs,  Sap Troughs,  Hen

Troughs,  Etc.,  All His Life,  And He Now Set To Work With The Axe

And A Block Of Basswood To Hew Out A Trough For A Wash Bowl.

With Adequate Tools He Might Have Made A Good One; But,  Working

With An Axe And A Stiff Arm,  The Result Was A Very Heavy,  Crude

Affair.  It Would Indeed Hold Water,  But It Was Almost Impossible

To Dip It Into The Water Hole,  So That A Dipper Was Needed.

When Quonab Saw The Plan And The Result,  He Said: "In My Father's

Lodge We Had Only Birch Bark.  See; I Shall Make A Bowl." He Took

From The Storehouse A Big Roll Of Birch Bark,  Gathered In Warm

Weather (It Can Scarcely Be Done In Cold),  For Use In Repairing

The Canoe.  Selecting A Good Part He Cut Out A Square,  Two Feet

Each Way,  And Put It In The Big Pot Which Was Full Of Boiling

Water.  At The Same Time He Soaked With It A Bundle Of Wattap,  Or

Long Fibrous Roots Of The White Spruce,  Also Gathered Before The

Frost Came,  With A View To Canoe Repairs In The Spring.

While These Were Softening In The Hot Water,  He Cut A Couple Of

Long Splints Of Birch,  As Nearly As Possible Half An Inch Wide

And An Eighth Of An Inch Thick,  And Put Them To Steep With The

Bark.  Next He Made Two Or Three Straddle Pins Or Clamps,  Like

Clothes Pegs,  By Splitting The Ends Of Some Sticks Which Had A

Knot At One End.

Now He Took Out The Spruce Roots,  Soft And Pliant,  And Selecting

A Lot That Were About An Eighth Of An Inch In Diameter,  Scraped

Off The Bark And Roughness,  Until He Had A Bundle Of Perhaps Ten

Feet Of Soft,  Even,  White Cords.

The Bark Was Laid Flat And Cut As Below.

The Rounding Of A And B Is Necessary,  For The Holes Of The Sewing

Would Tear The Piece Off If All Were On The Same Line Of Grain.

Each Corner Was Now Folded And Doubled On Itself (C),  Then Held

So With A Straddle Pin (D).  The Rim Was Trimmed So As To Be Flat

Where It Crossed The Fibre Of The Bark,  And Arched Where It Ran

Along.  The Pliant Rods Of Birch Were Bent Around This,  And Using

The Large Awl To Make Holes,  Quonab Sewed The Rim Rods To The

Bark With An Over-Lapping Stitch That Made A Smooth Finish To The

Edge,  And The Birch-Bark Wash Pan Was Complete. (E.) Much Heavier

Bark Can Be Used If The Plan F G  Be Followed,  But It Is Hard To

Make It Water-Tight.

So Now They Had A Wash Pan And A Cause Of Friction Was Removed.

Rolf Found It Amusing As Well As Useful To Make Other Bark

Vessels Of Varying Sizes For Dippers And Dunnage. It Was Work

That He Could Do Now While He Was Resting And Recovering And He

Became Expert.  After Watching A Fairly Successful Attempt At A

Box To Hold Fish-Hooks And Tackle,  Quonab Said: "In My Father's

Lodge These Would Bear Quill Work In Colours."

"That's So," Said Rolf,  Remembering The Birch-Bark Goods Often

Sold By The Indians.  "I Wish We Had A  Porcupine Now."

"Maybe Skookum Could Find One," Said The Indian,  With A Smile.

"Will You Let Me Kill The Next Kahk We Find?"

"Yes,  If You Use The Quills And Burn Its Whiskers."

"Why Burn Its Whiskers?"

"My Father Said It Must Be So.  The Smoke Goes Straight To The

All-Above; Then The Manito Knows We Have Killed,  But We Have

Remembered To Kill Only For Use And To Thank Him."

It Was Some Days Before They Found A Porcupine,  And When They

Did,  It Was Not Necessary For Them To Kill It.  But That Belongs

To Another Chapter.

They Saved Its Skin With All Its Spears And Hung It In The

Storehouse.  The Quills With The White Bodies And Ready- Made

Needle At Each End Are Admirable For Embroidering,  But They Are

White Only.

"How Can We Dye Them,  Quonab?

"In The Summer Are Many Dyes; In Winter They Are Hard To Get.  We

Can Get Some."

So Forth He Went To A Hemlock Tree,  And Cut Till He Could Gather

The Inner Pink Bark,  Which,  Boiled With The Quills,  Turned Them A

Dull Pink; Similarly,  Alder Bark Furnished Rich Orange,  And

Butternut Bark A Brown.  Oak Chips,  With A Few Bits Of Iron In

The Pot,  Dyed Black.

"Must Wait Till Summer For Red And Green," Said The Indian.  "Red

Comes Only From Berries; The Best Is The Blitum.  We Call It

Squaw-Berry And Mis-Caw-Wa,  Yellow Comes From The Yellow Root

(Hydrastis).

But Black,  White,  Orange,  Pink,  Brown,  And A Dull Red Made By A

Double Dip Of Orange And Pink,  Are A Good Range Of Colour.  The

Method In Using The Quills Is Simple.  An Awl To Make Holes In

The Bark For Each; The Rough Parts Behind Are Concealed Afterward

With A Lining Of Bark Stitched Over Them; And Before The Winter

Was Over,  Rolf Had Made A Birch-Bark Box,  Decorated Lid And All,

With Por- Cupine Quill Work,  In Which He Kept The Sable Skin That

Was Meant To Buy Annette's New Dress,  The Costume She Had Dreamed

Of,  The Ideal And Splendid,  Almost Unbelievable Vision Of Her

Young Life,  Ninety-Five Cents' Worth Of Cotton Print.

There Was One Other Point Of Dangerous Friction.  Whenever  It

Fell To Quonab To Wash The Dishes,  He Simply Set Them On The

Ground And Let Skookum Lick Them Off.  This Economical

Arrangement Was Satisfactory To Quonab,   Delightful To Skookum,

And Apparently Justified By The Finished Product,  But Rolf

Objected.  The Indian Said: "Don't He Eat The Same Food As We Do?

You Cannot Tell If You Do Not See."

Whenever He Could Do So,  Rolf Washed The Doubtful Dishes Over

Again,  Yet There Were Many Times When This Was Impossible,  And

The Situation Became Very Irritating.  But He Knew That The Man

Who Loses His Temper Has Lost The First Round Of The Fight,  So,

Finding The General Idea Of Uncleanness Without Avail,  He Sought

For Some Purely Indian Argument. As They Sat By The Evening Fire,

One Day,  He Led Up To Talk Of His Mother -- Of Her Power As A

Medicine Woman,  Of The Many Evil Medicines That Harmed Her.  "It

Was Evil Medicine  For Her If A Dog Licked Her Hand Or Touched

Her Food. A Dog Licked Her Hand And The Dream Dog Came To Her

Three Days Before She Died."  After A Long Pause,  He Added,  "In

Some Ways I Am Like My Mother."

Two Days Later,  Rolf Chanced To See His Friend Behind The Shanty

Give Skookum The Pan To Clean Off After They Had Been Frying Deer

Fat.  The Indian Had No Idea That Rolf Was Near,  Nor Did He Ever

Learn The Truth Of It.

That Night,  After Midnight,  The Lad Rose Quietly,  Lighted The

Pine Splints That Served Them For A Torch,  Rubbed Some Charcoal

Around Each Eye To Make Dark Rings That Should Supply A

Horror-Stricken Look.  Then He Started In To Pound On Quonab's

Tom-Tom,  Singing:

"Evil Spirit Leave Me;

Dog-Face Do Not Harm