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

Quonab Sat Up In Amazement.  Rolf Paid No Heed,  But Went On,

Bawling And Drumming And Staring Upward Into Vacant Space.  After

A Few Minutes Skookum Scratched And Whined At The Shanty Door.

Rolf Rose,  Took His Knife,  Cut A Bunch Of Hair From Skookum's

Neck And Burned It In The Torch,  Then Went On Singing With Horrid

Solemnity:

"Evil Spirit Leave Me;

Dog-Face Do Not Harm Me."

At Last He Turned,  And Seeming To Discover That Quonab Was

Looking On,  Said:

"The Dream Dog Came To Me.  I Thought I Saw Him Lick Deer Grease

From The Frying Pan Behind The Shanty.  He Laughed,  For He Knew

That He Made Evil Medicine For Me. I Am Trying To Drive Him Away,

So He Cannot Harm Me.  I Do Not Know.  I Am Like My Mother.  She

Was Very Wise,  But She Died After It."

Now Quonab Arose,  Cut Some More Hair From Skookum,  Added A Pinch

Of Tobacco,  Then,  Setting It Ablaze,  He Sang In The Rank Odour Of

The Burning Weed And Hair,  His Strongest  Song To Kill Ill Magic;

And Rolf,  As He Chuckled And Sweetly Sank To Sleep,  Knew That The

Fight Was Won.  His Friend Would Never,  Never More Install Skookum

In The High And Sacred Post Of Pot-Licker,  Dishwasher,  Or Final Polisher.

The Deepening Snow About The Cabin Was Marked In All The Thickets

By The Multitudinous Tracks Of The Snowshoe Rabbits Or White

Hares.  Occasionally  The Hunters Saw Them,  But Paid Little Heed.

Why Should They Look At Rabbits When Deer Were Plentiful?

"You Catch Rabbit?" Asked Quonab One Day When Rolf Was Feeling

Fit Again.

"I Can Shoot One With My Bow," Was The Answer,  "But Why Should I,

When We Have Plenty Of Deer?"

"My People Always Hunted Rabbits.  Sometimes No Deer Were To Be

Found; Then The Rabbits Were Food.  Sometimes  In The Enemy's

Country It Was Not Safe To Hunt,  Except Rabbits,  With Blunt

Arrows,  And They Were Food. Sometimes Only Squaws And Children In

Camp -- Nothing To Eat; No Guns; Then The Rabbits Were Food."

"Well,  See Me Get One," And Rolf Took His Bow And Arrow.  He

Found Many White Bunnies,  But Always In The Thickest Woods.

Again And Again He Tried,  But The Tantalizing Twigs And Branches

Muffled The Bow And Turned The Arrow.  It Was Hours Before He

Returned With A Fluffy Snowshoe Rabbit.

"That Is Not Our Way."  Quonab Led To The Thicket And Selecting A

Place Of Many Tracks He Cut A Lot Of Brush And Made A Hedge

Across With Half A Dozen Openings.  At Each Of These Openings He

Made A Snare Of Strong Cord Tied To A Long Pole,  Hung On A

Crotch,  And So Arranged That A Tug At The Snare Would Free The

Pole Which In Turn Would Hoist The Snare And The Creature In It

High In The Air.

Next Morning They Went Around And Found That Four Of The Snares

Had Each A Snow-White Rabbit Hanging By The Neck.  As He Was

Handling These,  Quonab Felt A Lump I On The Hind Leg Of One.  He

Carefully Cut It Open And Turned Out A Curious-Looking Object

About The Size Of An Acorn,  Flattened,  Made Of Flesh And Covered

With Hair,  And Nearly The Shape Of A Large Bean.  He Gazed At It,

And,  Turning To Rolf,  Said With Intense Meaning:

"Ugh! We Have Found The Good Hunting.  This Is The

Peeto-Wab-Oos-Once,  The Little Medicine Rabbit.  Now We Have

Strong Medicine In The Lodge.  You Shall See."

He Went Out To The Two Remaining Snares And Passed The Medicine

Rabbit Through Each.  An Hour Later,  When They Retumed,  They

Found A Rabbit Taken In The First Snare.

"It Is Ever So," Said The Indian.  "We Can Always Catch Rabbits

Now.  My Father Had The Peeto-Wab-I-Ush Once,  The Little Medicine

Deer,  And So He Never Failed In Hunting But Twice.  Then He Found

That His Papoose,  Quonab,  Had Stolen His Great Medcine.  He Was A

Very Wise Papoose. He Killed A Chipmunk Each Of Those Days."

"Hark! What Is That?"  A Faint Sound Of Rustling Branches,  And

Some Short Animal Noises In The Woods Had Caught Rolf's Ear,  And

Skookum's,  Too,  For He Was Off Like One Whose Life Is Bound Up In

A Great Purpose.

"Yap,  Yap,  Yap," Came The Angry Sound From Skookum. Who Can Say

That Animals Have No Language?  His Merry "Yip,  Yip,  Yip," For

Partridge Up A Tree,  Or His Long,   Hilarious,  "Yow,  Yow,  Yow,"

When Despite All Orders He Chased Some Deer,  Were Totally

Distinct From The Angry "Yap,  Yap," He Gave For The Bear Up The

Tree,  Or The  "Grrryapgrryap," With Which He Voiced His Hatred Of

The  Porcupine.

But Now It Was The "Yap,  Yap," As When He Had Treed The Bears.

"Something Up A Tree," Was The Indian's Interpretation,  As They

Followed The Sound.  Something Up A Tree!  A Whole Menagerie It

Seemed To Rolf When They Got There. Hanging By The Neck In The

Remaining Snare,  And Limp Now,  Was A Young Lynx,  A Kit Of The

Year.  In The Adjoining  Tree,  With Skookum Circling And Yapping

'Round The Base,  Was A Savage Old Lynx.  In The Crotch Above Her

Was Another Young One,  And Still Higher Was A Third,  All Looking

Their Unutterable Disgust At The Noisy Dog Below; The Mother,

Indeed,  Expressing It In Occasional Hisses,  But None Of Them

Daring To Come Down And Face Him.  The Lynx Is Very Good Fur And

Very Easy Prey.  The Indian Brought The Old One Down With A Shot;

Then,  As Fast As He Could Reload,  The Others Were Added To The

Bag,  And,  With The One From The Snare,  They Returned Laden To The

Cabin.

The Indian's Eyes Shone With A Peculiar Light.  "Ugh! Ugh!  My

Father Told Me; It Is Great Medicine.  You See,  Now,  It Does Not

Fail.

Once They Had Run The Trap Lines,  And Their Store Of Furs

Was Increasing Finely. They Had Taken Twenty-Five Beavers And

Counted On Getting Two Or Three Each Time They Went To The Ponds.

But They Got An Unpleasant Surprise In December,  On Going To The

Beaver Grounds,  To Find All The Traps Empty And Unmistakable

Signs That Some Man Had Been There And Had Gone Off With The

Catch.  They Followed The Dim Trail Of His Snowshoes,  Half Hidden

By A Recent Wind,  But Night Came On With More Snow,  And All Signs

Were Lost.

The Thief Had Not Found The Line Yet,  For The Haul Of Marten And

Mink Was Good.  But This Was Merely The Beginning.

The Trapper Law Of The Wilderness Is Much Like All Primitive

Laws; First Come Has First Right,  Provided He Is Able To Hold It.

If A Strong Rival Comes In,  The First Must Fight As Best He Can.

The Law Justifies Him In Anything He May Do,  If He Succeeds.  The

Law Justifies The Second In Anything He May Do,  Except Murder.

That Is,  The Defender May Shoot To Kill; The Offender May Not.

But The Fact Of Quonab's Being An Indian And Rolf Supposedly One,

Would Turn Opinion Against Them In The Adirondacks,  And It Was

Quite Likely That The Rival  Considered Them Trespassers On His

Grounds,  Although The Fact That He Robbed Their Traps Without

Removing Them,  And Kept Out Of Sight,  Rather Showed The Guilty

Conscience Of A Self-Accused  Poacher.

He Came In From The West,  Obviously; Probably The Racquet River

Country; Was A Large Man,  Judging By His Foot And Stride,  And

Understood Trapping; But Lazy,  For He Set No Traps.  His

Principal Object Seemed To Be To Steal.

And It Was Not Long Before He Found Their Line Of Marten Traps,

So His Depredations Increased.  Primitive Emotions Are Near The

Surface At All Times,  And Under Primitive  Conditions Are Very

Ready To Appear.  Rolf And Quonab Felt That Now It Was War.

There Was One Large Track In The Snow That They Saw Several Times

-- It Was Like That Of A Marten,  But Much Larger.  "Pekan," Said

The Indian,  "The Big Marten; The Very Strong One,  That Fights

Without Fear."

"When My Father Was A Papoose He Shot An Arrow At A Pekan.  He

Did Not Know What It Was; It Seemed Only A Big Black Marten.  It

Was Wounded,  But Sprang From The Tree On My Father's Breast.  It

Would Have Killed Him,  But For The Dog; Then It Would Have Killed

The Dog,  But My  Grandfather Was Near.

"He Made My Father Eat The Pekan's Heart,  So His Heart Might Be

Like It.  It Sought No Fight,  But It Turned,  When Struck,  And

Fought Without Fear.  That Is The Right Way; Seek Peace,  But

Fight Without Fear.  That Was My Father's Heart And Mine."  Then

Glancing Toward The West He Continued In A Tone Of Menace: "That

Trap Robber Will Find It So.  We Sought No Fight,  But Some Day I

Kill Him."

The Big Track Went In Bounds,  To Be Lost In A Low,  Thick Woods.

But They Met It Again.

They Were Crossing A Hemlock Ridge A Mile Farther On,  When They

Came To Another Track Which Was First A Long,  Deep Furrow,  Some

Fifteen Inches Wide,  And In This Were The Wide-Spread Prints Of

Feet As Large As Those Of A Fisher.

"Kahk," Said Quonab,  And Skookum Said "Kahk," Too,  But He Did It

By Growling And Raising His Back Hair,  And Doubtless Also By

Sadly Remembering.  His Discretion Seemed As Yet Embryonic,  So

Rolf Slipped His Sash Through The Dog's Collar,  And They Followed

The Track,  For The Porcupine  Now Stood In Rolf's Mind As A Sort

Of Embroidery Outfit.

They Had Not Followed Far Before Another Track Joined On -- The

Track Of The Fisher-Pekan; And Soon After They Heard In The Woods

Ahead Scratching Sounds,  As Of Something  Climbing,  And Once Or

Twice A Faint,  Far,  Fighting Snarl.

Quickly Tying The Over-Valiant Skookum To A Tree,  They Crept

Forward,  Ready For Anything,  And Arrived On The Scene Of A Very

Peculiar Action.

Action It Was,  Though It Was Singularly Devoid Of Action. First,

There Was A Creature,  Like A Huge Black Marten Or A Short-Legged

Black Fox,  Standing At A Safe Distance,  While,  Partly Hidden

Under A Log,  With Hind Quarters And Tail Only Exposed,  Was A

Large Porcupine.  Both Were Very Still,  But Soon The Fisher

Snarled And Made A Forward Lunge.  The Porcupine,  Hearing The

Sounds Or Feeling The Snow Dash Up On That Side,  Struck With Its

Tail; But The Fisher Kept Out Of Reach.  Next A Feint Was Made On

The Other Side,  With The Same