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

The Latter Supposed,  And Would Have Taken The Bundle Of Furs Had

Not Skookum Sprung On The Robber And Driven Him Away From The Canoe.

And Now Hoag Showed His True Character.  "Them's My Furs And My

Canoe," He Said To One Of The Mill Hands,  And Turning To The Two

Who Had Saved Him,  He Said: "An' You Two Dirty,  Cutthroat,

Redskin Thieves,  You Can Get Out Of Town As Fast As Ye Know How,

Or I'll Have Ye Jugged," And All The Pent-Up Hate Of His Hateful

Nature Frothed Out In Words Insulting And Unprintable.

"Talks Like A White Man," Said Quonab Coldly.  Rolf Was Speechless.

To Toil So Devotedly,  And To Have Such Filthy,  Humiliating Words

For Thanks!  He Wondered If Even His Uncle Mike Would Have Shown

So Vile A Spirit.

Hoag Gave Free Rein To His Tongue,  And Found In His Pal,  Bill Hawkins,

One With Ready Ears To Hear His Tale Of Woe. The Wretch Began To Feel

Himself Frightfully Ill-Used.  So,  Fired At Last By The Evermore Lurid

Story Of His Wrongs,  The "Partner" Brought The Magistrate,  So They

Could Swear Out A Warrant,  Arrest The Two "Outlaws," And  Especially

Secure The Bundle Of "Hoag's Furs" In The Canoe.

Old Silas Sylvanne,  The Mill-Owner And Pioneer Of The Place,  Was

Also Its Magistrate.  He Was Tall,  Thin,  Blacklooking,  A Sort Of

Abe Lincoln In Type,  Physically,  And In Some Sort,  Mentally.  He

Heard The Harrowing Tale Of Terrible Crime,  Robbery,  And Torture,

Inflicted On Poor Harmless Hoag By These Two Ghouls In Human Shape;

He Listened,  At First Shocked,  But Little By Little Amused.

"You Don't Get No Warrant Till I Hear From The Other Side,"

He Said.  Roff And Quonab Came At Call.  The Old Pioneer Sized

Up The Two,  As They Stood,  Then,  Addressing Rolf,  Said:

"Air You An Injun?" "No,  Sir." "Air You Half-Breed?" "No,  Sir."

"Well,  Let's Hear About This Business," And He Turned His

Piercing Eyes Full On The Lad's Face.

Rolf Told The Simple,  Straight Story Of Their Acquaintance With Hoag,

From The First Day At Warren's To Their Arrival At The Falls.

There Is Never Any Doubt About The Truth Of A True Story,

If It Be Long Enough,  And This True Story,  Presented In Its

Nakedness To The Shrewd And Kindly Old Hunter,  Trader,  Mill-Owner

And Magistrate,  Could Have Only One Effect.

"Sonny," He Said,  Slowly And Kindly,  "I Know That Ye Have Told Me

The Truth.  I Believe Every Word Of It.  We All Know That Hoag Is

The Meanest Cuss And Biggest Liar On The River.  He's A Nuisance,

And Always Was.  He Only Promised To Give Ye The Canoe And The

Rifle,  And Since He Don't Want To,  We Can't Help It.  About The

Trouble In The Woods,  You Got Two Witnesses To His One,  And Ye

Got The Furs And The Traps; It's Just As Well Ye Left The Other

Furs Behind,  Or Ye Might Have Had To Divide 'Em; So Keep Them And

Call The Hull Thing Square.  We'll Find Ye A Canoe To Get Out Of

This Gay Metropolis,  And As To Hoag,  Ye Needn't A-Worry; His

Travelling Days Is Done."

A Man With A Bundle Of High-Class Furs Is A Man Of Means In Any

Frontier Town.  The Magistrate Was Trader,  Too,  So They Set About

Disposing Of Their Furs And Buying The Supplies They Needed.

The Day Was Nearly Done Before Their New Canoe Was Gummed And

Ready With The New Supplies.  When Dealing,  Old Sylvanne Had A

Mild,  Quiet Manner,  And A Peculiar Way Of Making Funny Remarks

That Led Some To Imagine He Was "Easy" In Business; But It Was

Usual To Find At The End That He Had Lost Nothing By His Manners,

And Rival Traders Shunned An Encounter With Long Sylvanne Of The

Unruffled Brow.

When Business Was Done -- Keen And Complete -- He Said: "Now,

I'm A Goin' To Give Each Of Ye A Present," And Handed Out Two

Double-Bladed Jackknives,  New Things In Those Days,  Wonderful

Things,  Precious Treasures In Their Eyes,  Sources Of Endless Joy;

And Even Had They Known That One Marten Skin Would Buy A Quart Of

Them,  Their Pleasant Surprise And Childish Joy Would Not Have

Been In Any Way Tempered Or Alloyed.

"Ye Better Eat With Me,  Boys,  An' Start In The Morning." So They

Joined The Miller's Long,  Continuous Family,  And Shared His

Evening Meal.  Afterward As They Sat For Three Hours And Smoked

On The Broad Porch That Looked Out On The River,  Old Sylvanne,

Who Had Evidently Taken A Fancy To Rolf,  Regaled Them With A

Long,  Rambling Talk On "Fellers  And Things," That Was One Of The

Most Interesting Rolf Had Ever Listened To.  At The Time It Was

Simply Amusing; It Was Not Till Years After That The Lad Realized

By Its Effect On Himself,  Its Insight,  And Its Hold On His

Memory,  That Si Sylvanne's Talk Was Real Wisdom.  Parts Of It

Would Not Look Well In Print; But The Rugged Words,  The Uncouth

Saxonism,  The Obscene Phrase,  Were The Mere Oaken Bucket In Which

The Pure And Precious Waters Were Hauled To The Surface.

"Looked Like He Had Ye Pinched When That Shyster Got Ye In To

Lyons Falls.  Wall,  There's Two Bad Places For Jack Hoag; One Is

Where They Don't Know Him At All,  An' Take Him On His Looks; An'

T'other Is Where They Know Him Through And Through For Twenty

Years,  Like We Hev. A Smart Rogue Kin Put Up A False Front Fer A

Year Or Maybe Two,  But Given Twenty Year To Try Him,  For And Bye,

Summer An' Winter,  An' I Reckon A Man's Make Is Pretty Well

Showed Up,  Without No Dark Corners Left Unexplored.

"Not That I Want To Jedge Him Harsh,  Coz I Don't Know What Kind

O' Maggots Is Eatin' His Innards To Make Him So Ornery.  I'm

Bound To Suppose He Has 'Em,  Or He Wouldn't Act So Dum Like It.

So I Says,  Go Slow And Gentle Before Puttin' A Black Brand On Any

Feller; As My Mother Used To Say,  Never Say A Bad Thing Till Ye

Ask,  'Is It True,  Is It Kind,  Is It Necessary?'  An' I Tell You,

The Older I Git,  The Slower I Jedge; When I Wuz Your Age,  I Wuz A

Steel Trap On A Hair Trigger,  An' Cocksure.  I Tell You,  There

Ain't Anythin' Wiser Nor A Sixteen-Year-Old Boy,  'Cept Maybe A

Fifteen-Year-Old Girl.

"Ye'll Genilly Find,  Lad,  Jest When Things Looks About As Black

As They Kin Look,  That's The Sign Of Luck A-Comin' Your Way,

Pervidin' Ye Hold Steady,  Keep Cool And Kind; Something Happens

Every Time To Make It All Easy.  There's Always A Way,  An' The

Stout Heart Will Find It.

"Ye May Be Very Sure O' This,  Boy,  Yer Never Licked Till Ye Think

Ye Air An' If Ye Won't Think It,  Ye Can't Be Licked.

It's Just The Same As Being Sick.  I Seen A Lot O' Doctorin'  In

My Day,  And I'm Forced To Believe There Ain't Any Sick Folks

'Cept Them That Thinks They Air Sick.

"The Older I Git,  The More I'm Bound To Consider That Most Things

Is Inside,  Anyhow,  And What's Outside Don't Count For Much.

"So It Stands To Reason When Ye Play The Game For What's Inside,

Ye Win Over All The Outside Players.  When Ye Done Kindness To

Hoag,  Ye Mightn't A Meant It,  But Ye Was Bracin' Up The Goodness

In Yerself,  Or Bankin' It Up Somewher' On The Trail Ahead,  Where

It Was Needed.  And He Was Simply Chawin' His Own Leg Off,  When

He Done Ye Dirt.  I Ain't Much O' A Prattlin' Christian,  But I

Reckon As A Cold-Blooded,  Business Proposition It Pays To Lend

The Neighbour A Hand; Not That I Go Much On Gratitude. It's

Scarcer'n Snowballs In Hell -- Which Ain't The Point; But I Take

Notice There Ain't Any Man'll Hate Ye More'n The Feller That

Knows He's Acted Mean To Ye.  An' There Ain't Any Feller More

Ready To Fight Yer Battles Than The Chap That By Some Dum

Accident Has Hed The Luck To Help Ye,  Even If He Only Done It To

Spite Some One Else -- Which 'Minds Me O' Mccarthy's Bull Pup

That Saved The Drowning Kittens By Mistake,  And Ever After Was A

Fightin' Cat Protector,  Whereby He Lost The Chief Joy O' His

Life,  Which Had Been Cat-Killin'.  An' The Way They Cured The Cat

O' Eatin' Squirrels Was Givin' Her A Litter O' Squirrels To Raise.

"I Tell Ye There's A Lot O' Common-Sense An' Kindness In The

Country,  Only It's So Dum Slow To Git Around; While The

Cussedness And Meanness Always Acts Like They Felt The Hell Fire

Sizzlin' Their Hind-End Whiskers,  An' Knowed They Had Jest So

Many Minutes To Live An' Make A Record.  There's Where A Man's

Smart That Fixes Things So He Kin Hold Out A Long Time,  Fer The

Good Stuff In Men's Minds Is What Lasts; And The Feller What Can

Stay With It Hez Proved Hisself By Stayin'.  How'd Ye Happen To

Tie Up With The Injun,  Rolf?"

"Do Ye Want Me To Tell It Long Or Short?" Was The Reply. "Wall,

Short,  Fer A Start," And Silas Sylvanne Chuckled.

So Rolf Gave A Very Brief Account Of His Early Life.

"Pretty Good," Said The Miller; "Now Let's Hear It Long."

And When He Had Finished,  The Miller Said: "I've Seen Yer Tried

Fer Most Everything That Goes To Make A Man,  Rolf,  An' I Hev My

Own Notion Of The Results.  You Ain't Goin' To Live Ferever In

Them Hills.  When Ye've Hed Yer Fling An' Want A Change,  Let Me Know."

Early Next Day The Two Hunters Paddled Up The Moose River With A

Good Canoe,  An Outfit Of Groceries,  And A Small Supply Of Ready Cash.

"Good-Bye,  Lad,  Good-Bye!  Come Back Again And Ye'll Find We

Improve On Acquaintance; An' Don't Forget I'm Buying Fur," Was Si

Sylvanne's Last Word.  And As They Rounded The Point,  On The Home

Way,  Rolf Turned In The Canoe,  Faced Quonab,  And Said: "Ye See

There Are Some Good White Men Left;" But The Indian Neither

Blinked,  Nor Moved,  Nor Made A Sound.

The Return Journey Was Hard Paddling Against Strong Waters,  But

Otherwise Uneventful.  Once Over Any Trail Is Enough To Fix It In

The Memory Of A Woodman.  They Made No Mistakes And Their Loads

Were Light,  So The Portages Were Scarcely Any Loss Of Time,  And

In Two Days They Were Back At Hoag's Cabin.

Of This They Took Possession.  First,  They Gathered All Things Of

Value,  And That Was Little Since The Furs And Bedding Were Gone,

But There Were A Few Traps And Some Dishes.  The Stuff Was Made

In Two Packs; Now It Was An Overland Journey,  So The Canoe Was

Hidden In A Cedar Thicket,  A Quarter Of A Mile Inland.  The Two

Were About To Shoulder The Packs,  Quonab Was Lighting His Pipe

For A Start,  When Rolf Said:

"Say,  Quonab! That Fellow We Saw At The Falls Claimed To Be

Hoag's Partner.  He May Come On Here And Make Trouble If We Don't

Head Him Off.  Let's Burn Her," And He Nodded Toward The Shanty.

"Ugh!" Was The Reply.

They Gathered Some Dry Brush And A Lot Of Birch Bark,  Piled Them

Up Against The Wall Inside,  And Threw Plenty Of Firewood On This.

With Flint And Steel Quonab Made The Vital Spark,  The Birch Bark

Sputtered,  The Dry,  Resinous Logs Were Easily Set Ablaze,  And

Soon Great Volumes Of Smoke Rolled From The Door,  The Window,  And

The Chimney; And Skookum,  Standing Afar,  Barked Pleasantly Aloud.

The Hunters Shouldered Their Packs And Began The Long,  Upward

Slope.  In An Hour They Had Reached A High,  Rocky Ridge.  Here

They Stopped To Rest,  And,  Far Below Them,  Marked With Grim Joy A

Twisted,  Leaning Column Of Thick Black Smoke.

That Night They Camped In The Woods And Next Day Rejoiced To Be

Back Again At Their Own Cabin,  Their Own Lake,  Their Home.

Several Times During The March