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

Scared I'd Get Killed If I Tried.' At

Last The Mother Got Mad And Shoved Him Over.  As Soon As He Felt

He Was Gone,  He Spread Out His Wings To Save Himself.  The Wings

Were All Right Enough,  And Long Before He Struck The Ground,  He

Was Flying."

 

 

 

 

Chapter 60 (Rolf Learns Something From Van)

A Man Can't Handle His Own Case,  Any More Than A Delirious Doctor

Kin Give Himself The Right Physic. --Saying Of Si Sylvanne.

 

However Superior Rolf Might Feel In The Canoe Or The Woods,  There

Was One Place Where Van Cortlandt Took The Lead,  And That Was In

The Long Talks They Had By The Campfire Or In Van's Own Shanty

Which Quonab Rarely Entered.

 

The Most Interesting Subjects Treated In These Were Ancient

Greece And Modern Albany. Van Cortlandt Was A Good Greek Scholar,

And,  Finding An Intelligent Listener,  He Told The Stirring Tales

Of Royal Ilion,  Athens,  And Pergamos,  With The Loving Enthusiasm

Of One Whom The Teachers Found It Easy To Instruct In Classic

Lore. And When He Recited Or Intoned The Rolling Greek Heroics Of

The Siege Of Troy,  Rolf Listened With An Interest That Was

Strange,  Considering That He Knew Not A Word Of It. But He Said,

"It Sounded Like Real Talk,  And The Tramp Of Men That Were All

Astir With Something Big A-Doing."

 

Albany And Politics,  Too,  Were Vital Strains,  And Life At The

Government House,  With The Struggling Rings And Cabals,  Social

And Political. These Were Extraordinarily Funny And Whimsical To

Rolf. No Doubt Because Van Cortlandt Presented Them That Way. And

He More Than Once Wondered How Rational Humans Could Waste Their

Time In Such Tomfoolery And Childish Things As All

Conventionalities Seemed To Be. Van Cortlandt Smiled At His

Remarks,  But Made No Answer For Long.

 

One Day,  The First After The Completion Of Van Cortlandt's Cabin,

As The Two Approached,  The Owner Opened The Door And Stood Aside

For Rolf To Enter.

 

"Go Ahead," Said Rolf.

 

"After You," Was The Polite Reply.

 

"Oh,  Go On," Rejoined The Lad,  In Mixed Amusement And Impatience.

 

Van Cortlandt Touched His Hat And Went In.

 

Inside,  Rolf Turned Squarely And Said: "The Other Day You Said

There Was A Reason For All Kinds O' Social Tricks; Now Will You

Tell Me What The Dickens Is The Why Of All These Funny- Do's? It

'Pears To Me A Free-Born American Didn't Ought To Take Off His

Hat To Any One But God."

 

Van Cortlandt Chuckled Softly And Said: "You May Be Very Sure

That Everything That Is Done In The Way Of Social Usage Is The

Result Of Common-Sense,  With The Exception Of One Or Two Things

That Have Continued After The Reason For Them Has Passed,  Like

The Buttons You Have Behind On Your Coat; They Were Put There

Originally To Button The Tails Out Of The Way Of Your Sword.

Sword Wearing And Using Have Passed Away,  But Still You See The

Buttons.

 

"As To Taking Off Your Hat To No Man: It Depends Entirely On What

You Mean By It; And,  Being A Social Custom,  You Must Accept Its

Social Meaning.

 

"In The Days Of Knight Errantry,  Every One Meeting A Stranger Had

To Suppose Him An Enemy; Ten To One He Was. And The Sign And

Proof Of Friendly Intention Was Raising The Right Hand Without A

Weapon In It. The Hand Was Raised High,  To Be Seen As Far As They

Could Shoot With A Bow,  And A Further Proof Was Added When They

Raised The Vizor And Exposed The Face. The Danger Of The Highway

Continued Long After Knights Ceased To Wear Armour; So,  With The

Same Meaning,  The Same Gesture Was Used,  But With A Lifting Of

The Hat. If A Man Did Not Do It,  He Was Either Showing Contempt,

Or Hostility For The Other,  Or Proving Himself An Ignorant Brute.

So,  In All Civilized Countries,  Lifting The Hat Is A Sign Of

Mutual Confidence And Respect."

 

"Well! That Makes It All Look Different. But Why Should You Touch

Your Hat When You Went Ahead Of Me Just Now?"

 

"Because This Is My House; You Are My Guest. I Am Supposed To

Serve You In Reasonable Ways And Give You Precedence. Had I Let

You Open My Door For Me,  It Would Have Been Putting You In The

Place Of My Servant; To Balance That,  I Give You The Sign Of

Equality And Respect."

 

"H'm," Said Rolf,  "'It Just Shows,' As Old Sylvanne Sez,  'This

Yer Steel-Trap,  Hair-Trigger,  Cocksure Jedgment Don't Do. An' The

More A Man Learns,  The Less Sure He Gits. An' Things As Hez

Lasted A Long Time Ain't Liable To Be On A Rotten Foundation.'"

 

Chapter 61 (The Charm Of Song)

 

With A Regular Tum Ta Tum Ta,  Came A Weird Sound From The Sunrise

Rock One Morning,  As Van Slipped Out Of His Cabin.

 

"Ag-Aj-Way-O-Say

Pem-O-Say

Gezhik-Om Era-Bid Ah-Keen

Ena-Bid Ah-Keen"

 

"What's He Doing,  Rolf?"

 

"That's His Sunrise Prayer," Was The Answer.

 

"Do You Know What It Means?"

 

"Yes,  It Ain't Much; Jest 'Oh,  Thou That Walkest In The Sky In

The Morning,  I Greet Thee."'

 

"Why,  I Didn't Know Indians Had Such Performances; That's Exactly

Like The Priests Of Osiris. Did Any One Teach Him? I Mean Any

White Folk."

 

"No,  It's Always Been The Indian Way. They Have A Song Or A

Prayer For Most Every Big Event,  Sunrise,  Sunset,  Moonrise,  Good

Hunting,  And Another For When They're Sick,  Or When They're Going

On A Journey,  Or When Their Heart Is Bad."

 

"You Astonish Me. I Had No Idea They Were So Human. It Carries Me

Back To The Temple Of Delphi. It Is Worthy Of Cassandra Of Ilion.

I Supposed All Indians Were Just Savage Indians That Hunted Till

Their Bellies Were Full,  And Slept Till They Were Empty Again."

 

"H'm," Rejoined Rolf,  With A Gentle Laugh. "I See You Also Have

Been Doing Some 'Hair-Trigger,  Steel-Trap,  Cocksure Jedgin'.'"

 

"I Wonder If He'd Like To Hear Some Of My Songs? "

 

"It's Worth Trying; Anyway,  I Would," Said Rolf.

 

That Night,  By The Fire,  Van Sang The "Gay Cavalier," "The

Hunting Of John Peel," And "Bonnie Dundee." He Had A Fine

Baritone Voice. He Was Most Acceptable In The Musical Circles Of

Albany. Rolf Was Delighted,  Skookum Moaned Sympathetically,  And

Quonab Sat Nor Moved Till The Music Was Over. He Said Nothing,

But Rolf Felt That It Was A Point Gained,  And,  Trying To Follow

It Up,  Said:

 

"Here's Your Drum,  Quonab; Won't You Sing 'The Song Of The

Wabanaki?'" But It Was Not Well Timed,  And The Indian Shook His

Head.

 

"Say,  Van," Said Rolf,  (Van Cortlandt Had Suggested This

Abbreviation) "You'll Never Stand Right With Quonab Till You Kill

A Deer."

 

"I've Done Some Trying."

 

"Well,  Now,  We'll Go Out To-Morrow Evening And Try Once More.

What Do You Think Of The Weather,  Quonab? "

 

"Storm Begin Noon And Last Three Days," Was The Brief Answer,  As

The Red Man Walked Away.

 

"That Settles It," Said Rolf; "We Wait."

 

Van Was Surprised,  And All The More So When In An Hour The Sky

Grew Black And Heavy Rain Set In,  With Squalls.

 

"How In The Name Of Belshazzar's Weather Bugler Does He Tell?"

 

"I Guess You Better Not Ask Him,  If You Want To Know. I'll Find

Out And Tell You Later."

 

Rolf Learned,  Not Easily Or At Single Talk:

 

"Yesterday The Chipmunks Worked Hard; To-Day There Are None To Be

Seen.

 

"Yesterday The Loons Were Wailing; Now They Are Still,  And No

Small Birds Are About.

 

"Yesterday It Was A Yellow Sunrise; To-Day A Rosy Dawn.

 

"Last Night The Moon Changed And Had A Thick Little Ring.

 

"It Has Not Rained For Ten Days,  And This Is The Third Day Of

Easterly Winds.

 

"There Was No Dew Last Night. I Saw Tongue Mountain At Daybreak;

My Tom-Tom Will Not Sing.

 

"The Smoke Went Three Ways At Dawn,  And Skookum's Nose Was Hot."

 

So They Rested,  Not Knowing,  But Forced To Believe,  And It Was

Not Till The Third Day That The Sky Broke; The West Wind Began To

Pay Back Its Borrowings From The East,  And The Saying Was Proved

That "Three Days' Rain Will Empty Any Sky."

 

That Evening,  After Their Meal,  Rolf And Van Launched The Canoe

And Paddled Down The Lake. A Mile From Camp They Landed,  For This

Was A Favourite Deer Run. Very Soon Rolf Pointed To The Ground.

He Had Found A Perfectly Fresh Track,  But Van Seemed Not To

Comprehend. They Went Along It,  Rolf Softly And Silently,  Van

With His Long Feet And Legs Making A Dangerous Amount Of Clatter.

Rolf Turned And Whispered,  "That Won't Do. You Must Not Stand On

Dry Sticks." Van Endeavoured To Move More Cautiously And Thought

He Was Doing Well,  But Rolf Found It Very Trying To His Patience

And Began To Understand How Quonab Had Felt About Himself A Year

Ago. "See," Said Rolf,  "Lift Your Legs So; Don't Turn Your Feet

Out That Way. Look At The Place Before You Put It Down Again;

Feel With Your Toe To Make Sure There Is No Dead Stick,  Then

Wriggle It Down To The Solid Ground. Of Course,  You'd Do Better

In Moccasins. Never Brush Past Any Branches; Lift Them Aside And

Don't Let Them Scratch; Ease Them Back To The Place; Never Try To

Bend A Dry Branch; Go Around It," Etc. Van Had Not Thought Of

These Things,  But Now He Grasped Them Quickly,  And They Made A

Wonderful Improvement In His Way Of Going.

 

They Came Again To The Water's Edge; Across A Little Bay Rolf

Sighted At Once The Form Of A Buck,  Perfectly Still,  Gazing Their

Way,  Wondering,  No Doubt,  What Made Those Noises.

 

"Here's Your Chance," He Whispered.

 

"Where?" Was The Eager Query.

 

"There; See That Gray And White Thing?"

 

"I Can't See Him."

 

For Five Minutes Rolf Tried In Vain To Make His Friend See That

Statuesque Form; For Five Minutes It Never Moved. Then,  Sensing

Danger,  The Buck Gave A Bound And Was Lost To View.

 

It Was Disheartening. Rolf Sat Down,  Nearly Disgusted; Then One

Of Sylvanne's Remarks Came To Him: "It Don't Prove Any One A

Fool,  Coz He Can't Play Your Game."

 

Presently Rolf Said,  "Van,  Hev Ye A Book With Ye?"

 

"Yes,  I Have My Virgil."

 

"Read Me The First Page."

 

Van Read It,  Holding The Book Six Inches From His Nose.

 

"Let's See Ye Read This Page There," And Rolf Held It Up Four

Feet Away.

 

"I Can't; It's Nothing But A Dim White Spot."

 

"Well,  Can Ye See That Loon Out There?"

 

"You Mean That Long,  Dark Thing In The Bay? "

 

"No,  That's A Pine Log Close To," Said Rolf,  With A Laugh,  "Away

Out Half A Mile."

 

"No,  I Can't See Anything But Shimmers."

 

"I Thought So. It's No Use Your Trying To Shoot Deer Till Ye Get

A Pair Of Specs To Fit Yer Eyes. You Have Brains Enough,  But You

Haven't Got The Eyesight Of A Hunter. You Stay Here Till I Go See

If I Have Any Luck."

 

Rolf Melted Into The Woods. In Twenty Minutes Van Heard A Shot

And Very Soon Rolf Reappeared,  Carrying A Two-Year- Old Buck,  And

They Returned To Their Camp By Nightfall. Quonab Glanced At Their

Faces As They Passed Carrying The Little Buck. They Tried To Look

Inscrutable. But The Indian Was Not Deceived. He Gave Out Nothing

But A Sizzling " Humph!"