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

Most Comfortable Couch,  Dry,  Warm,  And Off The

Ground.  In Addition To The Lodge Cover,  Each Bed Had A Dew Cloth

Which Gave Perfect Protection,  No Matter How The Storm Might Rage

Outdoors.  There Was No Hardship In It,  Only A New-Found

Pleasure,  To Sleep And Breathe The Pure Night Air Of The Woods.

 

The Grass Moon - April - Had Passed,  And The Song Moon Was

Waxing,  With Its Hosts Of Small Birds,  And One Of Rolf's Early

Discoveries Was That Many Of These Love To Sing By Night.  Again

And Again The Familiar Voice Of The Song Sparrow Came From The

Dark Shore Of Asamuk,  Or The Field Sparrow Trilled From The Top

Of Some Cedar,  Occasionally The Painted One,  Aunakeu,  The

Partridge,  Drummed In The Upper Woods,  And Nightly There Was The

Persistent Chant Of Muckawis,  The Whippoorwill,  The Myriad Voices

Of The Little Frogs Called Spring-Peepers,  And The Peculiar,

"Peent,  Peent," From The Sky,  Followed By A Twittering,  That

Quonab Told Him Was The Love Song Of The Swamp Bird -- The Big

Snipe,  With The Fantail And Long,  Soft Bill,  And Eyes Like A

Deer.

 

"Do You Mean The Woodcock?"  

"Ugh,  That's The Name; Pah-Dash-Ka-Anja We Call It."

 

The Waning Of The Moon Brought New Songsters,  With Many A

Nightingale Among Them.  A Low Bush Near The Plain Was Vocal

During The Full Moon With The Sweet But Disconnected Music Of The

Yellow-Breasted Chat.  The Forest Rang Again And Again With A

Wild,  Torrential Strain Of Music That Seemed To Come From The

Stars.  It Sent Peculiar Thrill Into Rolf's Heart,  And Gave Him A

Lump His Throat As He Listened.

 

"What Is That,  Quonab?"

 

"The Indian Shook His Head.  Then,  Later,  When It Ended,  He Said:

"That Is The Mystery Song Of Some One I Never Saw Him."

 

There Was A Long Silence,  Then The Lad Began,  "There's No Good

Hunting Here Now,  Quonab.  Why Don't You Go To The North Woods,

Where Deer Are Plentiful?"

 

The Indian Gave A Short Shake Of His Head,  And Then To Prevent

Further Talk,  "Put Up Your Dew Cloth; The Sea Wind Blows

To-Night."

 

He Finished; Both Stood For A Moment Gazing Into The Fire.  Then

Rolf Felt Something Wet And Cold Thrust Into His Hand.  It Was

Skookum's Nose.  At Last The Little Dog Had Made Up His Mind To

Accept The White Boy As A Friend.

 

 

Chapter 7 (Rolf Works Out With Many Results)

He Is The Dumbest Kind Of A Dumb Fool That Ain't King In

Some Little Corner. -- Sayings Of Si Sylvanne

 

The Man Who Has Wronged You Will Never Forgive You,

And He Who Has Helped You Will Be Forever Grateful.

Yes,  There Is Nothing That Draws You To A Man So Much

As The Knowledge That You Have Helped Him.

 

Quonab Helped Rolf,  And So Was More Drawn To Him

Than To Many Of The Neighbours That He Had Known For

Years; He Was Ready To Like Him.  Their Coming Together

Was Accidental,  But It Was Soon Very Clear That A Friendship

Was Springing Up Between Them.  Rolf Was Too Much

Of A Child To Think About The Remote Future; And So Was

Quonab.  Most Indians Are Merely Tall Children.

 

But There Was One Thing That Rolf Did Think Of -- He

Had No Right To Live In Quonab's Lodge Without Contributing

A Fair Share Of The Things Needful.  Quonab Got His Living

Partly By Hunting,  Partly By Fishing,  Partly By Selling

Baskets,  And Partly By Doing Odd Jobs For The Neighbours.

Rolf's Training As A Loafer Had Been Wholly Neglected,  And

When He Realized That He Might Be All Summer With Quonab

He Said Bluntly:

 

"You Let Me Stay Here A Couple Of Months.  I'll Work

Out Odd Days,  And Buy Enough Stuff To Keep Myself Any

Way."  Quonab Said Nothing,  But Their Eyes Met,  And The

Boy Knew It Was Agreed To.

 

Rolf Went That Very Day To The Farm Of Obadiah Timpany,

And Offered To Work By The Day,  Hoeing Corn And Root

Crops.  What Farmer Is Not Glad Of Help In Planting Time

Or In Harvest?  It Was Only A Question Of What Did He Know

And How Much Did He Want?  The First Was Soon Made

Clear; Two Dollars A Week Was The Usual Thing For Boys In

Those Times,  And When He Offered To Take It Half In Trade,

He Was Really Getting Three Dollars A Week And His Board.

Food Was As Low As Wages,  And At The End Of A Week,  Rolf

Brought Back To Camp A Sack Of Oatmeal,  A Sack Of Cornmeal,

A Bushel Of Potatoes,  A Lot Of Apples,  And One Dollar

Cash.  The Dollar Went For Tea And Sugar,  And The Total

Product Was Enough To Last Them Both A Month; So Rolf

Could Share The Wigwam With A Good Conscience.

 

Of Course,  It Was Impossible To Keep The Gossipy Little

Town Of Myanos From Knowing,  First,  That The Indian Had

A White Boy For Partner; And,  Later,  That That Boy Was Rolf.

This Gave Rise To Great Diversity Of Opinion In The

Neighbourhood.  Some Thought It Should Not Be Allowed,  But

Horton,  Who Owned The Land On Which Quonab Was Camped,  Could

Not See Any Reason For Interfering.

 

Ketchura Peck,  Spinster,  However,  Did See Many Most

Excellent Reasons.  She Was A Maid With A Mission,  And

Maintained It To Be An Outrage That A Christian Boy Should

Be Brought Up By A Godless Pagan.  She Worried Over It

Almost As Much As She Did Over The Heathen In Central

Africa,  Where There Are No Sunday Schools,  And Clothes

Are As Scarce As Churches.  Failing To Move Parson Peck

And Elder Knapp In The Matter,  And Despairing Of An Early

Answer To Her Personal Prayers,  She Resolved On A Bold Move,

"An' It Was Only After Many A Sleepless,  Prayerful Night,"

Namely,  To Carry The Bible Into The Heathen's Stronghold.

 

Thus It Was That One Bright Morning In June She Might

Have Been Seen,  Prim And Proper -- Almost Glorified,  She

Felt,  As She Set Her Lips Just Right In The Mirror -- Making

For The Pipestave Pond,  Bible In Hand And Spectacles Clean

Wiped,  Ready To Read Appropriate Selections To The Unregenerate.

 

She Was Full Of The Missionary Spirit When She Left Myanos,

And Partly Full When She Reached The Orchard Street Trail;

But The Spirit Was Leaking Badly,  And The Woods Did Appear

So Wild And Lonely That She Wondered If Women Had Any

Right To Be Missionaries.  When She Came In Sight Of The

Pond,  The Place Seemed Unpleasantly Different From Myanos

And Where Was The Indian Camp?   She Did Not Dare To

Shout; Indeed,  She Began To Wish She Were Home Again,

But The Sense Of Duty Carried Her Fully Fifty Yards Along The

Pond,  And Then She Came To An Impassable Rock,  A Sheer

Bank That Plainly Said,  "Stop!"  Now She Must Go Back

Or Up The Bank.  Her Yankee Pertinacity Said,  "Try First

Up The Bank," And She Began A Long,  Toilsome Ascent,

That Did Not End Until She Came Out On A Bigh,  Open Rock

Which,  On Its Farther Side,  Had A Sheer Drop And Gave A

View Of The Village And Of The Sea.

 

Whatever Joy She Had On Again Seeing Her Bome Was

Speedily Queued In The Fearsome Discovery That She Was

Right Over The Indian Camp,  And The Two Inmates Looked So

Utterly,  Dreadfully Savage That She Was Thankful They Had

Not Seen Her.  At Once She Shrank Back; But On Recovering

Sufficiently To Again Peer Down,  She Saw Something Roasting

Before The Fire -- "A Tiny Arm With A Hand That Bore

Five Fmgers," As She Afterward Said,  And "A Sickening

Horror Came Over Her.  " Yes,  She Had Heard Of Such Things.

If She Could Only Get Home In Safety!  Why Had She

Tempted Providence Thus?  She Backed Softly And Prayed

Only To Escape.  What,  And Never Even Deliver The Bible?

"It Would Be Wicked To Return With It!"  In A Cleft Of

The Rock She Placed It,  And Then,  To Prevent The Wind

Blowing Off Loose Leaves,  She Placed A Stone On Top,  And

Fled From The Dreadful Place.

 

That Night,  When Quonab And Rolf Had Finished Their

Meal Of Corn And Roasted Coon,  The Old Man Climbed The

Rock To Look At The Sky.  The Book Caught His Eye At Once,

Evidently Hidden There Carefully,  And Therefore In Cache.

A Cache Is A Sacred Thing To An Indian.  He Disturbed It

Not,  But Later Asked Rolf,  "That Yours?"

 

"No."

 

It Was Doubtless The Property Of Some One Who Meant

To Return For It,  So They Left It Untouched.  It Rested

There For Many Months,  Till The Winter Storms Came Down,

Dismantling The Covers,  Dissolving The Pages,  But Leaving

Such Traces As,  In The Long Afterward,  Served To Identify

The Book And Give The Rock The Other Name,  The One It

Bears To-Day - "Bible Rock,  Where Quonab,  The Son Of

Cos Cob,  Used To Live."

 

Chapter 8 (The Law Of Property Among Our Four-Footed Kin)

Night Came Down On The Asamuk Woods,  And The Two In The Wigwam

Were Eating Their Supper Of Pork,  Beans,  And Tea,  For The Indian

Did Not,  By Any Means Object To The White Man's Luxuries,  When A

Strange "Yap-Yurr" Was Heard Out Toward The Plain. The Dog Was Up

At Once With A Growl.  Rolf Looked Inquiringly,  And Quonab Said,

"Fox," Then Bade The Dog Be Still.

 

"Yap-Yurr,  Yap-Yurr," And Then,  "Yurr,  Yeow," It Came Again And

Again.  "Can We Get Him?" Said The Eager Young Hunter.  The

Indian Shook His Head.

 

"Fur No Good Now.  An' That's A She-One,  With Young Ones On The

Hillside."

 

"How Do You Know?" Was The Amazed Inquiry. "I Know It's A

She-One,  'Cause She Says:

 

"Yap-Yurr" (High Pitched)

 

If It Was A He-One He'd Say:

 

"Yap-Yurr" (Low Pitched)

 

"And She Has Cubs,  'Cause All Have At This Season.  And They Are

On That Hillside,  Because That's The Nearest Place Where Any Fox

Den Is,  And They Keep Pretty Much To Their Own Hunting Grounds.

If Another Fox Should Come Hunting On The Beat Of This Pair,  He'd

Have To Fight For It.  That Is The Way Of The Wild Animals; Each

Has His Own Run,  And For That He Will Fight An Outsider That He

Would Be Afraid Of At Any Other Place.  One Knows He Is Right --

That Braces Him Up; The Other Knows He Is Wrong -- And That

Weakens Him."  Those Were The Indian's Views,  Expressed Much Less

Connectedly Than Here Given,  And They Led Rolf On To A Train Of

Thought.  He Remembered A Case That Was Much To The Point.

 

Their Little Dog Skookum Several Times Had Been Worsted By The

Dog On The Horton Farm,  When,  Following His Master,  He Had Come

Into The House Yard.  There Was No Question That The Horton Dog

Was Stronger.  But Skookum Had Buried A Bone Under Some Brushes

By The Plain And Next Day The Hated Horton Dog Appeared.  Skookum

Watched Him With Suspicion And Fear,  Until It Was No Longer

Doubtful That The Enemy Had Smelled The Hidden Food And Was Going

For It.  Then Skookum,  Braced Up By Some Instinctive Feeling,

Rushed Forward With Bristling Mane And Gleaming Teeth,  Stood Over

His Cache,  And Said In Plainest Dog,  "You Can't Touch That While

I Live!"

 

And The Horton Dog -- Accustomed To Domineer Over The Small

Yellow Cur -- Growled Contemptuously,  Scratched With His Hind

Feet,  Smelled Around An Adjoining Bush,  And Pretending Not To See

Or