Rolf In The Woods | Page 7

Rock?
"Ugh!* Some call me that. My name is Quonab."
"Wait for an hour and then I will come and help," volunteered Rolf
impulsively, for the hunting instinct was strong in him.
The Indian nodded. "Give three yelps if you no find me;" then he
shouldered a short stick, from one end of which, at a safe distance from
his back, hung the bag with the coon. And Rolf went home with the
cow.
He had acted on hasty impulse in offering to come, but now, in the
normal storm state of the household, the difficulties of the course
appeared. He cudgelled his brain for some plan to account for his
absence, and finally took refuge unwittingly in ancient wisdom: "When
you don't know a thing to do, don't do a thing." Also, "If you can't find
the delicate way, go the blunt way."
So having fed the horses, cleaned the stable, and milked the cow, fed
the pigs, the hens, the calf, harnessed the horses, cut and brought in
wood for the woodshed, turned out the sheep, hitched the horses to the
wagon, set the milk out in the creaming pans, put more corn to soak for
the swill barrel, ground the house knife, helped to clear the breakfast
things, replaced the fallen rails of a fence, brought up potatoes from the
root cellar, all to the maddening music of a scolding tongue, he set out
to take the cow back to the wood lot, sullenly resolved to return when
ready.
*Ugh (yes) and wah (no) are Indianisms that continue no matter how
well the English has been acquired.

Chapter 4.
The Coon Hunt Makes Trouble for Rolf
Not one hour, but nearly three, had passed before Rolf sighted the
Pipestave Pond, as it was called. He had never been there before, but
three short whoops, as arranged, brought answer and guidance. Quonab
was standing on the high rock. When Rolf came he led down to the
wigwam on its south side. It was like stepping into a new life. Several
of the old neighbours at Redding were hunters who knew the wild

Indians and had told him tales that glorified at least the wonderful
woodcraft of the red man. Once or twice Rolf had seen Indians
travelling through, and he had been repelled by their sordid squalour.
But here was something of a different kind; not the Champlain ideal,
indeed, for the Indian wore clothes like any poor farmer, except on his
head and his feet; his head was bare, and his feet were covered with
moccasins that sparkled with beads on the arch. The wigwam was of
canvas, but it had one or two of the sacred symbols painted on it. The
pot hung over the fire was tin-lined copper, of the kind long made in
England for Indian trade, but the smaller dishes were of birch bark and
basswood. The gun and the hunting knife were of white man's make,
but the bow, arrows, snowshoes, tom-tom, and a quill- covered gun
case were of Indian art, fashioned of the things that grow in the woods
about.
The Indian led into the wigwam. The dog, although not fully grown,
growled savagely as it smelled the hated white man odour. Quonab
gave the puppy a slap on the head, which is Indian for, "Be quiet; he's
all right;" loosed the rope, and led the dog out. "Bring that," and the
Indian pointed to the bag which hung from a stick between two trees.
The dog sniffed suspiciously in the direction of the bag and growled,
but he was not allowed to come near it. Rolf tried to make friends with
the dog, but without success and Quonab said, "Better let Skookum*
alone. He make friends when he ready -- maybe never."
The two hunters now set out for the open plain, two or three hundred
yards to the southward. Here the raccoon was dumped out of the sack,
and the dog held at a little distance, until the coon had pulled itself
together and began to run. Now the dog was released and chivvied on.
With a tremendous barking he rushed at the coon, only to get a nip that
made him recoil, yelping. The coon ran as hard as it could, the dog and
hunters came after it; again it was overtaken, and, turning with a fierce
snarl, it taught the dog a second lesson. Thus, running, dodging, and
turning to fight, the coon got back to the woods, and there made a final
stand under a small, thick tree; and, when the dog was again repulsed,
climbed quickly up into the branches.
The hunters did all they could to excite the dog, until he was jumping
about, tryng to climb the tree, and barking uproariously. This