CHAPTER VI
THE VOICE OF THE WOODS
To study now was the hardest task that Henry had ever undertaken. It waseven easier to find food when he and Paul were unarmed and destitute inthe forest. The walls of the little log house in which he sat inclosedhim like a cell, the air was heavy and the space seemed to grow narrowerand narrower. Then just when the task was growing intolerable he wouldlook across the room and seeing the studious face of Paul bent over thebig text of an ancient history, he would apply himself anew to his laborwhich consisted chiefly of "figures," a bit of the world's geography,and a little look into the history of England.
Mr. Pennypacker would neither praise nor blame, but often when the boydid not notice he looked critically at Henry. "I don't think your sonwill be a great scholar," he said once to Mr. Ware, "but he will be aNimrod, a mighty hunter before men, and a leader in action. It's aswell, for his is the kind that will be needed most and for a long timein this wilderness, and back there in the old lands, too."
"It is so," replied Mr. Ware, "the clouds do gather."
Involuntarily he looked toward the east, and Mr. Pennypacker's eyesfollowed him. But both remained silent upon that portion of theirthoughts.
"Moreover I tell you for your comfort that the lad has a sense of duty,"added the teacher.
Henry shot a magnificent stag with great antlers a few days later, andmounting the head he presented it to Mr. Pennypacker. But on thefollowing day the master looked very grave and Henry and Paul tried toguess the cause. Henry heard that Ross had arrived the night before fromthe nearest settlement a hundred miles away, but had stayed only anhour, going to their second nearest neighbor distant one hundred andfifty miles. He brought news of some kind which only Mr. Ware, Mr.Upton, the teacher and three or four others knew. These were not readyto speak and Paul and Henry were well aware that nothing on earth couldmake them do so until they thought the time was fit.
It was a long, long morning. Henry had before him a map of the Empire ofMuscovy but he saw little there. Instead there came between him and thepage a vision of the beaver dam and the pool above it, now covered witha sheet of ice, and of the salt spring where the deer came to drink, andof a sheltered valley in which a herd of elk rested every night.
Mr. Pennypacker was singularly quiet that morning. It was his custom tocall up his pupils and make them recite in a loud voice, but the hourspassed and there were no recitations. The teacher seemed to be lookingfar away at something outside the schoolroom, and his thoughts followedhis eyes. Henry by and by let his own roam as they would and he was indreamland, when he was aroused by a sharp smack of the teacher'shomemade ruler upon his homemade desk.
But the blow was not aimed at Henry or anybody in particular. It was anannouncement to all the world in general that Mr. Pennypacker was aboutto speak on a matter of importance. Henry and Paul guessed at once thatit would be about the news brought by Ross.
Mr. Pennypacker's face grew graver than ever as he spoke. He told themthat when they left the east there was great trouble between thecolonies and the mother country. They had hoped that it would pass away,but now, for the first time in many months, news had come across themountains from their old home, and had entered the great forest. Thetroubles were not gone. On the contrary they had become worse. There hadbeen fighting, a battle in which many had been killed, and a great warwas begun. The colonies would all stand together, and no man could tellwhat the times would bring forth.
This was indeed weighty news. Though divided from their brethren in theeast by hundreds of miles of mountain and forest the patriotism of thesettlers in the wilderness burned with a glow all the brighter on thataccount. More than one young heart in that rude room glowed with adesire to be beside their countrymen in the far-off east, rifle in hand.
But Mr. Pennypacker spoke again. He said that there was now a greaterduty upon them to hold the west for the union of the colonies. Theirtask was not merely to build homes for themselves, but to win the landthat it might be homes for others. There were rumors that the savageswould be used against them, that they might come down in force from thenorth, and therefore it was the part of everyone, whether man, woman orchild to redouble his vigilance and caution. Then he adjourned schoolfor the day.
The boys drew apart from their elders and discussed the great news.Henry's blood was on fire. The message from that little Massachusettstown, thrilled him as nothing in his life had done before. He had avague idea of going there, and of doing what he considered his part, andhe spoke to Paul about it, but Paul thought otherwise.
"Why, Henry!" he said. "We may have to defend ourselves here and we'llneed you."
The people of Wareville knew little about the causes of the war andafter this one message brought by Ross they heard no more of itsprogress. They might be fighting great battles away off there on theAtlantic coast, but no news came through the wall of woods. Warevilleitself was peaceful, and around it curved the mighty forest which toldnothing.
Mountains and forest alike lay under deep snow, and it was not likelythat they would hear anything further until spring, because the winterwas unusually cold and a man who ventured now on a long journey wasbraver than his fellows.
The new Kentuckians were glad that they had provided so well for winter.All the cupboards were full and there was no need for them now to roamthe cold forests in search of game. They built the fires higher andwatched the flames roar up the chimneys, while the little childrenrolled on the floor and grasped at the shadows.
Though but a bit of mankind hemmed in by the vast and frozen wildernesstheirs was not an unhappy life by any means. The men and boys, thoughnow sparing their powder and ball, still set traps for game and were notwithout reward. Often they found elk and deer, and once or twice abuffalo floundering in the deep snowdrifts, and these they added to thewinter larder. They broke holes in the ice on the river and caught fishin abundance. They worked, too, about the houses, making more tables andbenches and chairs and shelves and adding to their bodily comforts.
The great snow lasted about a month and then began to break up with aheavy rain which melted all the ice, but which could not carry away allthe snow. The river rose rapidly and overflowed its banks but Warevillewas safe, built high on the hill where floods could not reach. Warmwinds followed the rain and the melting snow turned great portions ofthe forest into lakes. The trees stood in water a yard deep, and theaspect of the wilderness was gloomy and desolate. Even the most resoluteof the hunters let the game alone at such a time. Often the warm windswould cease to blow when night came and then the great lagoons would becovered with a thin skim of ice which melted again the next day underthe winds and the sun. All this brought chills and fever to Warevilleand bitter herbs were sought for their cure. But the strong frame ofHenry was impervious to the attacks and he still made daily journeys tohis traps in the wet and steaming wilderness.
Henry was now reconciled to the schoolroom. It was to be his last termthere and he realized with a sudden regret that it was almost at itsend. He was beginning to feel the sense of responsibility, that he wasin fact one of the units that must make up the state.
Despite these new ideas a sudden great longing lay hold of him. Thewinds from the south were growing warmer and warmer, all the snow andice was gone long ago, faint touches of green and pink were appearing ongrass and foliage and the young buds were swelling. Henry heard thewhisper of these winds and every one of them called to him. He knew thathe was wanted out there in the woods. He began to hate the sight ofhuman faces, he wished to go alone into the wilderness, to see the deersteal among the trees and to hear the beaver dive into the deep waters.He felt himself a part of nature and he would breathe and live as naturedid.
He grew lax in his tasks; he dragged his feet and there were even timeswhen he was not hungry. When his mother noticed the latter circumstanceshe knew surely that the boy was ill, but her husband shrewdly said:
"Henry, the spring has come; take your rifle and bring us some freshvenison."
So Henry shouldered his rifle and went forth alone upon the quest, evenleaving behind Paul, his chosen comrade. He did not wish humancompanionship that day, nor did he stop until he was deep in thewilderness. How he felt then the glory of living! The blood was flushingin his veins as the sap was rising in the trees around him. The worldwas coming forth from its torpor of winter refreshed and strengthened.He saw all about him the signs of new life--the tender young grass inshades of delicate green, the opening buds on the trees, and a subtleperfume that came on the edge of the Southern wind. Beyond him the wildturkeys on the hill were calling to each other.
He stood there a long time breathing the fresh breath of this new world,and the old desire to wander through illimitable forests and floatsilently down unknown rivers came over him. He would not feel the needof companionship on long wanderings. Nature would then be sufficient,talking to him in many tongues.
The wind heavy, with perfumes of the South, came over the hill and onits crest the wild turkeys were still clucking to each other. Henry,through sheer energy and flush of life, ran up the slope, and watchedthem as they took flight through the trees, their brilliant plumagegleaming in the sunshine.
It was the highest hill near Wareville and he stood a while upon itscrest. The wilderness here circled around him, and, in the distance, itblended into one mass, already showing a pervading note of green withfaint touches of pink bloom appearing here and there. The whole of itwas still and peaceful with no sign of human life save a rising spire ofsmoke behind him that told where Wareville stood.
He walked on. Rabbits sprang out of the grass beside him and raced awayinto the thickets. Birds in plumage of scarlet and blue and gold shotlike a flame from tree to tree. The forest, too, was filled with themelody of their voices, but Henry took no notice.
He paused a while at the edge of a brook to watch the silver sunfishplay in the shallows, then he leaped the stream and went on into thedeeper woods, a tall, lithe, strong figure, his eyes gazing at no onething, the long slender-barreled rifle lying forgotten across hisshoulder.
A great stag sprang up from the forest and stood for a few moments,gazing at him with expanding and startled eyes. Henry standing quitestill returned the look, seeking to read the expression in the eyes ofthe deer.
Thus they confronted each other a half minute and then the stag turningfled through the woods. There was no undergrowth, and Henry for a longtime watched the form of the deer fleeing down the rows of trees, as itbecame smaller and smaller and then disappeared.
All the forest glowed red in the setting sun when he returned home.
"Where is the deer?" asked his father.
"Why--why I forgot it!" said Henry in confused reply.
Mr. Ware merely smiled.