I
Really in the Woods
"Ye seem to waste a powerful lot o' time goin' up an' down to yer camp;why don't ye stay thayer altogether?" said Raften one day, in thecolourless style that always worried every one, for they did not knowwhether it was really meant or was mere sarcasm.
"Suits me. 'Tain't our choice to come home," replied his son.
"We'd like nothing better than to sleep there, too," said Yan.
"Well, why don't ye? That's what I'd do if I was a boy playin' Injun;I'd go right in an' play."
"_All right now_," drawled Sam (he always drawled in proportionto his emphasis), "that suits us; now we're a-going sure."
"All right, bhoys," said Raften; "but mind ye the pigs an' cattle's tobe 'tended to every day."
"Is that what ye call lettin' us camp out--come home to work jest thesame?"
"No, no, William," interposed Mrs. Raften; "that's not fair. That's noway to give them a holiday. Either do it or don't. Surely one of themen can do the chores for a month."
"Month--I didn't say nothin' about a month."
"Well, why don't you now?"
"Whoi, a month would land us into harvest," and William had the air ofa man at bay, finding them all against him.
"I'll do Yahn's chores for a fortnight if he'll give me that thayerpictur he drawed of the place," now came in Michel's voice fromthe far end of the table--"except Sunday," he added, remembering astanding engagement, which promised to result in something of vastimportance to him.
"Wall, I'll take care o' them Sundays," said Si Lee.
"Yer all agin me," grumbled William with comical perplexity. "Butbhoys ought to be bhoys. Ye kin go."
"Whoop!" yelled Sam.
"Hooray!" joined in Yan, with even more interest though with lessunrestraint.
"But howld on, I ain't through--"
"I say, Da, we want your gun. We can't go camping without a gun."
"Howld on, now. Give me a chance to finish. Ye can go fur two weeks,but ye got to _go_; no snakin' home nights to sleep. Ye can't hevno matches an' no gun. I won't hev a lot o' children foolin' wid adidn't-know-it-was-loaded, an' shootin' all the birds and squirrelsan' each other, too. Ye kin hev yer bows an' arrows an' ye ain'tlikely to do no harrum. Ye kin hev all the mate an' bread an' stuffye want, but ye must cook it yerselves, an' if I see any signs ofsettin' the Woods afire I'll be down wid the rawhoide an' cut thevery livers out o' ye."
The rest of the morning was devoted to preparation, Mrs. Raften takingthe leading hand.
"Now, who's to be cook?" she asked.
"Sam"--"Yan"--said the boys in the same breath.
"Hm! You seem in one mind about it. Suppose you take it turn and turnabout--Sam first day."
Then followed instructions for making coffee in the morning, boilingpotatoes, frying bacon. Bread and butter enough they were to take withthem--eggs, too.
"You better come home for milk every day or every other day, atleast," remarked the mother.
"We'd ruther steal it from the cows in the pasture," ventured Sam,"seems naturaler to me Injun blood."
"If I ketch ye foolin' round the cows or sp'ilin' them the fur'llfly," growled Raften.
"Well, kin we hook apples and cherries?" and Sam added in explanation;"they're no good to us unless they're hooked."
"Take all the fruit ye want."
"An' potatoes?"
"Yes."
"An' aigs?"
"Well, if ye don't take more'n ye need."
"An' cakes out of the pantry? Indians do that."
"No; howld on now. That is a good place to draw the line. How are yegoin' to get yer staff down thayer? It's purty heavy. Ye see thayerare yer beds an' pots an' pans, as well as food."
"We'll have to take a wagon to the swamp and then carry them on ourbacks on the blazed trail," said Sam, and explained "our backs" bypointing to Michel and Si at work in the yard.
"The road goes as far as the creek," suggested Yan; "let's make a raftthere an' take the lot in it down to the swimming-pond; that'd be realInjun."
"What'll ye make the raft of?" asked Raften.
"Cedar rails nailed together," answered Sam.
"No nails in mine," objected Yan; "that isn't Injun."
"An' none o' my cedar rails fur that. 'Pears to me it'd be less workan' more Injun to pack the stuff on yer backs an' no risk o' wettin'the beds."
So the raft was given up, and the stuff was duly carted to the creek'sside. Raften himself went with it. He was a good deal of a boy atheart and he was much in sympathy with the plan. His remarks showeda mixture of interest, and doubt as to the wisdom of letting himselftake so much interest.
"Hayre, load me up," he said, much to the surprise of the boys, asthey came to the creek's edge. His broad shoulders carried half of theload. The blazed trail was only two hundred yards long, and in twotrips the stuff was all dumped down in front of the teepee.
Sam noted with amusement the unexpected enthusiasm of his father."Say, Da, you're just as bad as we are. I believe you'd like to joinus."
"'Moinds me o' airly days here," was the reply, with a wistful note inhis voice. "Many a night me an' Caleb Clark slep' out this way on thisvery crick when them fields was solid bush. Do ye know how to make abed?"
"Don't know a thing," and Sam winked at Yan. "Show us."
"I'll show ye the rale thing. Where's the axe?"
"Haven't any," said Yan. "There's a big tomahawk and a littletomahawk."
Raften grinned, took the big "tomahawk" and pointed to a small BalsamFir. "Now there's a foine bed-tree."
"Why, that's a fire-tree, too," said Yan, as with two mighty strokesRaften sent it toppling down, then rapidly trimmed it of its flatgreen boughs. A few more strokes brought down a smooth young Ash andcut it into four pieces, two of them seven feet long and two of themfive feet. Next he cut a White Oak sapling and made four sharp pegseach two feet long.
"Now, boys, whayer do you want yer bed?" then stopping at a thoughthe added, "Maybe ye didn't want me to help--want to do everythingyerselves?"
"Ugh, bully good squaw. Keep it up--wagh!" said his son and heir, ashe calmly sat on a log and wore his most "Injun brave" expression ofhaughty approval.
The father turned with an inquiring glance to Yan, who replied:
"We're mighty glad of your help. You see, we don't know how. It seemsto me that I read once the best place in the teepee is opposite thedoor and a little to one side. Let's make it here." So Raften placedthe four logs for the sides and ends of the bed and drove in theground the four stakes to hold them. Yan brought in several armfuls ofbranches, and Raften proceeded to lay them like shingles, beginning atthe head-log of the bed and lapping them very much. It took all thefir boughs, but when all was done there was a solid mass of soft greentips a foot thick, all the butts being at the ground.
"Thayer," said Raften, "that's an _Injun feather bed_ an' safean' warrum. Slapin' on the ground's terrible dangerous, but that's allright. Now make your bed on that." Sam and Yan did so, and when it wasfinished Raften said: "Now, fetch that little canvas I told yer ma toput in; that's to fasten to the poles for an inner tent over the bed."
Yan stood still and looked uncomfortable.
"Say, Da, look at Yan. He's got that tired look that he wears when therules is broke."
"What's wrong," asked Raften.
"Indians don't have them that I ever heard of," said Little Beaver.
"Yan, did ye iver hear of a teepee linin' or a dew-cloth?"
"Yes," was the answer, in surprise at the unexpected knowledge of thefarmer.
"Do ye know what they're like?"
"No--at least--no--"
"Well, _I do_; that's what it's like. That's something I do know,fur I seen old Caleb use wan."
"Oh, I remember reading about it now, and they are like that, and it'son them that the Indians paint their records. Isn't that bully," as hesaw Raften add two long inner stakes which held the dew-cloth like acanopy.
"Say, Da, I never
knew you and Caleb were hunting together. Thought yewere jest natural born enemies."
"Humph!" grunted Raften. "We wuz chums oncet. Never had no fault tofind till we swapped horses."
"Sorry you ain't now, 'cause he's sure sharp in the woods."
"He shouldn't a-tried to make an orphan out o' you."
"Are you sure he done it?"
"If 'twasn't him I dunno who 'twas. Yan, fetch some of them pine knotsthayer."
Yan went after the knots; it was some yards into the woods, and outthere he was surprised to see a tall man behind a tree. A second'sglance showed it to be Caleb. The Trapper laid one finger on his lipsand shook his head. Yan nodded assent, gathered the knots, and wentback to the camp, where Sam continued:
"You skinned him out of his last cent, old Boyle says."
"An' whoi not, when he throid to shkin me? Before that I was helpin'him, an' fwhat must he do but be ahfter swappin' horses. He might aswell ast me to play poker and then squeal when I scooped the pile.Naybours is wan thing an' swappin' horses is another. All's fair ina horse trade, an' friends didn't orter swap horses widout they kinstand the shkinnin'. That's a game by itself. Oi would 'a' helped himjest the same afther that swap an' moore, fur he wuz good stuff, buthe must nades shoot at me that noight as I come home wit the wad, soav coorse--"
"I wish ye had a Dog now," said the farmer in the new tone of a newsubject; "tramps is a nuisance at all toimes, an' a Dog is the bestmed'cine for them. I don't believe old Cap'd stay here; but maybe yernear enough to the house so they won't bother ye. An' now I guess thePaleface will go back to the settlement. I promised ma that I'd seethat yer bed wuz all right, an' if ye sleep warrum an' dry an' hevplenty to ate ye'll take no harrum."
So he turned away, but as he was quitting the clearing hestopped,--the curious boyish interest was gone from his face, thegeniality from his voice--then in his usual stern tones of command:
"If ye kill any Song-birds, I'll use the rawhoide onye."]
"Now, bhoys, ye kin shoot all the Woodchucks yer a mind ter, fur theyare a nuisance in the field. Yer kin kill Hawks an' Crows an' Jays,fur they kill other birds, an' Rabbits an' Coons, fur they are fairgame; but I don't want to hear of yer killin' any Squirrels orChipmunks or Song-birds, an' if ye do I'll stop the hull thing an'bring ye back to wurruk, an' use the rawhoide on tap o' that."