XXIII
The Banshee's Wail and the Huge Night Prowler
Next day while working on the Coon-skin Sam and Yan discussedthoroughly the unpleasant incident of the night before, but theydecided that it would be unwise to speak of it to Caleb unless heshould bring up the subject, and Guy was duly cautioned.
That morning Yan went to the mud albums on one of his regular roundsand again found, first that curious hoof-mark that had puzzledhim before, and down by the pond album the track of a very largebird--much like a Turkey track, indeed. He brought Caleb to see them.The Trapper said that one was probably the track of a Blue Crane(Heron), and the other, "Well, I don't hardly know; but it looks to memighty like the track of a big Buck--only there ain't any short of theLong Swamp, and that's ten miles at least. Of course, _when there'sonly out it ain't a track_; it's an accident."
"Yes; but I've found lots of them--a trail every time, but not quiteenough to follow."
That night after dark, when he was coming to camp with the product ofa "massacree," Yan heard a peculiar squawking, guttural sound thatrose from the edge of the pond and increased in strength, drawingnearer, till it was a hideous and terrifying uproar. It was exactlythe sound that Guy had provoked on that first night when he came andtried to frighten the camp. It passed overhead, and Yan saw for amoment the form of a large slow-flying bird.
Next day it was Yan's turn to cook. At sunrise, as he went for water,he saw a large Blue Heron rise from the edge of the pond and fly onheavy pinions away over the tree-tops. It was a thrilling sight. Theboy stood gazing after it, absolutely rapt with delight, and when itwas gone he went to the place where it rose and found plenty of largetracks just like the one he had sketched. Unquestionably it was thesame bird as on the night before, and the mystery of the Wolf with thesore throat was solved. This explanation seemed quite satisfactory toeverybody but Guy. He had always maintained stoutly that the woodswere full of Bears right after sundown. Where they went at other timeswas a mystery, but he "reckoned he hadn't yet run across the bird thatcould scare him--no, nor the beast, nuther."
Caleb agreed that the grating cry must be that of the Blue Crane, butthe screech and wail in the tree-tops at night he could shed no lighton.
There were many other voices of the night that became more or lessfamiliar. Some of them were evidently birds; one was the familiarSong-Sparrow, and high over the tree-tops from the gloaming sky theyoften heard a prolonged sweet song. It was not till years afterwardthat Yan found out this to be the night-song of the Oven-bird, but hewas able to tell them at once the cause of the startling outcry thathappened one evening an hour after sundown.
The Woodpecker was outside, the other two inside the teepee. Apeculiar sound fell on his ear. It kept on--a succession of longwhines, and getting stronger. As it gave no sign of ending, Sam calledthe other boys. They stood in a row there and heard this peculiar"_whine, whine, whine_" develop into a loud, harsh "_whow,whow, whow_."
"It must be some new Heron cry," Yan whispered.
But the sound kept on increasing till it most resembled the yowlingof a very strong-voiced Cat, and still grew till each separate"_meow_" might have been the yell of a Panther. Then at itshighest and loudest there was a prolonged "_meow"_ and silence,followed finally by the sweet chant of the Song-sparrow.
A great light dawned on Little Beaver. Now he remembered that voice inGlenyan so long ago, and told the others with an air of certainty:
"Boys, that's the yelling of a Lynx," and the next day Caleb said thatYan was right.
Some days later they learned that another lamb had been taken from theRaften flock that night.
In the morning Yan took down the tom-tom for a little music and foundit flat and soft.
"Hallo," said he; "going to rain."
Caleb looked up at him with an amused expression. "You're a reg'larInjun. It's surely an Injun trick that. When the tom-tom won't singwithout being warmed at the fire they allus says 'rain before night.'"
The Trapper stayed late that evening. It had been cloudy all theafternoon, and at sundown it began to rain, so he was invited tosupper. The shower grew heavier instead of ending. Caleb went out anddug a trench all round the teepee to catch the rain, then a leader totake it away. After supper they sat around the campfire in the teepee;the wind arose and the rain beat down. Yan had to go out and swing thesmoke poles, and again his ear was greeted with _the screech_. Hebrought in an armful of wood and made the inside of the teepee a blazeof cheerful light. A high wind now came in gusts, so that the canvasflopped unpleasantly on the poles.
"Where's your anchor rope?" asked the Trapper.
Sam produced the loose end; the other was fastened properly to thepoles above. It had never been used, for so far the weather had beenfine; but now Caleb sunk a heavy stake, lashed the anchor rope to that,then went out and drove all the pegs a little deeper, and the Tribefelt safe from any ordinary storm.
There was nothing to attract the old Trapper to his own shanty. Hisheirs had begun to forget that he needed food, and what little theydid send was of vilest quality. The old man was as fond of humansociety as any one, and was easily persuaded now to stay all night,"if you can stand Guy for a bedfeller." So Caleb and Turk settled downfor a comfortable evening within, while the storm raged without.
"Say, don't you touch that canvas, Guy; you'll make it leak."
"What, me? Oh, pshaw! How can it leak for a little thing like that?"and Guy slapped it again in bravado.
"All right, it's on your side of the bed," and sure enough, within twominutes a little stream of water was trickling from the place he hadrubbed, while elsewhere the canvas turned every drop.
This is well known to all who have camped under canvas during a storm,and is more easily remembered than explained.
The smoke hung heavy in the top of the teepee and kept crowding downuntil it became unpleasant.
"Lift the teepee cover on the windward side, Yan. There, that'sit--but hold on," as a great gust came in, driving the smoke and ashesaround in whirlwinds. "You had ought to have a lining. Give me thatcanvas: that'll do." Taking great care not to touch the teepee cover,Caleb fastened the lining across three pole spaces so that the openingunder the canvas was behind it. This turned the draught from theirbacks and, sending it over their heads, quickly cleared the teepee ofsmoke as well as kept off what little rain entered by the smoke hole.
"It's on them linings the Injuns paint their records and adventures.They mostly puts their totems on the outside an' their records on thelining."
"Bully," said Sam; "now there's a job for you. Little Beaver; by thetime you get our adventures on the inside and our totems on the out Itell you we'll be living in splendour."
"I think," answered Yan indirectly, "we ought to take Mr. Clark intothe Tribe. Will you be our Medicine Man?" Caleb chuckled in a quietway, apparently consenting. "Now I have four totems to paint on theoutside," and this was the beginning of the teepee painting that Yancarried out with yellow clay, blue clay dried to a white, yellow clayburned to red, and charcoal, all ground in Coon grease and Pine gum,to be properly Indian. He could easily have gotten bright coloursin oil paint, but scorned such White-man's truck, and doubtless thegeneral effect was all the better for it.
"Say, Caleb," piped Guy, "tell us about the Injuns--about theirbravery. Bravery is what _I_ like," he added with emphasis,conscious of being now on his own special ground. "Why, I mind thetime that old Woodchuck was coming roaring at me--I bet some fellerswould just 'a' been so scared--"
"_Hssh!_" said Sam.
Caleb smoked in silence. The rain pattered on the teepee without; thewind heaved the cover. They all sat silently. Then sounded loudand clear a terrifying "_scrrrrrr--oouwurr_." The boys werestartled--would have been terrified had they been outside or alone.
"That's it--that's the Banshee," whispered Sam.
Caleb looked up sharply.
"What is it?" queried Yan. "We've heard it a dozen times, at least."
Caleb shook his he
ad, made no reply, but turned to his Dog. Turk waslying on his side by the fire, and at this piercing screech he hadmerely lifted his head, looked backward over his shoulder, turned hisbig sad eyes on his master, then laid down again.
"Turk don't take no stock in it."
"Dogs never hear a Banshee," objected Sam, "no more than they can seea ghost; anyway, that's what Granny de Neuville says." So the Dog'snegative testimony was the reverse of comforting.
"Hawkeye," said the Woodpecker, "you're the bravest one of the crowd.Don't you want to go out and try a shot at the Banshee? I'll lend youmy Witch-hazel arrow. We'll give you a _grand coup_ feather ifyou hit him. Go ahead, now--you know bravery is what _you_ like."
"Yer nothin' but a passel o' blame dumb fools," was the answer, "an' Iwouldn't be bothered talking to ye. Caleb, tell us something about theIndians."
"What the Injuns love is bravery," said the Medicine Man with atwinkle in his eye, and everybody but Guy laughed, not very loudly,for each was restrained by the thought that _he_ would rather notbe called upon to show his bravery to-night.
"I'm going to bed," said Hawkeye with unnecessary energy.
"Don't forget to roost under the waterspout you started when you gotfunny," remarked the Woodpecker.
Yan soon followed Guy's example, and Sam, who had already learned tosmoke, sat up with Caleb. Not a word passed between them until afterGuy's snore and Yan's regular puffs told of sound sleep, when Sam,taking advantage of a long-awaited chance, opened out rather abruptly:
"Say, Caleb, I ain't going to side with no man against Da, but I knowhim just about as well as he knows me. Da's all right; he's plumb andsquare, and way down deep he's got an awful kind heart; it's prettydeep, I grant you, but it's there, O.K. The things he does on thequiet to help folks is done on the quiet and ain't noticed. The thingshe does to beat folks--an' he does do plenty--is talked all overcreation. But I know he has a wrong notion of you, just as you have ofhim, and it's got to be set right."
Sam's good sense was always evident, and now, when he laid aside hisbuffoonery, his voice and manner were very impressive--more like thoseof a grown man than of a fifteen-year-old boy.
Caleb simply grunted and went on smoking, so Sam continued, "I want tohear your story, then Ma an' me'll soon fix Da."
The mention of "Ma" was a happy stroke. Caleb had known her from youthas a kind-hearted girl. She was all gentleness and obedience to herhusband except in matters of what she considered right and wrong, andhere she was immovable. She had always believed in Caleb, even afterthe row, and had not hesitated to make known her belief.
"There ain't much to tell," replied Caleb bitterly. "He done me onthat Horse-trade, an' crowded me on my note so I had to pay it offwith oats at sixty cents, then he turned round and sold them withinhalf an hour for seventy-five cents. We had words right there, an' Ibelieve I did say I'd fix him for it. I left Downey's Dump early thatday. He had about $300 in his pocket--$300 of my money--the last I hadin the world. He was too late to bank it, so was taking it home, whenhe was fired at in going through the 'green bush'. My tobacco pouchand some letters addressed to me was found there in the morning.Course he blamed me, but I didn't have any shootin'-iron then; myrevolver, the white one, was stole from me a week before--along withthem same letters, I expect. I consider they was put there to lay theblame on me, an' it was a little overdone, most folks would think.Well, then your Da set Dick Pogue on me, an' I lost my farm--that'sall."
Sam smoked gravely for awhile, then continued:
"That's true about the note an' the oats an' the Horse-trade--justwhat Da would do; that's all in the game: but you're all wrong aboutDick Pogue--that's too dirty for Da."
"_You_ may think so, but _I don't_."
Sam made no answer, but after a minute laid his hand on Turk, whoresponded with a low growl. This made Caleb continue: "Down on me,down on my Dog. Pogue says he kills Sheep 'an' every one is ready tobelieve it. I never knowed a Hound turn Sheep-killer, an' I neverknowed a Sheep-killer kill at home, an' I never knowed a Sheep-killercontent with one each night, an' I never knowed a Sheep-killer leaveno tracks, an' Sheep was killed again and again when Turk was lockedup in the shanty with me."
"Well, whose Dog is it does it?"
"I don't know as it's any Dog, for part of the Sheep was eat eachtime, they say, though I never seen one o' them that was killed or Icould tell. It's more likely a Fox or a Lynx than a Dog."
There was a long silence, then outside again the hair-lifting screechto which the Dog paid no heed, although the Trapper and the boy wereevidently startled and scared.
They made up a blazing fire and turned in silently for the night.
The rain came down steadily, and the wind swept by in gusts. It wasthe Banshee's hour, and two or three times, as they were dropping off,that fearful, quavering human wail, "like a woman in distress," camefrom the woods to set their hearts a-jumping, not Caleb and Sam only,but all four.
In the diary which Yan kept of those times each day was named afterits event; there was Deer day, Skunk-and-Cat day, Blue Crane day, andthis was noted down as the night of the Banshee's wailing.
Caleb was up and had breakfast ready before the others were fullyawake. They had carefully kept and cleaned the Coon meat, and Calebmade of it a "prairie pie," in which bacon, potatoes, bread, one smallonion and various scraps of food were made important. This, warmedup for breakfast and washed down with coffee, made a royal meal, andfeasting they forgot the fears of the night.
The rain was over, but the wind kept on. Great blockish clouds weretumbling across the upper sky Yan went out to look for tracks. Hefound none but those of raindrops.
The day was spent chiefly about camp, making arrows and painting theteepee.
Again Caleb was satisfied to sleep in the camp. The Banshee calledonce that night, and again Turk seemed not to hear, but half an hourlater there was a different and much lower sound outside, a light,nasal "_wow_." The boys scarcely heard it, but Turk sprang upwith bristling hair, growling, and forcing his way out under the door,he ran, loudly barking, into the woods.
"He's after something now, all right," said his master; "and now he'streed it," as the Dog began his high-pitched yelps.
"Good old Dog; he's treed the Banshee," and Yan rushed out intothe darkness. The others followed, and they found Turk barking andscratching at a big leaning Beech, but could get no hint of what thecreature up it might be like.
"How does he usually bark for a Banshee?" asked the Woodpecker, butgot no satisfaction, and wondering why Turk should bother himself somightily over a little squeal and never hear that awful scream, theyretired to camp.
Next morning in the mud not far from the teepee Yan found the track ofa common Cat, and shrewdly guessed that this was the prowler that hadbeen heard and treed by the Dog; probably it was his old friend of theSkunk fight. The wind was still high, and as Yan pored over the trackshe heard for the first time in broad daylight the appalling screech.It certainly was _loud_, though less dreadful than at night, andpeering up Yan saw _two large limbs that crossed and rubbed eachother, when the right puff of wind came_. This was the Banshee thatdid the wailing that had scared them all--_all but the Dog_. Hiskeener senses, unspoiled by superstition, had rightly judged the awfulsound as the harmless scraping of two limbs in the high wind, but thelower, softer noise made by the prowling Cat he had just as trulyplaced and keenly followed up.
Guy was the only one not convinced. He clung to his theory of Bears.
Late in the night the two Chiefs were awakened by Guy. "Say, Sam--Sam.Yan--Yan--Yan--Yan, get up; that big Bear is 'round again. I told youthere was a Bear, an' you wouldn't believe me."
There was a loud champing sound outside, and occasionally growls orgrumbling.
"There's surely something there, Sam. I wish Turk and Caleb were herenow."
The boys opened the door a little and peered out. There, looming up inthe dim starlight, was a huge black animal, picking up scraps of meatand digging up the tins that were bu
ried in the garbage hole. Alldoubts were dispelled. Guy had another triumph, and he would haveexpressed his feelings to the full but for fear of the monsteroutside.
"What had we better do?"
"Better not shoot him with arrows. That'll only rile him. Guy, youblow up the coals and get a blaze."
All was intense excitement now, "Oh, why haven't we got a gun!"
"Say, Sam, while Sap--I mean Hawkeye--makes a blaze, let's you and meshoot with blunt arrows, if the Bear comes toward the teepee." So theyarranged themselves, Guy puttering in terror at the fire and beggingthem not to shoot.
"What's the good o' riling him? It--it--it's croo-oo-el."
Sam and Yan stood with bows ready and arrows nocked.
Guy was making a failure of the fire, and the Bear began nosingnearer, champing his teeth and grunting. Now the boys could see thegreat ears as the monster threw up its head.
"Let's shoot before he gets any nearer." At this Guy promptlyabandoned further attempts to make a fire and scrambled up on a crossstick that was high in the teepee for hanging the pot. He broke outinto tears when he saw Sam and Yan actually drawing their bows.
"He'll come in and eat us, he will."
But the Bear was coming anyway, and having the two tomahawks ready,the boys let fly. At once the Bear wheeled and ran off, uttering theloud, unmistakable squeal of an old Pig--Burns's own Pig--for youngBurns had again forgotten to put up the bars that crossed his trailfrom the homestead to the camp.
Guy came down quickly to join in the laugh. "I tole you fellers not toshoot. I just believed it was our old Hog, an' I couldn't help cryingwhen I thought how mad Paw'd be when he found out."
"I s'pose you got up on that cross pole to see if Paw was coming,didn't you?"
"No; he got up there to show how brave he was."
This was the huge night prowler that Guy had seen, and in the morningone more mystery was explained, for careful examination of Yan's diaryof the big Buck's track showed that it was nothing more than the trackof Burns's old Hog. Why had Caleb and Raften both been mistaken?First, because it was a long time since they had seen a Buck track,and second, because this Pig happened to have a very unpiggy foot--oneas much like that of a Buck as of a Hog.