XXIX
The Long Swamp
The union of the tribes, however, was far from complete. Blackhawk wasinclined to be turbulent. He was heavier than Beaver. He could notunderstand how that slighter, younger boy could throw him, and hewished to try again. Now Yan was growing stronger every day. He wasquick and of very wiry build. In the first battle, which was entirelyfisty, he was worsted; on the try-over, which cost him such an effort,he had arranged "a rough-and-tumble," as they called it, and hadwon chiefly by working his only trick. But now Blackhawk was notsatisfied, and while he did not care to offer another deadlychallenge, by way of a feeler he offered, some days after the peace,to try a friendly throw for scalps.
"Fists left out!" Just what Beaver wanted, and the biggest boy wassent flying. "If any other Boiler would like to try I'd be pleasedto oblige him," said Yan, just a little puffed up, as he held up thesecond scalp he had won from Blackhawk.
Much to his surprise, Bluejay, the city boy, accepted, and he wasstill more surprised when the city boy sent _him_ down in thedust.
"Best out of three!" shouted Woodpecker quickly, in the interest ofhis friend, taking advantage of an unwritten law that when it is notstated to be in one try, usually called "sudden death," it is "besttwo out of three" that counts.
Yan knew now that he had found a worthy foe. He dodged, waiting for anopening--gripped--locked--and had him on the hip, he thought, but thecity boy squirmed in time, yielding instead of resisting, and bothwent down tight-gripped. For a minute it was doubtful.
"Go it, Yan."
"Give it to him, Bluejay."
But Yan quickly threw out one leg, got a little purchase, and turnedthe city boy on his back.
"Hooray for Little Beaver!"
"One try more! So far even!" cried Blackhawk.
They closed again, but Yan was more than ever careful. The city boywas puffing hard. The real trial was over and Cy went down quiteeasily.
"Three cheers for Little Beaver!" A fourth scalp was added to hiscollection, and Sam patted him on the back, while Bluejay got out apocket mirror and comb and put his hair straight.
But this did not help out in the matter of leadership, and when theMedicine Man heard of the continued deadlock he said:
"Boys, you know when there is a doubt about who is to lead the onlyway is for all Chiefs to resign and have a new election." The boysacted on this suggestion but found another deadlock. Little Beaverrefused to be put up. Woodpecker got three votes, Blackhawk four, andGuy one (his own), and the Sangers refused to stand by the decision.
"Let's wait till after the 'hard trip'--that will show who is the realChief--then have a new election," suggested Little Beaver, with an eyeto Woodpecker's interest, for this hard trip was one that had beenpromised them by Caleb--a three-days' expedition in the Long Swamp.
This swamp was a wild tract, ten miles by thirty, that lay a dozenmiles north of Sanger. It was swampy only in parts, but the dry placeswere mere rocky ridges, like islands in the bogs. The land on thesewas worthless and the timber had been ruined by fire, so Long Swampcontinued an uninhabited wilderness.
There was said to be a few Deer on the hardwood ridges. Bears and Lynxwere occasionally seen, and Wolves had been heard in recent winters.Of course there were Foxes, Grouse and Northern Hare. The streams weremore or less choked with logs, but were known to harbour a few Beaversand an occasional Otter. There were no roads for summer use, onlylong, dim openings across the bogs, known as winter trails and timberroads. This was the region that the boys proposed to visit underCaleb's guidance.
Thus at last they were really going on an "Indian trip"--to explorethe great unknown, with every probability of adventure.
At dawn Yan tapped the tom-tom. It sang a high and vibrant note, inguarantee of a sunny day.
They left camp at seven in the morning, and after three hours' trampthey got to the first part of the wilderness, a great tract of rockyland, disfigured with blackened trees and stumps, but green in placeswith groves of young Poplars or quaking Aspen.
The Indians were very ready to camp now, but the Medicine Man said,"No; better keep on till we find water." In another mile they reachedthe first stretch of level Tamarack bog and a welcome halt for lunchwas called. "Camp!" shouted the leader, and the Indians ran each to dohis part. Sam got wood for the fire and Blackhawk went to seek water,and with him was Blue jay, conspicuous in a high linen collar andbroad cuffs, for Caleb unfortunately had admitted that he once saw anIndian Chief in high hat and stand-up collar.
Beaver was just a little disappointed to see the Medicine Man lightthe fire with a match. He wanted it all in truly Indian style, but theTrapper remarked, "Jest as well to have some tinder and a thong alongwhen you're in the woods, but matches is handier than rubbing-sticks."
Blackhawk and Bluejay returned with two pails of dirty, tepid, swampywater.
"Why, that's all there is!" was their defense.
"Yan, you go and show them how to get good water," said Caleb, sothe Second Sanger Chief, remembering his training, took the axe andquickly made a wooden digger, then went to the edge of the swamp, andon the land twenty feet from the bog he began to dig a hole in thesandy loam. He made it two feet across and sunk it down three feet.The roily water kept oozing in all around, and Bluejay was scornful."Well, I'd rather have what we got." Beaver dug on till there was afoot of dirty water in the hole. Then he took a pail and bailed it allout as fast as possible, left it to fill, bailed it out a second time,and ten minutes later cautiously dipped out with a cup a full pail ofcrystal-clear cold water, and thus the Boilers learned how to make anIndian well and get clear water out of a dirty puddle.
After their simple meal of tea, bread and meat Caleb told his plan."You never get the same good of a trip if you jest wander off; betterhave a plan--something to do; and do it without a guide if ye wantadventures. Now eight is too many to travel together; you'd scareeverything with racket and never see a livin' thing. Better divide inparties. I'll stay in camp and get things ready for the night."
Thus the leaders, Sam and Yan, soon found themselves paired withGuy and Peetweet. Wes felt bound to take care of his little cousinChar-less.
Bluejay, finding himself the odd man, decided to stay with Caleb,especially as the swamp evidently was without proper footpaths.
"Now," said Caleb, "northwest of here there is a river called theBeaver, that runs into Black River. I want one of you to locate that.It's thirty or forty feet wide and easy to know, for it's the only bigstream in the swamp. Right north there is an open stretch of plain,with a little spring creek, where there's a band of Injuns camped.Somewhere northeast they say there's a tract of Pine bush not burnedoff, and there is some Deer there. None of the places is ten milesaway except, maybe, the Injuns' camp. I want ye to go scoutin' andreport. You kin draw straws to say who goes where."
So the straws were marked and drawn. Yan drew the timber hunt. Hewould rather have had the one after the Indians. Sam had to seek theriver, and Wesley the Indian camp. Caleb gave each of them a fewmatches and this parting word:
"I'll stay here till you come back. I'll keep up a fire, and towardsundown I'll make a smoke with rotten wood and grass so you kin findyour way back. Remember, steer by the sun; keep your main lines oftravel; don't try to remember trees and mudholes; and if you get lost,you make _two smokes_ well apart and stay right there and hollerevery once in awhile; some one will be sure to come."
So about eleven o'clock the boys set out eagerly. As they were goingBlackhawk called to the others, "First to carry out his job wins a_grand coup_!"
"Let the three leaders stake their scalps," said the Woodpecker.
"All right. First winner home gets a scalp from each of the others andsaves his own."
"Say, boys, you better take along; your hull outfit, some grub an'your blankets," was the Medicine Man's last suggestion. "You may haveto stay out all night."
Yan would rather have had Sam along, but that couldn't be, andPeetweet proved a good fellow, though ra
ther slow. They soon left thehigh ground and came to the bog--flat and seemingly endless and with afew tall Tamaracks. There were some Cedar-birds catching Flies onthe tall tree-tops, and a single Flycatcher was calling out:"_Whoit--whoit--whoit!_" Yan did not know until long after thatit was the Olive-side. A Sparrow-hawk sailed over, and later a BaldEagle with a Sparrow-hawk in hot and noisy pursuit. But the mostcurious thing was the surface of the bog. The spongy stretch of mossamong the scattering Tamaracks was dotted with great masses of PitcherPlant, and half concealed by the curious leaves were thousands ofDroserae, or fly-eating plants, with their traps set to secure theirprey.
The bog was wonderful, but very bad walking. The boys sank knee-deepin the soft moss, and as they went farther, steering only by the sun,they found the moss sank till their feet reached the water below andthey were speedily wet to the knees. Yan cut for each a long pole tocarry in the hand; in case the bog gave way this would save them fromsinking. After two miles of this Peetweet wanted to go back, but wasscornfully suppressed by Little Beaver.
Shortly afterward they came to a sluggish little stream in the bogwith a peculiar red-and-yellow scum along its banks. It was deep andsoft-bottomed. Yan tried it with the pole--did not dare to wade, sothey walked along its course till they found a small tree lying frombank to bank, then crossed on this. Half a mile farther on the bog gotdryer, and a mass of green ahead marked one of the islands of highland. Over this they passed quickly, keeping the northwest course.They now had a succession of small bogs and large islands. The sun washot here and Peetweet was getting tired. He was thirsty, too, andpersisted in drinking the swamp water whenever he found a hole.
"Say, Peetweet, you'll suffer for that if you don't quit; that waterisn't fit to drink unless you boil it."
But Peetweet complained of burning thirst and drank recklessly. Aftertwo hours' tramp he was very tired and wanted to turn back. Yan soughta dry island and then gathered sticks for a fire, but found allthe matches they had were soaking wet with wading through the bog.Peetweet was much upset by this, not on account of fire now, but incase they should be out all night.
"You wait and see what an Indian does," said Little Beaver. He soughtfor a dried Balsam Fir, cut the rubbing-sticks, made a bow of aslightly bent branch, and soon had a blazing fire, to Peter's utteramazement, for he had never seen the trick of making a fire byrubbing-sticks.
After drinking some tea and eating a little, Pete felt moreencouraged.
"We have travelled more than six miles now, I reckon," said the Chief;"an hour longer and we shall be in sight of the forest if there isone," and Yan led off across swamps more or less open and islands ofburned timber.
Pete began to be appalled by the distance they were putting betweenthem and their friends. "What if we should get lost? They never couldfind us."
"We won't get lost," said Yan in some impatience; "and if we did, whatof it? We have only to keep on straight north or south for four orfive hours and we reach some kind of a settlement."
After an hour's tramp northeast they came to an island with a talltree that had branches right to the ground. Yan climbed up. A vastextent of country lay all about him--open flat bogs and timberislands, and on far ahead was a long, dark mass of solidever-green--surely the forest he sought. Between him and it he sawwater sparkling.
"Oh, Pete, you ought to be up here," he shouted joyfully; "it's worththe climb to see this view."
"I'd rather see our own back-yard," grumbled Pete.
Yan came down, his face aglow with pleasure, and exclaimed: "It'sclose to, now! I saw the Pine woods. Just off there."
"How far?"
"Oh, a couple of miles, at most."
"That's what you have been saying all along."
"Well, I saw it this time; and there is water out there. I saw that,too."
He tramped on, and in half an hour they came to the water, a deep,clear, slow stream, fringed with scrub willows, covered withlily-pads, and following the middle of a broad, boggy flat. Yan hadlooked for a pond, and was puzzled by the stream. Then it struck him."Caleb said there was only one big stream through this swamp. Thismust be it. This is Beaver River."
The stream was barely forty feet across, but it was clearly out of thequestion to find a pole for a bridge, so Yan stripped off, put all histhings in a bundle, and throwing them over, swam after them. Pete hadto come now or be left.
As they were dressing on the northern side there was a sudden loud"_Bang--swish_!" A torrent of water was thrown in the air, withlily-pads broken from their mooring, the water pattered down, thewavelets settled, and the boys stood in astonishment to see whatstrange animal had made this disturbance; but nothing more of it wasseen, and the mystery remained unsolved.
Then Yan heard a familiar "_Quack!_" down the stream. He took hisbow and arrow, while Pete sat gloomily on a hummock. As soon as hepeered through the rushes in a little bay he saw three Mallard closeat hand. He waited till two were in line, then fired, killing oneinstantly, and the others flew away. The breeze wafted it within reachof a stick, and he seized it and returned in triumph to Pete, butfound him ready to cry. "I want to go home!" he said miserably. Thesight of the Mallard cheered him a little, and Yan said: "Come now,Pete, don't spoil everything, there's a good fellow. Brace up, and ifI don't show you the Pine woods in twenty minutes I'll turn and takeyou home."
As soon as they got to the next island they saw the Pine wood--a solidgreen bank not half a mile away, and the boys gave a little cheer, andfelt, no doubt, as Mungo Park did when first he sighted the Niger. Infifteen minutes they were walking in its dry and delightful aisles.
"Now we've won," said Yan, "whatever the others do, and all thatremains is to get back."
"I'm awfully tired," said Pete; "let's rest awhile."
Yan looked at his watch. "It's four o'clock. I think we'd better campfor the night."
"Oh, no; I want to go home. It looks like rain."
It certainly did, but Yan replied, "Well, let's eat first." He delayedas much as possible so as to compel the making of a camp, and the raincame unexpectedly, before he even had a fire. Yet to his own delightand Peter's astonishment he quickly made a rubbing-stick fire, andthey hung up their wet clothes about it. Then he dug an Indian welland took lots of time in the preparation, so it was six o'clock beforethey began to eat, and seven when finished--evidently too late to moveout even though the rain seemed to be over. So Yan collected firewood,made a bed of Fir boughs and a windbreak of bushes and bark. Theweather was warm, and with the fire and two blankets they passed acomfortable night. They heard their old friend the Horned Owl, a Foxbarked his querulous "_Yap-yurr!_" close at hand, and once ortwice they were awakened by rustling footsteps in the leaves, butslept fairly well.
At dawn Yan was up. He made a fire and heated some water for tea. Theyhad very little bread left, but the Mallard was untouched.
Yan cleaned it, rolled it in wet clay, hid it in the ashes and coveredit with glowing coals. This is an Indian method of cooking, but Yanhad not fully mastered it. In half an hour he opened his clay pie andfound the Duck burned on one side and very raw on the other. Part ofit was good, however, so he called his companion to breakfast. Petesat up white-faced and miserable, evidently a sick boy. Not only hadhe caught cold, but he was upset by the swamp water he had taken. Hewas paying the penalty of his indiscretion. He ate a little and dranksome tea, then felt better, but clearly was unable to travel that day.Now for the first time Yan felt a qualm of fear. Separated by a dozenmiles of swamp from all help, what could he do with a sick boy? Hebarked a small dead tree with a knife, then on the smooth surfacewrote with a pencil, "Yan Yeoman and Pete Boyle camped here August 10,18--"
He made Pete comfortable by the fire, and, looking for tracks, hefound that during the night two Deer had come nearly into the camp;then he climbed a high tree and scanned the southern horizon for asmoke sign. He saw none there, but to the northwest, beyond someshining yellow hills, he discovered a level plain dotted over withblack Fir clumps; from one of
these smoke went up, and near it weretwo or three white things like teepees.
Yan hurried down to tell Pete the good news, but when he confessedthat it was two miles farther from home Pete had no notion of goingto the Indian camp; so Yan made a smoke fire, and knife-blazing thesaplings on two sides as he went, he set out alone for the Indiancamp. Getting there in half an hour, he found two log shanties andthree teepees. As he came near he had to use a stick to keep off thenumerous Dogs. The Indians proved shy, as usual, to White visitors.Yan made some signs that he had learned from Caleb. Pointing tohimself, he held up two fingers--meaning that he was two. Then hepointed to the Pine woods and made sign of the other lying down, andadded the hungry sign by pressing in his stomach with the edges of thehands, meaning "I am cut in two here." The Chief Indian offered hima Deer-tongue, but did not take further interest. Yan received itthankfully, made a hasty sketch of the camp, and returned to find Petemuch better, but thoroughly alarmed at being so long alone. He wasable and anxious now to go back. Yan led off, carrying all the thingsof the outfit, and his comrade followed slowly and peevishly. Whenthey came to the river, Pete held back in fear, believing that theloud noise they had heard was made by some monster of the deep, whowould seize them.
Yan was certain it could be only an explosion of swamp gas, and forcedPete to swim across by setting the example. What the cause really wasthey never learned.
They travelled very fast now for a time. Pete was helped by theknowledge that he was really going home. A hasty lunch of Deer-tonguedelayed them but little. At three they sighted Caleb's smoke signal,and at four they burst into camp with yells of triumph.
Caleb fired off his revolver, and Turk bayed his basso profundofull-cry Fox salute. All the others had come back the night before.
Sam said he had "gone ten mile and never got a sight of that blamedriver." Guy swore they had gone forty miles, and didn't believe therewas any such river.
"What kind o' country did you see?"
"Nothin' but burned land and rocks."
"H-m, you went too far west--was runnin' parallel with Beaver River."
"Now, Blackhawk, give an account of yourself to Little Beaver," saidWoodpecker. "Did you two win out?"
"Well," replied the Boiler Chief, "if Hawkeye travelled forty miles,we must have gone sixty. We pointed straight north for three hours andnever saw a thing but bogs and islands of burned timber--never a signof a plain or of Indians. I don't believe there are any."
"Did you see any sandhills?" asked Little Beaver.
"No."
"Then you didn't get within miles of it."
Now he told his own story, backed by Pete, and he was kind enough toleave out all about Peetweet's whimpering. His comrade respondedto this by giving a glowing account of Yan's Woodcraft, especiallydwelling on the feat of the rubbing-stick fire in the rain, and whenthey finished Caleb said:
"Yan, you won, and you more than won, for you found the green timberyou went after, you found the river Sam went after, an' the InjunsWesley went after. Sam and Wesley, hand over your scalps."