CHAPTER IV.
A Day in the Woods.
The following morning Dick was up and out before even the early risingCollinsons were stirring. It was one of those mornings in lateNovember which seem to be a faint, sad recollection of spring. The sunhad not yet appeared above the far-off edge where the misty forestlands faded into mistier skies, but the promise of his approachthrilled the leafless, songless world to deeper quiet. Everything washushed and dark; but in the east a clear bar of amber broadened andbrightened slowly.
Yet it would be some time, Dick knew, before it became really light.He wandered through the frosty garden, the noise of his footsteps inthe dried leaves sounding harsh and clamorous; but save for this, andfor the lanterns which moved about the farm buildings as some of thehands attended to the stock, the world seemed wholly given up to shadeand silence.
The air was damp and very chill, and the ghostly half-light was full ofunexpected gleams and shadows. But Dick wandered on restlessly, untilhe came to the boundary of the enclosure. Here the land dippedsharply, and the cultivated ground ended in a low stump fence. Beyondthis fence there was a small and rocky ravine, which ran up in aconstantly narrowing cleft into the very midst of the fertile fields.On the crest of the dip Dick paused, and peered attentively over anddown into the little valley, which here was scarcely fifty feetacross--a mere sword-cut of beautiful worthlessness in the rich acresaround--for his nose had been greeted by a small, savoury odour ofcooking.
His eyes were as keen as his nose, and presently he made out a verytiny spiral of blue smoke rising from among the bushes. No sooner hadhe seen it than he scrambled silently, but with difficulty, over thebarricade of the stump fence, and crept cautiously round the trees toget a clearer view.
As he half expected, an Indian lad crouched beside the tiny fire, busywith the preparation of his wild breakfast. Dick had thought to stealupon him unheard, but he was disappointed, for the lad's eyes soughthim out immediately and unerringly. It had grown much lighter now, andeach was able to see and take stock of the other.
Dick saw a boy of about his own age, smaller and slighter, but hardenedso by the ways of his life that he appeared older; his every movementhad the silence and precision of an animal's; and he was made up of ashock of black hair, a smooth brown skin, sharp white teeth, and acompact mass of light bones and untirable muscles. He was dressed inwhat had originally been a respectable suit of homespun, probablypresented to him by good Mrs. Collinson, but it was patched and piecedout with all manner of skins and rags. A scarlet blanket served tokeep out the frost. But his eyes were what attracted at once theattention of an observer; they were not black, nor even dark, but avery light, bright, greenish grey; this, and their utter lack ofexpression, rendered them unpleasantly impressive. No one might saywhether such eyes portended good or evil, but most people would haveinclined to the latter.
Peter Many-Names glanced at Dick with a grave sort of indifference,which was annoying and yet amusing. He saw a good-looking youngster,strongly built and fresh coloured, who bore himself as if life owed himsomething very easy and pleasant. Peter also saw that the English boywould not go more than one mile to his own two on the trail; that whilehe was probably a good shot, he lacked patience; and that he moved withexcessive noise; so Peter valued him accordingly, though his eyes gaveno sign. Dick nodded cheerfully, and Peter returned the nod withceremonial gravity; then he bent once more over the little fire, andleft to the other the task of opening the conversation.
Dick felt somewhat at a loss; Roger had told him that the Indianunderstood English perfectly well, though speaking it according to hisown taste, but he felt that his questions were too trivial to break themassive silence with which the young savage surrounded himself. It wasthe first time he had come into contact with that dignity which is notthe outcome of education, but which is a characteristic of some races.Indians he had seen, but not such an Indian as this.
"You 're Peter, I suppose," he began at last, and then waited for someconfirmation of his words. But the other was raking among the woodashes with a little stick, and merely nodded again in answer, seemingto think it a matter of entire indifference whatever Dick chose tosuppose. "When you 've been up to the house," continued Dick, "I wantto know if you 'll come with me after a brute of a fox that is takingour poultry." It appeared better to put the matter briefly.
Peter Many-Names regarded him gravely still. He knew enough of themannerless ways of white folks not to be shocked at this abruptintroduction of business. So after a few minutes' meditation, hegrunted agreement. "All right, I come," he said. Then he turned hisback calmly, and went on with his culinary operations. There was nomistaking the hint, so Dick walked back to the homestead again.
Shortly after appeared Peter, with some fine fish, and a somewhat lesstaciturn manner; and before an hour had passed, the two lads, someprovisions, guns, and an excited dog, were all on the trail of the fox.
The Indian strode on ahead with the dog straining in the leash, andleft to Dick their weapons and the food, which vexed him mightily. Norwas his temper improved when he noticed that Peter carefully moderatedhis pace from time to time as if out of consideration for hiscompanion's weaknesses. It is not pleasant to know that your comradecan run twice as fast as you can, and to know that he knows it also.He had always prided himself on his strength and fleetness, and to findhimself relegated to the position of follower and burden-bearer by thefirst Indian into whose company he was thrown was a salutary lesson.
In this manner they proceeded for some two or three miles. Every nowand then Dick made valiant efforts to gain upon his companion, butPeter, as if maliciously aware of it, always kept the same distanceahead.
Once, restraining the dog with difficulty, he pointed to a little pieceof grey down caught on a thorn--pathetic reminder of the perishedgander. Then once more they went on, following unerringly the freshscent, until, all at once, the character of the country changed, and asmall, low, sandy hillock, almost bare of trees and underwood, thrustitself upwards amidst the encircling forests. In a confident manner,which Dick found vaguely annoying, Peter announced it to be the end oftheir journey.
Dick looked back. They had not come far, as distance was counted inthose days, but the land was entirely strange to him. However, to theIndian and the dog it appeared to be familiar enough; for PeterMany-Names, after a few minutes' search, unearthed two broad discs ofthick wood from beneath the accumulation of leaf and vine which hadsafely concealed them. Dick looked at him inquiringly, but he did notseem disposed to give explanations. "Me here bin before," he remarked,"catch fox. These hidy then."
Not thus had the English boy dreamed of the hunt. Rather had hethought of a progress through the woods in lordly wise, killing orsparing at his pleasure, with the Indian as an appreciative audience.He resented the way in which Peter took the whole affair into his ownhands, competent and cunning though the said hands were.
But now the Indian's proceedings arrested his attention. After muchcautious scrambling and struggling, the dog led them to the mouth of aburrow, where, Peter declared, the thief must now be securely andgorgedly sleeping. At the same time, he gave Dick clearly tounderstand that he, and he alone, would compass the fox's destruction."You sit see watch," he commanded.
Were anyone else concerned in this matter, Dick would have disputedthis order with heat. But already he had fallen under the spell ofthat savage nature, so much wilder, so much stronger, than his own.There seemed to be something in the keen, dark face, with its strangeeyes, which required obedience, and he yielded it without a word. Inthe wilds, the soul and will of the savage at once became dominant, notto be disregarded.
So Dick meekly conveyed himself to a little distance, and sat down on alittle mound from whence he could "see watch" the whole affair, whichpromised to be interesting, and even peculiar. He wondered why theIndian had brought only one dog. "I suppose he's going to smoke itout," he murmured doubtfully to himself.
But t
hat was not it. For first Peter cut small branches into slenderpoles about three or four feet long, until he had quite a bundle ofthem. These he pushed into the burrow until it was completely thoughloosely filled for some four feet from its mouth. Next he took one ofthe flat discs of wood, and fitted it carefully into the opening, usingearth to wedge it firmly, and finally blocking it with a big stone.This process, which mystified Dick entirely, he repeated at a secondhole that he said was the other exit from the burrow. Then he restedfrom his labours with a satisfied air.
"And what about the fox?" demanded Dick.
Whereupon Peter Many-Names unbent sufficiently to enter into a long andcuriously worded explanation, the gist of which was as follows:--
When the fox found the narrow entrance of his burrow blocked with thelittle poles, he would at once set cleverly to work to pull and kickand scratch them away, which he could easily do. But in so doing hebuilt a barrier in the burrow behind him as he worked, and by the timehe had pushed them all back, he faced the immovable plug of wood, andwas penned into a section of the tunnel of little more than his ownlength. He could neither move backwards nor forwards, and so fell aneasy victim when the plug was removed. As Peter pointed out, hisindustry was his own undoing.
Dick scarcely knew whether to admire or laugh at the quaint stratagem.But the fact remained that their work for that day was done, and donewithout his help or advice. He supposed there was nothing to do but goback to the homestead, and his face showed how little he relished theidea.
The Indian watched him with keen eyes, seeming to read his thoughts.At last he spoke, quietly and indifferently, as was his wont.
"Why you not stay with me this to-day?" he said, not even looking atDick.
A sparkle sprang into the boy's eyes. To have one more day of lazyfreedom! One more day of the wood-running in which his soul delighted!One more day with no will but his own to follow, with no cares, nowork, no restraint! One more day of the deep silent undergrowth andthe stately uplands, of the clear chill skies and the keen cold wind!One more day of the wilderness that was dearer and fairer to him thanthe farm and the fruitful fields! To wander for one more day, with nomaster but his own pleasure, no one calling to sterner labour; and onlythe silent crafty savage, himself the very incarnation of the wilds,his comrade!
His face grew bright and dreamy at the thought. It was the look whichall restless folk wear at times, reflecting the love of God's"unmanstifled places" which glorifies their profitless wandering.Profitless only in the worldly sense of material gain, yet often thestronger soul is shown in resisting the call to freedom and to nature.
But Dick had not yet learnt his lesson; and once more he chose the waythat pleased him best. "Yes, I will stay," he said.
Peter Many-Names nodded, his usual mode of assent; to him Dick'sevident struggle between inclination and duty had been amusing, andthere was a rare gleam of merriment in his dark face. He had a farkeener appreciation of the situation than had Dick, and it gave him aboy's feeling of pride to think of all the wonders of the woods hemight show to his white comrade if he chose. "Come, then," he said,with a flash of his white teeth, "and I show you bear, sleeping muchfor winter. Come quiet."
The forests were bright with that soft recollection of spring which theearly morning had promised. The bare twigs seemed as full of life andcolour as if the sap had been rising instead of falling, and the recentfrosts but made the going better. Very silently, Peter Many-Namesturned into the undergrowth, Dick following closely in his track, andthe well-trained dog following Dick as closely. He was troubled in hismind, this dog, remembering an unguarded bone near the woodpile, andlonging to end such foolish, aimless rambling as his two-leggedcompanions indulged in. Many were the wistful glances he cast back.
But Dick's face was set to the forests of his dreams, and duty calledhim to the homestead in vain.