rolf in the woods-第4部分

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All　other　doors　were　closed　now；　and　each　day　that　drifted　by

made　it　the　more　clear　that　Rolf　and　Quonab　were　to　continue

together。　　What　boy　would　not　exult　at　the　thought　of　it？　　Here

was　freedom　from　a　brutal　tyranny　that　was　crushing　out　his　young

life；　here　was　a　dream　of　the　wild　world　coming　true；　with

gratification　of　all　the　hunter　instincts　that　he　had　held　in　his

heart　for　years；　and　nurtured　in　that　single；　ragged　volume　of

〃Robinson　Crusoe。〃　The　plunge　was　not　a　plunge；　except　it　be　one

when　an　eagle；　pinion…bound；　is　freed　and　springs　from　a　cliff　of

the　mountain　to　ride　the　mountain　wind。



The　memory　of　that　fateful　cooning　day　was　deep　and　lasting。

Never　afterward　did　smell　of　coon　fail　to　bring　it　back；　in　spite

of　the　many　evil　incidents　it　was　a　smell　of　joy。



〃Where　are　you　going；　Quonab？〃　he　asked　one　morning；　as　he　saw

the　Indian　rise　at　dawn　and　go　forth　with　his　song　drum；　after

warming　it　at　the　fire。　　He　pointed　up　to　the　rock；　and　for　the

first　time　Rolf　heard　the　chant　for　the　sunrise。　　Later　he　heard

the　Indian's　song　for　〃Good　Hunting；〃　and　another　for　〃When　His

Heart　Was　Bad。〃　They　were　prayers　or　praise；　all　addressed　to　the

Great　Spirit；　or　the　Great　Father；　and　it　gave　Rolf　an　entirely

new　idea　of　the　red　man；　and　a　startling　light　on　himself。　Here

was　the　Indian；　whom　no　one　considered　anything　but　a　hopeless

pagan；　praying　to　God　for　guidance　at　each　step　in　life；　while　he

himself；　supposed　to　be　a　Christian；　had　not　prayed　regularly　for

months　　was　in　danger　of　forgetting　how。



Yet　there　was　one　religious　observance　that　Rolf　never　forgot　

that　was　to　keep　the　Sabbath；　and　on　that　day　each　week　he　did

occasionally　say　a　little　prayer　his　mother　had　taught　him。　　He

avoided　being　seen　at　such　times　and　did　not　speak　of　kindred

doings。　　Whereas　Quonab　neither　hid　nor　advertised　his　religious

practices；　and　it　was　only　after　many　Sundays　had　gone　that

Quonab　remarked：



〃Does　your　God　come　only　one　day　of　the　week？　　Does　He　sneak　in

after　dark？　　Why　is　He　ashamed　that　you　only　whisper　to　Him？

Mine　is　here　all　the　time。　I　can　always　reach　Him　with　my　song；

all　days　are　my　Sunday。〃



The　evil　memories　of　his　late　life　were　dimming　quickly；　and　the

joys　of　the　new　one　growing。　　Rolf　learned　early　that；　although

one　may　talk　of　the　hardy　savage；　no　Indian　seeks　for　hardship。

Everything　is　done　that　he　knows　to　make　life　pleasant；　and　of

nothing　is　he　more　careful　than　the　comfort　of　his　couch。　　On　the

second　day；　under　guidance　of　his　host；　Rolf　set　about　making　his

own　bed。　　Two　logs；　each　four　inches　thick　and　three　feet　long；

were　cut。　　Then　two　strong　poles；　each　six　feet　long；　were　laid

into　notches　at　the　ends　of　the　short　logs。　　About　seventy…five

straight　sticks　of　willow　were　cut　and　woven　with　willow　bark

into　a　lattice；　three　feet　wide　and　six　feet　long。　　This；　laid　on

the　poles；　furnished　a　spring　mattress；　on　which　a　couple　of

blankets　made　a　most　comfortable　couch；　dry；　warm；　and　off　the

ground。　　In　addition　to　the　lodge　cover；　each　bed　had　a　dew　cloth

which　gave　perfect　protection；　no　matter　how　the　storm　might　rage

outdoors。　　There　was　no　hardship　in　it；　only　a　new…found

pleasure；　to　sleep　and　breathe　the　pure　night　air　of　the　woods。



The　Grass　Moon　…　April　…　had　passed；　and　the　Song　Moon　was

waxing；　with　its　hosts　of　small　birds；　and　one　of　Rolf's　early

discoveries　was　that　many　of　these　love　to　sing　by　night。　　Again

and　again　the　familiar　voice　of　the　song　sparrow　came　from　the

dark　shore　of　Asamuk；　or　the　field　sparrow　trilled　from　the　top

of　some　cedar；　occasionally　the　painted　one；　Aunakeu；　the

partridge；　drummed　in　the　upper　woods；　and　nightly　there　was　the

persistent　chant　of　Muckawis；　the　whippoorwill；　the　myriad　voices

of　the　little　frogs　called　spring…peepers；　and　the　peculiar；

〃peent；　peent；〃　from　the　sky；　followed　by　a　twittering；　that

Quonab　told　him　was　the　love　song　of　the　swamp　bird　　the　big

snipe；　with　the　fantail　and　long；　soft　bill；　and　eyes　like　a

deer。



〃Do　you　mean　the　woodcock？〃　　　

〃Ugh；　that's　the　name；　Pah…dash…ka…anja　we　call　it。〃



The　waning　of　the　moon　brought　new　songsters；　with　many　a

nightingale　among　them。　　A　low　bush　near　the　plain　was　vocal

during　the　full　moon　with　the　sweet　but　disconnected　music　of　the

yellow…breasted　chat。　　The　forest　rang　again　and　again　with　a

wild；　torrential　strain　of　music　that　seemed　to　come　from　the

stars。　　It　sent　peculiar　thrill　into　Rolf's　heart；　and　gave　him　a

lump　his　throat　as　he　listened。



〃What　is　that；　Quonab？〃



〃The　Indian　shook　his　head。　　Then；　later；　when　it　ended；　he　said：

〃That　is　the　mystery　song　of　some　one　I　never　saw　him。〃



There　was　a　long　silence；　then　the　lad　began；　〃There's　no　good

hunting　here　now；　Quonab。　　Why　don't　you　go　to　the　north　woods；

where　deer　are　plentiful？〃



The　Indian　gave　a　short　shake　of　his　head；　and　then　to　prevent

further　talk；　〃Put　up　your　dew　cloth；　the　sea　wind　blows

to…night。〃



He　finished；　both　stood　for　a　moment　gazing　into　the　fire。　　Then

Rolf　felt　something　wet　and　cold　thrust　into　his　hand。　　It　was

Skookum's　nose。　　At　last　the　little　dog　had　made　up　his　mind　to

accept　the　white　boy　as　a　friend。







Chapter　7。　Rolf　Works　Out　with　Many　Results



He　is　the　dumbest　kind　of　a　dumb　fool　that　ain't　king　in

some　little　corner。　　Sayings　of　Si　Sylvanne



The　man　who　has　wronged　you　will　never　forgive　you；

and　he　who　has　helped　you　will　be　forever　grateful。

Yes；　there　is　nothing　that　draws　you　to　a　man　so　much

as　the　knowledge　that　you　have　helped　him。



Quonab　helped　Rolf；　and　so　was　more　drawn　to　him

than　to　many　of　the　neighbours　that　he　had　known　for

years；　he　was　ready　to　like　him。　　Their　coming　together

was　accidental；　but　it　was　soon　very　clear　that　a　friendship

was　springing　up　between　them。　　Rolf　was　too　much

of　a　child　to　think　about　the　remote　future；　and　so　was

Quonab。　　Most　Indians　are　merely　tall　children。



But　there　was　one　thing　that　Rolf　did　think　of　　he

had　no　right　to　live　in　Quonab's　lodge　without　contributing

a　fair　share　of　the　things　needful。　　Quonab　got　his　living

partly　by　hunting；　partly　by　fishing；　partly　by　selling

baskets；　and　partly　by　doing　odd　jobs　for　the　neighbours。

Rolf's　training　as　a　loafer　had　been　wholly　neglected；　and

when　he　realized　that　he　might　be　all　summer　with　Quonab

he　said　bluntly：



〃You　let　me　stay　here　a　couple　of　months。　　I'll　work

out　odd　days；　and　buy　enough　stuff　to　keep　myself　any

way。〃　　Quonab　said　nothing；　but　their　eyes　met；　and　the

boy　knew　it　was　agreed　to。



Rolf　went　that　very　day　to　the　farm　of　Obadiah　Timpany；

and　offered　to　work　by　the　day；　hoeing　corn　and　root

crops。　　What　farmer　is　not　glad　of　help　in　planting　time

or　in　harvest？　　It　was　only　a　question　of　what　did　he　know

and　how　much　did　he　want？　　The　first　was　soon　made

clear；　two　dollars　a　week　was　the　usual　thing　for　boys　in

those　times；　and　when　he　offered　to　take　it　half　in　trade；

he　was　really　getting　three　dollars　a　week　and　his　board。

Food　was　as　low　as　wages；　and　at　the　end　of　a　week；　Rolf

brought　back　to　camp　a　sack　of　oatmeal；　a　sack　of　cornmeal；

a　bushel　of　potatoes；　a　lot　of　apples；　and　one　dollar

cash。　　The　dollar　went　for　tea　and　sugar；　and　the　total

product　was　enough　to　last　them　both　a　month；　so　Rolf

could　share　the　wigwam　with　a　good　conscience。



Of　course；　it　was　impossible　to　keep　the　gossipy　little

town　of　Myanos　from　knowing；　first；　that　the　Indian　had

a　white　boy　for　partner；　and；　later；　that　that　boy　was　Rolf。

This　gave　rise　to　great　diversity　of　opinion　in　the

neighbourhood。　　Some　thought　it　should　not　be　allowed；　but

Horton；　who　owned　the　land　on　which　Quonab　was　camped；　could

not　see　any　reason　for　interfering。



Ketchura　Peck；　spinster；　however；　did　see　many　most

excellent　reasons。　　She　was　a　maid　with　a　mission；　and

maintained　it　to　be　an　outrage　that　a　Christian　boy　should

be　brought　up　by　a　godless　pagan。　　She　worried　over　it

almost　as　much　as　she　did　over　the　heathen　in　Central

Africa；　where　there　are　no　Sunday　schools；　and　clothes

are　as　scarce　as　churches。　　Failing　to　move　Parson　Peck

and　Elder　Knapp　in　the　matter；　and　despairing　of　an　early

answer　to　her　personal　prayers；　she　resolved　on　a　bold　move；

〃An'　it　was　only　after　many　a　sleepless；　prayerful　night；〃

namely；　to　carry　the　Bible　into　the　heathen's　stronghold。



Thus　it　was　that　one　bright　morning　in　June　she　might

have　been　seen；　prim　and　proper　　almost　glorified；　she

felt；　as　she　set　her　lips　just　right　in　the　mirror　　making

for　the　Pipestave　Pond；　Bible　in　hand　and　spectacles　clean

wiped；　ready　to　read　appropriate　selections　to　the　unregenerate。



She　was　full　of　the　missionary　spirit　when　she　left　Myanos；

and　partly　full　when　she　reached　the　Orchard　Street　Trail；

but　the　spirit　was　leaking　badly；　and　the　woods　did　appear

so　wild　and　lonely　that　she　wondered　if　women　had　any

right　to　be　missionaries。　　When　she　came　in　sight　of　the

pond；　the　place　seemed　unpleasantly　different　from　Myanos

and　where　was　the　Indian　camp？　　　She　did　not　dare　to

shout；　indeed；　she　began　to　wish　she　were　home　again；

but　the　sense　of　duty　carried　her　fully　fifty　yards　along　the

pond；　and　then　she　came　to　an　impassable　rock；　a　sheer

bank　that　plainly　said；　〃Stop！〃　　Now　she　must　go　back

or　up　the　bank。　　Her　Yankee　pertinacity　said；　〃Try　first

up　the　bank；〃　and　she　began　a　long；　toilsome　ascent；

that　did　not　end　until　she　came　out　on　a　bigh；　open　rock

which；　on　its　farther　side；　had　a　sheer　drop　and　gave　a

view　of　the　village　and　of　the　sea。



Whatever　joy　she　had　on　again　seeing　her　bome　was

speedily　queued　in　the　fearsome　discovery　that　she　was

right　over　the　Indian　camp；　and　the　two　inmates　looked　so

utterly；　dreadfully　savage　that　she　was　thankful　they　had

not　seen　her。　　At　once　she　shrank　back；　but　on　recovering

sufficiently　to