Afar in the Forest Part 2

I took Lily's hand as I spoke, and led her towards the Indian. He was dressed in skins, with an axe hanging from his belt, and had long black hair streaming over his shoulders,--unlike most of the Indians I had seen, who wear it tied up and ornamented with feathers. A small silver medal hung from his neck, and I guessed from this that he was a friend to the white men, and had received it as a token for some service he had rendered them.

He made a friendly sign as he saw us approach, and put out his hand.

"We come to thank you for killing the wolf that was about to spring upon me," I said in English, for though I knew a few words of the Indian tongue, I could not at that time speak it sufficiently well to express what I wished to say.

"Kepenau is glad to have done you a service," he answered in English.

"I heard the young maiden cry out, and guessed that she would not do so without cause, so I hurried on to help you. But why are you so far from home? It is dangerous for unarmed people to wander in this forest."

"We came out to gather berries, and were about to return," said Lily.

"You will not detain us?"

"Not if you wish to go," answered the Indian.

"But come with me, and you shall return with something of more value than these berries."

I felt sure that the Indian would not injure us, so Lily and I followed him, hand in hand.

He moved through the forest faster than we could, and presently stopped near some rocks, amid which lay the body of a deer with huge antlers.

Placing himself across the carca.s.s of the animal, he exclaimed with a look of exultation, "See! I have overcome the king of these forests.

Once, thousands of these animals wandered here, but since the white man has come they have all disappeared; and now that I have slain him, we must go likewise, and seek for fresh hunting-grounds. Still, Kepenau bears the Whiteskins no malice. He was ever their friend, and intends to remain so. You must take some of the meat and present it to your friends."

Saying this, he commenced skinning the deer, in which operation I a.s.sisted him. He then cut off several slices, which he wrapped up in some large leaves and placed in my basket.

"Take the venison to your mother, and say that Kepenau sends it," he observed.

"He has no mother," said Lily.

"Is he not your brother?" asked the Indian.

"No!" said Lily. "His mother was killed by the Redskins long, long ago."

Lily at that time did not know that her own mother had been murdered when mine was.

"You do not bear the red men any malice on that account, I trust?" said Kepenau, turning to me.

"The Great Spirit tells us to forgive our enemies; and there are good and bad Indians."

"You are a good Indian, I am sure," said Lily, looking up at him with more confidence in her manner than she had before shown.

"I wish to become so," he said, smiling. "I have learned to love the Great Spirit, and wish to obey him. But it is time for you to return home. Wait until I have secured the flesh of the deer, and then I will accompany you."

Kepenau quickly cut up the animal, and fastened the more valuable portion's to the bough of a tree--out of the reach of the wolves--by means of some lithe creepers which grew at hand; then loading himself with as much of the venison as he could conveniently carry, he said, "We will move on."

Having accompanied us to the edge of the forest, he bade us farewell.

"Should there be more wolves in the forest, they will not follow you further than this," he said; "but if they do, remember that it will be better to sacrifice some of the venison, than to allow them to overtake you. Throw them a small bit at a time; and as in all likelihood they will stop to quarrel over it, you will thus have time to escape."

I remembered the Indian's advice, although we did not need to practise it on this occasion.

We reached home before dark, and greatly surprised Aunt Hannah with the present of venison. She had, she told us, been very anxious at our prolonged absence.

CHAPTER TWO.

GREENFORD SETTLEMENT--THE FLYING SQUIRRELS--MIKE LAFFAN AND TOM QUAMBO-- THEIR DOGS, YELP AND SNAP--A RACc.o.o.n-HUNT--MIKE HAVING SEEN A BEAR, WE GO IN CHASE--OUR DOGS SCENT BRUIN--QUAMBO IN DANGER--THE BEAR IS KILLED, AND QUAMBO RELEASED--WE RETURN TO THE HUT--THE LOGGING BEE--UNCLE STEPHEN'S HOUSE--INDIAN SUMMER--MIKE LAFFAN'S CREMONA--THE NIGHT ATTACK OF THE WOLVES--WE DETERMINE TO GO LUMBERING FOR THE WINTER--MIKE AND I GO ON AHEAD--UNCLE MARK IS ATTACKED BY A WOLF--MIKE SAVES HIM, AND WE PROCEED ONWARDS.

We had only lately, as I have already said, arrived at our new location.

My uncles had been imbued with the restless spirit of backwoodsmen, and Aunt Hannah was ready to do whatever Uncle Stephen wished. So, having grown weary of the life at Watfield, where we had at first been located, they had resolved, along with several other inhabitants of that place, to push westward; and after making their way through forests, rivers, and swamps, and over hills and plains, had formed the new settlement where Uncle Stephen now was, and which they had named Greenford.

To the hut where Uncle Mark and I lived no name had been given; but he expressed his belief that it would one day become the centre of a great city. "Before that day arrives, however, you and I, Roger, will have moved far away westward," he observed.

I used to exercise diligence while I was at work, in order that I might have more time to attend to the study of natural history. My great delight was to get away into the forest and observe the habits of its various inhabitants. Often would I sit on the root of an old tree watching the playful squirrels at their gambols. When I spied a hole in which I knew that a family were likely to have taken up their abode, I would hide myself; and before long I was generally rewarded by seeing a "papa" squirrel poking out his nose. Soon he would give an inaudible sniff, sniff, sniff, then out would come his head, and he would look round to ascertain whether danger was near. Presently I would catch sight of his thick furry body and lovely brush, the tail curling over his head. Then another nose would appear, and large shining eyes; and out another would pop; followed in rapid succession by the whole family.

Then, how delightful it was to watch them frolicking about, darting round the trunks, sending the bark rattling down as they chased each other; whisking their tails; darting along the boughs, and bounding fearlessly from branch to branch. One, reaching the end of a bough, would spread out its arms and tail, exhibiting the white fur beneath, and fly down to a lower branch, or to the earth below, followed by its companions; then away they would go along the logs or swinging vines, and up another trunk, quick as lightning. Sometimes I would catch them at their supper, nibbling away at the nuts which they had plucked, or had dug out of the ground with their sharp little paws.

A flying squirrel is indeed a beautiful creature. Its colour is a most delicate grey; the fur thick and short, and as soft as velvet; the eyes large and full. The membrane by which it is enabled to take its flights is of a soft texture, and white, like the fur of the chinchilla. The tail greatly resembles an elegantly-formed broad feather.

One day, as I was wandering along the banks of a stream, for the purpose of observing the habits of a family of beavers that had lately made their abode there, I caught sight of a number of squirrels. They were evidently about some important operation, since they were moving steadily along the branches, and refraining from their usual frisking and playing. Having concealed myself from their view, in order that they might not be disturbed by my presence, I noticed that they went on until they reached the branch of a tree overhanging the stream, at the extreme end of which one, who appeared to be their leader, took post, looking eagerly up the current. In a short time a small log floated near, with a tendency to move over to the opposite side. As it came beneath the leader of the party he dropped down upon it, at the same time uttering a sharp cry. Quick as lightning some others followed his example; and by holding on to the lower twigs they arrested its progress until the whole party were seated on board, when the log was allowed to float, as they sagaciously knew it would, towards the opposite bank. It seemed to me as if some of them were steering it with their tails; but of that I am not positive. In a short time, after floating some way down the stream it was guided to the sh.o.r.e; when one after the other leaped off, and quickly running along the boughs of the trees, gained a point exactly opposite to that from which they had started; after which they went away into the forest,--bent, I doubted not, on some predatory expedition. They would soon make their presence known, when they reached the pumpkin-grounds or maize-fields of the settlers.

I was not always alone in my rambles through the forest. Lily would have been only too happy to accompany me, but Aunt Hannah judged it prudent to keep her at home; and, indeed, she had plenty of occupation there. My chief companion, therefore, was one of Uncle Stephen's labourers--an Irishman, Mike Laffan by name.

Although Mike had no great knowledge of natural history, he was as fond of searching for animals as I was, and consequently was always ready to accompany me when he had the chance. He was an honest fellow; a thorough Patlander in look, manners, language, and ideas. When he could, he used to press Tom Quambo, an old free negro, into the service; and Quambo enjoyed the fun as much as Mike did. Each possessed a dog, of which they were very proud, ugly as the animals were to look at.

"Den, you see, ma.s.sa, if Yelp not 'ansome, he know eberyting," Quambo used to remark. "He braver dan painter [meaning the puma], and run like greased lightning."

It was difficult to say whether Yelp or Mike's dog was the ugliest; but both masters were equally proud of their canine friends.

I too had a dog, which, if not a beauty, was certainly handsomer than either of his two acquaintances. He was clever enough in his way, but more useful in watching the hut than in hunting; indeed, when I went out by myself for the purpose of observing the habits of the denizens of the forest, I never took him, knowing that he would only interfere with their sports.

On one occasion I had been over to see my Uncle Stephen, and as I was returning home Mike Laffan met me.

"Would you loike to be afther looking for a 'c.o.o.n to-night, Masther Roger?" he asked. "Quambo says he can come; and Yelp and Snap are moighty ager for the sport."

I at once agreed to meet my two friends, accompanied by my dog Pop.

Accordingly, at the time appointed, the day's work being over, Mike and Quambo made their appearance at the hut; while running at their heels were their two dogs, who were soon warmly greeted by Pop.

Setting out, we took our way along the banks of the river, near which we fully expected to fall in with several racc.o.o.ns. We had our guns, and were provided with torches and the means of lighting them. We had not gone far before we heard voices, and soon we were joined by three lads from the settlement, who had got notice of the expedition. As they had brought their dogs, we had a full pack of mongrels of high and low degree, but united by one feeling,--that of deadly enmity to racc.o.o.ns.

On we went, while the dogs, who had just then scented one of their foes, yelled in chorus. Over huge logs and rotten trunks, through the brush and dead trees and briars, we went at full speed; and sometimes wading across bogs, sometimes climbing up banks, and occasionally tumbling over on our noses, we continued to make our way at the heels of the dogs, until old Quambo, waving his torch above his head, and suddenly stopping short, shouted out, "De 'c.o.o.n's treed!"

He had made a mistake, however, for the dogs bayed loudly and continued their course.

"Dat a mighty old 'c.o.o.n," cried Quambo. "He know what he about."

The racc.o.o.n, if it had got up the tree, had come down again, and was still ahead. Some of the party were almost in despair; but I knew the habits of the creature too well not to feel sure that we should get it at last, so I encouraged my friends, while we dashed on as before.

Yelp and Snap, having kept well ahead of the other dogs, were now heard baying under a big tree, and no doubt remained that the racc.o.o.n had taken refuge amid its branches. Our difficulty was to get it down. As the others hesitated to encounter the fierce little animal amid the boughs, Mike, for the honour of "Old Ireland," offered to make his way up. Without more ado, then, he got on Quambo's shoulders, sprang to a branch within his reach, and was soon lost to sight among the foliage.