Rolf in the Woods Part 32

"Fortunately, sir, Pennyslvania, Maryland, and the West have not forgotten the glories of the past. All I ask--is a chance to show what we can do, sir. I long for the smell of powder once more, sir."

"I understand that President Madison has sent several protests, and, in spite of Connecticut and New Jersey, will send an ultimatum within three months. He believes that Britain has all she can manage, with Napoleon and his allies battering at her doors, and will not risk a war.

"It's my opinion," said Sylvanne; "that these English men is too pig-headed an' ornery to care a whoop in h.e.l.l whether we get mad or not.

They've a notion Paul Jones is dead, but I reckon we've got plenty of the breed only waitin' a chance. Mor'n twenty-five of our merchantmen wrecked each year through being stripped of their crews by a 'friendly power.' 'Pears to me we couldn't be worse off going to war, an' might be a dum sight better."

"Your home an' holdings are three hundred safe miles from the seacoast,"

objected the man from Manhattan.

"Yes, and right next Canada," was the reply.

"The continued insults to our flag, sir, and the personal indignities offered to our people are even worse than the actual loss in ships and goods. It makes my blood fairly boil," and the worthy general looked the part as his purple jowl quivered over his white cravat.

"Gosh all hemlock! the one p.r.i.c.ks, but t'other festers, it's tarnal sure you steal a man's dinner and tell him he's one o' nature's n.o.blemen, he's more apt to love you than if you give him five dollars to keep out o' your sight," said Sylvanne, with slow emphasis.

"There's something to be said on the other side," said the timid one.

"You surely allow that the British government is trying to do right, and after all we must admit that that Jilson affair resected very little credit on our own administration."

"A man ken make one awful big mistake an' still be all right, but he can't go on making a little mistake every day right along an' be fit company for a clean crowd," retorted the new senator.

At length the governor rose and led the way to the drawing-room, where they rejoined the ladies and the conversation took on a different colour and weight, by which it lost all value for those who knew not the art of twittering persiflage and found less joy in a handkerchief flirtation than in the nation's onward march. Rolf and Quonab enjoyed it now about as much as Skook.u.m had done all the time.

Chapter 65. The Grebes and the Singing Mouse

Quonab puzzled long over the amazing fact that young Van Cortlandt had evident high standing "in his own tribe." "He must be a wise counsellor, for I know he cannot fight and is a fool at hunting," was the ultimate decision.

They had a final interview with the governor and his son before they left. Rolf received for himself and his partner the promised one hundred and fifty dollars, and the hearty thanks of all in the governor's home.

Next, each was presented with a handsome hunting knife, not unlike the one young Van had carried, but smaller. Quonab received his with "Ho--" then, after a pause, "He pull out, maybe, when I need him."--"Ho!

good!" he exclaimed, as the keen blade appeared.

"Now, Rolf," said the lawyer, "I want to come back next year and bring three companions, and we will pay you at the same rate per month for each. What do you say?"

"Glad to have you again," said Rolf: "we'll come for you on August fifteenth; but remember you should bring your guitar and your spectacles."

"One word," said the governor, "do you know the canoe route through Champlain to Canada?"

"Quonab does."

"Could you undertake to render scout service in that region?"

The Indian nodded.

"In case of war, we may need you both, so keep your ears open."

And once more the canoe made for the north, with Quonab in the stern and Skook.u.m in the bow.

In less than a week they were home, and none too soon; for already the trees were bare, and they had to break the ice on the river before they ended their trip.

Rolf had gathered many ideas the last two-months. He did not propose to continue all his life as a trapper. He wanted to see New York. He wanted to plan for the future. He needed money for his plans. He and Quonab had been running a hundred miles of traps, but some men run more than that single handed. They must get out two new lines at once, before the frost came. One of these they laid up the Hudson, above Eagle's Nest; the other northerly on Blue Mountain, toward Racquet River. Doing this was hard work, and when they came again to their cabin the robins had gone from the bleak and leafless woods; the grouse were making long night flights; the hollows had tracks of racing deer; there was a sense of omen, a length of gloom, for the Mad Moon was afloat in the shimmering sky; its wan light ghasted all the hills.

Next day the lake was covered with thin, glare ice; on the gla.s.sy surface near the sh.o.r.e were two ducks floundering. The men went as near as they could, and Quonab said, "No, not duck, but Shingebis, divers.

They cannot rise except from water. In the night the new ice looks like water; they come down and cannot rise. I have often seen it." Two days after, a harder frost came on. The ice was safe for a dog; the divers or grebes were still on its surface. So they sent Skook.u.m. He soon returned with two beautiful grebes, whose shining, white breast feathers are as much prized as some furs.

Quonab grunted as he held them up. "Ugh, it is often so in this Mad Moon. My father said it is because of Kaluskap's dancing."

"I don't remember that one."

"Yes, long ago. Kaluskap felt lazy. He wanted to eat, but did not wish to hunt, so he called the bluejay and said: 'Tell all the woods that to-morrow night Kaluskap gives a new dance and teaches a new song,'

and he told the hoot owl to do the same, so one kept it up all day--'Kaluskap teaches a new dance to-morrow night,' and the other kept it up all night: 'Kaluskap teaches a new song at next council.'

"Thus it came about that all the woods and waters sent their folk to the dance.

"Then Kaluskap took his song-drum and said: 'When I drum and sing you must dance in a circle the same way as the sun, close your eyes tightly, and each one shout his war whoop, as I cry "new songs"!'

"So all began, with Kaluskap drumming in the middle, singing:

"'New songs from the south, brothers, Close your eyes tightly, brothers, Dance and learn a new song.

"As they danced around, he picked out the fattest, and, reaching out one hand, seized them and twisted their necks, shouting out, 'More war-cries, more poise! that's it; now you are learning!'

"At length Shingebis the diver began to have his doubts and he cautiously opened one eye, saw the trick, and shouted: 'Fly, brothers, fly! Kaluskap is killing us!'

"Then all was confusion. Every one tried to escape, and Kaluskap, in revenge, tried to kill the Shingebis. But the diver ran for the water and, just as he reached the edge, Kaluskap gave him a kick behind that sent him half a mile, but it knocked off all his tail feathers and twisted his shape so that ever since his legs have stuck out where his tail was, and he cannot rise from the land or the ice. I know it is so, for my father, Cos Cob, told me it was true, and we ourselves have seen it. It is ever so. To go against Kaluskap brings much evil to brood over."

A few nights later, as they sat by their fire in the cabin, a curious squeaking was heard behind the logs. They had often heard it before, but never so much as now. Skook.u.m turned his head on one side, set his ears at forward c.o.c.k. Presently, from a hole 'twixt logs and chimney, there appeared a small, white breasted mouse.

Its nose and ears shivered a little; its black eyes danced in the firelight. It climbed up to a higher log, scratched its ribs, then rising on its hind legs, uttered one or two squeaks like those they had heard so often, but soon they became louder and continuous:

"Peg, peo, peo, peo, peo, peo, peo, oo. Tree, tree, tree, tree, trrrrrrr, Turr, turr, turr, tur, tur, Wee, wee, wee, we"--

The little creature was sitting up high on its hind legs, its belly muscles were working, its mouth was gaping as it poured out its music.

For fully half a minute this went on, when Skook.u.m made a dash; but the mouse was quick and it flashed into the safety of its cranny.

Rolf gazed at Quonab inquiringly.

"That is Mish-a-boh-quas, the singing mouse. He always comes to tell of war. In a little while there will be fighting."

Chapter 66. A Lesson in Stalking

"Did you ever see any fighting, Quonab?"

"Ugh! In Revolution, scouted for General Gates."

"Judging by the talk, we're liable to be called on before a year. What will you do?"