Quonab

“ 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. ”

“ Approaching the place carefully and using his blood-rubbed glove, Quonab set in each ash pile a trap. Under its face he put a wad of white rabbit fur. Next he buried all in the ashes, scattered a few bits of rabbit and a few drops of smell-charm, then dashed snow over the place, renewed the dangling feathers to lure the eye; and finally left the rest to the weather.
Rolf was keen to go the next day, but the old man said: “Wah! no good! no trap go first night; man smell too strong.” The second day there was a snowfall, and the third morning Quonab said, “Now seem like good time.” ”

“ With the governor and Vandam to back him, Quonab soon had the mob on his side, and the dock loafer's own friends pelted him with mud as he escaped. But not a little credit is due to Skookum, for at the critical moment he had sprung on the ruffian's bare and abundant leg with such toothsome effect that the owner fell promptly backward and the knife thrust missed. It was quickly over and Quonab replaced his knife, contemptuous of the whole crowd before, during and after the incident. Not at the time, but days later, he said of his foe: “He was a talker; he was full of fear.” ”

“ 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.” ”

“ Rolf had three muskrats and five cuts. Quonab had much joy and Skookum a sense of lost opportunity.
“This we should paint on the wigwam,” said Quonab. “Three great warriors attacked one Sagamore. They were very brave, but he was Nibowaka and very strong; he struck them down as the Thunderbird, Hurakan, strikes the dead pines the fire has left on the hilltop against the sky. Now shall you eat their hearts, for they were brave. My father told me a fighting muskrat's heart is great medicine; for he seeks peace while it is possible, then he turns and fights without fear.” ”

“ Quonab took down the gun, wiped it out, reloaded it, then turning to the boy said: “Nibowaka, you feel pretty sick. Ugh! You know why? You got a good chance, but you got buck fever. It is always so, every one the first time. You go again to-morrow and you get your deer.”
Rolf made no reply. So Quonab ventured, “You want me to go?” That settled it for Rolf; his pride was touched.
“No; I'll go again in the morning.”
In the dew time he was away once more on the hunting trail. There was no wind, but the southwest was the likeliest to spring up. So he went nearly over his last night's track. ”

“ Ogdensburg
The same blizzard was raging on the next day when Skookum gave unequivocal sign talk that he smelled something.
It is always well to find out what stirs your dog. Quonab looked hard at Skookum. That sagacious mongrel was sniffing vigorously, up in the air, not on the ground; his mane was not bristling, and the patch of dark hair that every gray or yellow dog has at the base of his tail, was not lifted.
“He smells smoke,” was the Indian's quick diagnosis. Rolf pointed Up the wind and made the sign-talk query. Quonab nodded. ”

“ Again “good-bye,” and Rolf, Quonab, and little dog Skookum went sailing down the Schroon toward the junction, where they left a cache of their supplies, and down the broadening Hudson toward Albany.
Rolf had been over the road twice; Quonab never before, yet his nose for water was so good and the sense of rapid and portage was so strong in the red man, that many times he was the pilot. “This is the way, because it must be”; “there it is deep because so narrow”; “that rapid is dangerous, because there is such a well-beaten portage trail” ”

“ The snapper has the bulldog habit to seize and hold till the piece tears out. In the muddy water it had to seize in the dark, and fending first the left arm of its foe, fastened on with fierce beak and desperate strength. At this moment Quonab recovered his tomahawk; rising into the air he dragged up the hanging snapper, and swung the weapon with all the force of his free arm. The blow sank through the monster's shell, deep into its back, without any visible effect, except to rob the Indian of his weapon as he could not draw it out.
Then Rolf rushed into the water to help. ”

“ Quonab, remembering the ancient law of the woods, that parcels off the valleys, each to the hunter first arriving, or succeeding the one who had, was following his own line of thought. Rolf was puzzling over means to get an outfit, canoe, traps, axes, and provisions. The boy broke silence.
“Quonab, we must have money to get an outfit; this is the beginning of harvest; we can easily get work for a month. That will feed us and give us money enough to live on, and a chance to learn something about the country.” ”

“ The dog, although not fully grown, growled savagely as it smelled the hated white man odour. Quonab gave the puppy a slap on the head, which is Indian for, “Be quiet; he's all right;” loosed the rope, and led the dog out. “Bring that,” and the Indian pointed to the bag which hung from a stick between two trees. The dog sniffed suspiciously in the direction of the bag and growled, but he was not allowed to come near it. Rolf tried to make friends with the dog, but without success and Quonab said, “Better let Skookum [*] alone. He make friends when he ready—maybe never.” ”

“ Whenever it fell to Quonab to wash the dishes, he simply set them on the ground and let Skookum lick them off. This economical arrangement was satisfactory to Quonab, delightful to Skookum, and apparently justified by the finished product, but Rolf objected. The Indian said: “Don't he eat the same food as we do? You cannot tell if you do not see.” ”

“ Fortunately the first was their choice, and Rolf returned to the cabin.
Quonab listened to his account, then said: “You might have been killed. Every buck is crazy now. Often they attack man. My father's brother was killed by a Mad Moon buck. They found only his body, torn to rags. He had got a little way up a tree, but the buck had pinned him. There were the marks, and in the snow they could see how he held on to the deer's horns and was dragged about till his strength gave out. He had no gun. The buck went off. That was all they knew. I would rather trust a bear than a deer.” ”

“ 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 cor years; he was ready to like him. Their coming together ffas 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. ”

“ Quonab took a stick and with a single blow put an end to the scene, but never did Rolf forget it, and never afterward was he a willing partner when the trapping was done with those relentless jaws of steel.
A week later another hen was missing, and the door of the hen house left open. After a careful examination of the dust, inside and out of the building, Quonab said, “Coon.” It is very unusual for coons to raid a hen house. Usually it is some individual with abnormal tastes, and once he begins, he is sure to come back. ”

“ The yapping of a coon dog came to him from the near woods that lay to the westward along Asamuk. He tramped toward it. To find the dog is one thing, to find the owner another; but they drew near at last. Rolf gave the three yelps and Quonab responded.
“I am done with that crowd,” said the boy. “They tried to kill me tonight. Have you got room for me in your wigwam for a couple of days?”
“Ugh, come,” said the Indian.
That night, for the first time, Rolf slept in the outdoor air of a wigwam. He slept late, and knew nothing of the world about him till Quonab called him to breakfast. ”

“ It had a sweet fragrance of wood and moss, and the pleasure it gave to Rolf at least was something he never again could expect to find in equal measure about any other dwelling he might make.
Quonab laid the fire carefully, then lighted his pipe, sang a little crooning song about the “home spirits,” which we call “household gods,” walked around the shanty, offering the pipestem to each of the four winds in turn, then entering lighted the fire from his pipe, threw some tobacco and deer hair on the blaze, and the house-warming was ended. ”

“ The hunters came quickly to the rescue and at once he was freed, none the worse, for the traps have no teeth; they merely hold. It is the long struggle and the starvation chiefly that are cruel, and these every trapper should cut short by going often around his line.
Now Quonab took part. “That is a good setting for some things. It would catch a coon, a mink, or a marten,—or a dog—but not a fox or a wolf. They are very clever. You shall see.”
The Indian got out a pair of thick leather gloves, smoked them in cedar, also the traps. ”

“ Quonab knelt by the sufferer. He felt her hot, dry hand; he noticed her short, quick breathing, her bright eyes, and the untouched bowl of mush by her bed.
“Swamp fever,” he said. “I bring good medicine.” He passed quietly out into the woods. When he returned, he carried a bundle of snake-root which he made into tea.
Annette did not wish to touch it, but her mother persuaded her to take a few sips from a cup held by Rolf.
“Wah! this not good,” and Quonab glanced about the close, fly-infested room. “I must make lodge.” He turned up the cover of the bedding ”

“ Skookum saluted the farmer with a final growl, then Rolf and Quonab were left alone in the wilderness.
It was after sundown, so they set about camping for the night. A wise camper always prepares bed and shelter in daylight, if possible. While Rolf made a fire and hung the kettle, Quonab selected a level, dry place between two trees, and covered it with spruce boughs to make the beds, and last a low tent was made by putting the lodge cover over a pole between the trees. ”

“ Rolf Kittering lived with an uncle whose treatment of him was so brutal that finally he escaped and sought refuge at the camp of a chance friend, old Quonab, the Indian. His education in woodcraft then became a matter of existence, and under Quonab’s tutelage Rolf became familiar with the intimate life of the wild creatures of the great North woods. An exciting part of the story is where Rolf puts his knowledge into practice as a daring scout during the War of 1812. ”

“ Quonab, as he broke the ice in a tin cup and glanced at the low-hung sun, said: “The leaves are falling fast; snow comes soon; we need another line of traps.”
He stopped suddenly; stared across the lake. Rolf looked, and here came three deer, two bucks and a doe, trotting, walking, or lightly clearing obstacles, the doe in advance; the others, rival followers. As they kept along the shore, they came nearer the cabin. Rolf glanced at Quonab, who nodded, then slipped in, got down the gun, and quickly glided unseen to the river where the deer path landed. ”

“ He talked freely, almost cheerfully, while Quonab, with Skookum at his feet, sat silently smoking and staring into the fire.
After a long silence, the Indian turned, looked straight at the trapper, and, pointing with his pipestem to the furs, said, “How many is ours?”
Hoag looked scared, then sulky, and said; “I dunno what ye mean. I'm a awful sick man. You get me out to Lyons Falls all right, and ye can have the hull lot,” and he wept.
Rolf shook his head at Quonab, then turned to the sufferer and said: “Don't you worry; we'll get you out all right. Have you a good canoe?” ”

“ In those days beaver was one of the most valued furs. The creature is very easy to trap; so the discovery of the pond was like the finding of a bag of gold. They skirted its uncertain edges and Quonab pointed out the many landing places of the beaver; little docks they seemed, built up with mud and stones with deep water plunge holes alongside. Here and there on the shore was a dome-shaped ant's nest with a pathway to it from the pond, showing, as the Indian said, that here the beaver came on sunny days to lie on the hill and let the swarming ants come forth and pick the vermin from their fur. ”

“ Skookum was a plucky fighter, but plainly he was nearly sick of it. The pain of the quills would, of course, increase every minute and with each movement. Quonab took a stout stick and threw the porcupine out of its retreat, (Rolf supposed to kill it when the head was exposed,) but the spiny one, finding a new and stronger enemy, wasted no time in galloping at its slow lumbering pace to the nearest small spruce tree and up that it scrambled to a safe place in the high branches. ”