Rolf In The Woods | Page 5

shall say that its beauty did not reach his
soul?
He took out his pipe and tobacco bag, but was reminded of something
lacking -- the bag was empty. He returned to his wigwam, and from
their safe hanger or swinging shelf overhead, he took the row of
stretched skins, ten muskrats and one mink, and set out along a path
which led southward through the woods to the broad, open place called
Strickland's Plain, across that, and over the next rock ridge to the little
town and port of Myanos.
SILAS PECK Trading Store
was the sign over the door he entered. Men and women were buying
and selling, but the Indian stood aside shyly until all were served, and
Master Peck cried out:
"Ho, Quonab! what have ye got for trade to-day?"
Quonab produced his furs. The dealer looked at them narrowly and
said:
"They are too late in the season for primes; I cannot allow you more
than seven cents each for the rats and seventy-five cents for the mink,
all trade."
The Indian gathered up the bundle with an air of "that settles it," when
Silas called out:
"Come now, I'll make it ten cents for the rats."
"Ten cents for rats, one dollar for mink, all cash, then I buy what I
like," was the reply.
It was very necessary to Silas's peace that no customer of his should
cross the street to the sign,
SILAS MEAD Trading Store
So the bargain, a fair one now, was made, and the Indian went off with
a stock of tobacco, tea, and sugar.
His way lay up the Myanos River, as he had one or two traps set along
the banks for muskrats, although in constant danger of having them
robbed or stolen by boys, who considered this an encroachment on their
trapping grounds.
After an hour he came to Dumpling Pond, then set out for his home,

straight through the woods, till he reached the Catrock line, and
following that came to the farm and ramshackle house of Micky
Kittering. He had been told that the man at this farm had a fresh deer
hide for sale, and hoping to secure it, Quonab walked up toward the
house. Micky was coming from the barn when he saw the Indian. They
recognized each other at a glance. That was enough for Quonab; he
turned away. The farmer remembered that he had been "insulted." He
vomited a few oaths, and strode after the Indian, "To take it out of his
hide"; his purpose was very clear. The Indian turned quickly, stood, and
looked calmly at Michael.
Some men do not know the difference between shyness and cowardice,
but they are apt to find it out unexpectedly Something told the white
man, "Beware! this red man is dangerous." He muttered something
about, "Get out of that, or I'll send for a constable." The Indian stood
gazing coldly, till the farmer backed off out of sight, then he himself
turned away to the woods.
Kittering was not a lovely character. He claimed to have been a soldier.
He certainly looked the part, for his fierce white moustache was curled
up like horns on his purple face, at each side of his red nose, in a most
milita style. His shoulders were square and his gait was swaggering,
beside which, he had an array of swear words that was new and
tremendously impressive in Connecticut. He had married late in life a
woman who would have made him a good wife, had he allowed her.
But, a drunkard himself he set deliberately about bringing his wife to
his own ways and with most lamentable success. They had had no
children, but some months before a brother's child, fifteen-year-old lad,
had become a charge on their hands and, with any measure of good
management, would have been a blessing to all. But Micky had gone
too far. His original weak good-nature was foundered in rum. Always
blustery and frothy, he divided the world in two -- superior officers,
before whom he grovelled, and inferiors to whom he was a mouthy,
foul-tongued, contemptible bully, in spite of a certain lingering
kindness of heart that showed itself at such rare times when he was
neither roaring drunk nor crucified by black reaction. His brother's
child, fortunately, had inherited little of the paternal family traits, but in
both body and brain favoured his mother, the daughter of a learned
divine who had spent unusual pains on her book education, but had left

her penniless and incapable of changing that condition.
Her purely mental powers and peculiarities were such that, a hundred
years before, she might have been burned for a witch, and fifty years
later might have been honoured as a prophetess. But she missed the
crest