<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN>
<h1>Wongo and the Wise Old Crow</h1>
<p><span class="large"><i>by</i></span><br/>
<span class="large">GRACE <small>AND</small> CARL MOON</span></p>
<hr class="chap" />
<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS</h2>
<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table">
<tr><td><span class="xlarge">A Daring Plot</span></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="gap"><span class="smcap">Chapter</span></span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">Page</span></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="gap2">1—In Timbertangle</span></td><td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#Page_13"> 13</SPAN></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="gap2">2—Wongo and Kaw Make a Plan</span></td><td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#Page_32">32</SPAN></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="gap2">3—Wongo Has a Wild Night</span></td><td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#Page_46">46</SPAN></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="gap2">4—The Sad Tale of Old Grouch</span></td><td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#Page_60">60</SPAN></td></tr>
<tr><td> </td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="xlarge">Cho-gay of Timbertangle</span></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="gap"><span class="smcap">Chapter</span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="gap2">1—An Indian Boy Ruler</span></td><td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#Page_69">69</SPAN></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="gap2">2—The Fox and the Wolf</span></td><td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#Page_87">87</SPAN></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="gap2">3—Sandy Tells a Tale</span></td><td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#Page_108">108</SPAN></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="gap2">4—Kil-fang Startles Timbertangle</span></td><td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#Page_121">121</SPAN></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="gap2">5—The Rout of the Wolf Pack</span></td><td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#Page_129">129</SPAN></td></tr>
<tr><td> </td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="xlarge">The Thunder Drum</span></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="gap"><span class="smcap">Chapter</span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="gap2">1—The Year of the Great Thirst</span></td><td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#Page_133">133</SPAN></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="gap2">2—Grayhead, the Grizzly</span></td><td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#Page_144">144</SPAN></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="gap2">3—At the Cave of Cho-gay</span></td><td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#Page_153">153</SPAN></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="gap2">4—In the Up-Above Country</span></td><td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#Page_166">166</SPAN></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="gap2">5—Rain Comes to Timbertangle</span></td><td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#Page_176">176</SPAN></td></tr>
</table>
<hr class="chap" />
<p class="center"><i>To our most flattering listeners<br/>
Francis and Mary Caryl<br/>
this book is lovingly dedicated</i></p>
<p class="center"><span class="gap3"><i>Grace and Carl Moon</i></span></p>
<hr class="chap" />
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</SPAN></span>
<h2 class="nobreak">A Daring Plot</h2>
<h3>CHAPTER 1<br/> IN TIMBERTANGLE</h3>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse"><i>There’s many a tale of adventure told,</i></div>
<div class="verse"><i>Of heroes that do and dare,</i></div>
<div class="verse"><i>But here is a tale of adventure bold,</i></div>
<div class="verse"><i>Of a goat, a crow, and a bear.</i></div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse"><i>There’s a quarrel and fight,</i></div>
<div class="verse"><i>And a desperate plot,</i></div>
<div class="verse"><i>And a villain as bad as can be.</i></div>
<div class="verse"><i>Oh, it is a tale worth talking about!</i></div>
<div class="verse"><i>Just read it yourself, and see!</i></div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p class="drop-cap">A SUDDEN gust of cold wind swept along the
mountain side and rattled the dry leaves and
dead branches of some jack-oak bushes that stood
at the entrance of a snug little cave. Its sole occupant,
awakened by the noise, opened his eyes and
looked blinkingly up at the pale dawn-light that
shone on the familiar rocks of the roof above him.
Once awake, he realized that he was thirsty and
hungry, but he hated to get up, it would be so
nice to have just a little more sleep.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</SPAN></span>While the cave-dweller was deciding between the
call of his stomach and his desire to sleep, a big
bluejay, with feathers rumpled by the wind, lit
on a rock at the cave entrance and, after peering
within, called out:</p>
<p>“Sleepy-head! Sleepy-head!” Then, as there
was no response from the cave, he called again:
“Get up, Wongo. ‘The early bird catches the
worm,’ and the early bear may catch the fat sheep.”</p>
<p>“That’s all right about the early bird and the
worm,” growled the little bear angrily, “but a
bird doesn’t know much and it served the silly
worm right for getting up too early. He ought
to get caught.”</p>
<p>Then Wongo got to his feet and, as the noisy
bluejay flew away, he crawled sleepily out of the
cave and ambled down a secret trail that led to the
canyon below.</p>
<p>Although the sun was not quite up on this eventful
day, a pale dawn-light flooded the mountain
side, causing the trees and bushes to look dim and
ghostly.</p>
<p>Wongo was in an ill temper. Hunger, thirst, and
the desire to sleep, to say nothing of the wind that
was bent on blowing his fur the wrong way, made
him growl under his breath. And now he must go
to the little stream that ran through the dark<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</SPAN></span>
canyon far below and get a drink, and if he met
any kind of an animal on the way that was good
to eat—well, that animal had better look out for
himself!</p>
<p>Suddenly he stopped and sniffed the cool breeze
that was now sweeping up from the gorge below.</p>
<p>“Meat!” he ejaculated. “Fresh meat of the
young calf.” Then quickening his pace he soon
stood on the rim of the canyon, with his nose in
the air, sniffing to the right and to the left. It
took but a moment to decide that the good smell
came from up the canyon, but <i>up</i> the canyon was
forbidden ground. That tantalizing odor meant
just one thing, and that was that old Grouch, the
meanest and most feared old bear in all Timbertangle,
had killed a calf, and had, no doubt, enjoyed
a hearty breakfast.</p>
<p>Wongo had never seen old Grouch, but he had
always been very curious to know what he looked
like. The fearsome tales told of the old bear by
the many animals who <i>had</i> seen him had caused
the little bear to leave the upper end of the canyon
strictly alone. But on this particular morning
hunger and curiosity weighed heavily against his
fear. What if the old rascal had eaten all he
wanted of the meat, and had gone away for a
drink, or an early morning stroll, leaving a part of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</SPAN></span>
it in his den? Couldn’t Wongo creep up close
enough to the den to see without any danger to
himself? Suppose old Grouch <i>was</i> as bad as
everyone said he was, couldn’t Wongo run as fast
as any old bear?</p>
<p>As he argued thus to himself he stood gazing
below him where, in the dim light of the dawn, he
could see familiar patches of haw and berry bushes
that still had plenty of fruit on them, but he was
tired of haws and berries. The keen October air
sharpened his appetite, and he wanted something
more solid and satisfying than berries or the grubs
that would be found under the flat rocks when the
sun came up.</p>
<p>Again Wongo took long sniffs of the air, and
while caution told him to give old Grouch a wide
berth, appetite and curiosity got the upper hand
and he moved softly up the canyon toward the
forbidden ground. More and more tempting grew
the smell of the fresh meat, as he neared what his
nose now told him must be old Grouch’s den. He
stopped beside a thicket of jack-oaks and, as the
smell seemed to come from just beyond it, he
slowly and carefully put his head through them
that he might see.</p>
<p>Suddenly there was a rush from behind, followed
by a stinging blow on the head that sent<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</SPAN></span>
him tumbling over and over down the hillside.
Scrambling to his feet he made off at top speed,
catching a glimpse of the great black bear from
over his shoulder as he ran.</p>
<p>“I’ll teach you to go snooping around my cave,
you little fat thief,” shouted old Grouch, as he
glared after the fleeing Wongo.</p>
<p>In mingled fear and rage the young bear ran
on as fast as he could, not stopping until he arrived
at the little brook at the bottom of the
canyon. Here he took a long drink, and while it
cooled his temper somewhat, the cold water fairly
splashed in his empty stomach.</p>
<p>As the thought of the fresh meat still lingered
in his mind, Wongo wondered if there might not
be a stray sheep or two down on the plains near
the canyon’s mouth. Slowly returning to the rim
of the gorge, he started disgustedly along a little
trail that led toward the haw and berry bushes.
But his thoughts were not of haws and berries. In
the fall there was often the possibility of stealing
a sheep, as the Navaho Indian women drove their
flocks well up into the canyon for water at this
season of the year. The thick underbrush caused
the sheep to scatter in their passage up the canyon
bed, thus giving any brave and cunning young
bear a fine chance to make off with a nice meal of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</SPAN></span>
fresh mutton, provided his bravery and cunning
were sufficient to outwit the Navaho dogs.</p>
<p>Twice, of late, he had stolen a nice fat sheep
from the scattered flocks, but on both occasions
he had been assisted by his friend Kaw, the crow.
Kaw had signaled to him from the top of a tall
pine tree, where the sharp-eyed old bird could
watch the movements of the dogs and could tell
him where they were at any moment. As for the
Indian women and boys who drove the sheep, he
could watch them himself as they were tall enough
to be seen above the underbrush, and he had no
difficulty in keeping out of their sight.</p>
<p>A queer kind of an old bird was Kaw, but a good
friend, as many an occasion had proven. The old
crow loved to tease the little bear, and Wongo always
pretended to be indifferent to the teasing, yet
he secretly liked Kaw best when he was in a
teasing mood, as on such occasions he frequently
talked in rhyme, or recited some verses that amused
Wongo very much.</p>
<p>His first meeting with Kaw had been a strange
one, and he remembered quite clearly all that had
taken place on that occasion. That was more than
a year ago now, when Wongo, who at that time
was scarcely more than a fat cub, was on his way
home one evening. He had been ambling along<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</SPAN></span>
through the quiet forest, and had chanced to pass
the tall stump of a hollow tree that had a great
black hole near the bottom of it. Having been
born with a great desire to inquire into all things,
he suddenly wished to know just what it was like
inside of that hole. He therefore walked up to
the stump, and had just put his little nose inside
when he heard the most fearful squawking and
croaking noise that seemed to come from high up
in the stump itself.</p>
<p>“Woof!” ejaculated Wongo, as he jumped backward,
his little eyes bulging with fright and the
short hair on his back standing up like porcupine
quills. Stumbling backward for a dozen paces he
sat down upon his haunches and gazed wide-eyed up
at the top of the stump. There sat a crow who
was laughing so hard his black wings were fluttering
against his sides. It was quite evident that
it was he who had made the unearthly noise, and
that he had simply shouted it down through the
hollow stump.</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“Haw, haw,” laughed the crow, “Well, I do declare,</div>
<div class="verse">Did ever one see such a curious bear?</div>
<div class="verse">He’s so filled with desire</div>
<div class="verse">Both to peep and enquire,</div>
<div class="verse">He’d poke his young nose anywhere.”</div>
</div></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</SPAN></span>With growing anger and amazement Wongo
cried out, “You black old croaker, I suppose you
think you’re smart.”</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_020.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p>At that the crow half fell, half flopped down to
the top of a near-by bush, and having straightened
his face into a more serious expression said:</p>
<p>“Don’t add a hasty temper to your weakness of
indulging in idle curiosity. I could not resist so
rare a bit of fun, and besides,” he added, “I taught
you a valuable lesson if you will only heed it, my
young friend.”</p>
<p>“Young, indeed!” snapped Wongo, who was at<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</SPAN></span>
that time very sensitive about his age. “Anyone
can see that I am many times bigger than you,
so must be much older.”</p>
<p>“Your size has nothing to do with your age,”
replied the crow. “Listen while I tell you about
the Pebble and the Sage:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">“An old man walking o’er the strand,</div>
<div class="verse">Picked a pebble from the sand.</div>
<div class="verse">‘I wish that I were small,’ sighed he,</div>
<div class="verse">‘For I would gay and youthful be.’</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">“‘Size has naught to do with age,’</div>
<div class="verse">Said the Pebble to the Sage.</div>
<div class="verse">‘You’re very old, one might remark,</div>
<div class="verse">But <i>I</i> watched Noah build the ark.’”</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>Seeing from the rather blank expression on
Wongo’s face that he had failed to understand the
reference to Noah and the Ark, the crow continued
more bluntly:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“And thus, my friend, although you’re big,</div>
<div class="verse">So’s a jackass or a pig.</div>
<div class="verse">That I am small is very true,</div>
<div class="verse">Yet I am older, far, than you.</div>
</div></div>
<p>“I knew old Silvertip, your father, long before
you were born, and,” he added thoughtfully, “I
suppose you come by your desire to peep and pry<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</SPAN></span>
honestly enough, as it was your father’s weakness
before you. Had he been less inquisitive, and had
he taken my advice, he would not have been caught
in the clumsy trap that proved his undoing.”</p>
<p>The fact that this old crow had known his father
caused Wongo’s attitude toward him to change
from one of anger to one of respect. He began to
listen to the crow’s remarks with a more kindly
feeling.</p>
<p>“But to go back to the lesson I tried to teach
you,” continued Kaw, “you should never poke
your head inside a hollow tree. If a bobcat or
a swarm of bees had been in that hole they could
have given you a lot of painful punishment before
you could have said scat, and yet, when I come
to think of it,” he added with a droll expression
on his face, “I suppose <i>you</i> could make bees
stand for you.”</p>
<p>“How could I?” asked Wongo. “I don’t think
I understand how I could make bees do anything
except get after me.”</p>
<p>“Well,” said the crow, as he spread his wings
for flight, “if I remember my alphabet lessons
rightly, a B always stands for bear.”</p>
<p>“That’s so,” thought Wongo as he watched
Kaw wing his slow flight into the darkening forest,
and he turned homeward resolved that as soon as<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</SPAN></span>
he arrived he would ask his mother to tell him
about Noah and the Ark.</p>
<p>But all this had happened the year before, and
since that time the crow had proven to be a delightful
friend and companion. And now, on this
cool October morning, the little bear wished that
his friend Kaw would happen along to tell him if
he had seen any stray sheep wandering unguarded
in the canyon below.</p>
<p>At the thought of the recent encounter with old
Grouch, his hair bristled with anger, and as he
walked down the little trail hungry and disgruntled,
he mumbled half aloud, “When I am grown I’ll
whip old Grouch, and I’ll certainly give him such a
good beating he will be glad to leave the country.”</p>
<p>Suddenly a familiar voice, that seemed to come
from above him, remarked, “He who wins a fight
does not always depend upon size, friend Wongo.”</p>
<p>“Hullo, Kaw,” said the bear, whose ill temper
began to leave him the instant he heard the voice of
his friend. “I was just thinking of you a moment
ago, and when you spoke I was wishing I were
big enough to whip old Grouch, and I’ll surely do
it when I am grown. I had a fight with the old
black rascal a few minutes ago, but it wasn’t a
fair fight, for he hit me from behind, and I fell
down a hill, and when I got up he was too far<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</SPAN></span>
away for me to fight him. But I’ll get even with
him some day.”</p>
<p>“So you would grow more before attempting to
punish the old enemy of the canyon, would you?”
asked the crow. Then, without waiting for Wongo
to reply, he asked, “Did you ever hear the story
about the Terrible Turk?”</p>
<p>“No, I haven’t,” said the bear. “What about
him?”</p>
<p>Clearing his throat, which at best was a bit husky,
the crow began:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">“With a flock of wild turkeys that lived in a pine</div>
<div class="verse">Near the top of old Tonka-pah Peak,</div>
<div class="verse">Was a whopping big gobbler that measured three feet</div>
<div class="verse">From his tail to the tip of his beak.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">“This conceited old turkey was greatly puffed up,</div>
<div class="verse">Even thought he was too good to work.</div>
<div class="verse">As he’d bullied and whipped all the gobblers around,</div>
<div class="verse">He was known as the Terrible Turk.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">“One night a strange gobbler flew up to the tree;</div>
<div class="verse">He looked small in the yellow moonlight.</div>
<div class="verse">There was something about him—just what I can’t say,</div>
<div class="verse">That would cause you to think he could fight.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">“Well the two gobblers fought, just as one might expect,</div>
<div class="verse">And the Terrible Turk thought it fun</div>
<div class="verse">When the fighting began. He remarked to the hens,</div>
<div class="verse">‘Watch me start this young bird on the run.’</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</SPAN></span>
<div class="verse">“Well they fought all the night; ’twas no everyday fight,</div>
<div class="verse">But by the faint light of the dawn</div>
<div class="verse">Could be seen the young turkey high up in the tree,</div>
<div class="verse">And the Terrible Turk—<i>he</i> was gone.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">“So remember, my friend, when you fight for a prize,</div>
<div class="verse">That success does not always depend upon size.”</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>“Do you advise me to try to whip old Grouch
now?” asked Wongo.</p>
<p>“Well, not in an actual fight with tooth and
claw,” drawled the crow. “We sometimes have to
fight with our wits, and there is usually more than
one way to defeat an enemy. I, myself, have long
wanted to get rid of that old trouble-maker, and
we may hit upon a plan, but hush!” he ejaculated
in a lower tone, “there he goes now.”</p>
<p>“Where?” asked Wongo, excitedly.</p>
<p>“Down the other side of the canyon,” replied
Kaw, “but you are not high enough up to see him.
I saw the old thief steal a young calf last night,
and I suppose he has eaten his fill, and is now
after a drink.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Wongo. “I know about that calf
meat, and—” He stopped suddenly, as he thought
it might be best not to tell his friend why it was
that he had gotten into trouble with old Grouch.</p>
<p>“You are not hungry, are you, friend Wongo?”<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</SPAN></span>
asked Kaw, paying no heed to the little bear’s sudden
stop in his remark about the calf meat.</p>
<p>“My hunger is all there is in me,” said Wongo,
promptly. “I am more than half starved.”</p>
<p>“Well,” chuckled Kaw, “I was thinking that
you might take a short cut to old Grouch’s den
right now, while I keep an eye on him. I think
you may find a pretty good feed beneath the big
flat rock that is near the front of his cave. Keep
an ear open for my call. I will let you know when
he turns homeward.”</p>
<p>At the thought of his recent encounter with old
Grouch, Wongo hesitated for a moment, but he had
great faith in Kaw, and he <i>must</i> have something
to eat, so he trotted away up the canyon as noiselessly
as he could go. A half hour later, just as
he had finished the last bit of Grouch’s hidden
meat, he heard Kaw’s faint, far-away “caw, caw”
of warning and beat a hasty retreat around the
mountain side.</p>
<p>After putting a safe distance between himself
and the den of old Grouch, Wongo trotted down
a slope to a ledge of flat rocks that projected high
above a steep cut in the mountain.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_027.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="caption"><i>From this ledge Wongo looked down over the plains below</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</SPAN></span>From this ledge he had often looked down over
the sage-covered plains far below, and one spot in
particular had always attracted his attention and
aroused his ever-present curiosity. It was a tiny
place, or so it seemed from the mountain, a place
where Navaho Indians lived, and Kaw had told
him that it was made of mud-covered trees that
were stood up together to make a kind of cave,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</SPAN></span>
but, of course, it could not be a real cave, for real
caves must be made in rocks or dug into the earth.
Often, as he looked down at this strange little
house, a thin, bluish cloud arose from the center
of it, and when the wind was in the right direction
it brought to his nostrils odors of strange things—things
good to eat.</p>
<p>The Indian man-house always filled Wongo with
wonder, and he desired more than anything else
to go up to it and see just what it looked like
close at hand. Once, when he had looked down
upon it just at nightfall, he had seen something
that shone red like a bit of the sun when it sinks
in a summer haze. That shining red light was
another very curious thing that he must know
about, and he must see it up close. He would ask
Kaw about that bit of the sun that he had seen
shining from the Indian man-house.</p>
<p>Now that his stomach was filled, Wongo seemed
to be filled with confidence also. The warm sun
shone hot from the desert, its welcome rays adding
to his feeling of comfort and self-assurance. Why<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</SPAN></span>
should he have fear of the little place where lived
the Navahos? Why fear anything? To-night he
would go down the mountain and visit the Indian
man-house and see for himself just what it looked
like. Nothing, aside from the dogs that he could
outwit or run away from, could harm him.</p>
<p>He knew that the Navahos would not so much
as touch him. Had not his mother told him that
they believed there was a witch—whatever that
was—in every bear, and that if they harmed the
bear the witch thing would make great trouble
come upon them? Neither his mother nor Kaw, the
crow, seemed to know what a witch was, but that
didn’t matter so long as it caused the Indians to
have fear, and thus kept them from shooting their
arrows into bears, as he had seen them shoot into
deer and rabbits. Wongo had observed that when
Indian arrows stuck into animals they nearly always
killed them.</p>
<p>Turning away from the ledge, he started slowly
down the mountain, deciding that he would, that
very night, satisfy his curiosity about the man-house.
In the meantime he would go down into
the canyon and get a cool drink, after which he
would visit some berry patches just over the ridge,
and explore among the foothills a bit before his
nap-time, which always came just after the sun<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</SPAN></span>
had walked past the middle of the sky. At that
period of the day the sun’s warm rays seemed to
cast a sleepy spell over the silent mountain side,
so all of the animals, with one accord, had decided
it should be the hour for their mid-day sleep.</p>
<p>So Wongo ambled down the mountain and feasted
on the berries in the patch over the ridge, after
a cooling drink at the canyon spring. Then the
little bear went happily to his cave for his nap.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</SPAN></span>
<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER 2<br/> WONGO AND KAW MAKE A PLAN</h3>
<p class="drop-cap">NAP-TIME had come and gone, the long, warm
afternoon hours had slipped away and the sun
was just wrapping itself up in a bed of pink and
gold clouds that hung on the horizon, when Wongo
started, somewhat cautiously, down the trail that
led from the mountain through the foothills far
below, and on to the open plains. As he was shuffling
along, thinking how best to approach the
man-house, and wondering if it would be dark
enough by the time he reached the sage-covered
plains to go into the open without being seen, he
heard the slow flapping of wings near by and a
voice that sang in Kaw’s most teasing manner:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“Oh, he waddles along with his toes turned in,</div>
<div class="verse">His mouth set straight ’twixt his nose and his chin;</div>
<div class="verse">His little eyes peep from the front of his head,</div>
<div class="verse">And whenever he cries they turn very red.</div>
<div class="indent3">Very red, so ’tis said,</div>
<div class="indent3">Very red, very red;</div>
<div class="indent3">His eyes, when he cries</div>
<div class="indent3">Turn exceedingly red!</div>
</div></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_033.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="caption">“<i>He waddles along with his toes turned in</i>”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“In the animal book it shows him as ‘bear,’</div>
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</SPAN></span>
<div class="verse">And yet, I observe, he is covered with hair.</div>
<div class="verse">Now one never thinks of a berry as bare,</div>
<div class="verse">Yet who ever saw one all covered with hair?</div>
<div class="indent3">Hairy berry?</div>
<div class="indent3">Puzzle contrary,</div>
<div class="verse">For here is a bear that’s <i>not</i> bare!”</div>
</div></div>
<p>As Wongo walked on in silence, not even deigning
to glance in Kaw’s direction, the latter continued
still more teasingly:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“They say he can scratch, and they say he can hug,</div>
<div class="verse">And his skin, so ’tis said, makes a beautiful rug.</div>
<div class="verse">His growl and his strength and his looks are his pride,</div>
<div class="verse">Yet none of these things are worth half of his hide.</div>
<div class="indent3">Hug a bear rug,</div>
<div class="indent3">A bug in a jug;</div>
<div class="verse">His skin, so ’tis said, makes a beautiful rug.”</div>
</div></div>
<p>“That’s enough of your poor rhyming wit,”
said Wongo, sitting down beside the trail. “That
last string of words is too personal, and besides,
your remarks about the rug make me nervous.”</p>
<p>“Oh! Ho! Little bear, you must be on a nervous
errand to-night, eh? By-the-by, I see that you are
not headed toward home, and it nears the hour
when all honest folk should be on their roosts.”</p>
<p>“Roosts!” ejaculated Wongo, with a disgusted
grunt. “Do you think everybody roosts simply<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</SPAN></span>
because <i>you</i> have to? A fox or a wolf or a bear
would look well roosting out on the limb of a tree,
now wouldn’t they?” he asked crossly.</p>
<p>“That has no bearing whatever on what I said,”
replied Kaw, “since I remarked that it was about
time that all <i>honest</i> folk were on their roosts. It
is well that some of us can roost, and roost high,
too, when certain night-prowlers are into mischief.”</p>
<p>Ignoring Kaw’s teasing, Wongo suddenly asked,
“What is the little red light that shines from the
Indian man-house when it is dark at night? It’s
like a bit of the sun when it sinks red in the summer
haze.”</p>
<p>“That is what they call fire,” replied Kaw, “and
when they make it a little blue cloud comes up out
of it, and they call the cloud smoke.”</p>
<p>“Well, I want to see it up close,” said Wongo.</p>
<p>“So that’s where Mr. Curiosity is going to-night,
is it?”</p>
<p>“How about your own curiosity?” asked Wongo.
“It seems to me you have done a lot of prying
yourself to have learned so much about fire and
witch, and the Indian man-house.”</p>
<p>“Well,” said Kaw, with a chuckle, “I have to
investigate a lot of things simply that I may be
able to answer the foolish questions of some of
my ignorant friends. I was down there on a visit<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</SPAN></span>
to the man-house myself to-day,” he added, without
giving Wongo time to say anything further
about his curiosity, “and there is a squaw-man at
the hogan.”</p>
<p>“What is a squaw-man?” asked Wongo, forgetting
Kaw’s remarks about foolish questions.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_037.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p>“Well, he’s a white-skinned man who has an
Indian wife. An Indian woman is called a squaw,
so the man is called a squaw-man. No men that
have white skins believe in bear witches, and they
like to kill bears, and they kill things with a long
stick that shines, and it spits smoke with a loud
noise, and it shoots a small heavy thing straight at
the animal or bird that it points at. They call the
bright stick a gun, and it is surely more to be
feared than bows and arrows. You may see an<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</SPAN></span>
arrow coming but you can’t see the little thing that
the gun stick sends out.”</p>
<p>“Whee!” exclaimed Wongo, his little eyes
growing wide with mingled interest and fear.</p>
<p>“Yes,” continued the old crow, “I’ve seen
this squaw-man before. Met him some years ago
away over on the other side of the two ranges, and
he certainly can shoot straight with that gun thing,
as the loss of one of my best tail feathers bears
witness—and I was flying some at the time, too.
I didn’t get but a few grains of his old corn.
But no matter about that now,” he said, coming
back to the subject in hand, “for I must tell you
more about what I saw to-day. This squaw-man
came to the Indian man-house yesterday with horses
tied to a big thing that moves over the ground
without walking.”</p>
<p>“Snake?” asked Wongo.</p>
<p>“No!” snapped Kaw. “Don’t interrupt me
with silly questions. The thing has four round
things beneath, where its legs ought to be, and
they roll over and over when the horses walk. The
man calls it by the name of ‘wagon.’ On top of
it is a thing he calls a cage. It has four sides
and each side is like a row of little trees that have
grown very close together, only you couldn’t get
through the little trees on the cage thing, as they<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</SPAN></span>
are fastened into a floor place and into a strong
top that is called a roof. I heard him explain it
all to the Indians.”</p>
<p>“What is it for?” asked Wongo.</p>
<p>“Well, the squaw-man told the Indian men that
something, or somebody called a ‘show’ wants him
to catch a bear, and not kill it, but put it inside
of the cage thing. Then the Indian men laughed
and some looked afraid. When the squaw-man
gets a bear into the cage I suppose the horses will
walk with it and roll it off to the place where
‘show’ is. Now the reason I tell you all this,
when I ought to be at home and asleep, is because
I have a plan that you and I must carry out to-night.”</p>
<p>“I guess it’s so late I’ll not visit the man-house,”
said Wongo, as he slowly turned around
on the trail and headed toward home.</p>
<p>“Tut-tut!” said the crow. “You will have to
be much braver than that if you expect ever to
punish old Grouch.”</p>
<p>“Who said anything about being afraid?”
asked Wongo, pulling himself up short and trying
to look very brave.</p>
<p>“I beg your pardon,” said Kaw, gravely. “I
was foolish enough to think, for the moment, that
you might possibly be going home because you<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</SPAN></span>
feared the squaw-man, but now that I see by your
look that you could never be a coward I know
that you will be glad to accompany me down to
the man-house.”</p>
<p>“Do you mean to say that you are going back
to the Indian den to-night?” asked Wongo, trying
to conceal his fear.</p>
<p>“That is a <i>part</i> of my plan, and we will go together.
Listen. Since seeing the squaw-man with
his cage thing, I have thought of a scheme, and
if we carry it out successfully we will be doing
ourselves and everybody in Timbertangle a great
service. If you will follow my instructions no
harm can come to you.”</p>
<p>“Let me hear the plan,” said Wongo, sitting
down again somewhat nervously.</p>
<p>“On the west side of the man-house is a corral,”
began Kaw. “There are sheep and goats in the
corral to-night. The door of the man-house is
toward the east. All Navaho Indians make their
hogans with the door toward the rising sun. The
horses are hobbled in a bunch on the south side of
the hogan. The wind is from the south. We
will go up to the man-house from the north, so
that the dogs and horses will not smell you coming.
There would certainly be trouble if they did,”
he added.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</SPAN></span>“The moon will not be up to take its night
walk for some time yet, but let us be on our
way, as we can talk as we go. You are to go
to the top of the little hill that you will find close
to the man-house, and when you are there wait until
you hear me call. Be careful to travel as noiselessly
as ever you did in your life. Three of my
crow friends will be with me in the sagebrush on
the opposite side of the man-house. When I see
you come to the top of the little hill my friends
and I will make a loud and strange noise that will
set all the dogs in our direction, and will, if all
goes well, stampede the horses.”</p>
<p>“Why do you scare the horses?” asked Wongo.</p>
<p>“Well,” replied Kaw, “four of the horses belong
to the squaw-man, and I just want to make
him pay up a bit for the loss of my tail feather.”</p>
<p>“Ho, ho!” growled Wongo, “I understand <i>that</i>
part of your strange plan at least. Go on.”</p>
<p>“As soon as you hear us,” continued Kaw, “and
know that the dogs have run in our direction, you
make a jump for the corral and grab a sheep.
Don’t make a mistake and get a goat, for there are
big ones in that flock that the Indians keep to protect
the sheep from the coyotes, and if you should
get one of them you might come to grief. Don’t
kill the sheep, but make off with it as fast as you<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</SPAN></span>
can travel, taking the shortest cut to the canyon.
Hold the sheep around the neck so that it can’t
make any noise.</p>
<p>“Make as plain a trail with your feet as you
can, by running on soft ground whenever you find
any. Go straight up the canyon toward old Grouch’s
den. You’ll be safe enough even though he hears
you and comes out to fight, as all you will have
to do is to kill the sheep, drop it and run. He
will stop quickly enough when he finds the meat,
but I hope he will not hear you, and the chances
are that he won’t, as he has had a big feed to-day
and will sleep. However, he is an old glutton and,
thanks to your making way with the remainder of
his calf meat this morning, he will be keen enough
for another square meal before daylight comes.</p>
<p>“When you’ve carried the sheep up to the thicket
that is near his den, kill it and lay it down. Then
walk backwards, <i>backwards</i> mind you, to the big
vine-covered rock, and when you come to it jump
straight over it, and run to your home by the long
way round the mountain.”</p>
<p>“What’s all this for?” asked Wongo, who was
confused by the long and seemingly foolish instructions.
“It sounds like a lot of nonsense to me,”
he continued. “Why in the world should I risk
my neck to get a sheep for old Grouch?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</SPAN></span>“I am just coming to the explanation,” said
Kaw. “When the squaw-man and the Indians start
out early to-morrow morning to catch a live bear,
what do you suppose they will do?”</p>
<p>“They will find my trail and follow it,” said
Wongo promptly, “and it will be a sorry day for
me if they catch me.”</p>
<p>“Well,” replied Kaw, “you are right and you
are wrong. They <i>will</i> follow your trail, but it will
be old Grouch and not you that they will catch.
The old rascal will probably smell the fresh mutton
as soon as you drop it, and when he comes
down for it his tracks will meet yours, and will
be more fresh than yours when the squaw-man’s
dogs come to that part of the trail.”</p>
<p>“Ho, ho! I see your scheme now,” said Wongo,
chuckling at the thought of old Grouch being captured
by the terrible squaw-man. “But,” said
he, stopping suddenly as the fearful thought struck
him, “what if the dogs should get off onto my
trail when they reach the big rock?”</p>
<p>“I have provided for just that possibility,” said
Kaw. “I have engaged an old friend of mine to
pick up your trail as soon as you leave the rock
and,” he continued with a chuckle, “they won’t
follow <i>him</i> very far.”</p>
<p>“Who is he?” inquired Wongo.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</SPAN></span>“Well,” said Kaw, whose voice seemed just a
shade apologetic, “he is a polecat for whom I
have done a good turn, and he is both anxious to
serve me and to get even with old Grouch, who
destroyed the polecat’s nest when in one of his
mad fits.”</p>
<p>“I hope he stays some distance behind me,”
said Wongo thoughtfully.</p>
<p>“After leaving the sheep,” said Kaw, continuing
his instructions, “go on around the mountain and
I will meet you at the flat-topped rock near your
cave. We will then compare notes, and then go
out to warn every bear, and all of our animal
friends on the mountain side, to leave the country
before sun-up—all except Grouch,” he added with
a grin.</p>
<p>The two had now come to the sage-covered flat
that lay near the Indian hogan, so quickly repeating
the most important part of his instructions,
and giving Wongo a final warning to use the
utmost care, Kaw flew away to the south. Although
it was dark, Wongo could see the outline of the
man-house some little distance away. He walked
toward it very cautiously, noticing that it appeared
much larger than it had seemed to be when viewed
from the mountain side. Reaching the top of the
little hill that the crow had described, he settled<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</SPAN></span>
down in the sagebrush where he could look about
him without fear of making a noise. He was now
only a few yards from the hogan, and through a
little hole in the side came the mysterious red
light, while from the top of the house drifted a
thin little cloud that looked white and ghostly in
the darkness. Strong were the odors it brought,
odors of unfamiliar things mingled with the smell
of meat. Lost in wonder about all of these strange
things, Wongo almost jumped out of his skin when
a black object swooped down and alighted at his
side.</p>
<p>“Don’t be so nervous!” commanded Kaw.
“The dogs are all on the other side. I came
over to tell you that you will have time to go up
to that hole, through which the firelight is showing,
and have a look inside the man-house, if you
will go with care. Keep your wits about you and
your ears open. I will start the big noise in a
very short time,” he added as he flew noiselessly
away.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</SPAN></span>
<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER 3<br/> WONGO HAS A WILD NIGHT</h3>
<p class="drop-cap2">LEFT alone, with the Navaho dogs and the
Indian man-house so near at hand, Wongo
hesitated for a moment before deciding to go up
to the hole in the mysterious house, but this mighty
appeal to his curiosity overpowered his fears, and
he started toward the spot of light.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_047.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="caption"><i>Wongo put his eye to the hole</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</SPAN></span>His heart beating wildly with excitement, he
reached the little hole in the wall of the hogan
and cautiously put his eye to it. What a sight
met his startled gaze! There were several Navaho
men in the house, and two or three little men—Kaw
had called them boys. The first thing that
caught Wongo’s wondering attention was the fire.
There it was, right in the center of the man-house.
It was alive, and was eating sticks and bits of
bark that popped and cracked as they died! And
as it ate it seemed to leave a white dust that
danced up into the light, when the men prodded
the fire with a stick. Heat seemed to come from
it, like the heat from the sun. Wongo had never
seen anything like it before. On the floor around<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</SPAN></span>
the fire sat the Indians and the voice of one of
the boy-men drew Wongo’s attention away from
the fire. One old man was making something with
straight sticks and the boy-man asked, “Why
must the feathers be put on the end of the arrows,
father?”</p>
<p>“It is the tail feathers of the bird that makes
the bird fly straight, and it is the feathers of the
arrow’s tail that makes it go straight when it
leaves the bow string,” replied the old man.</p>
<p>“Why do you make long little grooves on the
sides of the arrow, father?” asked the boy-man.</p>
<p>“When the arrow goes into the deer the grooves
let the blood come out at the sides. If no grooves
are there, the arrow fills the wound, and the deer
may run far and get away before he is dead.”</p>
<p>Wongo drank in this information and put it into
the back of his thoughts for future use. Then his
eye wandered around the circle of men, some holding
long sticks in their lips, from which came little
blue clouds like the larger clouds from the fire.
This was confusing, and he could not understand
it. Then his gaze fell suddenly on a man unlike
any he had ever seen before. He sat back on the
farther side of the fire against the wall of the
man-house. His skin was white, and the lower
part of his face had long hair on it, like the hair<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</SPAN></span>
on the throat of the timber wolf in winter, only
the man-hair was black.</p>
<p>Just back of the man with the white skin was
a long, shining stick, standing against the wall.
Suddenly the thought came to Wongo that the
white-skinned man was the “squaw-man” and the
shining stick of strange shape was the gun thing
that could shoot to kill a bear. A little shiver
of fear crept over him, when the silence was broken
again by the boy-man, who asked, “Would the
arrow from a strong bow kill a bear, father?”</p>
<p>“We do not send the arrow at the bear witch,”
said the man. “It would not kill, but would anger
the witch to great madness, and trouble—<i>big</i>
trouble of much sickness—would come upon us
all.”</p>
<p>Then came the strange voice of the squaw-man,
and all of the others in the hogan listened closely
as he spoke.</p>
<p>“Do my red brothers go with me to get the
live bear when the sun is up to-morrow?” he asked.
No one spoke for some time, and then an old man
near the fire replied:</p>
<p>“We will go and make much noise with the
drum and rattle, and will beat the ground with the
sticks as you wish, but we will not help to catch
the bear witch, nor send arrows at him. We do<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</SPAN></span>
not go if you are to kill the bear witch, and we
go only near the bear cave; not close.”</p>
<p>“That is all that I ask,” said the squaw-man.</p>
<p>Suddenly there came a great noise from the
other side of the man-house, followed by the loud
barking of running dogs, and the snort of frightened
horses. Running quickly toward the sheep
corral, Wongo jumped over the low gate and
made a grab in the darkness.</p>
<p>“What luck,” he thought, as he lifted an animal
into his arms, and holding it tight around the neck
he made off with it at top speed. But he had
gone only a short distance when he discovered that
there was something wrong with the sheep. It
seemed too slick to hold easily and its legs and
neck were longer than any of the sheep he had
stolen before. Suddenly the animal began to
squirm, and to kick and twist about in so vigorous
a manner Wongo could scarcely hold it at all. It
seemed to be all legs and feet.</p>
<p>It went through such rapid contortions that the
little bear was forced to change his hold on it
so many times he became confused in the darkness,
and could not, for the life of him, tell whether he
held the sheep right side up, or upside down. But
that point was decided for him a moment later
by the animal itself, who, with a sudden twist,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</SPAN></span>
jabbed its horns so hard into his lowest ribs that
he gave a grunt of anger and disgust.</p>
<p>“You are a common, cactus-eating goat!” cried
Wongo, addressing the animal, “and it’s too
late to take you back, and I can’t kill you here,
or turn you loose,” he added desperately.</p>
<p>“Ba-ah-ah!” bleated the goat feebly, but loud
enough to frighten Wongo into making a sudden
grab for its neck, for he had been holding it tightly
about the hind quarters, thinking he gripped it
around the throat. With a great effort he swung
the animal up on his shoulder, with head well forward
where it could do no damage, and had started
on with a fresh spurt of speed, when he suddenly
tripped over a vine and down went bear and goat
in a tumbling heap.</p>
<p>Wongo had sufficient presence of mind to keep
a tight hold upon his prisoner when he fell. The
goat, having turned a complete somersault, lit
squarely on his feet facing Wongo, who, having
but three feet to use, had fallen awkwardly in a
sitting position on his haunches, one fore-leg extended
with the paw tightly holding his prisoner
back of the horns. Thus, although the goat could
not go backward, nothing prevented him from going
forward and, acting on the instant the thought
came to him, he gave a lunge, head downward.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</SPAN></span>“Woof!” ejaculated Wongo, as the animal’s
head landed against the pit of his stomach, and to
keep himself from going over backward with the
shock of the blow, he was forced to use all four
feet, thus giving the goat the chance it wanted.
Off it sped like a white streak through the sage,
and in an instant Wongo was in pursuit.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_053.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p>Confused with fear, the goat headed straight for
the mouth of the canyon up which lay the trail.
Having secured a little start of the bear, the goat
was running for his life and making good time.
Realizing that they were going in the very direction
he would have to carry his prisoner anyway,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</SPAN></span>
Wongo kept just close enough to the goat to
frighten it into greater speed, knowing that once
in the canyon the goat would stick to the path
where there was fair footing, rather than attempt
to plunge into the rocks or thick bushes on either
side. On into the canyon sped the two animals;
the goat, as Wongo had guessed, keeping to the
trail. The goat was becoming less frightened.
Had he not butted the bear over? Had he not
run for some time faster than his pursuer could
run? He was suddenly filled with confidence, and
felt that he had a chance—a good chance—to get
away from his enemy. As they sped upward,
Wongo began to realize that they were nearing old
Grouch’s patch of forbidden ground, and he had
just caught the outline of the big, vine-covered
rock, over which he was to jump after leaving his
sheep, when he heard a savage growl from just
ahead, and he suddenly realized that his old enemy
had met them on the trail.</p>
<p>Stopping instantly, Wongo began to walk backward
as fast as he could to the big rock, and as
he did so he heard a surprised “Woof!” from
out of the darkness ahead; a sound of tumbling
in the brush; then a sharp clatter of small hoofs
that seemed to retreat over the rocks far to the
left of the trail.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</SPAN></span>Jumping quickly over the big rock, Wongo ran
at top speed around the side of the mountain. He
had run but a little way when his sensitive nose
told him that Kaw’s friend, the polecat, had kept
his promise.</p>
<p>On ran Wongo, never stopping until he had
circled the mountain and reached the flat-topped
rock near his cave. He had scarcely stretched
himself out for a short rest when he heard the
flapping wings of Kaw, who flew up, singing as he
came:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“Two plotters, they plotted a plot,</div>
<div class="verse">And their plans were all laid to the dot!</div>
<div class="indent">Then they said, ‘let us meet,</div>
<div class="indent">In a chosen retreat,</div>
<div class="verse">And see if our scheme works or not.’”</div>
</div></div>
<p>“Well,” said Kaw, as he ended the last line
of his rhyme with a chuckle, “my crow friends
and I surely aroused that peaceful little Indian
camp in great shape. We flew so low and kept up
such an uproar, the dogs followed us for half a
mile, and we gave the squaw-man’s horses such a
scare it is going to take all of the men about the
place to round them up if they want to make an
early start in the morning.”</p>
<p>Wongo then told Kaw of <i>his</i> adventures since<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</SPAN></span>
the crow had left him near the hogan, not omitting
a single detail of his experience with the goat,
nor of the final meeting with old Grouch.</p>
<p>At the end of the little bear’s recital the crow
seemed so delighted he could scarcely contain himself
for mirth. Dancing around, first on one foot
then on the other and keeping a peculiar kind of
time by flapping one wing against his side, he
sang in a high key:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“‘Oh, Mister Quack, you’re out of luck,’</div>
<div class="verse">Said the cunning little froggie to the spoon-bill duck,</div>
<div class="verse">‘Excuse my haste, for I must away,</div>
<div class="verse">Or there’ll be no ceremony on my wedding day.’</div>
</div></div>
<p>“Old Grouch will surely be out of luck to-morrow
unless all signs fail,” he added, as he
settled down into a more serious attitude. “Did
you say that after you and the goat met old
Grouch you heard the clatter of the goat’s hoofs
as though he were running away?” he asked
incredulously.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Wongo. “When the goat met
old Grouch there was a dull-sounding bump, and
the old rascal gave a surprised grunt and seemed
to thrash around a moment beside the trail. Then
I heard the clatter of the goat’s hoofs on the rocks<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</SPAN></span>
at the other side, and he sounded as though he
were going like the wind.”</p>
<p>“Well, well,” said Kaw, shaking again with
mirth, “I never expected to hear anything like
that, and I thought I was used to unexpected things,
too. There is still work to be done before the
night is over. It’s time you were warning the
other bears on the mountain, and I must be off
to find that goat and tell him how to get back to
his friends in the corral below, before some night-prowling
timber-wolf runs across him. He certainly
has earned his life, and besides,” he added thoughtfully,
“I may want to use him sometime and it’s
just as well to do him a good turn as part pay for
the service he unknowingly rendered us to-night.
Have you many calls to make before your trip
of warning is over?” he asked.</p>
<p>“A good many,” said Wongo. “There is old
Mrs. Black, who has her cave about a mile above
mine, the two Brown brothers who live over on
the point, Mrs. Grizzly who lives with her two
cubs over on the other side of the hill, and perhaps
ten or twelve of our various friends who live
across the valley, and I must not forget our friend
‘Long-ears,’ the crippled jack-rabbit, who lives in
the brier thicket. The Indians might try an arrow
on him.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</SPAN></span>“Needn’t waste your sympathy on him,” said
Kaw. “He committed suicide last week.”</p>
<p>“Why!” exclaimed Wongo in surprise, “I
can’t believe it. How did it happen? He was
always such a good-humored rascal.”</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_058.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p>“Well,” said Kaw, “he found a gray timber-wolf
asleep in front of his den and, thinking it
would be a good joke, he playfully kicked him in
the ear!”</p>
<p>“Umph!” grunted Wongo sadly. “He was a
droll fellow, but too thoughtless, I suppose.”</p>
<p>“Where will you advise our friends to go to-night?” asked Kaw.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</SPAN></span>“There is only one good place where there will
be food and plenty of water for all of us, and that
is over the two ranges to the north.”</p>
<p>“Good place,” said Kaw. “Better than this,
in fact. I know every inch of the big valley, and
the stream there runs into a beautiful lake far
over to the north, beyond the black hills. Let’s
see, when the sun is straight overhead to-morrow,
you will have reached the big aspen grove on the
east side of the second mountain. I will meet you
there and tell you all about the squaw-man’s big
hunt for the live bear. I expect to watch the fun
from the top of the tall pine that stands by the
side of old Grouch’s cave, and if you were not so
touchy about roosting, I might ask you to join me
there,” he added with a grin. “But I will try
and give you a full account of all that happens.”</p>
<p>And so the two friends separated, each to continue
his night’s work.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</SPAN></span>
<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER 4<br/> THE SAD TALE OF OLD GROUCH</h3>
<p class="drop-cap">WHEN the sun looked down from over the
mountain the next morning it saw an unusual
sight. A long, though peaceful, procession
of bears, foxes, wolves, and even coyotes, went
stringing along a dim trail leading toward the
north.</p>
<p>A large herd of timid deer, sensing the fact
that there must be danger somewhere, or the other
animals would not be leaving the country at this
season of the year, trailed cautiously in the rear.</p>
<p>Over the foothills and plains and little ravines
traveled the procession, headed by Wongo.
Through groves of big clean pine trees and over
long stretches of sage-covered hills they went,
never slackening the speed of their shuffling trot.
It seemed to Wongo that it was the longest morning
he had ever spent, and he was just wondering
if the sun could be standing still, just by way of
playing a joke on him, when on rounding a sharp
point he saw the big aspen grove a little way
ahead. Then he noticed that he was stepping<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</SPAN></span>
squarely on his shadow as he ran, and he could do
that only when the sun was in the middle of the
sky.</p>
<p>As they entered the edge of the first group of
beautiful white trees, Wongo looked all around
for Kaw, but it was evident he had not arrived,
as he never waited for Wongo to look for him, as
his sharp eyes could see the bear a long way,
and he always knew where the bear was long before
Wongo knew his crow friend was in the same
neighborhood.</p>
<p>Weary with the work of the night before, and
the long journey of the morning, the little bear
stretched himself out luxuriously on the beautiful
yellow carpet of the aspen leaves. He would rest
a bit, he thought. He would not sleep—no, sleep
was not to be thought of—for Kaw might come
along at any moment now, and if he were asleep
the crow might not find him. Shielding his eyes
from the sun with his paw, he began to think of
the experiences of the night before by way of
keeping himself awake, but his thoughts wandered
into a jumble of Indians with horns, goats on fire,
and the squaw-man catching crows with arrows
that had wings—a confusion of thoughts that led
him into the land of slumber.</p>
<p>How long he slept he did not know, but he suddenly<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</SPAN></span>
became conscious that someone was speaking
to him, or laughing at him, and he sat up with a
jerk. On a stump a few feet away sat Kaw, going
over his wing feathers with his beak by way of
straightening himself up a bit after a long flight.
He was mumbling to himself and keeping up, all
the while, a low chuckle that occasionally rose to
a laugh.</p>
<p>Seeing that Wongo was awake he said, “It is
well that you take kindly to sleep, friend Wongo,
as it is about the only thing that has ever defeated
your curiosity.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I was just resting a bit while I was waiting
for you to come,” said Wongo apologetically.</p>
<p>“Just resting!” remarked Kaw dryly. “So
I have observed for the past twenty minutes.”</p>
<p>“Have you been on that stump for twenty
minutes?” asked Wongo sheepishly.</p>
<p>“Yes,” replied Kaw. “Thought I had better
let you sleep for a while. You and that goat must
have had a ripping hard run last night. I didn’t
find the poor animal until about daybreak this
morning. He was dragging himself slowly down
the mountain, many miles the other side of the
canyon, and was the most forlorn looking beast I
have ever looked upon. Although he looked quite
thin and dejected, he still had some fire in his eye.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</SPAN></span>
When the poor rascal caught sight of me he suddenly
changed his limping shuffle into an upstanding
walk, and attempted a swagger that was surely
funny. I had considerable difficulty in persuading
him that I wished to tell him how to get home,
for he was going in exactly the wrong direction.
After I told him a bit about your experience with
him, he was so surprised that I should know of
it he listened to reason quite readily. When I
finally left him he was still holding to the swagger
for my benefit, and as he disappeared in the brush
I thought to myself, if he hasn’t been the boss of
that sheep corral in the past he will be from
now on.”</p>
<p>Wongo did not wish to be impolite enough to
interrupt the crow’s recital about the goat, but
he was fairly squirming inside with desire to know
all about the squaw-man’s hunting trip. Seeing
that the crow had finished his account of the goat,
he asked:</p>
<p>“Did the squaw-man and the Indians go on their
hunt? And did they find my trail? And—”</p>
<p>“One question at a time,” interrupted Kaw.
“Now that you have told all of the other bears
about our experience of last night, they will be
as interested in the outcome as you are. Go call
them, and I will tell the story to all of you.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</SPAN></span>Wongo lost no time in rounding up the other
bears that had come with him, and all seemed
eager to hear what had happened during the
squaw-man’s hunting trip.</p>
<p>As the bears lined up in a row, Kaw took a
commanding position on a low limb of a tree that
stood just in front of them and from the half
dreamy, half droll expression in his eyes, Wongo
could see that his friend had something very interesting
and perhaps humorous to relate. Pausing
a moment for absolute quiet, Kaw began:</p>
<p>“It was just about daylight when I flew up
to the tree near the den of old Grouch. I watched
from my lookout for quite a long time and was
beginning to get restless when I saw the hunters
coming in long, single file. The squaw-man, with
his dogs, was in the lead. He was holding the
dogs back with thongs that were tied around their
necks. The Indian men had rattles and tom-toms,
though they made no noise. The boys had clubs
and sticks and some had bows and arrows with
which to shoot at small game. Far back of the
squaw-man came the Navahos. They kept to the
trail, and your tracks were very clear, Wongo, for
they followed them easily. When they came to
the place where you and the goat met old Grouch
they stopped for a look. Then they ran back and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</SPAN></span>
forth, and they whispered and talked. They
looked all around and it was plain they were not
sure about your tracks. I suspect the goat tracks
confused them, for <i>your</i> trail stopped at the rock
and bear tracks seemed ended while goat tracks
went on. It got on my nerves when they started
to gather about the high point where you jumped
over the vine-covered rock, but just about that time
the dogs got the scent of old Grouch and in no
time the squaw-man caught sight of his den. He
told the Indians to go around the den to the rear.
He said, ‘When I signal, you start the big noise.’
Then he handed the leather rope that led his dogs
to one of the boys.</p>
<p>“Well, soon all the Indians were back of the
den, all ready to start at the squaw-man’s signal.
Suddenly there broke loose a most unearthly noise.
I have never heard anything like it. Talk about
giving old Grouch a scare! Well, he was the most
frightened animal I ever saw in my life. At first
he let out a half-hearted growl, but that soon
changed to a sound that was half whine and half
yelp! In a terrible panic he started out of the
cave and down the trail, lickety-clip, and I thought,
now the hunter will use his gun, but he didn’t.
He had in his hand what he called a rope. Then
I thought, ‘Well, old Grouch, you’ve got a chance<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</SPAN></span>
to get away.’ One end of the rope was tied fast
to a tree and I soon saw what the squaw-man was
to do with the other end. He swung that rope
around his head, and just what happened next I
couldn’t see, for a cloud of dust arose just where
the rope and old Grouch met! But when the dust
settled enough to see—well!” and Kaw chuckled
as he thought of what had occurred, and lapsed into
rhyme as the only medium that would do justice to
the occasion:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“Well, there was old Grouch, like a cat in a fit;</div>
<div class="verse">He thrashed and he tumbled, he scratched and he bit!</div>
<div class="verse">But his efforts were vain, the rope held him tight;</div>
<div class="verse">Surely never was bear in more comical plight.</div>
<div class="verse">Pawing the air, on his hind legs he rose,</div>
<div class="verse">But the rope tripped his feet and he lit on his nose.</div>
<div class="verse">And then he got up with a look of surprise,</div>
<div class="verse">And the fire of his anger blazed up in his eyes.</div>
<div class="verse">He growled and he snorted, he kicked up the dirt;</div>
<div class="verse">Though he’d had many bumps, ’twas his pride that was hurt.</div>
<div class="verse">Well, when he had fought ’till he’d worn himself out,</div>
<div class="verse">They tied up his legs with a thong good and stout,</div>
<div class="verse">And rolling him onto a thing called a sled,</div>
<div class="verse">Down through the bed of the canyon they sped.”</div>
</div></div>
<p>By the time the crow had finished, the bears
were laughing until the tears ran down their
cheeks. They danced with glee, and rolled over
on the ground in fits of mirth, all of which was<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</SPAN></span>
thoroughly enjoyed by Kaw, who looked down upon
them with a comical twist of his head that showed
he felt fully satisfied with his adventure and the
outcome.</p>
<p>After the noise of laughter had died down,
Wongo, who was still curious as to the fate of
old Grouch, asked:</p>
<p>“Do you suppose they got the old rascal into
the cage thing, all right?”</p>
<p>“Well, I wanted to make sure of that myself,”
replied Kaw, “so after I had had my breakfast,
and a bath in the pool at the foot of the canyon,
I flew out over the foothills to see what was going
on. There were the squaw-man’s horses trailing
along over the plain with the wagon thing rolling
along behind them in a little cloud of dust. As
I neared the wagon thing I saw our old friend
Grouch, safely inside the cage, and pacing back
and forth like a bee-stung bobcat. I could not
resist having a bit of fun with the old beggar, so
as I came up alongside I called out to him:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“‘Come outside, my old friend! A bear of your age</div>
<div class="verse">Should enjoy a walk through the cool, green sage.’</div>
</div></div>
<p>“I had to shout it out pretty loud to be heard
above the rumble of the wagon, but he heard it,
all right, and the way he looked at me was something<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</SPAN></span>
to be remembered. He growled and butted
his old head against the sides of the cage thing in
such a temper I said, ‘Oh, well, if you must be
going, I won’t try to detain you any longer.’ Then
I called out to him as the wagon rumbled away:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“‘Good-bye, my old friend; a dozen good-byes!</div>
<div class="verse">To see you depart brings tears to my eyes!</div>
<div class="verse">As onward you go, may your speed never slack,</div>
<div class="verse">But let me suggest that you never come back!’”</div>
</div></div>
<p>When the crow had finished the account of his
farewell to Grouch, he flew slowly out over the
hills, and Wongo was to see him no more until
they would meet beyond the Black mountains to
visit the cave of Cho-gay, the Indian boy.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_068.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<hr class="chap" />
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</SPAN></span>
<h2 class="nobreak">Cho-gay of Timbertangle</h2>
<h3>CHAPTER 1<br/> AN INDIAN BOY RULER</h3>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse"><i>This story, dear reader—in you I’ll confide—</i></div>
<div class="verse"><i>Contains a most terrible plot!</i></div>
<div class="verse"><i>Of this I inform you, and you can decide</i></div>
<div class="verse"><i>Just whether to read it or not.</i></div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse"><i>It’s a tale of a wild and wondrous land;</i></div>
<div class="verse"><i>An account of a man-cub bold,</i></div>
<div class="verse"><i>Whose life is sought by a desperate band—</i></div>
<div class="verse"><i>So here is the tale as it’s told!</i></div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p class="drop-cap">THERE were several stories, each supposed
to be a true account, of how Cho-gay, the lone
Indian boy, came to live among the Black Hills of
Timbertangle, a wild, secluded country, where no
other man-animal ever had lived.</p>
<p>Probably Kaw, the crow, alone knew the truth.
That wise old bird, who seemed to know almost
everything, had told the animals how, several summers
before, he had seen a curious brown spot floating<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</SPAN></span>
down one of the flood-swollen streams, clinging
to a mass of brush. Upon investigation, the spot
had proven to be a small Indian man-child and,
when the brush had caught to a branch overhanging
the stream from the shore, the little creature
had finally crawled to land. From that day to
this, Cho-gay had lived in Timbertangle, seeming
to be as much at home among the animals as he
could have been among his own people.</p>
<p>Where he had come from no one knew, but he
was accepted on friendly terms by all—except
the gray-wolf pack. He was looked upon as having
strange power, that was, somehow, greater even
than the power of tooth and claw, for his hands
did many things that clumsy beaks and paws
could not do.</p>
<p>Before the coming of Cho-gay, Kil-fang, the
leader of the gray-wolf pack, had been the feared
and despised ruler of the Black Hills, but Cho-gay
had one day put secret fear into his heart. The
wolf saw a strange deep look in the eyes of the
Indian boy that he greatly disliked and could not
understand. Twice had Kil-fang tried to make
Cho-gay understand that he alone must rule among
all the animal people of the hills, but each time
Cho-gay had looked him in the eyes with that
strange, steady gaze, and had walked slowly toward<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</SPAN></span>
him until the wolf had lost power to do anything
but slink back, and back, and finally turn
away. Thereupon this man-child had grunted and
had made a quick snapping noise with his fingers,
which somehow seemed to mean that he, and not
Kil-fang, was the one with power to lead.</p>
<p>All this pleased the other animals greatly, for
they loved Cho-gay, because they had learned that
he was just, and they despised the great wolf, because
he thought of nothing but to kill and eat.
And now all knew that Kil-fang had found one
who did not fear him—one who had greater power—and
all knew that this meant that the wolf must
leave the Black Hills with his pack or lose all power
over it.</p>
<p>So, with jealous rage in his heart, Kil-fang had
taken his followers into the north, vowing that he
would return with a mightier pack, that would eat
up the thin-skinned Cho-gay, and all others who
might be so foolish as to dispute his power, or
stand in the way of the wolf-pack.</p>
<p>Two winters had passed and, with these years
of added strength and experience, the Indian boy
had established a kind of rule and order among
the animal people of the hills.</p>
<p>One morning, in the short sunny days of the fall,
Cho-gay squatted on a flat-topped rock near the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</SPAN></span>
entrance to his cave—a snug little hole at the
base of a mountain—and scraped the fat from a
fresh bobcat pelt with a sharp flint knife. As he
labored he mumbled under his breath as if addressing
the skin:</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t have killed you, old Short-tail, but
the cold of the white frost comes soon, and the
warm skin must be changed from your back to
mine. Now that you have gone dead, you have no
need of it, but as I am alive I can use it with
much good. You were filled with the long years
of much living, for I find very little fat on your
skin, and you could have hunted not much longer—one
more season, maybe. But I, I am young.
Kaw says that no more than twelve winters have
gone since I came to life, and I am filled with
strength to hunt, and it may be I will have to
fight, if the evil Kil-fang and his miserable pack
come from the north to keep the vow Kil-fang has
made. But Kil-fang is all growl, and is filled with
much bragging talk; in his heart is fear, and it is
fear of Cho-gay.”</p>
<p>As a small black shadow flashed across the rock
beside him, Cho-gay looked up in time to see a
large black crow alight on the limb of an old juniper
tree that stood near by. From this perch the bird
looked down on the man-child, nodding gravely.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_073.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="caption"><i>Cho-gay scraped the pelt of a bobcat with a knife</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</SPAN></span>“Welcome, Brother Kaw,” said the boy. “Many
days have passed since you and I have met.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</SPAN></span>Kaw made no immediate reply, but looked
steadily at the bobcat skin. Then, in a deep, serious
voice, he said:</p>
<p>“So <i>this</i> is the end of old Short-tail—the most
noble bobcat that ever robbed a grouse’s nest or
gobbled up young crows. And Cho-gay, the friend
of all animals, the leader of Timbertangle, has
slain him.”</p>
<p>Although the Indian boy detected a teasing note
in Kaw’s voice, the reference to his friendship for
all animals produced an unhappy feeling within
him, and rising to his full height on the rock he
replied:</p>
<p>“The cold of winter comes; Cho-gay must have
covering for warmth. There was no anger in my
heart for old Short-tail. He was both old and lame,
and is it not wiser that <i>I</i> have his skin for good
use than that it should be in the greedy stomach
of Yap-kii the coyote? Soon he, or one of his
family, would have hunted him down and eaten
him.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Kaw, solemnly, “what you say
may be true, but he was <i>such</i> a good friend of all
birds. He would do most <i>anything</i> for them. How
he <i>loved</i> them!” Then in a sad voice he sang:</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“Oh, here lies the skin of old Bobtail, the cat;</div>
<div class="indent">Our loving old friend is no more.</div>
<div class="verse">When I think of his life, it surprises me that</div>
<div class="indent">Someone didn’t kill him before!”</div>
</div></div>
<p>At this Cho-gay grinned, for he had half-feared
that beneath the mock sadness of his friend was a
rebuke for what he had done.</p>
<p>“To kill only where there is great need is an
old law of the hills. This you taught me yourself
when I was yet very little, and I do not break
the law,” said Cho-gay.</p>
<p>As he squatted down again to resume his work,
a soft pad, pad of broad feet was heard coming
down the trail that led along the mountain side,
and Kaw remarked, “Here comes our friend
Wongo, the bear. I’ll wager that curiosity or
hunger brings him here, for he always is filled with
curiosity, even when empty of food.”</p>
<p>Cho-gay looked over his shoulder as the little
bear came up, and called out, “Welcome, brother
Wongo! Had you come sooner you would have
heard a good rhyming talk from the mouth of
our friend Kaw. It may be that he will again
say it.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_077.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="caption"><i>“Welcome, Brother Kaw,” said Cho-gay</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</SPAN></span>“If the rhyming talk was the kind he makes
about <i>me</i>, I don’t think I missed much,” said
the little bear crossly. Then, as he seated himself
on the rock, he caught sight of the bobcat skin,
and with eyes wide with wonder he exclaimed:</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</SPAN></span>“Who is it that leaves his hide for another to
use? Did you kill him in a fair fight, or in a
trap? Was he—”</p>
<p>But the voice of Kaw broke in before the last
question was finished:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“Did you? Was he? Oh what and who?</div>
<div class="indent">How very inquisitive are we.</div>
<div class="verse">Oh, we must know all about all that you do,</div>
<div class="indent">For we’re curious as curious can be.”</div>
</div></div>
<p>“Well, if <i>that’s</i> the kind of silly talk you were
making before I came, I’m glad I did not hear it,”
said Wongo.</p>
<p>“It’s too bad you can’t appreciate the work of
a real poet,” said Kaw sadly, “but I suppose
when one is hungry his judgment is affected.”</p>
<p>At a sudden noise, half bark and half whine,
that came from a point a little above the cave’s
entrance, Cho-gay rose, picked up a handful of
the fat that had been scraped from the skin, and
went up to a flat rock on the hillside. Moving the
stone ever so little, he called out:</p>
<p>“Stop the noise, you little sharp-nosed thief!
Your whining will bring all the fox family here
to ask questions why I have shut you up. Here is<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</SPAN></span>
all you get this day,” he added as he tossed the
fat through the crack. “Many days will go before
<i>you</i> are out. Twice you have been a thief,
and this time you will be a long time behind the
rock so that you will learn that it is not good to
steal the dried meat from Cho-gay.”</p>
<p>Kaw and Wongo watched this performance with
great interest, and the little bear wanted to ask
many questions, but he feared the teasing remarks
that would surely follow. As it turned out, he
heard all that he wanted to know without asking.</p>
<p>After the fox had been silenced with the scraps
of fat, two other prisoners were visited and fed;
one an old mountain sheep, and the other a young
bobcat. At the hole, or small cave, where the
sheep was confined, the Indian boy spoke to his
prisoner:</p>
<p>“Old Twisted-horns, three more days and you
will again run over the hills as honest people run,
but if you again steal corn from me your skin will
become a covering for the floor in the cave of
Cho-gay.” The old sheep made no reply, but ate
what was given him in sullen silence.</p>
<p>At the prison of the bobcat the Indian boy
peered in through the crack beside the slab of rock
that served as a door, and then picked up a rope
of stout buckskin that ran into the prison from the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</SPAN></span>
outside. As he pulled it there came an angry snarl
from within.</p>
<p>“So!” exclaimed Cho-gay. “You are still
filled with anger. I will not take the rope from
your neck until you speak more softly. I know
the hole is too small for you, but here you shall
remain until old Twisted-horns is free. Then you
will go into <i>his</i> house, but you shall not be free
until Cho-gay has taught you to keep the laws of
Timbertangle.”</p>
<p>As he returned to his work in front of his cave,
the Indian boy remarked to his callers, “While
Cho-gay lives in the Black Hills all thieves that
are caught will be made to obey the law of the
hills. There was great anger in Big-paw, the cat,
when he caught himself in the rope trap, yet he
was stealing meat from my cave when the rope
went round his head. When I came he wanted to
fight, but a twist and a quick pull, and Cho-gay
had him without breath to snarl. Now he shall not
go free until the hunger in his stomach has eaten
up his anger. They that steal shall be punished.
Is it not a just law, my brothers?”</p>
<p>“It is just,” said Kaw.</p>
<p>“Yes, it has the <i>sound</i> of being just,” said
Wongo, “but when there is hunger and poor hunting,
the hunter must have food.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</SPAN></span>At this remark, Kaw cocked his head on one side
and looked keenly at the little bear. Then he
said, “About an hour ago, while I was flying over
the twin hills, I saw an aged mountain sheep who
had been driven from the flock by the young rams.”</p>
<p>“Where was that?” asked Wongo eagerly, as
he got to his feet.</p>
<p>“On the cliffs above the aspen trees, on the south
side of the first hill,” said Kaw.</p>
<p>Scarcely were the last words of the crow spoken
before the little bear was speeding away toward
the place where Kaw had seen the sheep.</p>
<p>“I have sharp eyes,” said Cho-gay, addressing
the crow, “but how is it that you have eyes that
can see hunger in the stomach of a bear?”</p>
<p>“Have you not learned that hunger makes all
of us cross? It is only when our friend Wongo
is very hungry that he is cross, and we do not have
to <i>see</i> crossness. We sometimes hear it. Hunger
will not take the anger away from Big-paw, the
cat. If you feed him and give him more room he
will soon lose his anger,” continued Kaw, “and
it is because he is a captive, and not because of
hunger, that he will learn to be honest.”</p>
<p>“Your words have the sound of wisdom,” said
the Indian boy, rising, “and I shall see if they are
not true.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_083.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p>Going up to the flat rock that covered the entrance
to the prison of the old mountain sheep, he
rolled it to one side. A moment later the astonished
sheep leaped out and dashed away up the side of
the mountain. Kaw watched this performance with<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</SPAN></span>
keenest interest. Passing on to the prison of the
bobcat, Cho-gay picked up the buckskin rope with
one hand and drew his knife from his belt with
the other. Then pulling the flat stone from the
mouth of the hole he gave the rope a sudden pull.
The bobcat came tumbling out, and before it could
regain its feet it was dragged to the former prison
of the mountain sheep, too dazed to realize what
had happened before it was in new quarters and
the stone door lifted into place.</p>
<p>“Very quickly and neatly done,” said Kaw, in
admiration. Then he added in a low tone to himself,
“Our friend Wongo should have good hunting
to-day, for if he should miss the old sheep on
the cliff, he will surely get old Twisted-horns, who
is making for the same place.”</p>
<p>As the Indian boy returned to his cave to get
food for the young bobcat, there arose the sound
of many yapping voices from the sagebrush below.</p>
<p>“News! News for Brother Cho-gay!” came the
voices. A thin, sharp-nosed coyote emerged from
the edge of the sage and stood a little in the open,
as though he feared to come nearer. Then the
heads of three or four of his followers were poked
from the brush, as though to lend support to their
timid leader, and to see the great man-child to
whom their remarks had been addressed.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</SPAN></span>“News is of no use until it is told,” said Cho-gay.
“Speak up, Brother Fearful. What is there
to tell?”</p>
<p>“Is it not a law among us that if one makes a
lie, and tells it against a brother, he shall be
punished?” asked Fearful.</p>
<p>“It is a law,” replied Cho-gay. “Who is it
that breaks the law?”</p>
<p>“It is Sandy, the red fox, who has made a great
lie, saying that he has flown like an eagle from
the valley to the top of Skull-top mountain, and
that as he left the top to come down, a rock fell
and rolled down to the valley. And that our old
cousin, Rip, the outcast wolf, who is very brave,
ran in great fear, believing that the mountain was
tumbling down. So our cousin Rip is made a
coward in the eyes of all, because of the lie.”</p>
<p>“Where is your cousin Rip that he does not
come to accuse the fox?” asked Cho-gay.</p>
<p>“He and Sandy hunt together, and he is afraid
to make Sandy angry. Why, we know not,” answered
Fearful.</p>
<p>At the sound of a chuckle from the juniper tree,
Cho-gay looked up to see Kaw shaking with
laughter. Paying no heed to this, he again spoke
to the coyote:</p>
<p>“All know that a fox cannot fly through the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</SPAN></span>
air to a mountain top. Go, bring this maker of
lies to me and we shall hear his story from his
own mouth.”</p>
<p>This order was evidently what the coyotes
wanted, for they quickly vanished into the brush.</p>
<p>When they had gone, Kaw could scarce contain
himself for mirth. Anticipating the scene that
would follow when Sandy, the fox, faced Cho-gay,
he hopped up and down as he sang:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“’Tis a funny old world, for often I see</div>
<div class="indent">The right of a thing turned about,</div>
<div class="verse">And when it occurs, then we say ‘it can’t be,’</div>
<div class="indent">Till proof makes it true without doubt.”</div>
</div></div>
<p>As the old crow spread his wings to depart,
Cho-gay asked, “Does that rhyming talk mean
that a fox might fly?”</p>
<p>“It might!” said Kaw from over his wing as he
flew away.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</SPAN></span>
<h3 class="nobreak"> CHAPTER 2<br/> THE FOX AND THE WOLF</h3>
<p class="drop-cap">IN THE afternoon of the day following the visit
of the coyotes to the cave of Cho-gay, a dapper
little red fox and a gaunt, one-eyed, old timber-wolf
trotted over a narrow trail that led along the rim
of a canyon.</p>
<p>They were Sandy, or Red-eagle Fox, as he loved
to call himself, and Rip, the veteran outcast of a
once great pack. Why this strange pair hunted
together was a mystery to all but Kaw, the crow.
He knew that it was because the conceited little
fox, who never tired of boasting of his supposed
skill as a hunter, felt it a great compliment to be
permitted to hunt with a real wolf, and that old
Rip endured the companionship of the boastful little
fox for the simple reason that when game is to be
found, two sharp, young eyes are better than one
old one. In truth, the old wolf knew that his days
of hunting alone were gone.</p>
<p>The alert little fox, filled with false pride and
great vanity, formed a strange contrast to Rip, for<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</SPAN></span>
even a casual observer would have noticed that
the old wolf had passed a long way beyond the
prime of life. Old Rip’s left eye had been lost in
one of the numerous battles he had been called
upon to fight, but the right eye still retained some
of its former fire; a part of one ear was missing,
but he could hear with it very well. As he ran, it
could be seen that his joints were not just as limber
as they once had been. His greatest characteristic
was an insatiable appetite; he was always hungry.
But, in spite of all this, he was a wolf, and that
fact made him great in the eyes of Sandy, the fox.</p>
<p>While on hunting trips, the luck of this strange
pair was a very uncertain thing, but usually the
little fox managed to catch a rabbit or some birds,
and old Rip was always careful to pay his partner
some gruff compliment before devouring the larger
portion of the game.</p>
<p>Secretly Kaw enjoyed the fox and wolf, as they
afforded him many a quiet chuckle, of which they
were ignorant. Because of his interest, Kaw frequently
helped them to find game when hunting
was poor, and the two learned to look upon him
as a valued friend.</p>
<p>On this particular afternoon, the hunters were in
no pleasant mood, for it was growing late and
they had killed nothing since early morning but a
small grouse, which did not satisfy their appetite
for long.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_089.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="caption"><i>Sandy, the fox, and Old Rip, the timber-wolf</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</SPAN></span>As they stuck close to the trail, it was evident
that, though hungry, they were on some business
other than hunting.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</SPAN></span>“How much farther is it to this bear’s den?”
growled Rip, who was beginning to weary of the
journey.</p>
<p>“Only a little way now,” replied the fox. “Soon
we will go up the mountain side a short distance,
and then we are there.”</p>
<p>The old wolf made no reply to this, but trotted
doggedly along after his companion. Wishing to
turn Rip’s thoughts to less tiresome things than
trails and distances, the little fox asked, “How
did you learn that Kil-fang and his pack are returning
to the Black Hills?”</p>
<p>“I have ears, haven’t I?” growled Rip. “When
there is news of a kill abroad, I hear of it, and there
will be good hunting for many of us when the pack
comes down the north canyon. All animals will
run over the hills to the broad valley to get out of
the way of Kil-fang, and it is there <i>I</i> shall be
before them.”</p>
<p>“I also will be there,” remarked the fox, and
each of these brave hunters had visions of the
great number of rabbits, squirrels, and small<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</SPAN></span>
animals that would swarm over the hills and into
the valley to the east, as the wolf pack came through
the canyon that opened into the Black Hill region
on the north.</p>
<p>“When does the pack come?” asked the fox.</p>
<p>“Yap-kii, the coyote, gave me the news,” replied
Rip, “and he says the pack now numbers
more than fifty, and that they will come into the
Black Hills when the moon is again at the full.
I have no liking for this Cho-gay, but I have less
for the strutting Kil-fang, and I shall howl the
death howl with great happiness if the Indian
man-child kills him and drives his boastful pack
again into the north.”</p>
<p>“It is not many days from now that the moon is
at the full,” said the fox, “no more than a dozen,
at most. Does anyone but Yap-kii and you know
about the coming of the pack?”</p>
<p>“No one,” replied Rip, “for he does not dare
to tell Fearful and his brothers, as they talk too
much, and the rabbits and squirrels have sharp
ears.”</p>
<p>Suddenly a voice that came from the limb of a
cottonwood tree above their heads called out:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“Two bold, brave hunters are we,</div>
<div class="verse">As all who will look can see.</div>
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</SPAN></span>
<div class="indent">To fight the fierce rabbit,</div>
<div class="indent">With us is a habit;</div>
<div class="verse">We fear nothing that’s smaller than we—</div>
<div class="verse">Let’s see—</div>
<div class="verse">We mean smaller and <i>weaker</i> than we!”</div>
</div></div>
<p>At the sound of Kaw’s voice, for it was he, the
spirits of the two hungry hunters began to rise,
for <i>now</i> there was hope of finding something to
eat.</p>
<p>“Where are we going, so far from home, on
so fine an afternoon?” inquired the crow. Then
without waiting for a reply, he continued, “I’ll
guess you are just out for a quiet stroll after
eating a nice meal of fat mountain sheep and
jack-rabbit.”</p>
<p>At the mention of such delicious food old Rip
licked his chops, and the little fox squirmed uneasily.
As usual he spoke for the two:</p>
<p>“We certainly <i>would</i> have had a fine meal if
we had been on one of our regular hunting trips,
for as you know I always bag my game, and there
is no greater hunter than—”</p>
<p>“Then you have had poor hunting to-day?”
broke in Kaw, who did not care to hear the boastful
remarks that he knew the little fox was getting
ready to make.</p>
<p>“Yes, that’s just it,” replied the little fox. “As<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</SPAN></span>
I was saying, we are on our way to make an important
call, and though we have come a great
distance, there has been nothing good to eat within
sight or sound of us since dawn.”</p>
<p>At that moment the keen eyes of the old crow
caught sight of a short line of moving animals far
back along the canyon rim, but though his eyes
twinkled as he realized that Fearful and his brothers
were trailing the little fox, to tell him of
Cho-gay’s order, he said nothing to the two hunters,
who were ignorant of the fact that they were being
followed.</p>
<p>“Well,” said Kaw, “as I flew over the sage
that is just around the point ahead of you, I saw
a number of jack-rabbits that were headed up the
mountain. If you cut in above the trail you will
head them off!”</p>
<p>Instantly the two hunters sprang forward toward
the place indicated, each trying to be first, and
neither remembering to thank the old crow for the
information he had given them.</p>
<p>“So they are making an important call,” said
Kaw to himself, as he watched the odd pair loping
away up the mountain side. “It’s quite plain
who they are calling upon. I wonder what kind of
a plot is in the wind now.” Then he looked back
far down the canyon trail, where the small line of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</SPAN></span>
coyotes were slowly approaching, and chuckled to
himself as he flew off over the mountain.</p>
<p>Less than half an hour later, Rip and Sandy had
managed to kill two jack-rabbits, and were trotting
along the well-worn little trail that led to the cave
of Wongo, the bear. Suddenly the fox, who was in
the lead, stopped beside some jack-oak bushes and
spoke to his companion:</p>
<p>“You can wait here, friend Rip, while I talk to
Wongo, for you see he must not know that you
are in this plan of ours. If he learns that you
are interested in the escape of the mountain sheep,
or I should say in eating the sheep after it has
escaped, he would tell Cho-gay. If this Indian
man-child hears of it, you would never get the
sheep, and my brother might not be set free in
time to escape Kil-fang and his pack.”</p>
<p>“I keep my word,” replied Rip, who was in a
better humor after the meal of the jack-rabbit.
“But remember,” he added warningly, “I am
to have the mountain sheep in return for telling
you the news of Kil-fang and the pack. Go on;
I’ll wait for you here.”</p>
<p>Sandy trotted up the trail, leaving his companion,
who was glad enough to rest his weary
bones after so long a journey.</p>
<p>A few minutes later the fox, after announcing<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</SPAN></span>
his presence with a short bark, poked his head
into the bear’s cave and called out, “A good
evening to you, Brother Wongo. I hope I am
not interrupting a nap.”</p>
<p>“No,” replied the little bear, who was suddenly
curious to know why Sandy was so far from his
own hunting grounds, “but I am just getting ready
to take a walk into the canyon. What brings you
to the cave of Wongo?”</p>
<p>“I have just been on one of my famous hunting
trips,” replied Sandy. “I often make long journeys
when in search of big game, for, as you may
know, I am one of the greatest—”</p>
<p>“All right,” cut in Wongo, who had learned
from Kaw about Sandy’s habit of boasting, “but
what brings you here?”</p>
<p>“As I was just saying,” replied the fox, “I
was passing this way, and thought I’d just drop
in to see you, and perhaps ask a question or two
that you might be able to answer.” Sandy looked
anxiously at the little bear.</p>
<p>“Go on,” said Wongo, whose curiosity was
growing.</p>
<p>“I have just heard that you visited the cave of
Cho-gay, the man-child, yesterday, and it may be
that you can tell me something about him. They
say that he has many animals that he keeps as<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</SPAN></span>
prisoners in little holes in the rocks near his cave,
and that he does not let them out. Is it so?”</p>
<p>“He has only three animals,” replied Wongo,
“and he keeps them shut up because they steal,
and so have not kept the law. One is a mountain
sheep, who stole his corn, another is a young bobcat,
who stole or tried to steal dried meat from
his cave, and the third is a fox who has twice
stolen from him, but will not steal again very
soon.”</p>
<p>The little fox remained silent for a few moments,
not knowing just how to gain the real information
he had come for, but just as the impatient Wongo
was about to ask him to go on, he remarked, “All
say that this Cho-gay knows all animal talk, that
he can do strange things, and that he carries a
long, sharp claw with which he can kill very quickly
when he wishes to. Is it so?”</p>
<p>“That he can do strange things is true, and the
thing you call a claw is a knife,” said Wongo,
and he took on a superior air as he gave this information,
for he was quite proud of his knowledge
of Cho-gay.</p>
<p>“Could he kill the gray-wolf pack if it should
come?” asked Sandy.</p>
<p>“That is a silly question,” replied Wongo.
“No one could kill the pack single handed, unless<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</SPAN></span>
he had as many heads and as many teeth as the
pack, and of course we know that no such animal
lives in Timbertangle.”</p>
<p>“Would Cho-gay shut <i>me</i> up if I went to tell him
something he would like to hear?” inquired Sandy.</p>
<p>“No, if what you tell is true. But why not tell
me, who knows him, and I can tell him for you,”
suggested the little bear, whose curiosity was now
thoroughly aroused.</p>
<p>“No,” replied Sandy, “I have reasons why I
must tell him myself; I have valuable information
to give him and—well, it <i>may</i> be that I will ask
him for something in return.”</p>
<p>“Oh, very well,” said Wongo with pretended
indifference. “I can’t see that the matter concerns
me, so I will bid you good——”</p>
<p>“Yes, yes!” broke in the fox quickly, “It <i>does</i>
concern you, as I want you to take me to this Cho-gay,
for I have never seen him except from a great
distance and—well, you could tell him who I am,
you know, and that we are close friends, and about
my reputation as a great——”</p>
<p>“Ho, ho!” grunted Wongo. “You mean that
we are <i>acquainted</i> because we both happen to be
friends of Kaw, the crow.”</p>
<p>“Just that,” said the fox, who wished to be very
agreeable to the little bear. “By the way, did you<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</SPAN></span>
happen to hear Cho-gay say just when he expected
to free the mountain sheep and the fox?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” replied Wongo, who was anxious to show
his caller that he knew a great deal about the doings
of the ruler of the Black Hills, “I heard him say
that the mountain sheep is to go free in three days,
that’s the day after to-morrow, but the fox is to be
kept for a long time, as he is a great thief and has
twice broken the law.”</p>
<p>The little fox squirmed uneasily when the last
statement was made, but his uneasiness escaped
the notice of the bear.</p>
<p>“But what has all that to do with the great
secret that you have to tell Cho-gay?” asked
Wongo.</p>
<p>“You will learn all that if you will just agree to
accompany me to his cave, and if you would—well,
just tell him that I am Red-eagle Fox, the
hunter.”</p>
<p>Wongo made no reply for some time, merely for
the impressive effect his silence would have on his
caller.</p>
<p>“Yes,” he said at length, “although it is a long,
hard trip from here to Cho-gay’s cave, and I have
no love for long trips, I can see no great reason
why I should not do you the favor to accompany
you. Then, too, Cho-gay may want my advice.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</SPAN></span>Before Sandy could make any reply to this, five
silent gray figures suddenly appeared in a semi-circle
behind him and Fearful, the coyote, spoke.</p>
<p>“Brother Sandy is wanted by our leader, the
Indian man-child. There is a tale that our brother,
the fox, has been telling and Cho-gay would hear
it from his own mouth.”</p>
<p>At this announcement the little fox began to swell
with pride, and all interest in Wongo vanished.</p>
<p>“Ah, it is well that you bring me word from our
great leader, Brother Fearful.” Then turning to
Wongo, “I will not need your company after all,
Wongo, so I will bid you good-day.”</p>
<p>“Well, I will be glad to accompany you anyway,”
said Wongo hastily, as he followed his caller
out of the cave entrance, for he had no intention of
missing the chance to learn what mysterious news
Sandy had for Cho-gay.</p>
<p>“It will not be necessary now that he has sent
for me,” replied Sandy.</p>
<p>“I fully intended to visit Cho-gay again very
soon, anyway, Brother Sandy, and it suits me just
as well to go along with you now. Of course,”
added the little bear, “he will see no one until the
sun is up, and we could not get to his cave much
before dawn.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_101.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="caption"><i>“Brother Sandy is wanted,” said Fearful</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</SPAN></span>“Don’t trouble yourself about it,” said the fox
coolly, “for I am sure he will not want any but
very important members of Timbertangle to hear
the news I have for him.” With this he started
down the trail followed by the five coyotes.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</SPAN></span>The little bear watched them depart and decided
that <i>he</i> would be at the cave of Cho-gay before
them. After he had given them time to get a good
start down the trail, he ambled down the path thinking
of all that had taken place and wondering what
could be the great news that Sandy had to tell. So
occupied was he with his thoughts, he did not notice
a black object perched on the low limb of a tree
near the trail, but he looked up as a voice sang out:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">“Oh, here comes a bear; a pigeon-toed bear,</div>
<div class="verse">And <i>that</i> is as plain as can be.</div>
<div class="verse">He lives in a den, it’s really a pen,</div>
<div class="verse">And <i>I’d</i> much rather live in a tree;</div>
<div class="verse">That’s me!</div>
<div class="verse">It’s much nicer to live in a tree.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">“Wherever he goes, he turns in his toes,</div>
<div class="verse">Except when he scratches and bites,</div>
<div class="verse">And it’s sad to relate, he’s often out late!</div>
<div class="verse">Oh, what does he do with his nights?</div>
<div class="verse">Just fights!</div>
<div class="verse">Yes, <i>that’s</i> what he does with his nights!”</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>“I don’t either,” growled Wongo, pretending to
be angry at his old friend, “and my cave isn’t a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</SPAN></span>
pen either. But what could a squawking old crow
know about caves?”</p>
<p>“I believe I smell a wolf,” said Kaw, changing
the subject, and he stuck his beak in the air in imitation
of animals who sniff for a scent.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Wongo, as he too sniffed the air,
“I hadn’t noticed it before, but I too smell a wolf.
Sandy the fox just stopped at my cave a few minutes
ago to ask me to take him to the cave of Cho-gay,
but that old one-eyed partner of his was not
with him.”</p>
<p>“No?” queried Kaw, with a chuckle. Then he
cocked his head on one side and continued:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“Well, it’s just as I thought,</div>
<div class="verse">There’s a gay little plot;</div>
<div class="verse">It’ll be about something to eat,</div>
<div class="verse">And there’s some axe to grind,</div>
<div class="verse">As we’re sure to find;</div>
<div class="verse">No doubt in exchange for fresh meat.”</div>
</div></div>
<p>“What do you mean by all that string of
words?” asked Wongo.</p>
<p>“Nothing, nothing very important,” replied
Kaw. “We’ll soon see for ourselves. Did Fearful,
the coyote, come to your cave while Sandy was
there?”</p>
<p>“Yes, he did,” said Wongo. “There were four<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</SPAN></span>
other coyotes with him, and they told Sandy that
Cho-gay wanted to see him about some important
matter. What’s it all about? Do you know?”</p>
<p>“I suspect I know something about it,” said
Kaw, “but not enough to tell. When do Sandy
and the coyotes and Rip, the wolf, go to see Cho-gay?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know about old Rip,” said Wongo,
“but Sandy and the coyotes have started to-night
and I am going too, but I expect to be there when
they arrive.”</p>
<p>“Well, you can bet that the old wolf is trailing
along after them. The old rascal was with Sandy
to-day, and there is some good reason why they
did not want you to know that he was around. Did
the fox say anything about things they are planning
to kill or eat?”</p>
<p>“No,” replied Wongo, “he only asked if I knew
when Cho-gay intended to free old Twisted-horns,
the mountain sheep, and the fox that are shut up
in the rocks near Cho-gay’s cave.”</p>
<p>“What did you tell him?” asked Kaw.</p>
<p>“I told him that the sheep was to be free in
three days, and the fox was to be kept prisoner for
a long time, as he had twice broken the law.”</p>
<p>“By the way,” said Kaw, “I see from your
good humor that you must have had good hunting<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</SPAN></span>
yesterday. Did you find the old mountain sheep on
the cliffs?”</p>
<p>“No, I didn’t find him on the cliffs, or near the
aspen trees. But I got him. I must have passed
him on the way up, for when I had given up hope
of finding him, I turned back down the trail and
near the bottom of the hills I ran right into him.
He was coming up so fast he didn’t see me. Those
young rams in his flock must be good at fighting to
turn him out of the flock, for he didn’t look like any
outcast.” And then the little bear couldn’t understand
why Kaw should laugh so long and hard over
such simple news.</p>
<p>“I am glad you found a sheep even if it wasn’t
the one I sent you to get,” said the crow, at length,
“and it was lucky for you that I induced Cho-gay
to free Twisted-horns when he did.”</p>
<p>“Do you mean that I got the old sheep that Cho-gay
had shut up in the rocks?” asked Wongo in
great excitement.</p>
<p>“Well, it looks that way to <i>me</i>,” said Kaw.
Then changing the subject abruptly, he said, “If
you are to be at Cho-gay’s cave by sunrise you will
want to amble along. I think I’ll be there, too, but
I can sleep half the night first and then be there
before the rest of you.”</p>
<p>As the little bear started down the trail Kaw flew<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</SPAN></span>
along beside him for a little way and as he flew
he sang:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">“Mr. Wolf and a bobcat had a fight,</div>
<div class="indent">Down in the hollow where the timber grows thick;</div>
<div class="verse">In just one minute Mr. Wolf took flight—</div>
<div class="indent">He was in a hurry, and lookin’ quite sick!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">“Yes, old Mr. Wolf he ran away,</div>
<div class="indent">With a scratched-up nose and a bunged-up eye.</div>
<div class="verse">And he’s scared of bobcats to this day,</div>
<div class="indent">And he shakes with fear when he hears one cry!”</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</SPAN></span>
<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER 3<br/> SANDY TELLS A TALE</h3>
<p class="drop-cap2">LONG before the dawn of the following morning,
Wongo settled himself behind a thick
clump of bushes a short distance from Cho-gay’s
cave and waited.</p>
<p>About the time the first streaks of dawn lighted
the east, Sandy, followed by his escort of coyotes,
which by this time had grown to include about all
of the coyote family, trotted up through the sage
below the flat rock and seated themselves in the
clearing.</p>
<p>Wongo, who could see without being seen, had
decided not to show himself, for, in fact, he did not
care to have even a coyote know that mere curiosity
had led him on the long night journey.</p>
<p>He looked all about him in the bushes and trees
for Kaw, but if the old crow had arrived, he was
too well hidden to be seen. Then he looked among
the coyotes for old Rip, but he was not there. Had
the little bear been in a position to see behind the
rocks that stood above Cho-gay’s cave, he would
have seen the wolf crouched behind one that stood<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</SPAN></span>
above the little cave in which the old mountain
sheep had been confined. The sheep had been kept
in this hole long enough to leave a strong scent
behind him, and Rip had no difficulty in locating
the right spot.</p>
<p>“Here,” thought he, “I will remain until my
partner, Sandy, gets Cho-gay into the cave to hear
the secret news, and then a strong push will upset
the flat rock that imprisons the sheep, and the rest
will be easy and satisfying.”</p>
<p>The greedy old wolf licked his great chops, as he
thought of the juicy taste of fresh mutton, and
could hardly wait for the time when the Indian
man-child would come out and invite Sandy into
the cave. Surely this would be a great day for
Rip and the fox. As for the coyotes, they were
nothing, and they knew enough to give their great
cousin a wide berth until he permitted them to
come and gnaw on the sheep bones that he might
leave for them.</p>
<p>Just as the sun peeped over the hills, Cho-gay
came out of his cave and yawned as he stretched
his arms over his head. Sandy, who had never
taken his eyes from the cave entrance since he
arrived, mistook the upraised arms for a signal for
him to approach and he trotted boldly up to the
flat rock.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</SPAN></span>“A good-morning to you, Brother Cho-gay. I
am here to know what you would like to hear from
the mouth of Red-eagle Fox, the hunter.”</p>
<p>Cho-gay, who was never in very good humor
before breakfast, stared at his caller and then at
the row of coyotes seated in the clearing below.</p>
<p>“So you are the rascal who they say is a maker
of lies. We will have ears for your strange story
when I have had food,” said Cho-gay as he returned
to his cave.</p>
<p>This remark had the effect of a dash of cold
water on the boastful little Sandy, and the row of
grins that faced him from the escort below did not
add to his comfort. But he turned his back on
them and waited as patiently as he could for the
reappearance of Cho-gay.</p>
<p>A few minutes later the Indian boy came out and,
seating himself on the flat rock, commanded the
now timid Sandy to tell his story about flying like
an eagle to the top of Skull-top mountain.</p>
<p>Although he had rehearsed the story again and
again during his journey to the cave, the little fox
now told it in such a halting manner that Cho-gay,
Wongo and the coyotes were very certain that it
was untrue.</p>
<p>“You would have us believe,” said Cho-gay,
“that you flew through—”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</SPAN></span>“That I <i>jumped</i> into the air,” corrected Sandy,
“from the sage of the valley and did not light
until I reached the highest cliffs on Skull-top mountain.
And while I was up there, where no fox had
ever been before, a big rock rolled down and when
Rip, my hunting partner, heard it he ran in great
fear up the valley, shouting ‘The mountain is falling!
The mountain is falling!’”</p>
<p>“You have no wings and can jump but a little
way,” said Cho-gay, “so it is plain to all that your
words are not true.” Then he called out to the
coyotes below, “You have heard the words of the
fox. Are they true?”</p>
<p>“No—No—No!—They are lies!” came the replies.</p>
<p>Then to the surprise of all present, a loud, “Yes!
They are true!” came from the top of the old
juniper tree and Kaw flew down to a bush beside
the flat rock.</p>
<p>At this the eyes of Cho-gay went wide in surprise
and Wongo, the bear, forgetting that he had been
hiding, raised up with a grunt of amazement. Both
the Indian boy and the little bear had known Kaw
a long, long time and neither had ever doubted his
honesty.</p>
<p>Wongo, now that all knew he was there, came
forward a bit sheepishly, but the others were too<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</SPAN></span>
surprised at the crow’s remark to consider him.</p>
<p>“Do you make a joke, Brother Kaw?” asked
Cho-gay.</p>
<p>“No,” replied the crow, “the funniest part of
Sandy’s story is that it is all true.”</p>
<p>“I think I must go now,” said the little fox, who
seemed to have been made very nervous by the
unexpected appearance of the crow. “Brother
Kaw, could I see you privately for a minute before
I go?”</p>
<p>“No one shall leave until this matter is settled,”
said Cho-gay, as he rose to his feet. “Our Brother
Kaw says the words of the fox are true; let us hear
<i>why</i> he says so.”</p>
<p>“You do not doubt the word of Kaw,” cried
Sandy desperately. “Why should he tell—”</p>
<p>“Let Brother Kaw tell! Let him tell! Let him
tell!” came the voices of the coyotes.</p>
<p>“Let us hear the proof, Brother Kaw,” added
Wongo.</p>
<p>“Our ears are waiting for the proof,” said Cho-gay,
as he folded his arms commandingly.</p>
<p>No word or act of the situation had escaped the
old crow and he was enjoying himself more than
he had for many a day. Clearing his croaking
voice, he began:</p>
<p>“It was this way, for our Brother Sandy <i>did</i><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</SPAN></span>
pass through the air just as he has said. One evening
I saw Sandy and Rip coming down through the
sage valley on the other side of Skull-top mountain.
I could see that they were tired and hungry and I
said to myself, ‘I shall tell them where to find
good hunting.’ I flew over to a tree under which
they would pass and as they came beneath it I
called out:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">“‘To the fierce and the strong, we two belong;</div>
<div class="verse">That’s why we’re fat and merry.</div>
<div class="verse">Oh, we’re out for game that’s strong or lame,</div>
<div class="verse">And we always get our quarry!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">“‘So give us meat that’s good to eat,</div>
<div class="verse">Or we’ll fill you all with terror!</div>
<div class="verse">We’re out to kill, and that we will,</div>
<div class="verse">If it takes us two together!’</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>“Then when they had stopped I said, ‘Down the
valley a little way are some nice fat rabbits and
what is still better, there are some nice, big rabbit-hawks
circling around just above where they are
hiding in the sage.’</p>
<p>“‘Fine,’ said Sandy. ‘We can catch rabbits but
how could we catch a hawk?’</p>
<p>“‘That is easy,’ said I, for I have no use for
hawks. ‘Come along and I will show you.’ When
we got almost to the sagebrush where I had seen<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</SPAN></span>
the rabbits, I said, ‘Now, Sandy. Go and catch a
fat rabbit, but do not eat it.’ Rip growled at such
instruction, but I told him to wait and that if they
followed my instructions they would have both hawk
and rabbit. Then they both sat quiet while I told
them what to do.</p>
<p>“‘When you have killed a rabbit,’ said I, ‘drag
him to the edge of the sage and lay him down in
the open near a sagebrush. Then crouch down
beside the brush ready to spring. In no time, as
you both know, a hawk will see Mr. Rabbit and
make a dive for him. Rip can hide here in the
jack-oak bushes to wait for you and I will fly to the
top of the tall pinyon tree where I can signal to
you when to jump. When I see a hawk about to
swoop down for the dead rabbit I will give a loud
caw. Then jump for Mr. Hawk and you’ll have
both hawk and rabbit.’</p>
<p>“‘Fine! Fine!’ said both of the hunters, and
it was not long before Sandy—who is really a
wonderful hunter—had a rabbit and laid it out
beside a big sagebrush just as I had directed him
to do. Then as I watched with great joy for the
coming of a hawk, there came a sudden black
shadow from out of the blue sky above and I almost
fell off the limb as I recognized old Baldy, the
eagle, swooping down on the rabbit. I gave one<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</SPAN></span>
loud scream to warn Sandy, but he mistook my
scream for the signal to jump and a moment later
the claws of Baldy had closed on the hide of Sandy
instead of the rabbit. And away he flew to his nest
at the top of Skull-top mountain. I don’t think that
Baldy knew that he had missed the rabbit and
caught a fox until he let Sandy fall beside his nest
on the cliffs. In the meantime old Rip had eaten
the rabbit and run up to the foot of the mountain
to see if Sandy would come back.</p>
<p>“When Sandy found himself free from the claws
of the surprised Baldy, he ran behind a rock where
the eagle could not reach him and as I flew up the
mountain I could see old Baldy scolding and
screaming around the rock, and the bushy tail of
Sandy sticking out from behind it.</p>
<p>“Baldy was too angry and excited to notice
me and, as it was my advice that had gotten Sandy
into his plight, I flew along looking for help. On a
trail a short distance from Baldy’s nest I found
old Grayhead, the bear, and I asked him to go up
and keep Baldy away from the rock so that Sandy
could run for cover.</p>
<p>“Grayhead did as I told him and in the mix-up
the old bear rolled the stone down the mountain
side to scare Baldy. Well, the stone scared someone
else more than it did Baldy, for as it rattled<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</SPAN></span>
over the rocks and sand I saw Old Rip, the wolf,
with his ears laid back and his tail between his legs,
dashing madly across the valley in a cloud of dust.
I had to fly like sixty to get near him. I shouted
to him to stop and that there was no danger, but
the louder I called the faster he ran. I stopped
when I saw it was no use trying to keep up and the
last I saw of him he was running across the third
valley and still going like the wind!”</p>
<p>As Kaw ended his story, and the loud laughter of
Wongo, the coyotes and Cho-gay had died down,
the Indian boy spoke:</p>
<p>“Brothers, the words of our Brother Sandy are
then true, and though he did not tell us <i>how</i> he flew
to the mountain top, he made no lie.”</p>
<p>As the laugh seemed to have turned on old Rip
instead of himself, the little fox felt more at ease.
Then, suddenly remembering that he had important
news for Cho-gay, he hastily arose and said:</p>
<p>“Brother Cho-gay, I had almost forgotten that
I have very important news to tell you, and it may
mean life or death to many of us. And,” he added
nervously, as he glanced up toward the rocks above
the cave’s entrance, “I must tell it to you alone.
Can we go into your cave while I tell it?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_117.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="caption"><i>Rip meets Big-paw, the Bobcat</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</SPAN></span>“Yes,” spoke up Kaw, who now saw what none
of the others but Sandy could see—that Rip lay
hidden behind a certain rock on the hillside above.
“Let Brother Sandy tell his great news privately,
but let there be a witness. No doubt Wongo will
do. The rest of us will wait outside, for it may be
that strange things are about to happen.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</SPAN></span>“It is agreed,” said Cho-gay, addressing Kaw,
“but why would <i>you</i> not be the witness?”</p>
<p>“I am not used to caves,” replied the crow, “but
Wongo lives in one.”</p>
<p>Kaw’s remarks decided Cho-gay to hear the news
of the little fox and he said,</p>
<p>“Come, Brother Wongo, we will learn what
Brother Sandy has to say.”</p>
<p>Scarcely had the three reached the back of the
cave, when there came the sound of a falling rock
on the hillside above, and a moment later there
arose a fearful noise of combat, of wolf howls,
screeches, and the snarls of an angry cat.</p>
<p>Then out of a tumbling mixture of cat and wolf,
old Rip scrambled to his feet and tore away like
mad, and a moment later disappeared in a cloud of
dust on the trail below.</p>
<p>When Cho-gay, Wongo, and Sandy ran out of
the cave to learn the cause of the awful noise, the
angry but triumphant young bobcat was loping
away up the mountain.</p>
<p>Kaw, who alone knew what had happened, was<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</SPAN></span>
laughing so hard he was unable to answer at once
the many eager questions that were asked, but when
he could speak, he said:</p>
<p>“Brother Rip has just had a little surprise
party. It seems that on his way to our gathering
he must have accidentally upset the stone that stood
over the entrance to the cave that housed your
prisoner, Big-paw, the bobcat. It may be that he
mistook Big-paw for a sheep and jumped at him
before he realized his mistake. Anyway, it was a
mistake for poor old Rip, and for <i>some</i> reason he
didn’t even stop to explain. And Big-paw has gone
away mad, and I fear he will not come back.”</p>
<p>As they realized what had happened, both Wongo
and Cho-gay laughed and the coyotes, who had
gathered near, took up the laughter in a hundred
“Ki—yi—yi’s” of mirth, but the meek smile on
the face of Sandy was made with an effort, for he
feared his next meeting with his old hunting partner
would not be a pleasant one.</p>
<p>“But the news! The news!” exclaimed Kaw.
“What is the news that Brother Sandy has told?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t have time to tell it,” said Sandy, “but
now that—that is—I may as well tell it here,” he
added lamely.</p>
<p>“The news is that Kil-fang and his pack of fifty
wolves are coming from the north to kill Cho-gay!”</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</SPAN></span>
<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER 4<br/> KIL-FANG STARTLES TIMBERTANGLE</h3>
<p class="drop-cap">THE news that Kil-fang and his pack were
returning to the Black Hills was a startling
surprise for all who gathered about Sandy, but they
showed no fear, for all knew how to keep out of
the way of the pack and all had faith in the power
of Cho-gay. Now they wanted to hear what he
would say.</p>
<p>“Where do you get the news, and where is proof
that it is true?” Cho-gay asked.</p>
<p>“Yap-kii, the coyote, got the news secretly from
one of the coyotes that live in the north. He told
Rip and Rip told me. They say that the pack will
come through the north canyon when the moon is
again full.”</p>
<p>“Where is Yap-kii?” asked Cho-gay, turning to
the coyotes.</p>
<p>“Hunting,” said Fearful, who led the clan while
Yap-kii was away. “He has said nothing to us
about the coming of Kil-fang, but he has said that
before the moon was again full we would all go<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</SPAN></span>
over into the broad valley to the east, where there
would soon be fine hunting.”</p>
<p>“That is proof enough for me,” said Kaw.</p>
<p>“Why is it proof?” asked Cho-gay.</p>
<p>“Yap-kii knows that with the coming of Kil-fang
all small animals will run to get out of the way of
the pack, and they will run eastward into the broad
valley, as that is the easiest way out.”</p>
<p>“I believe the news must be true,” said Cho-gay,
who placed great faith in the wisdom of his old
friend Kaw.</p>
<p>“Is it good then that I brought the news to
you?” asked Sandy timidly.</p>
<p>“It is good, and all people of the Black Hills
will be glad that you have brought me the news,”
said Cho-gay.</p>
<p>“Not <i>all</i>,” said Sandy. “For what will become
of my brother that is kept shut up in the rocks?”</p>
<p>This surprising question puzzled Cho-gay and he
scarcely knew how to reply.</p>
<p>“What do you say, brothers?” he asked.
“Shall a thief who has twice stolen without cause
be freed before he has been punished?”</p>
<p>“Kindness is greater than the law in this case,”
said Kaw, “and Sandy has shown kindness to us
all by bringing this news. It may be that the thief
will be honest and steal no more.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</SPAN></span>“Free him,” advised Wongo.</p>
<p>“Free him! Free him!” echoed the coyotes.</p>
<p>At this Cho-gay, followed by Sandy, went up to
the little cave of the imprisoned fox.</p>
<p>“Will you remember the law and steal no more
if I set you free?” asked Cho-gay of his prisoner.</p>
<p>“Yes, I steal no more,” was the reply.</p>
<p>As Sandy and his brother trotted down the trail,
Fearful and the remainder of his followers (for
most of them had slipped away, one by one, to tell
the great news to their friends) vanished into the
sagebrush.</p>
<p>When Cho-gay had returned to the rock in front
of the cave, Kaw asked, “What will you do about
the coming of Kil-fang and his pack? The moon
will be full again in fewer than a dozen days.”</p>
<p>“I shall kill him and all his pack,” said Cho-gay.
“I will make many arrows and an extra bow, and
I will have food and water in my cave to last until
the wolves are all dead. I shall have big rocks at
the door of my cave and I’ll shoot through the
rocks, and cut with the knife all who try to enter.”</p>
<p>“All that might be very well,” said Kaw,
slowly, “and you might kill them all. But Kil-fang
with a dozen followers, and Kil-fang with a
pack of fifty wolves of the north, are two different
things. Why have a fight and kill and kill? Why<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</SPAN></span>
should we let our old enemy return to our hills to
scare all the game away? Why not have a little
fun with him and give him such a scare that he
and his pack will be glad to go back into the north
and stay there?”</p>
<p>“That is easy to say, but how could it be done?”
asked Cho-gay.</p>
<p>Wongo, who was for the first time having his
ever-present curiosity satisfied without asking questions,
looked confidently up at Kaw, for he knew,
from past experience, that the wise old crow never
suggested a thing unless he himself had thought of
a way in which it could be carried out.</p>
<p>“Well,” said Kaw, “my plan would be this:
You remember that this end of the north canyon,
where it opens into the valley, is very narrow. Kil-fang
will come through the canyon because it is the
easiest way and the other end is wide and full of
small game. We will get a number of bears to help
you, and you can roll some big rocks down into the
narrow place at this end, until there will be left
only a space where one wolf can pass through at a
time. That you can do to-morrow, so that any fresh
earth that is torn up will look old and dry when the
pack comes. Nothing will scare wolves or coyotes
like a big noise, if they are not expecting it, so we
will make a big drum.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_125.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="caption"><i>Wongo, Cho-gay and Kaw plan to scare Kil-fang</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</SPAN></span>“What is that?” asked Cho-gay.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</SPAN></span>“It’s just the thing?” exclaimed Wongo, who
remembered the drums used by the Indian men
when old Grouch was captured.</p>
<p>“We’ll tell you what a drum is and how to make
it,” replied Kaw. “Up the valley, a little way
from here, is a nice piece of a hollow log lying
beside the trail.”</p>
<p>“I remember it,” said Wongo.</p>
<p>“Can you roll it down here this afternoon?”
asked Kaw.</p>
<p>“Yes, easily,” replied the little bear.</p>
<p>Then, turning to Cho-gay, Kaw continued:</p>
<p>“You will have to kill a young buck—which you
will need for meat anyway—for you must have a
fresh skin and one large enough to supply a piece
of hide for each end of the log. When you kill the
buck and Wongo brings the log I will be there to
tell you how to finish the drum.</p>
<p>“When Kil-fang and his pack come down the
canyon, he will be in the lead. It will be moonlight,
for the pack will not travel in our country by
day. We will have all the bears and coyotes we
can get, hidden behind the big rocks that stand just
this side of the narrow passage of the canyon, and
it is there you can be stationed with the drum.</p>
<p>“We will let one of the biggest bears stand on<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</SPAN></span>
the wall of the canyon just above the narrow
passage with some big, round rocks, and after Kil-fang
and three or four of the pack have passed
through into the valley, the big bear can roll in
enough rocks to fill the passage and separate the
pack from their leader. <i>Then</i> we’ll all let loose the
big noise and chase Mr. Kil-fang down the valley
and over the mountains. A pack without a leader
is easily confused and the noise we make will scare
them out of their skins.”</p>
<p>“It all sounds as if it could be done,” said Cho-gay.
“I will hunt for a buck this afternoon and
if you are here to-morrow we can make this thing
that makes the noise.”</p>
<p>“I will be here,” replied Kaw, “and as I also
have much to do, if this plan is carried out, I will
be going.”</p>
<p>With this parting remark, Kaw left his companions
and flew away down the valley in search of
old Rip. As he flew along he talked to himself:</p>
<p>“If I can get the old rascal to do what I tell him
to, we’ll have more fun than a cat fight. First—I’ll
find him some food and get him in a good
humor. I’ll tell him that he’ll be looked upon as a
hero by all, if he will join in my plan.” And he
chuckled as he thought of it.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</SPAN></span>
<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER 5<br/> THE ROUT OF THE WOLF PACK</h3>
<p class="drop-cap">THE days that followed were busy ones for Kaw,
Cho-gay, and Wongo, even though they had
plenty of help. On the first night that the moon
was full, a silent gathering of bears, crows, coyotes,
and one wolf, hid themselves behind the rocks at the
mouth of the canyon, and waited.</p>
<p>Presently a crow, who had been stationed far up
in the canyon, flew down to tell Kaw that Kil-fang
and his pack were coming.</p>
<p>Silently the old crow flew around among his helpers
to give the final instructions. Then all waited.</p>
<p>It seemed hours before the pack were heard
approaching the narrow passage. At last old Kil-fang,
with three of his largest followers, trotted
through the narrow pass.</p>
<p>Then came a sharp “Caw,” followed by the
tumbling of rocks that separated the leader from
his pack. There followed the most unearthly noise
a wolf ever heard.</p>
<p>For a moment the great Kil-fang and his three
companions seemed uncertain what to do, and too<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</SPAN></span>
scared and confused to decide which way to run.</p>
<p>Then, with the booming of the drum, the growls
of running bears, and yapping of coyotes, there
came a great snow-white wolf, on whose back sat a
black screeching object—a combination fearful
to see.</p>
<p>This was too much for Kil-fang and his companions.
With howls of terror, they fled down the
valley in a panic, followed by a yelping, barking
mob. But even the fleetest pursuers could not keep
up with them, and soon Kil-fang and his followers
disappeared in the moonlight.</p>
<p>Then the noise-makers ran up along the canyon
rim to frighten the now leaderless pack. But
though the crows flew low and the coyotes ran fast
no trace of the wolves could be seen. They had
vanished into the north, to return no more.</p>
<p>When the noise-makers had all gathered again in
the moonlight, they chattered, yapped and laughed
over the scattering of Kil-fang and his pack, and
over the fearful appearance of old Rip, whom Cho-gay
had skillfully painted with pipe-clay.</p>
<p>Their night’s work had been a complete success
and all agreed that Kaw’s plan had been a great
one and that, with the powers of Cho-gay and the
wisdom of the old crow, they could now defeat all
enemies who might attempt to disturb the happy<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</SPAN></span>
state of the peaceful hills and valleys of Timbertangle.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_131.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p>As the joyous company prepared to depart for
their dens, caves, and nests, Kaw flew up to the top
of a near-by tree and after stretching his wings and
shaking the dust from his feathers, he sang:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">“Where, oh where, is the great wolf clan,</div>
<div class="indent">That came to fight and kill?</div>
<div class="verse">With cowardly hearts, in fear they ran;</div>
<div class="indent">I’ll bet they’re running still!”</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</SPAN></span>
<div class="verse">“And so with all who brag and boast,</div>
<div class="indent">And try to rule by fear;</div>
<div class="verse">They’re always scared and frightened most</div>
<div class="indent">When no real danger’s near!”</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">“So let us live by justice and</div>
<div class="indent">Kill only when there’s need.</div>
<div class="verse">Then there’ll be peace in Black Hill land,</div>
<div class="indent">In place of fear and greed!”</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_132.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<hr class="chap" />
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</SPAN></span>
<h2 class="nobreak">The Thunder Drum</h2>
<h3>CHAPTER 1<br/> THE YEAR OF THE GREAT THIRST</h3>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse"><i>The shadows of Timbertangle Wood</i></div>
<div class="verse"><i>Have hidden many a tale</i></div>
<div class="verse"><i>Of wild adventure and treasure trove,</i></div>
<div class="verse"><i>And magic of forest trail.</i></div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse"><i>But here is a tale as it came to me,</i></div>
<div class="verse"><i>And I’m told that it’s really true</i></div>
<div class="verse"><i>(By the little black bird who told it to me!)</i></div>
<div class="verse"><i>So I’m handing it on to you!</i></div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p class="drop-cap">WONGO, the little bear, stood at the entrance
to his cave, his head hanging almost to his
paws. He looked and felt very lonely and discouraged.
He was weak and hungry and his friend
Kaw, the wise old crow, was away. Wongo did not
know where he had gone and did not know what to
do without him. The world seemed a sad, dark
place.</p>
<p>The sides of Wongo’s empty stomach seemed to
rub together and call for food, but stronger, much<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</SPAN></span>
stronger than that was the call of loneliness in his
heart. He felt that if he were left this way much
longer he would just lie down and die, all by himself.
But Wongo did not die, as you shall see.
This is a tale of adventure and great Magic, and let
it never be forgotten that the little bear did his part
in the Magic and did it well.</p>
<p>It was the year of the great thirst in Timbertangle—a
year that all animals have good reason
to remember, the year of the warm winter, when no
snows came to melt into streams and pools in the
spring.</p>
<p>All things that should have been green and fresh
hung brown and dusty and rattled at the touch.
Berries dried on the stem, before they were ripe,
and nuts, when they were picked, were found to be
just little withered specks in their hollow shells.
Most of the streams were merely beds of bleached
bowlders, white with dust, and only here and there,
where water had been a rushing torrent in years
past, was there a tiny trickle between the stones—just
enough to satisfy the thirst of the many animals
of Timbertangle. Even these little streams
grew scantier each day and first one and then
another dried up altogether.</p>
<p>It had been many, many moons since any rain
had fallen and the larger animals were mere ghosts<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</SPAN></span>
of themselves, for the smaller animals on which
they fed had long ago died, or gone away in search
of the green things on which they lived.</p>
<p>It must not be thought that Kaw, the crow, had
been idle in all this time. He had flown many a
day’s journey in every direction to see if he could
find water, but always came back with the same
tale—no rains had fallen anywhere and everywhere
growing things were brown and dry and all
living things cried for water.</p>
<p>A sort of watchman of Timbertangle was Kaw,
for the little crow seemed never to sleep and there
was not much that escaped his bright eyes. It was
a mystery to many of the animals why Kaw and
Wongo were on such friendly terms, the quick,
alert bird and the lumbering little bear, but they
certainly were almost always together, for seldom
was Wongo seen that somewhere in the tree tops
could not be distinguished the sheen of Kaw’s
black feathers.</p>
<p>Wongo’s head dropped lower and lower as he
considered these things and he grew more and more
lonely and depressed, when suddenly he jerked up
with a start! Without preliminary flutter or noise
of any kind the voice of Kaw broke sharply in on
his sad thoughts:</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“Stand on your head and jig and dance,</div>
<div class="verse">Or wiggle your legs and howl and prance;</div>
<div class="verse">But <i>don’t</i> stand there with a hanging head,</div>
<div class="verse">As if some friend of ours was dead!</div>
<div class="verse">What awful thing has happened now,</div>
<div class="verse">That you should wear such a troubled brow?”</div>
</div></div>
<p>Wongo looked up and heaved a great sigh of
relief. There sat Kaw on his accustomed limb, and
immediately the world seemed a different, brighter
place.</p>
<p>“Well, I’m glad to see you’re alive anyway,”
continued the crow. “You hadn’t moved since I
landed here. I have been watching you for some
time and was beginning to wonder if you had
learned to sleep standing up. Anything very terrible
happened while I was away?”</p>
<p>“Nothing worse than when you were here,” said
Wongo. “Where in the world have you been?
Have you found anything?”</p>
<p>“Well, y-e-s—and no,” said Kaw, a bit doubtfully,
answering the last question. “I’ve found an
idea and ideas can be very helpful sometimes.
You can never tell. Have you seen Cho-gay, the
Indian boy, lately?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_137.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="caption"><i>“Just follow me,” cried Kaw, “and you shall see”</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</SPAN></span>“Not very lately,” said Wongo. “Why?”
He sat back on his haunches. Things did not seem
so dark now with Kaw back, even though the old
crow himself was exceedingly dark, and Wongo’s
hollow insides did not seem to cry nearly so loudly
for food.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</SPAN></span>“That can wait,” said the crow, and cocked his
head on one side. “Not hungry, are you?” asked
he, and pretended to jump with fright at the snort
let out by the little bear. “Oh, well, don’t eat <i>me</i>,
but I happened to find out just a short while ago
where old Chac, the gray wolf, who fell two days
ago and broke his neck, kept his meat. There’s
some there yet.”</p>
<p>Gone was Wongo’s despondency. He sprang to
his feet and sniffed the air. “Where?” was the
single word he uttered, and Kaw, with a great pretense
of hurry and bustle, flapped his wings and
rose from his limb, crying as he did so:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“Just follow me</div>
<div class="verse">And you shall see—</div>
<div class="verse">My nose is true,</div>
<div class="verse">And yours is, too.</div>
<div class="verse">Please use it now,</div>
<div class="verse">As you know how;</div>
<div class="verse">But don’t be long,</div>
<div class="verse">The smell is strong,</div>
<div class="verse">And may be stronger</div>
<div class="verse">If we’re longer.</div>
<div class="verse">It may meet us—</div>
<div class="verse">Even cheat us—</div>
<div class="verse">For we’ll lose it</div>
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</SPAN></span>
<div class="verse">And confuse it,</div>
<div class="verse">If we meet!”</div>
</div></div>
<p>“Oh, hush!” shouted Wongo. “You make
my head buzz. What are you talking about?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” answered Kaw. “If the
smell should meet us, <i>which</i> would be the meat?
That’s what I want to know—meet bear or bear
meat—I can’t see much difference—” But he got
no further. He had been flying from tree to tree,
giving Wongo plenty of time to follow on his rather
wabbly legs, and now there was no doubt but that
they had come to the place to which he had referred,
and Wongo paid no further attention to
Kaw for a time. The little bear wondered, as he
ate, why the other animals had not found the meat,
for, as Kaw had said, the smell was certainly
plain and strong. He found a fairly good supply
of mountain sheep in the cache, but where old Chac
had killed it he could not imagine. It was good,
though, and he was thankful to have his stomach
again filled.</p>
<p>When he had eaten until he was satisfied and had
carefully hidden what remained of the meat,
Wongo turned gratefully to his old friend, who sat
preening his feathers on a near-by cottonwood tree.</p>
<p>“Now I am ready to listen to what it was you<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</SPAN></span>
were going to say awhile ago,” he said. “What
about Cho-gay?”</p>
<p>Kaw did not answer for a moment, but continued
his cleaning operations. Presently, with a final
shake, he settled himself on his limb and looked
down at Wongo.</p>
<p>“Have you anything particular to do this morning?”
he asked, as if in idle questioning.</p>
<p>“What about Cho-gay?” Wongo asked again.
“You had something to tell me about him.”</p>
<p>“Patience, patience, my young friend,” said
the old crow gravely. “I shall come to that presently.”</p>
<p>Wongo felt very comfortable and lazy now. He
stretched himself out on a warm rock in the sun
and waited good-naturedly for what his friend had
to say. He grunted with satisfaction and contentment
as he fuzzed out his hairy coat and felt the
rays of the sun sink down to his skin. When
Wongo had eaten his fill he always was sleepy.</p>
<p>“As you evidently haven’t anything to do this
morning,” continued the crow, “I’ll go on with
what I was going to say.”</p>
<p>“Go on,” grunted Wongo, and his eyes were
nearly closed.</p>
<p>“For goodness sake <i>don’t</i> go to sleep!” called
Kaw, suddenly alert. “There are things to do, and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</SPAN></span>
to do <i>now</i> if we expect to see another winter in
Timbertangle—Here! Wake up!”</p>
<p>“What’s the matter?” grunted Wongo.
“Who’s going to sleep? I was never more awake
in my life.” With a great effort, he opened his
eyes wide to prove what he said. “What is there
to do and who is going to do it?”</p>
<p>“Well, that sounds more like it,” said Kaw.
“If you really <i>are</i> awake, come on over to Cho-gay’s
cave and we will talk there.”</p>
<p>The little bear got up very slowly, and shook
himself carefully all over, beginning with first one
leg and then the other and ending with the little
flap he called a tail.</p>
<p>“All right, I’m ready,” he said, “only it seems
to me the really sensible thing to do would be to
take a nap.”</p>
<p>Kaw chuckled. “It’s plain to me the nap will
soon take you if you don’t take it, if we wait here
one minute longer. This is no time for naps, my
friend. You and I have work to do. I have a
plan, you see.”</p>
<p>“No, I don’t see,” said Wongo, a trifle crossly.
“You mean you know of a place where we can
get a good supply of water?”</p>
<p>“N-o, not exactly—but—well, come on and
you’ll see later.” Kaw flopped from his tree and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</SPAN></span>
flew slowly off in the direction of Cho-gay’s cave,
the little bear following, a bit reluctantly, in his
wake. Wongo was still sleepy and not a little
puzzled by Kaw’s words. Curiosity as to what
was meant, as much as loyalty to his friend, now
spurred him on.</p>
<p>Kaw soon disappeared through the branches of
the trees and the little bear followed slowly, his
tongue lolling out of his mouth, as he wished in
vain for a cool drink.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</SPAN></span>
<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER 2<br/> GRAYHEAD, THE GRIZZLY</h3>
<p class="drop-cap">WONGO had gone only a short distance, following
Kaw towards Cho-gay’s cave, when he
heard a voice coming from a little clearing ahead of
him and recognized it to be the voice of old Grayhead,
an ancient grizzly who had lived long in
Timbertangle and had known Wongo’s father. The
old bear was possessed with the idea that he was
chief of the animals of the region and never tired
of telling how he won his position, much to the
weariness of his hearers, who had secretly nicknamed
him “Old Waggle-jaw,” but who never
dared mention the name to his face. For, though
he was old, Grayhead was still easily the biggest
and strongest bear in Timbertangle, and none
would care to invite a swing from one of his mighty
paws. So his tales had to be listened to with grave
faces, but once behind his back his listeners would
laugh at him and mock him and the name of
“Waggle-jaw” was freely used.</p>
<p>Wongo felt too lazy to walk around the clearing
and thus avoid meeting old Grayhead, so he went<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</SPAN></span>
straight on, much to his regret a few minutes later.
He walked into the clearing, looking neither to
right nor left, and attempted to cross it without
being stopped, but he reckoned without Grayhead.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_145.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p>The old bear looked up with a grunt of satisfaction
and spoke to a group seated about him: “Here
is one who knows that I tell the truth, for his
father was there. Wongo, I was just about to tell
these friends here of the act of daring and courage<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</SPAN></span>
that made me chief of Timbertangle.”</p>
<p>Wongo gave an inward groan and cast his eyes
in the direction in which Kaw had flown. He
thought he could see him far away, flitting among
the trees.</p>
<p>“I can’t stop now,” he said hurriedly. “Some
other time—”</p>
<p>Old Grayhead caught him by the leg and pulled
him down toward him.</p>
<p>“Not so fast, my young friend,” he said. “Who
has a better right to your time than I—your
chief? Come, it will not take long. I just want
you as witness to the truth of what I say.”</p>
<p>A far-off voice came back through the trees:</p>
<p>“Come on, come on, slow poke!”</p>
<p>“I <i>can’t</i>!” shouted Wongo. Forgetting himself
in his anger at being detained, he called out,
“It’s ‘Waggle-jaw!’”</p>
<p>Old Grayhead looked at him and frowned deeply.</p>
<p>“What do you mean by shouting at me in that
way? And who or what is ‘Waggle-jaw’?” He
had evidently not heard the call of the crow, and
the other animals (two bears and a gray wolf)
looked startled and exchanged strange glances.
Wongo was startled, too, and frightened at what
he had said in his annoyance. He longed to escape
but saw no immediate chance, as old Grayhead<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</SPAN></span>
held him tight by the leg awaiting his explanation
of the name “Waggle-jaw.”</p>
<p>“It’s—it’s—it’s an animal—” stammered
the little bear, and a snicker passed between the
two bears and the wolf, and he heard an echo of
it from a near-by tree and knew that Kaw had returned
to discover the cause of his delay.</p>
<p>“An animal?” repeated Grayhead. “Called
‘Waggle-jaw’? I never heard of it. It can’t be in
Timbertangle.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Wongo, picking up courage, “that’s
where I was going now. It’s a queer animal, and
I was going to hunt it.”</p>
<p>“Humm-m,” said Grayhead. “What <i>kind</i> of
an animal? Does it look good to eat?”</p>
<p>The bears and wolf gave a queer, smothered yell
at this and Grayhead looked up with a threatening
frown.</p>
<p>“Silence, there! Have more respect for your
elders. If there is an animal in this forest that
can be hunted down and eaten, it is for me, your
chief, to do it. But tell me where it was that you
last saw this—this—‘Wabble-jaw,’ Wongo. We
will all go and find him.”</p>
<p>Wongo wriggled uneasily and cast an imploring
glance up at the tree where Kaw sat smoothing
his feathers. He was in a trap and he looked<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</SPAN></span>
hopefully to his friend to get him out, as he usually
did, but Kaw made no sign.</p>
<p>“He—he—wasn’t far from here—” began
the little bear uncertainly, when to his great relief
and joy Kaw broke in, clearing his throat several
times to gain the attention of the group below him,
and addressing himself particularly to Grayhead—</p>
<p>“I believe,” he began, with a little cough, “that
I know more about this ‘Waggle-jaw’ than anyone
else, and, er—with your kind permission I’ll tell
you about him—especially as our friend Wongo
seems to be a little short of breath.”</p>
<p>Grayhead nodded shortly and Kaw went on:</p>
<p>“Now, ‘Waggle-jaw’ lives fairly near here—that
is, at times. Then again he lives quite far
away, for he isn’t always at each place—as is
the way with most of us. As to how he <i>looks</i>—w-e-l-l—”
Kaw began to drawl in a comical way,
and a quick giggle broke from the other animals,
as Kaw dropped into verse:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“When once you’ve seen him face to face,</div>
<div class="verse">You’ll know him without doubt,</div>
<div class="verse">For on his head there’s not a trace,</div>
<div class="verse">When he is turned about,</div>
<div class="verse">Of any hair—except what’s there—</div>
<div class="verse">Nor on his back a spot,</div>
<div class="verse">Of fur or skin that’s dark or fair,</div>
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</SPAN></span>
<div class="verse">Except where there is not.</div>
<div class="verse">And he’s a fearful creature, too,</div>
<div class="verse">As you will surely find.</div>
<div class="verse">For he can bite a tree in two</div>
<div class="verse">With only half a mind.</div>
<div class="verse">The other half—so I am told—</div>
<div class="verse">He uses as a paw,</div>
<div class="verse">When enemies get overbold,</div>
<div class="verse">To club them in the jaw.”</div>
</div></div>
<p>“Now, the reason he is in this neighborhood,”
continued Kaw slowly, “is that he has heard
that <i>you</i> want to meet him and then, too, he is <i>very</i>
fond of bear meat and this is his hungry time of
year. I saw him as I passed a little while ago and,
thinking to do you a favor, I told him that you
were many miles from here—on the other side of
the divide, in fact—and he was headed that way
when I left him. S-o-o,” drawled the old crow,
in finishing his tale, “he isn’t likely to make you
a call to-day!” He looked rather self-conscious,
as he ceased speaking, and sat back on his limb
with an attempt at dignity as he waited for Grayhead
to speak. That old bear was too much confused
to say anything. He did not know what to
think. He felt as if he should thank Kaw for saving
his life, and yet he did not feel just certain
about anything. He looked at the other bears, but
they would not meet his eye, as they were quivering<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</SPAN></span>
with concealed mirth. All of them, however, felt
it wise to keep silent.</p>
<p>Before Grayhead could collect his puzzled
thoughts enough to speak, Kaw began again:</p>
<p>“I thought, as I came near, that I heard you
telling of how you became chief of Timbertangle.”
That was a safe thing to say, as it was seldom that
Grayhead spoke of anything else. “How well I
remember hearing Wongo’s father, old Silvertip,
tell of that wonderful time and of your heroic
actions.”</p>
<p>Old Grayhead held his head high and looked,
with an “I told you so” air, at his companions.</p>
<p>“And I nearly laughed myself sick,” continued
Kaw, “at the picture he drew of the animals
scrambling up the sides of the canyon as you held
the great bowlder against the flood waters that
were pouring through the gap. It makes me laugh
now to think of it! Haw, haw, haw!” and the
other animals, including Wongo, joined with a
whoop in his merriment, letting out all the mirth
that had been filling them for the last half hour,
in shouts of joy, rolling on the ground and clawing
at the dry leaves until the tears ran from their eyes
and the near-by hills echoed to their shouts. Grayhead
joined in, rather feebly at first, but finally he
laughed with all the vim of the others, not realizing<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</SPAN></span>
that they were laughing <i>at</i> him and not <i>with</i> him.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_151.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p>When the wave of merriment had quieted down
a little, Kaw spoke again: “That is the finest tale
in Timbertangle. That reminds me, as I passed the
cave of the two cinnamon bears a short while ago
I heard them speaking about it. I think you have
never told it to them and they were wishing they
could hear it first-hand.” Kaw almost choked on
the last words, but he got them out.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</SPAN></span>Grayhead rose immediately: “The cinnamon
bears, you say? I’ll go now. I have nothing particular
to do,” and he was ambling off through the
timber almost before the words were out of his
mouth. As soon as Grayhead was beyond earshot
the laughter began anew and Kaw almost rolled off
his perch in glee. But suddenly recollecting his
business of the morning, he attracted Wongo’s attention.</p>
<p>“Come, we’ve lost a lot of time. Let’s go,” he
called, and the two set off as if they had had no
interruption to their journey.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</SPAN></span>
<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER 3<br/> AT THE CAVE OF CHO-GAY</h3>
<p class="drop-cap">WONGO and Kaw found Cho-gay, the Indian
boy, in front of his cave, cutting raw-hide
into long strips—to make traps, he told them.
He was plainly very glad to see them. Cho-gay
had lived in Timbertangle since most of the animals
could remember, though how he came there was a
mystery to all but Kaw, who seemed to know
everything. The little Indian boy was at home and
on friendly terms with all animals and birds who
attended to their own proper business, but it was
well known that when a law of the woods or desert
was broken, Cho-gay did all he could to hunt down
and punish the wrong-doer, so he had some enemies,
but many friends, in Timbertangle.</p>
<p>When the two visitors had made themselves comfortable
on the rock in front of his cave, Cho-gay
brought out a handful of seeds for the crow and
for the bear some ripe berries from a little patch
he had managed to keep green in spite of the terrible
drouth.</p>
<p>After the manner of Indians, the animals were<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</SPAN></span>
silent for some time, and did not immediately come
to the reason for their visit, but finally Kaw spoke:</p>
<p>“Chu-ta-win, the eagle, is a friend of yours,
isn’t he, Cho-gay?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” answered Cho-gay, “the eagle and I are
good friends. He really owes his life to me.”</p>
<p>“As I thought,” said Kaw. “Would he do big
things for you?”</p>
<p>“I think he would do anything I’d ask,” answered
the Indian boy. “Why?”</p>
<p>“Umm-m,” said Kaw, without answering the
question. “Do you know where he is?”</p>
<p>“I can whistle for him. We have a signal. If
he doesn’t hear, there are those who carry the
message to him.”</p>
<p>“Suppose you whistle now,” said Kaw. “No—on
second thought don’t! Chu-ta-win and I are
not exactly on friendly terms; he had better not
see me, just yet. I have a scheme on foot and it
would be best for no one to know just what it is
but myself. I’ll tell you this much—I’m after
water—much water—and I want to know if you
two are willing to trust me and ask no questions.”</p>
<p>“Yes!” answered Cho-gay and Wongo at the
same moment, and this ready answer plainly
pleased the old crow very much. He gave a sigh
of relief.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</SPAN></span>“Well, <i>that’s</i> settled. Now for business. You,
Wongo, must go up to the top of Skull-top mountain
and on the bald spot that you know of there, make
the biggest, thickest bed of leaves you ever made
in your life.”</p>
<p>Wongo sat back on his haunches and his jaw
dropped open.</p>
<p>“What on earth—” he began, and stopped
short, for Kaw cocked his head on one side and
snapped out:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“What did I say—</div>
<div class="verse">Now there you go—</div>
<div class="verse">Just right away,</div>
<div class="verse">’Twas ever so.</div>
<div class="verse">Instead of going to your task,</div>
<div class="verse">You simply sit and gape, and <i>ask</i>!”</div>
</div></div>
<p>“Well,” answered Wongo, a trifle sheepishly,
“you didn’t want me to rush right off now, did
you?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Kaw remarked dryly. “It will take you
quite a while to get up the mountain and longer to
gather the leaves. Make the pile big and deep,
mind you.”</p>
<p>“But can’t I hear what Cho-gay is going to do,
first?”</p>
<p>“No,” said Kaw, “you’ll hear all about that<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</SPAN></span>
later. Run along now, for your job’s very important.”</p>
<p>Wongo left them, going very slowly, it is true,
and with many a backward glance at the two. Kaw
chuckled to himself:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“A good, kindly friend, my little bear,</div>
<div class="verse">Always good natured and merry;</div>
<div class="verse">Anything doing, he’s sure to be there;</div>
<div class="verse">But curious—? Very—Oh, VERY!”</div>
</div></div>
<p>He chuckled again and turned to Cho-gay:</p>
<p>“I want Chu-ta-win, the eagle, to take <i>you</i> to the
Up-above Country. Have you ever been?” pointing
to the clouds.</p>
<p>“No, I haven’t,” said Cho-gay. “Why in the
world do you want me to go up there, and what
would I do after I got there? You’re asking much,
friend Kaw.”</p>
<p>“You promised to do as I said and not ask
questions. Are you going back on your word?”</p>
<p>“No,” answered Cho-gay slowly. “Go on.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_157.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="caption"><i>Wongo left them, going very slowly</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</SPAN></span>“I’ll tell you what we are going for on the
way up,” went on Kaw, “and as for what you
will do, well, I’ll be there too, you see, and I’ll
tell you that at the time. Tell Chu-ta-win to take
you up, as you have important business in the
Cloud Country. Suppose you call him now. There<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</SPAN></span>
is no time to lose, as we are, if we succeed, about
to do a service for Timbertangle that will never be
forgotten.”</p>
<p>“If it’s a real adventure,” said Cho-gay, “I’m
for it,” and he gave a clear, shrill whistle which
was repeated some distance away and then again
far off in the forest.</p>
<p>“I’ll just step inside your cave while you talk
with Chu-ta-win,” said Kaw, and suiting the action
to the word he hopped into the cave-mouth.</p>
<p>After a short interval, there came a rush of wind,
and Kaw knew that the great eagle had arrived.</p>
<p>“You called for me, little brother,” said a voice,
and Cho-gay answered:</p>
<p>“Yes, Chu-ta-win, I have a great favor to ask.”</p>
<p>“You have only to name it, little brother. My
bones would have been drying on Skull-top mountain,
if it had not been for you, and my heart is
grateful. What is it that I can do for you?”</p>
<p>“I have some important business in the Up-above
Country. Can you take me there?”</p>
<p>“Why, yes,” answered Chu-ta-win, readily
enough. “I am chief of the Air people, as you
know, and have a right to entrance to the Up-above
Country. I will tell them that you are my
tribe brother and they will welcome you. When
would you like to go?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</SPAN></span>“Now,” answered Cho-gay.</p>
<p>“Well,” said Chu-ta-win, “fortunately I have
flown but little this morning and my wings are
fresh. Have you a bit of food handy? We’ll both
need a meal before we’re back.”</p>
<p>“I have a bag of dried goat’s meat and seeds
of the pinyon,” said Cho-gay. “Will that do?”</p>
<p>“Fine,” answered Chu-ta-win, “bring it along.
It has been many, many moons since I tasted the
meat of the goat.”</p>
<p>So Cho-gay went back into the cave, and while he
was getting the bag of goat meat, he whispered to
Kaw:</p>
<p>“The eagle will take me as soon as I get some
food. Now, how about you? You say you are
going, too?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I am going in disguise,” said Kaw in a
low voice. “Hurry just a bit with what you are
doing, for you must do something for me before I
can show myself to your friend Chu-ta-win.”</p>
<p>So Cho-gay fastened the bag of meat to a thong
at his waist as quickly as he could and stepped over
to Kaw.</p>
<p>“Have you some red paint?” asked the crow.</p>
<p>“Yes,” replied Cho-gay.</p>
<p>“Well, get it,” continued the crow, “and paint
me all over with it. Make my beak white. Hurry!”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</SPAN></span>Cho-gay hesitated for a long moment, but seeing
that Kaw was very much in earnest, he took a small
bag from a peg in the cave wall and went swiftly
to work. He had long ago discovered many bright
rocks and brilliantly colored bits of earth that
could be carefully powdered and, when mixed with
water, made wonderful paint. Then he had discovered
the need of having something to draw
with and had used small pieces of hide with hair
attached, which he had tied about the ends of little
twigs, and dipping them in his paints made great
drawings in color of the animals and birds and
trees of the forest, much to the admiration of all
Timbertangle. He had never before painted a
<i>living</i> creature, but he rather enjoyed his task.</p>
<p>When the beak was painted a snowy white, the
crow turned gravely round for Cho-gay to examine
him carefully to see that the disguise was complete.
Cho-gay, almost choking with inner laughter, but
afraid to show his amusement for fear of offending
his friend, assured him that even his mother would
not know him if she saw him now.</p>
<p>“Are you <i>sure</i> I look all right?” insisted Kaw.</p>
<p>“Fine!” answered Cho-gay, and grinned in spite
of himself.</p>
<p>“Well, we’ll go now. Introduce me to Chu-ta-win
as a friend of yours—Mr. Redskin, suppose<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</SPAN></span>
we say—and be <i>sure</i> to say I have a bad cold.”</p>
<p>Cho-gay could not resist asking, “What is the
trouble between you and Chu-ta-win?” but he was
sorry the moment he had asked, for he could see,
strange as it seemed, that the question had made
Kaw uncomfortable. He gave the impression of
being red in the face, but, of course, that might
have been the paint, for he was red all over. He
stretched his neck and hesitated for a second.
Cho-gay felt he was going to say something sharp,
but he seemed to change his mind and cocked his
head on one side with a rather quizzical expression.</p>
<p>“What about asking questions?” Kaw said.
“I’ll have to tell you about the ‘Why’s.’ Ever
hear of them?” and without waiting for an answer
he chanted in a low voice:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">“There once was a tribe called the ‘Whys,’</div>
<div class="verse">Who thought to become very wise;</div>
<div class="verse">They went to the crows,</div>
<div class="verse">For as everyone knows,</div>
<div class="verse">A crow is quite bright—for his size!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">“They asked very deeply of laws.</div>
<div class="verse">And of words quite too big for their jaws,</div>
<div class="verse">But the crows, with a sigh,</div>
<div class="verse">Answered every big ‘Why’</div>
<div class="verse">Very plainly and simply with—‘Caws!’”</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_163.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="caption"><i>“The voice too,” mused Chu-ta-win</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</SPAN></span>The crow stopped and cleared his throat, with
one bright twinkling eye on Cho-gay.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</SPAN></span>“I thought you had some goat meat in there,”
said a voice from the cave entrance. “Are you
waiting for a little kid to grow up and have it
killed and dried? And who’s in there with you?”</p>
<p>“A friend,” called Cho-gay. “I’m coming
now,” and he stepped out to where the eagle was
waiting. Kaw followed without a word.</p>
<p>“My friend wants to come with us to the Up-above
Country,” said Cho-gay to Chu-ta-win.
“His name is Redskin and he is a tribe brother
of mine.”</p>
<p>Chu-ta-win eyed Kaw with a puzzled expression.</p>
<p>“I think I have never seen your friend before.
He is the largest red-bird I ever saw. He <i>reminds</i>
me of someone, though I cannot think who. You
are not of Timbertangle?” he questioned Kaw.</p>
<p>“No,” answered the old crow in a low voice.
“I am from the other side of the divide.”</p>
<p>“The voice too,” mused Chu-ta-win.</p>
<p>“Redskin has been hoarse for days,” spoke Cho-gay
hastily. “He does not sound at all like himself.
Shall I get on your back?” he asked, hoping
to draw attention away from Kaw.</p>
<p>“Yes, we had better go,” said the eagle. “The
wind is just right now.”</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</SPAN></span>
<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER 4<br/> IN THE UP-ABOVE COUNTRY</h3>
<p class="drop-cap">CHO-GAY climbed as quickly as possible to the
broad back of the eagle and made himself comfortable
between the great wings. He had to lie
forward on his stomach, with his arms around the
eagle’s neck, as the smooth feathers, though warm,
were very slick and he had no wish to slide off.</p>
<p>It was a queer sensation to feel the earth drop
away from beneath him, as they rose swiftly into
the air from the rock shelf of his cave, and the
rocks and trees seemed to sink down to the ground.
Cho-gay could hardly realize that it was <i>he</i> who
was rising above the earth, he seemed to stay still
and everything else to move.</p>
<p>Presently all Timbertangle lay beneath them, a
great mass of tangled, brown tree tops, with here
and there a bald knob of mountain rising above
them. Even these soon flattened out into a mottled
plain stretching far, far away in every direction—a
plain that grew hazier and less distinct every
moment, as they were flying very swiftly and almost
directly up—and soon Timbertangle was<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</SPAN></span>
altogether lost to sight as light, wind-blown clouds
drifted between them and the earth beneath.</p>
<p>The eagle flew very easily, with no apparent effort,
and his great wings rose and fell with a
motion as regular as the beating of a heart.</p>
<p>Long before this, Kaw, feeling that he could not
keep up with the strong flight of the eagle, had
lighted on the broad back beside Cho-gay, and his
bright eyes turned in every direction, taking in the
surroundings.</p>
<p>The cool wind whistled by their ears, but Cho-gay’s
skin was tough from constant exposure to
all kinds of weather, and the wind made little difference
to him.</p>
<p>Kaw was enjoying himself thoroughly. “I only
wish there was a pool somewhere near,” he said
in an undertone to Cho-gay, “so that I could see
how I look. How about this color—will it come
off easily?”</p>
<p>Cho-gay stared hard as the realization came to
him that from previous experiments he had found
that this particular color did <i>not</i> come off easily.
He whispered this to the crow.</p>
<p>“Well,” said Kaw, when this had been made
clear to him, “that’s nice—a pretty pickle, I call
it. I must say I can’t blame <i>you</i> though. There
is some gain in everything, and no matter how old<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</SPAN></span>
I get to be, I will never turn gray!” He chuckled
suddenly:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“Who ever heard of a crow that was red?</div>
<div class="verse">Oh, bless my poor feathers and bones!</div>
<div class="verse">My friends will all think that old Kaw is dead,</div>
<div class="verse">And shed many big tears and groans!”</div>
</div></div>
<p>“Well,” said Kaw cheerfully, “I’d better give
you a few instructions while I have the chance,”
and he lowered his voice so that Cho-gay could
barely hear. “You might as well know now that
we are going to the Up-above Country to steal the
Thunder Drum.” Seeing a startled look in Cho-gay’s
eyes, he quickly added, “I have it all planned
out, so there will be no danger to anyone.”</p>
<p>“I was not thinking of myself,” said Cho-gay
gravely, “but you know if the Up-above people
get mad they’ll send terrible storms and blow down
trees and perhaps do much damage.”</p>
<p>“I thought of that,” whispered Kaw. “The
Thunder Drum was made, long, long ago, by a man-animal
of your people, an Indian Chief of great
bravery, and was, by some strange magic, stolen
from him by the Up-above people. I’ve no doubt
that one of Chu-ta-win’s ancestors helped, for it
would take an eagle to carry it up, so it’s just as
well that he helps us now. There have been many<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</SPAN></span>
who have tried to get the Drum back to the earth-people,
but they didn’t have as good a scheme as
I’ve got. All I will want you to do is to get the
attention of old Chaco, the keeper of the Drum, on
something else so he will not notice me while I
scout around a bit. Ask him if he can tell you
where to find the blue charm Wongo lost. It was
the great charm of the Bear Clan and he has been
afraid ever since that the other bears would discover
that he has lost it. You know the Up-above
people see everything that happens on the earth.”</p>
<p>“What <i>good</i> will it do to steal the Thunder
Drum?” asked Cho-gay.</p>
<p>“What <i>good</i>?” snapped Kaw. “Don’t you
know that it is the Thunder Drum that brings the
rain? Every time Chaco, the rain-man, beats it,
the people of the Water Clan pour water through
the holes in the clouds and it falls to earth. If
we once had the Thunder Drum in Timbertangle,
there would be no more dry seasons, for we would
beat it ourselves when we wanted, rain.”</p>
<p>“Look! Little brother,” called Chu-ta-win,
“there are the sun-clouds, and they guard the way
to the Up-above Country.”</p>
<p>A great bank of clouds rose before them, so
white of themselves and so brilliant with sunshine
that Cho-gay had to close his eyes, and when he<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</SPAN></span>
opened them again, though it had been but a second
or two, they had slipped through the clouds and
were rising above a new and wonderful world.
There were hills and canyons and desert, but they
were all in the wonderful colors of the sunset and
never remained long the same.</p>
<p>The trees were purple, with leaves of gold that
glittered like polished flint in the sunlight, and
there were lakes and rivers like huge splashes of
turquoise. Strange animals ran and crawled among
the bushes and the air was full of birds that flew
close and talked to them, and others that soared
above and below as if curious to see who these
visitors to their country might be. A great hawk
flew toward them, followed by several old owls and
an ugly-looking vulture.</p>
<p>“The keeper of the gateway,” called Chu-ta-win,
in a low voice. “He will ask why we are here.”</p>
<p>“Welcome to you, Chu-ta-win,” called out the
hawk as he approached, “but who comes with
you?”</p>
<p>“Two brothers of the earth born,” answered
Chu-ta-win. “I have brought them to see your
wonderful country.”</p>
<p>“What do they wish here?” asked the hawk
again, and before the eagle could answer, Cho-gay
spoke for himself:</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</SPAN></span>“We come searching for the blue charm that
was lost by Wongo, the bear. None of the Bear
Clan knows where it is, but you, of the sky, see
all things and can, no doubt, tell us where it may
be found.”</p>
<p>“Um-m-m,” answered the hawk, “I have not
seen nor heard of this charm, but you might go
over to those of the Water Clan and ask Chaco.
He may be foolish-headed enough to give his time
to such things. But remember there are no idlers
here and we do not welcome idle questions.”</p>
<p>“Humph,” came Kaw’s low voice in Cho-gay’s
ear, “that fellow is entirely too full of his own importance.
I’ll teach him something when I next
meet him below.”</p>
<p>They were nearing the Cloud ground now, and
presently landed with a springing jerk. Cho-gay
slipped from the smooth back of the eagle and
stood swaying a bit, as his legs grew accustomed
to standing again.</p>
<p>Chu-ta-win was not at all tired from his long
flight and seemed as fresh as when they had started.</p>
<p>“Come on,” said he, “we’ll take a look around.
Everybody up here has his own particular work
to do. Some are of the Water Clan and some of
the Ice Clan. They make hail and snow. Over
there is the place where the winds come from.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</SPAN></span>
They make lightning up here, too—all kinds, and
eclipses. Ever see one of those? Look around,
you can see for yourself, you have eyes in your
head.”</p>
<p>Kaw gave a grunt and, in a very good imitation
of Cho-gay’s voice, spoke for him:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“Eyes in my head and ears in my head,</div>
<div class="verse">I’ve heard before all you have said.”</div>
</div></div>
<p>The eagle grew red in the face and answered
haughtily, “I was speaking for your entertainment
and not to be insulted.”</p>
<p>Cho-gay answered hastily—he saw that it would
be useless to explain that he had not spoken—“I
did not mean anything, Chu-ta-win. What I
have heard before was not nearly so interesting
as what you have told me.”</p>
<p>“Well,” answered the eagle, somewhat satisfied
with this, “suppose we walk around a bit and see
things. You say you are in search of a charm?”
He was looking at Kaw as he spoke, his eye
traveling from the tip of the glaring white bill
to the last red tail feather, and his searching
glance annoyed Kaw exceedingly, especially when,
after a moment’s puzzled thought, Chu-ta-win threw
back his head and laughed until the tears dropped
from his eyes.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</SPAN></span>“Now I have it!” he cried. “It is Kaw you
remind me of. Except for the color you could be
his brother.</p>
<p>“Haw—haw—” continued the eagle, “haw—haw—haw—!
Did I ever tell you, Cho-gay, why
it is that Kaw never speaks to me any more?
Avoids me, in fact?”</p>
<p>“No,” said Cho-gay, with an uneasy glance at
the crow. “Suppose we go on now.”</p>
<p>“Oh, it is too good to keep,” insisted the eagle.
“It is the only time I ever heard of the laugh being
turned on Kaw.”</p>
<p>“Kaw is a friend of mine,” said Cho-gay, “and
a friend of Redskin’s too.”</p>
<p>“Oh, that’s all right. You will enjoy the joke.
It is because your friend here reminds me so much
of Kaw that I thought of it. He looks like him,
except for his color, and talks like him. You aren’t
related to Kaw by any chance?” and Chu-ta-win
bent down and looked closely at Kaw as he asked
the question, breaking into another long chuckle
as he did so.</p>
<p>Kaw was furious. Every feather stood on end
with anger and his eyes flashed. He quivered
from head to tail, and yet, to the amazement
of Cho-gay, he did not answer the eagle but turned
instead to him and spoke in an icy tone:</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</SPAN></span>“If your friend insists on telling funny stories
when our time is so short, I, at least, do not need
to stay and hear him. I will meet you at yonder
lake.” He indicated a splash of blue water a short
distance in front of them, and he rose into the air
with all the dignity he possessed and flew off in
the direction of the lake.</p>
<p>“Whee!” said Chu-ta-win. “Such language!
Our friend is not very polite,” and he chuckled
again. “He certainly reminds me of Kaw!”</p>
<p>“What was the joke?” asked Cho-gay. “I
wouldn’t mind hearing it now.”</p>
<p>“Our Red friend did not want to hear it,”
mused Chu-ta-win. “Well, here it is, and you
will understand why Kaw avoids even the sound
of my voice. I was taking a nap one day; it was hot
and I had dropped down under a big bunch of
sagebrush. I suppose just my head must have
been visible and even then I don’t see how he ever
came to make such a mistake, but Kaw, coming up,
took me for a lady friend of his and proceeded
to talk most beautifully, and mostly in verse,
something like this:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">“Your dainty bill I dearly love,</div>
<div class="verse">Its graceful shape is sweet;</div>
<div class="verse">But more than all, my Lady Love,</div>
<div class="verse">I praise your clawlike feet!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</SPAN></span>
<div class="verse">“There never was a fairer bird</div>
<div class="verse">In all this land, I know;</div>
<div class="verse">To say there was would be absurd</div>
<div class="verse">And ignorance would show.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">“Your little wings are dainty things,</div>
<div class="verse">Each eye a midnight pearl;</div>
<div class="verse">Your glance a throbbing heart-ache brings;</div>
<div class="verse">Oh, be my birdie-girl!”</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>“That’s something like it and there was lots
more. I listened for a while without moving a
feather, but it finally got too much for me and I
just had to laugh, and jumped out of my bush at
the same time. It was the first time I have ever
seen Kaw really what you might call ‘flabbergasted.’
He fell over backwards when he first
saw me. He didn’t say a word and he hasn’t
spoken to me since. I can’t say I blame him, but it
<i>was</i> funny.”</p>
<p>Cho-gay grinned and looked off in the direction
Kaw had taken. Chu-ta-win followed his glance.
“I won’t say any more about it before our Red
friend,” he said, and Cho-gay looked at him
quickly, but the eagle would not meet his eye.</p>
<p>“Come on,” said Chu-ta-win, “there are lots
more things for you to see.”</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</SPAN></span>
<h3 class="nobreak">CHAPTER 5<br/> RAIN COMES TO TIMBERTANGLE</h3>
<p class="drop-cap">CHU-TA-WIN and Cho-gay walked slowly toward
a lake that lay like a great turquoise before
them. Strange animals hurried, scurrying
and crawling in every direction, and birds darted
hither and thither.</p>
<p>The eagle indicated with one wing what seemed
to be a huge mountain rising high in the east.
“The mantle of the night,” he said. “It is the
blanket that is let down every night over the earth
to hide the face of the sun, for if it were not
hidden just so often all growing things would
dry up. It is very old now, the night-blanket, and
holes are beginning to show. We, below, call them
stars, and if it wasn’t for those holes,” he added,
“we would have no moon, for when the moon is
thin and pale it slips through one of the holes and
comes close to the earth to give us light to try to
make up for the loss of the sun, for the Moon God
has never approved of the night-blanket and is
much more gentle toward earth folks than the sun.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</SPAN></span>They were now near the lake and Cho-gay could
see, near its edge, a little old man, sitting by a
huge drum. The old man held a great padded
stick in one hand and looked constantly to the east.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_177.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p>“That is Chaco,” whispered the eagle, “Keeper
of the Thunder Drum. He looks toward the east
for the signal of the sun, and when he sees that,
he pounds the Drum and that is the signal for the
Water Clan—see, those little fairy-creatures sitting
all around the lake. They each have a gourd
dipper in their hand and, at the signal of the Drum,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</SPAN></span>
they dip water from the lake and pour it through
the water-holes to the earth. That is the rain, and
the sound of the Drum is thunder, and the flash of
the sun-signal is the torch that we call lightning.
We will speak to Chaco. But listen,” he added
more cautiously, “we must speak in rhyme. It is
the only language he knows, and if we speak differently
he will grow very angry and send hurricane
winds over the earth. That is the way they
come. He has lungs of leather and his voice, when
he is angry, is louder than the Thunder Drum.”</p>
<p>“All right,” answered Cho-gay in the same low
voice the eagle was using, “you speak to him
then.”</p>
<p>Chu-ta-win looked at Cho-gay a little doubtfully.</p>
<p>“No, you speak first. It isn’t so hard, but I’ll
probably have to do the real talking, as I’ve had
more practice.”</p>
<p>There was a snicker from over their heads and
Cho-gay saw a flash of red, as Kaw dropped to a
near-by bush, evidently with the intention of over-hearing
their conversation. The eagle was immediately
uncomfortable and spoke to Cho-gay a trifle
stiffly:</p>
<p>“Go on, why don’t you speak? Chaco is waiting.”</p>
<p>The old man had raised his head and was watching<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</SPAN></span>
them as they drew near. He was silent, waiting
for the first word to come from them. It did
not come very easily. Cho-gay was not quite at
ease and cleared his throat two or three times before
he began, haltingly:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“We are from the earth below,</div>
<div class="verse">And we’ve come to see if you know</div>
<div class="verse">Where’s the charm of Wongo, the bear;</div>
<div class="verse">We can’t find it anywhere.</div>
<div class="verse">Can you tell us where it is?</div>
<div class="verse">Or, if not, then where it was—</div>
<div class="verse">Not exactly that I mean,</div>
<div class="verse">But where once it might have been?”</div>
</div></div>
<p>There was a choking sound from Chu-ta-win and
an echo of it from the bush, where Cho-gay knew
Kaw was listening, and then the eagle gave him a
little push to one side and began hurriedly:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“We have come, he and me,</div>
<div class="verse">To find out and to see</div>
<div class="verse">If your wisdom can show</div>
<div class="verse">Us the right way to go—</div>
<div class="verse">Just to see, or find out,</div>
<div class="verse">Quite without any doubt,</div>
<div class="verse">Just exactly the place,</div>
<div class="verse">Or the spot or the space,</div>
<div class="verse">Where the blue charm is hid.</div>
<div class="verse">Where he lost it—he did.”</div>
</div></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</SPAN></span>This was too much for Kaw. Such an attempt at
rhyming struck him as too funny for words and his
voice, subdued but trembling with mirth, came to
them from the bush:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“I have heard a constant rumor</div>
<div class="verse">Of the Rain-man’s sense of humor—</div>
<div class="verse">Let us hope that it is true—really true—</div>
<div class="verse">For of rhymes of man or bird,</div>
<div class="verse">That’s the worst I ever heard,</div>
<div class="verse">I am shocked, my friends, quite shocked, at both of you.”</div>
</div></div>
<p>Then in a voice mimicking Chu-ta-win’s, he continued:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">“Oh, where is the blue charm hid,</div>
<div class="verse">For he lost it, yes he did.</div>
<div class="verse">Oh, my goodness, gracious, gumption—what a joke!</div>
<div class="verse">For the stone was really his—</div>
<div class="verse">Won’t you tell us where it is?</div>
<div class="verse">It’s a wonder wise old Chaco didn’t choke.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">“But go on my friends, and ask—</div>
<div class="verse">I’m made happy by your task—</div>
<div class="verse">And if Chaco, here, can stand it, so can I.</div>
<div class="verse">Stand up firm and take your time,</div>
<div class="verse">All the air is filled with rhyme,</div>
<div class="verse">And, no doubt, you’ll strike a fine one, by and by.”</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>Chu-ta-win grew red in the face and shot furious
glances toward the bush, but Cho-gay, with a self-conscious
grin, made the best of the situation and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</SPAN></span>
kept his eyes on the old man, who seemed not to
have heard Kaw’s low voice, but was thinking
deeply on what the eagle had said. Presently he
nodded his head slowly and spoke in answer:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“Chaco knows of what you speak,</div>
<div class="verse">And has seen the blue charm stone</div>
<div class="verse">When the clouds from Eagle peak</div>
<div class="verse">O’er the mountain woods have blown.</div>
<div class="verse">But there was no storm that night,</div>
<div class="verse">And the Moon God brightly shone.</div>
<div class="verse">It was lost within his light,</div>
<div class="verse">He can tell you, he alone.”</div>
</div></div>
<p>The two nodded gratefully to the old man for
his words.</p>
<p>“Come,” said Chu-ta-win, in a low voice, for
the Rain-man was again looking toward the east
for the sun’s signal, and had apparently forgotten
that they were there. “Shall we go to the Moon
God now? I doubt if we find him to-day. You
see—what’s that!”</p>
<p>Cho-gay jumped suddenly, as Kaw lit on his
shoulder and began to whisper in his ear:</p>
<p>“Now! We are going to do it! Listen—I’ll
call Chaco over here, I know how. Then you and
Chu-ta-win jump for the Thunder Drum and push
it through the nearest water-hole. You see that
big one, right there? That little water-creature<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</SPAN></span>
cannot interfere. Then jump on Chu-ta-win’s back
and drop through the hole—both of you. You’ll
have to be quick and don’t look back. The Sun
God will blind you with lightning if you do. Tell
Chu-ta-win it is for the life of Timbertangle we
work—<i>now</i>! Quick!”</p>
<p>And Cho-gay breathlessly repeated to Chu-ta-win
the directions Kaw had given him. The eagle
looked shocked and astonished, but before he could
protest Kaw called out in a good imitation of
Chu-ta-win’s own voice:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“Chaco, quick! The Sun God’s call!</div>
<div class="verse">Come! He’s calling one and all!</div>
<div class="verse">See, his golden arrows fall!</div>
<div class="verse">Chaco, quick! The Sun God’s call!”</div>
</div></div>
<p>As the old man rose hurriedly and confusedly
took a few steps toward the east, Cho-gay leaped
toward the Thunder Drum and with a sudden push
sent it whirling toward the water-hole a few feet
away and then, with another push, down through
the opening into which it disappeared.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_183.jpg" alt="" /></div>
<p class="caption"><i>All three dropped through the hole</i></p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</SPAN></span>Kaw was at the hole instantly. “Quick! Chu-ta-win!
Quick! Cho-gay!” he called, and almost
before the words were out of his mouth all three
dropped down through the hole—first the eagle,
who spread his wings instantly, then Cho-gay, who<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</SPAN></span>
fell on the broad back and held on tight, and then
Kaw, flying easily down after them with a chuckle
of triumph in his voice.</p>
<p>Several pairs of eyes stared in furious amazement
from the hole above, which now looked like
an opening in a dark cloud, and great arrows of
lightning flashed from it. Just then a loud rumble
came from far below.</p>
<p>“The Drum! The Drum!” shouted Kaw in glee.
“It has lit on the bed of leaves made by Wongo
on Skull-top mountain, and the little bear is beating
it with all his might and main. Hurrah!
Hurrah! We’ve won! We’ve won!”</p>
<p>Just then great sheets of opal-colored mists began
to drift toward the earth from the holes in
the clouds and Cho-gay felt wet drops on his face.
A little gray hawk, flying from below, began to
sing in a high excited voice. As his words came
to them more and more clearly the very air seemed
to echo the music and all Timbertangle seemed to
be singing:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">“Oh, brown the earth and gray the sky,</div>
<div class="verse">And desert and stream and pool are dry—</div>
<div class="verse">But in the east the rain clouds fly.</div>
<div class="verse">Ah-heee, little brother, ’twill rain, ’twill rain,</div>
<div class="verse">Ah-heee, little brother, ’twill rain!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</SPAN></span>
<div class="verse">“I felt a drop on my feathered breast,</div>
<div class="verse">The rain clouds come from the east and west;</div>
<div class="verse">I felt a drop in my sheltered nest!</div>
<div class="verse">Ah-heee, little brother, ’twill rain, ’twill rain,</div>
<div class="verse">Ah-heee, little brother, ’twill rain!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse">“Now over the world a joyous hush!</div>
<div class="verse">Then comes the storm with a sudden rush—</div>
<div class="verse">The great drops patter on sand and bush!</div>
<div class="verse">Ah-heee, little brother, the rain, the rain!</div>
<div class="verse">Ah-heee, little brother, the rain!”</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>Then, how it came down! It seemed as if Chaco
and the rain-people above were trying to drown
them. The rain came in great sheets and floods
of water and the three drew in their heads as far
as possible and shot down toward the earth almost
as fast as the raindrops themselves.</p>
<p>Suddenly there was a cry from Chu-ta-win and
he began to moan in a frightened voice:</p>
<p>“One of the arrows from the Sun God must have
struck me! I am bleeding to death! Oh, what
shall I do? Oh, what shall I do?” He began to
sink even more rapidly toward the ground. Sure
enough, a great, red stain was growing on his back
and crimson drops were falling fast. When they
reached the earth he lay still with closed eyes
while Cho-gay and Kaw bent over him.</p>
<p>Suddenly the crow began to laugh and Chu-ta-win<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</SPAN></span>
opened his eyes to look at him. Then he
opened them wider at what he saw, and raised himself
up, forgetting for a moment his fright.</p>
<p>“Where did you come from?” asked the eagle,
“and where is Redskin?”</p>
<p>“Oh, Redskin,” answered Kaw in a voice that
was choking with laughter, “Redskin is dripping
off your back! The rain transferred him from me
to you. Cho-gay declared the color was fast—but—Oh,
haw—haw—haw—I don’t think even he
knew how fast!” and then as he saw that the
eagle was beginning to understand what had happened,
he started to hop up and down in his usual,
grave way, and to chant:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“Sometimes very dull is the eye of a crow,</div>
<div class="verse">But the eye of an eagle—Oh, never—Oh, no!</div>
<div class="verse">Oh, never. Oh, never—</div>
<div class="verse">For truly whoever,</div>
<div class="verse">Has heard of the eye of an eagle that’s so!”</div>
</div></div>
<p>Chu-ta-win watched Kaw for a moment, while the
rain poured in a steady stream from his feathers
and dripped from the bush from under which Cho-gay
followed their every word. Then a slow grin
spread over the eagle’s usually fierce features—perhaps
at the comical appearance of Kaw, whose
feathers were most wonderfully streaked with red<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</SPAN></span>
and black, with here and there a smear of white
from his bill.</p>
<p>“Well, we’re even, Kaw,” he said at last. “I
don’t think that either of us can laugh at the other
in the future, and I promise not to laugh at you
any more if you’ll forget to-day and not laugh at
me!”</p>
<p>“A <i>bargain</i>!” cried Kaw. “Ho, all Timbertangle!
Listen to this:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“The Crow and the Eagle have made a pact!</div>
<div class="verse">Oh, sing a song of the Thunder Drum!</div>
<div class="verse">This day and hour it becomes a fact!</div>
<div class="verse">Oh, sing a song of the Thunder Drum!</div>
<div class="verse">Never until the world shall end,</div>
<div class="verse">Shall either laugh at the woes of his friend,</div>
<div class="verse">But only help him those woes to mend!</div>
<div class="verse">Oh, sing the song of the Thunder Drum!”</div>
</div></div>
<SPAN name="endofbook"></SPAN>
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