HOW SHASTA FOUGHT MUSHA-WUNK
So that was how it came to pass that Shasta was received by the
Indians into their tribe, and was called by his own name, which he
had never known. The moons went by, and by degrees he left off his
wolf-ways and took on Indian ways instead. He learnt to walk
upright, to eat cooked food and to talk the Indian tongue. To learn
the last took him a long time. At first he could only make wolf
noises, and would growl when he was angry, bark when he was excited,
and howl when it was necessary to say things to the moon. But he had
Shoshawnee for teacher, and Shoshawnee's patience had no end. At
first he was shy of the Indian hoys, because they teased him when
they had opportunity, and their elders' backs were turned; but by
degrees his shyness wore away, and he began to take part in their
racing and riding. Soon he could ride and run races with the best of
them. Also, when it came to wrestling, they soon found that he was
more than their match; for his life among the wolves had given an
extraordinary strength to his muscles and suppleness to his body.
It was in a fight with Musha-Wunk that this quality of Shasta's body
first made itself known. Musha-Wunk was a bully, and one of the
leaders of those who enjoyed teasing Shasta whenever they had a
chance. So one day Musha-Wunk and his companions came upon Shasta
when he was sitting by himself amongst the bunch-grass of the creek.
At first, when Musha-Wunk began to tease and probe him with a stick,
Shasta pretended not to mind, and got up and walked away.
Even when Musha-Wunk followed and stabbed him again, he took it all
in good part, and caught hold of the stick with a laugh. But
Musha-Wunk snatched the stick away with a vicious pull and struck
Shasta with it across the face.
What followed came so quickly that those who watched held their
breath in astonishment. The leap of a wolf is so swift that it must
be seen to be believed. When Shasta leaped on the bully, the other
boys saw something that seemed to hurl itself through the air, strike
savagely, and bound away. Musha-Wunk, taken utterly by surprise,
went down under the blow. He was on his feet in an instant, but
almost before he was up, Shasta had hurled himself on him again.
This time Musha-Wunk seized him before he could leap away, and both
boys rolled over together. Musha-Wunk was the heavier of the two.
He had bigger bones and a more powerful body. If he could have held
Shasta down, he would certainly have had the best of it. But to hold
Shasta down was like sitting on a small volcano. There was a violent
eruption of arms and legs, and Musha-Wunk was lifted into the air!
While he was still struggling to his feet, Shasta was on him again.
It was the wolf in Shasta which urged him to these lightning attacks
and counter-attacks which made the eyes blink. Once the wild-beast
spirit in him was fully roused, nothing could stand against it. The
wolf-blood raced in his veins; the wolf-light flashed in his eyes.
There broke out of his throat fierce sounds which certainly were not
human. As he fought, he seemed to himself to be a wolf again, with
the uncontrollable wolf-fury raging in his heart. Yet it was not
merely wild rage that was in him. At the back of his mind, he knew
that he was fighting for his freedom, for his self-respect. Once he
allowed himself to be beaten by Musha-Wunk, he knew that the other
boys would have no mercy upon him.
The time for gentleness and forbearance was gone by. The fight was
none of his making. Musha-Wunk had forced it upon him, because he
was a bully, and because he had judged Shasta to be a coward. The
other boys stood round in a silent ring, watching the fight with
glittering eyes. Their very silence showed how deeply they were
moved; though, Indian-like, they gave no vent to their feeling by any
outward sign. They were like a circle of animals, watching, with a
fierce animal joy, a combat waged to the death. And presently a
terror, as of death itself, came to Musha-Wunk, the bully, as he
fought. He had thought that to conquer Shasta would be a very easy
thing. He wanted to give him a good thrashing, see the blood flow,
and leave the wolf-boy half dead at the finish. But now he knew,
when too late, that he had roused something which it was not in his
power to subdue. By his own folly and cruelty, he had drawn upon
himself a vengeance which was not of men, but of the wolves. He
ceased to take the offensive. All he wanted now was to defend
himself as best he could against Shasta's lightning attacks. It was
when he tried to hold Shasta that the marvellous elasticity of the
wolf-boy's body showed itself. No matter how Musha-Wunk bent it this
way and that, straining every muscle till the veins stood out on his
throat, Shasta's firm flesh and wonderful sinews resisted every
effort to break him into submission. He twirled himself into the
most astonishing positions, upsetting Musha-Wunk every time the bully
seemed for a moment to have gained the upper hand.
The fight finished as suddenly as it had begun. Musha-Wunk had
received so severe a punishing that at last he could bear it no
longer. It was not his body alone that suffered. In his mind the
terror was growing. It was a horrible feeling that what he fought
was a boy outwardly only, and was in reality more than half a wolf!
The sudden leap, the break away, the deadly leap again--this was how
the wolves fought. It was not to be met in any familiar human way.
Taking advantage of a moment when Shasta seemed to pause, Musha-Wunk
turned and fled towards the camp.
The other Indian boys looked on in astonishment at this ending to the
fight. They would hardly believe their eyes that the big and
masterful Musha-Wunk should be defeated so utterly by the little
wolf-boy that at last he should flee in terror. They gazed at
Shasta, the victor, in awe, keeping a respectful distance for fear
lest the wolf in him might turn suddenly upon them. It did not need
Shasta's quick eyes to perceive this fear upon them; his mind caught
it as it oozed, in spite of themselves, into the air. Swift, as
always, to act when his mind had once clearly seen a thing, he made a
quick step forward, crouching as if to spring. To the alarmed Indian
boys it seemed as if his whole body quivered with rage. In its
crouching position it seemed to take on itself mysteriously the
actual outlines of a wolf. Certainly the eyes between the long and
shaggy locks of hair shot out a light that was not human, but of that
deep brute world, old and savage, in the thick lair of the trees.
It was enough. Without waiting an instant longer, the whole band
broke asunder and took to their heels in flight.
Shasta watched their departure with a joyful triumph. Now at last he
had proved that the wolf-spirit in him was not to be broken, and that
those who provoked or insulted it did so at their own peril. It was
the upright, free spirit of the wild. And as such it was a good
spirit, and belonged to the early freshness of the world. In Shasta,
it would not attack or injure things as long as they left him alone.
But once his freedom or peace were threatened, then he would resist
with all the strength in his power.
When the last flying form had disappeared behind the rising ground,
Shasta turned towards the trees. The excitement that was in him
danced and bubbled in his blood. He was tired and sore in his body,
but his heart was high--high as the tops of the spruces and the
pines. He felt that he must go and tell his heart to the trees.
He went far into the forest, and then sat down. The trees were all
about him--close on every side. It was as if they were crowding up
to him to hear what he had to say. The big silence of them did not
make him lonely or afraid. They were solemn and yet companionable,
and full of wise "medicine"--which he understood, but could not put
into speech.
The Indian camp was very far away now. Musha-Wunk and the others
were little things that did not matter. It was the trees that
mattered now--the trees and the wolves.
Only his fine ear could have detected that soft footfall coming down
the trail! And when he turned his eyes, it did not surprise him that
he looked straight into those of a big grey wolf.
What Shasta said to the wolf and what the wolf said to Shasta cannot
be set down in words. Though it was neither Nitka nor Shoomoo, it
was a wolf-brother of three seasons back, and the two recognized each
other in some mysterious way. And so Shasta was able to learn all he
wanted to know about the den upon the Bargloosh, and how his
foster-parents fared. It was over nine months now since he had seen
them, but, according to the wolf-brother, nothing was amiss. Upon
the Bargloosh everything went much as it had gone in the old days
when Shasta was a little naked man-cub, and had no notion of wearing
clothes. The wolf-brother did not approve of the clothing Shasta
wore, though it was only a little tanned buckskin tunic falling to
the knee. For that was one of Shasta's peculiarities, that though he
suffered the upper part of his body to be clad, he would not allow
them to interfere with the freedom of his legs. Moccasins he would
only wear in winter, when the frost bit hard, or in the summer when
he had a fit upon him to decorate his feet. Running-Laughing had
made him the summer moccasins, and had embroidered them most
cunningly with elk-teeth and porcupine quills. Shasta walked
stiffly, with a sense of grandeur, when he wore the summer moccasins,
looking down at his feet as if they belonged to some great
medicine-man or important chief.
The wolf-brother sniffed at the tunic disapprovingly. The Indian
smell of it upset him, and made his hackles rise. So Shasta, to
please him, took it off, and let him see that it was only a loose
skin that did not matter, and could easily be thrown away. After
that things went more smoothly, and they talked companionably
together in the shadow of the trees. And when the evening light
began to be golden about the tops of the spruces, and the forest to
stir, and shake off the drowsy weight of the afternoon, the
wolf-brother departed as suddenly and softly as he had come, and
Shasta, having watched him go regretfully, turned homewards to the
camp.