INDIAN PICTURE WRITING
"We'll never get that old horse any higher up than this, Paul," said Jud
Elderkin.
The scouts were sitting there with that fine panorama spread out before
them, and eating a sort of pick-up lunch. At breakfast time enough food
had been prepared to carry them along for another meal. After that Paul
had promised that they would very likely be in a permanent camp, and
might expect to have decent fare right along.
"Fact of the matter is, Jud," replied the leader of the expedition, "we
don't need to, fortunately."
"What's that, Paul; not going to camp right here, I hope?" questioned
the scout leader of the second patrol.
Jud shot a swift look across the country down below, and Paul smiled
when he saw the direction of the glance.
"I understand what you mean," he remarked, immediately. "You imagine
that if we stayed here any length of time some of the tenderfeet would
be running away."
"Oh! well," Jud went on to say, "what would be the use of tantalizing
the poor chaps? Hear 'em disputing right now whether that shining thing
they see far away in the distance is the brass hand on the top of the
church steeple in Stanhope, or the wind vane on the court house cupola?
Anyhow, it stands for Stanhope; and if they were where they could stare
out yonder by the hour some of 'em would skip before another night, I'm
afraid."
"And you're just right, old fellow," Paul remarked. "I'm glad you
noticed that sign, for we'd hate to have any desertions, now that we've
made such a great start. But your other guess was away off. I haven't
the slightest idea of holding over here."
"Then the road----" began Jud.
"Makes a bend just beyond," Paul broke in with, "and goes no further up
that way. This is the last peep any of us are likely to have of far-away
Stanhope till we come out again on the way home."
"That's all right, then. Now that you mention it, I can see how the road
does take a turn a little way along. What do you suppose we're apt to
strike there, Paul? I'm more than anxious to get wise."
But the acting scoutmaster only shrugged his shoulders.
"You really don't know, then?" continued Jud.
"Only what I've heard. Some say there's a fine lake back here a few
miles. And that's what I'm hoping to strike, for a spot to camp,"
returned Paul.
"Well, I've heard that same thing," said Jud, slowly, "but never more
than half believed it. Just as like as not we'll find it only a duck
pond. But a camp always seems more like the real thing if it's only near
water."
"I always thought so," Paul admitted, "and I've been in a few dandy
camps in my time. My people have gone up in Maine every Summer for a
long while, you know. But this year they are going to stay home for a
change. Father hates to turn over his practice to any one else; and to
tell the truth I said I wanted to be right here."
"Bully for you, Paul. We all feel that we owe you a lot for the way
you've stuck to us through thick and thin. We'd never have won that
banner there if----"
But Paul would not listen.
"Stow that sort of talk, Jud!" he exclaimed. "I've done my best, but it
wasn't any more than lots of the other fellows could do. If we'd gotten
hold of Mr. Gordon in time he'd have made a better troop than we were.
He knows a heap along many lines."
"Yes," remarked Jud, with a nod, "by theory, but I just bet you if it
came down to practice you could beat him out every time. But what was it
I saw you doing at our last camp, just before we pulled up stakes?"
"I was leaving a letter for Mr. Gordon when he came along," replied
Paul, with a mysterious smile.
"What sort of a letter now, I'd like to know? Seemed to me you were
marking on a piece of birch bark, which you stuck on a stick close to
where our fire had been. And Paul," with a grin, "I had the curiosity to
take a sly look at the same as I passed by."
"Yes. What did you see?" asked the patrol leader, quietly.
"Why, it looked to me like you'd gone back some years, and started
drawing funny animals, and such things," replied Jud.
"Just what they were, old fellow," said Paul, confidentially; "but when
our scoutmaster takes one of these slips of bark up, he'll read what
I've marked on it just as you would a letter. He and I have become
deeply interested in the old method of Indian picture writing, you see.
Signs stand for words with them. A whole story can be made in a dozen
characters or groups."
"Oh! I remember something about that I read once," remarked Jud, with a
look of deep interest; "and if you don't mind I wish you'd give me a few
pointers about that sign business, some time. I'd like to know, the
worst kind."
"Oh! no trouble about that. All you have to do is to use your head a
little, and make your signs plain enough so that they can be understood.
Now, I'm going to leave a letter for Mr. Gordon right here. Watch how I
do it," and Paul picked up a good-sized bit of clear bark he had
evidently prepared for the purpose.
"You see," he began, "I use a lead pencil because it's more convenient,
that's all. If I didn't have it, I'd just take a black brand from the
fire; or even scratch the characters on the smooth bark. And first of
all to tell him that twenty-one white soldier boys camped here."
He rapidly drew just that number of rude figures, diminutive enough to
be crowded around what was plainly a spread out luncheon. They had hats
on their heads, and a flag was to be seen in the picture. A wagon and a
horse occupied one corner.
"Now," Paul went on, "you see that I've indicated these fellows spent a
brief time here. He will understand that it was noon from the round sun
I've drawn _directly above the cluster_. To show that they are eating I
have made a coffee pot in the hand of one, though that was hardly the
truth, for we've had none this time. But I guess it's always allowable
to stretch things _just a little_ in these picture stories. They were
white because they all wear hats. Do you get it, Jud?"
"Easy as falling off a log. Why, I could read that myself, if I was lost
and happened to fall into this place," replied Jud, positively.
"Sure you could," laughed Paul. "That's the object of this picture
writing; to make it so clear that anybody would know. We're not trying
to puzzle people now. This isn't what you'd call a cryptogram; not much.
It's the primer of writing. A kid could tell what it all stood for. And
these Indians are just like kids, you see."
"Well, go on," pleaded the leader of the second patrol, "I'm dead stuck
on this thing, for I can see what lots of fun we will have with it up in
the woods. How are you going to tell Mr. Gordon that we hiked out of
here, and headed due west from this point?"
"Oh!" answered Paul, readily enough, "I might use just the letter W; but
you see that wouldn't do for an Indian, who doesn't know what it means.
To him west means the setting sun, just as east is signified by its
rising, and noon by an overhead disc. So suppose I draw a rude hand,
with the finger pointing toward a sun that is half down behind a line?
Wouldn't that be apt to tell him we went west from here?"
"Why, dead sure. He couldn't mistake that. The level line I take it is
meant for the horizon?" Jud continued, deeply impressed by the
simplicity of this method of communicating between separated friends.
"Yes. Well, now he knows which way we've gone. We don't know ourselves
just how far we expect to hike this afternoon. It may be only a mile,
and it may be two. But we want to tell him that we mean to go into camp,
and that the setting sun will find us with our tents up, and a fire
burning."
Paul, while speaking, started to once more make some marks on the
balance of the smooth bark, which he had himself peeled from a nearby
birch.
"There," he presently declared, holding the pad up, "you see how I've
made the camp. The tents are set, supper cooking, and just twenty-one
little marks tell that so many soldiers are around the fire, all but
three who stand guard. And in beyond, the sun is going down, almost out
of sight in fact. No trouble about such a simple story, eh, Jud?"
"It's as plain as a book, plainer than most I've ever read. No getting
mixed up in such a story. But I'm wondering what that big circle close
to the camp means?" and Jud pointed as he spoke.
"Oh! I'm glad you spoke. Mr. Gordon himself might well wonder what that
was, for I left out the most important part. Now watch, and tell me if
you can hit it," with which remark Paul made several tiny dashes with
his pencil.
Jud gave an exclamation of delight.
"Boats--real Injun bark canoes, as sure as you live!" he observed.
"And boats don't run on dry land as a rule, do they, Jud?" Paul went on.
"Well, not so you could notice. That circle then, must be our lake, or
pond, we ain't so sure which, yet. The story is now complete, Paul from
start to finish. But sometimes it must be hard to tell things that
happened."
"That's where the fun comes in," Paul continued; "lots of happenings
make a fellow sit up and take notice, when he tries to picture them so
plainly that the other can read it right off the reel. I had a tough nut
to crack this morning."
"About that little adventure of Tom Betts in the river," interrupted
Jud. "Tell me how you did it. A crooked little mark would show the
river; but I'm blessed if I can see how you made out the drowning act,
and the rescue."
"I'll tell you how I did it," Paul went on; "and when Mr. Gordon comes
we'll find out if he understood my letter, or thought it meant
something else. I'm only a beginner in this business, you know, and
expect to improve, for I see where we can have lots of fun out of it."
"But the letter?" said Jud, impatiently.
"In the river I had several of the boy scouts bathing. All had their
hands down but one, whose arms were up over his head. That told of his
being in danger. Then on the bank I showed a ring around two, one on the
ground. Just beyond these, two were moving off, arm in arm. That ought
to tell him that the drowned boy recovered. And when the company formed
to go on the road I was _very_ particular to have the exact twenty-one
in line. How's that?"
"Great," cried Jud, excitedly; "you've got me head over ears in this
picture writing business, and I'm going to study it up. There's a book
home that has a lot about it. Me to swallow the same when we get back.
And while we're up here I'm going to get you and our scoutmaster to
teach me what you know."
"All right," laughed Paul, getting up. "Now notice that I stick this
where he will be sure to see it. And perhaps we'd better be on the hike
once more, because we don't know what we've got ahead of us. Number
Three, give the call to break camp!"