THE ROUT OF THE WOLF PACK
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.
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.
Silently the old crow flew around among his helpers to give the final
instructions. Then all waited.
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.
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.
For a moment the great Kil-fang and his three companions seemed
uncertain what to do, and too scared and confused to decide which way
to run.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 state of the peaceful hills and
valleys of Timbertangle.
[Illustration]
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:
“Where, oh where, is the great wolf clan,
That came to fight and kill?
With cowardly hearts, in fear they ran;
I’ll bet they’re running still!”
“And so with all who brag and boast,
And try to rule by fear;
They’re always scared and frightened most
When no real danger’s near!”
“So let us live by justice and
Kill only when there’s need.
Then there’ll be peace in Black Hill land,
In place of fear and greed!”
[Illustration]
The Thunder Drum
CHAPTER 1
THE YEAR OF THE GREAT THIRST
_The shadows of Timbertangle Wood
Have hidden many a tale
Of wild adventure and treasure trove,
And magic of forest trail._
_But here is a tale as it came to me,
And I’m told that it’s really true
(By the little black bird who told it to me!)
So I’m handing it on to you!_
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.
The sides of Wongo’s empty stomach seemed to rub together and call for
food, but stronger, much 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.
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.
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.
It had been many, many moons since any rain had fallen and the larger
animals were mere ghosts 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.
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.
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.
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:
“Stand on your head and jig and dance,
Or wiggle your legs and howl and prance;
But _don’t_ stand there with a hanging head,
As if some friend of ours was dead!
What awful thing has happened now,
That you should wear such a troubled brow?”
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.
“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?”
“Nothing worse than when you were here,” said Wongo. “Where in the
world have you been? Have you found anything?”
“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?”
[Illustration: _“Just follow me,” cried Kaw, “and you shall see”_]
“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.
“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 _me_, 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.”
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:
“Just follow me
And you shall see--
My nose is true,
And yours is, too.
Please use it now,
As you know how;
But don’t be long,
The smell is strong,
And may be stronger
If we’re longer.
It may meet us--
Even cheat us--
For we’ll lose it
And confuse it,
If we meet!”
“Oh, hush!” shouted Wongo. “You make my head buzz. What are you talking
about?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” answered Kaw. “If the smell should meet us, _which_
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.
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.
“Now I am ready to listen to what it was you were going to say awhile
ago,” he said. “What about Cho-gay?”
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.
“Have you anything particular to do this morning?” he asked, as if in
idle questioning.
“What about Cho-gay?” Wongo asked again. “You had something to tell me
about him.”
“Patience, patience, my young friend,” said the old crow gravely. “I
shall come to that presently.”
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.
“As you evidently haven’t anything to do this morning,” continued the
crow, “I’ll go on with what I was going to say.”
“Go on,” grunted Wongo, and his eyes were nearly closed.
“For goodness sake _don’t_ go to sleep!” called Kaw, suddenly alert.
“There are things to do, and to do _now_ if we expect to see another
winter in Timbertangle--Here! Wake up!”
“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?”
“Well, that sounds more like it,” said Kaw. “If you really _are_ awake,
come on over to Cho-gay’s cave and we will talk there.”
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.
“All right, I’m ready,” he said, “only it seems to me the really
sensible thing to do would be to take a nap.”
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.”
“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?”
“N-o, not exactly--but--well, come on and you’ll see later.” Kaw
flopped from his tree and 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.
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.
CHAPTER 2
GRAYHEAD, THE GRIZZLY
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.
Wongo felt too lazy to walk around the clearing and thus avoid meeting
old Grayhead, so he went 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.
[Illustration]
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 that made me chief of
Timbertangle.”
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.
“I can’t stop now,” he said hurriedly. “Some other time--”
Old Grayhead caught him by the leg and pulled him down toward him.
“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.”
A far-off voice came back through the trees:
“Come on, come on, slow poke!”
“I _can’t_!” shouted Wongo. Forgetting himself in his anger at being
detained, he called out, “It’s ‘Waggle-jaw!’”
Old Grayhead looked at him and frowned deeply.
“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 held him tight by the leg awaiting his explanation of
the name “Waggle-jaw.”
“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.
“An animal?” repeated Grayhead. “Called ‘Waggle-jaw’? I never heard of
it. It can’t be in Timbertangle.”
“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.”
“Humm-m,” said Grayhead. “What _kind_ of an animal? Does it look good
to eat?”
The bears and wolf gave a queer, smothered yell at this and Grayhead
looked up with a threatening frown.
“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.”
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
hopefully to his friend to get him out, as he usually did, but Kaw made
no sign.
“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--
“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.”
Grayhead nodded shortly and Kaw went on:
“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 _looks_--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:
“When once you’ve seen him face to face,
You’ll know him without doubt,
For on his head there’s not a trace,
When he is turned about,
Of any hair--except what’s there--
Nor on his back a spot,
Of fur or skin that’s dark or fair,
Except where there is not.
And he’s a fearful creature, too,
As you will surely find.
For he can bite a tree in two
With only half a mind.
The other half--so I am told--
He uses as a paw,
When enemies get overbold,
To club them in the jaw.”
“Now, the reason he is in this neighborhood,” continued Kaw slowly,
“is that he has heard that _you_ want to meet him and then, too, he is
_very_ 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 with concealed mirth. All of them,
however, felt it wise to keep silent.
Before Grayhead could collect his puzzled thoughts enough to speak, Kaw
began again:
“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.”
Old Grayhead held his head high and looked, with an “I told you so”
air, at his companions.
“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 that
they were laughing _at_ him and not _with_ him.
[Illustration]
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.
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.
“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.
CHAPTER 3
AT THE CAVE OF CHO-GAY
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.
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.
After the manner of Indians, the animals were silent for some time,
and did not immediately come to the reason for their visit, but finally
Kaw spoke:
“Chu-ta-win, the eagle, is a friend of yours, isn’t he, Cho-gay?”
“Yes,” answered Cho-gay, “the eagle and I are good friends. He really
owes his life to me.”
“As I thought,” said Kaw. “Would he do big things for you?”
“I think he would do anything I’d ask,” answered the Indian boy. “Why?”
“Umm-m,” said Kaw, without answering the question. “Do you know where
he is?”
“I can whistle for him. We have a signal. If he doesn’t hear, there are
those who carry the message to him.”
“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.”
“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.
“Well, _that’s_ 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.”
Wongo sat back on his haunches and his jaw dropped open.
“What on earth--” he began, and stopped short, for Kaw cocked his head
on one side and snapped out:
“What did I say--
Now there you go--
Just right away,
’Twas ever so.
Instead of going to your task,
You simply sit and gape, and _ask_!”
“Well,” answered Wongo, a trifle sheepishly, “you didn’t want me to
rush right off now, did you?”
“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.”
“But can’t I hear what Cho-gay is going to do, first?”
“No,” said Kaw, “you’ll hear all about that later. Run along now, for
your job’s very important.”
Wongo left them, going very slowly, it is true, and with many a
backward glance at the two. Kaw chuckled to himself:
“A good, kindly friend, my little bear,
Always good natured and merry;
Anything doing, he’s sure to be there;
But curious--? Very--Oh, VERY!”
He chuckled again and turned to Cho-gay:
“I want Chu-ta-win, the eagle, to take _you_ to the Up-above Country.
Have you ever been?” pointing to the clouds.
“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.”
“You promised to do as I said and not ask questions. Are you going back
on your word?”
“No,” answered Cho-gay slowly. “Go on.”
“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 is no time to lose, as we are, if we succeed, about to do a
service for Timbertangle that will never be forgotten.”
[Illustration: _Wongo left them, going very slowly_]
“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.
“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.
After a short interval, there came a rush of wind, and Kaw knew that
the great eagle had arrived.
“You called for me, little brother,” said a voice, and Cho-gay answered:
“Yes, Chu-ta-win, I have a great favor to ask.”
“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?”
“I have some important business in the Up-above Country. Can you take
me there?”
“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?”
“Now,” answered Cho-gay.
“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.”
“I have a bag of dried goat’s meat and seeds of the pinyon,” said
Cho-gay. “Will that do?”
“Fine,” answered Chu-ta-win, “bring it along. It has been many, many
moons since I tasted the meat of the goat.”
So Cho-gay went back into the cave, and while he was getting the bag of
goat meat, he whispered to Kaw:
“The eagle will take me as soon as I get some food. Now, how about you?
You say you are going, too?”
“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.”
So Cho-gay fastened the bag of meat to a thong at his waist as quickly
as he could and stepped over to Kaw.
“Have you some red paint?” asked the crow.
“Yes,” replied Cho-gay.
“Well, get it,” continued the crow, “and paint me all over with it.
Make my beak white. Hurry!”
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 _living_ creature, but
he rather enjoyed his task.
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.
“Are you _sure_ I look all right?” insisted Kaw.
“Fine!” answered Cho-gay, and grinned in spite of himself.
“Well, we’ll go now. Introduce me to Chu-ta-win as a friend of
yours--Mr. Redskin, suppose we say--and be _sure_ to say I have a bad
cold.”
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.
“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:
“There once was a tribe called the ‘Whys,’
Who thought to become very wise;
They went to the crows,
For as everyone knows,
A crow is quite bright--for his size!
“They asked very deeply of laws.
And of words quite too big for their jaws,
But the crows, with a sigh,
Answered every big ‘Why’
Very plainly and simply with--‘Caws!’”
[Illustration: _“The voice too,” mused Chu-ta-win_]
The crow stopped and cleared his throat, with one bright twinkling eye
on Cho-gay.
“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?”
“A friend,” called Cho-gay. “I’m coming now,” and he stepped out to
where the eagle was waiting. Kaw followed without a word.
“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.”
Chu-ta-win eyed Kaw with a puzzled expression.
“I think I have never seen your friend before. He is the largest
red-bird I ever saw. He _reminds_ me of someone, though I cannot think
who. You are not of Timbertangle?” he questioned Kaw.
“No,” answered the old crow in a low voice. “I am from the other side
of the divide.”
“The voice too,” mused Chu-ta-win.
“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.
“Yes, we had better go,” said the eagle. “The wind is just right now.”
CHAPTER 4
IN THE UP-ABOVE COUNTRY
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.
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 _he_ who was rising above the earth, he
seemed to stay still and everything else to move.
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 altogether lost to sight
as light, wind-blown clouds drifted between them and the earth beneath.
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.
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.
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.
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?”
Cho-gay stared hard as the realization came to him that from previous
experiments he had found that this particular color did _not_ come off
easily. He whispered this to the crow.
“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 _you_
though. There is some gain in everything, and no matter how old I get
to be, I will never turn gray!” He chuckled suddenly:
“Who ever heard of a crow that was red?
Oh, bless my poor feathers and bones!
My friends will all think that old Kaw is dead,
And shed many big tears and groans!”
“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.”
“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.”
“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 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.”
“What _good_ will it do to steal the Thunder Drum?” asked Cho-gay.
“What _good_?” 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.”
“Look! Little brother,” called Chu-ta-win, “there are the sun-clouds,
and they guard the way to the Up-above Country.”
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 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.
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.
“The keeper of the gateway,” called Chu-ta-win, in a low voice. “He
will ask why we are here.”
“Welcome to you, Chu-ta-win,” called out the hawk as he approached,
“but who comes with you?”
“Two brothers of the earth born,” answered Chu-ta-win. “I have brought
them to see your wonderful country.”
“What do they wish here?” asked the hawk again, and before the eagle
could answer, Cho-gay spoke for himself:
“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.”
“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.”
“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.”
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.
Chu-ta-win was not at all tired from his long flight and seemed as
fresh as when they had started.
“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. 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.”
Kaw gave a grunt and, in a very good imitation of Cho-gay’s voice,
spoke for him:
“Eyes in my head and ears in my head,
I’ve heard before all you have said.”
The eagle grew red in the face and answered haughtily, “I was speaking
for your entertainment and not to be insulted.”
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.”
“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.
“Now I have it!” he cried. “It is Kaw you remind me of. Except for the
color you could be his brother.
“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?”
“No,” said Cho-gay, with an uneasy glance at the crow. “Suppose we go
on now.”
“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.”
“Kaw is a friend of mine,” said Cho-gay, “and a friend of Redskin’s
too.”
“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.
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:
“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.
“Whee!” said Chu-ta-win. “Such language! Our friend is not very
polite,” and he chuckled again. “He certainly reminds me of Kaw!”
“What was the joke?” asked Cho-gay. “I wouldn’t mind hearing it now.”
“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:
“Your dainty bill I dearly love,
Its graceful shape is sweet;
But more than all, my Lady Love,
I praise your clawlike feet!
“There never was a fairer bird
In all this land, I know;
To say there was would be absurd
And ignorance would show.
“Your little wings are dainty things,
Each eye a midnight pearl;
Your glance a throbbing heart-ache brings;
Oh, be my birdie-girl!”
“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 _was_ funny.”
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.
“Come on,” said Chu-ta-win, “there are lots more things for you to
see.”
CHAPTER 5
RAIN COMES TO TIMBERTANGLE
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.
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.”
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.
[Illustration]
“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, 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.”
“All right,” answered Cho-gay in the same low voice the eagle was
using, “you speak to him then.”
Chu-ta-win looked at Cho-gay a little doubtfully.
“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.”
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:
“Go on, why don’t you speak? Chaco is waiting.”
The old man had raised his head and was watching 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:
“We are from the earth below,
And we’ve come to see if you know
Where’s the charm of Wongo, the bear;
We can’t find it anywhere.
Can you tell us where it is?
Or, if not, then where it was--
Not exactly that I mean,
But where once it might have been?”
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:
“We have come, he and me,
To find out and to see
If your wisdom can show
Us the right way to go--
Just to see, or find out,
Quite without any doubt,
Just exactly the place,
Or the spot or the space,
Where the blue charm is hid.
Where he lost it--he did.”
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:
“I have heard a constant rumor
Of the Rain-man’s sense of humor--
Let us hope that it is true--really true--
For of rhymes of man or bird,
That’s the worst I ever heard,
I am shocked, my friends, quite shocked, at both of you.”
Then in a voice mimicking Chu-ta-win’s, he continued:
“Oh, where is the blue charm hid,
For he lost it, yes he did.
Oh, my goodness, gracious, gumption--what a joke!
For the stone was really his--
Won’t you tell us where it is?
It’s a wonder wise old Chaco didn’t choke.
“But go on my friends, and ask--
I’m made happy by your task--
And if Chaco, here, can stand it, so can I.
Stand up firm and take your time,
All the air is filled with rhyme,
And, no doubt, you’ll strike a fine one, by and by.”
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 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:
“Chaco knows of what you speak,
And has seen the blue charm stone
When the clouds from Eagle peak
O’er the mountain woods have blown.
But there was no storm that night,
And the Moon God brightly shone.
It was lost within his light,
He can tell you, he alone.”
The two nodded gratefully to the old man for his words.
“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!”
Cho-gay jumped suddenly, as Kaw lit on his shoulder and began to
whisper in his ear:
“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 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--_now_!
Quick!”
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:
“Chaco, quick! The Sun God’s call!
Come! He’s calling one and all!
See, his golden arrows fall!
Chaco, quick! The Sun God’s call!”
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.
[Illustration: _All three dropped through the hole_]
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 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.
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.
“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!”
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:
“Oh, brown the earth and gray the sky,
And desert and stream and pool are dry--
But in the east the rain clouds fly.
Ah-heee, little brother, ’twill rain, ’twill rain,
Ah-heee, little brother, ’twill rain!
“I felt a drop on my feathered breast,
The rain clouds come from the east and west;
I felt a drop in my sheltered nest!
Ah-heee, little brother, ’twill rain, ’twill rain,
Ah-heee, little brother, ’twill rain!
“Now over the world a joyous hush!
Then comes the storm with a sudden rush--
The great drops patter on sand and bush!
Ah-heee, little brother, the rain, the rain!
Ah-heee, little brother, the rain!”
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.
Suddenly there was a cry from Chu-ta-win and he began to moan in a
frightened voice:
“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.
Suddenly the crow began to laugh and Chu-ta-win 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.
“Where did you come from?” asked the eagle, “and where is Redskin?”
“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:
“Sometimes very dull is the eye of a crow,
But the eye of an eagle--Oh, never--Oh, no!
Oh, never. Oh, never--
For truly whoever,
Has heard of the eye of an eagle that’s so!”
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 and black,
with here and there a smear of white from his bill.
“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!”
“A _bargain_!” cried Kaw. “Ho, all Timbertangle! Listen to this:
“The Crow and the Eagle have made a pact!
Oh, sing a song of the Thunder Drum!
This day and hour it becomes a fact!
Oh, sing a song of the Thunder Drum!
Never until the world shall end,
Shall either laugh at the woes of his friend,
But only help him those woes to mend!
Oh, sing the song of the Thunder Drum!”
[Illustration]
* * * * * *
Transcriber’s note:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.