I
It was over a little footbridge one had to pass to visit MacPhairrson
and his family, a little, lofty, curiously constructed footbridge,
spanning a narrow but very furious torrent. At the middle of the
bridge was a gate--or, rather, a door--of close and strong wire mesh;
and at this point, door and bridge together were encircled by a
_chevaux-de-frise_ of woodwork with sharp, radiating points of heavy
telegraph wire. With the gate shut, nothing less than a pair of wings
in good working order could carry one over to the steep little island
in mid-torrent which was MacPhairrson's home and citadel.
Carried caressingly in the hollow of his left arm, the Boy held a
brown burlap bag, which wriggled violently at times and had to be
soothed into quiescence. When the Boy arrived at the door in the
bridge, which he found locked, he was met by two strange hosts who
peered at him wisely through the meshes of the door. One of these was
a large black and tan dog, with the long body, wavy hair, drooping
silken ears, and richly feathered tail of a Gordon setter, most
grotesquely supported, at a height of not more than eight inches from
the ground, by the little bow-legs of a dachshund. This freakish and
sinister-looking animal gazed at the visitor with eyes of sagacious
welcome, tongue hanging amiably half out, and tail gently waving. He
approved of this particular Boy, though boys in general he regarded as
nuisances to be tolerated rather than encouraged. The other host,
standing close beside the dog as if on guard, and scrutinizing the
visitor with little, pale, shrewdly non-committal eyes, was a
half-grown black and white pig.
Through the gate the Boy murmured familiar greetings to its warders
while he pulled a wooden handle which set an old brown cow-bell above
the door jangling hoarsely. The summer air was full to brimming over
with sound--with the roar of the furious little torrent beneath, with
the thunder of the sheet of cream and amber water falling over the
face of the dam some fifty yards above, with the hiss and shriek of
the saws in the big sawmill perched beside the dam. Yet through all
the interwoven tissue of noise the note of the cow-bell made itself
heard in the cabin. From behind the cabin arose a sonorous cry of
_hong-ka, honk-a-honk_, and the snaky black head of a big Canada
goose appeared inquiringly around the corner. On one end of the hewn
log which served as doorstep a preternaturally large and fat woodchuck
sat bolt upright and stared to see who was coming. A red fox, which
had been curled up asleep under MacPhairrson's one rose bush, awoke,
and superciliously withdrew to the other side of the island, out of
sight, disapproving of all visitors on principle. From the shade of a
thick spruce bush near the bridge-end a moose calf lumbered lazily to
her feet, and stood staring, her head low down and her big ears waving
in sleepy interrogation. From within the cabin came a series of harsh
screeches mixed with discordant laughter and cries of "Ebenezer!
Ebenezer! Oh, by Gee! Hullo!" Then the cabin door swung wide, and in
the doorway appeared MacPhairrson, leaning on his crutches, a green
parrot on his shoulder, and beside his crippled feet two big white
cats.
MacPhairrson, the parrot, and the cats, all together stared hard at
the door on the bridge, striving to make out through the meshes who
the visitor might be. The parrot, scrutinizing fiercely with her
sinister black and orange eyes, was the first to discover. She
proclaimed at once her discovery and her approval by screeching, "Boy!
Boy! Oh, by Gee! Hullo!" and clambering head-first down the front of
MacPhairrson's coat. As MacPhairrson hobbled hastily forward to admit
the welcome guest, the parrot, reaching out with beak and claw,
transferred herself to the moving crutch, whence she made a futile
snap at one of the white cats. Foiled in this amiable attempt, she
climbed hurriedly up the crutch again and resumed MacPhairrson's
shoulder, in time to greet the Boy's entrance with a cordial "Oh, by
Gee! Hullo!"
MacPhairrson (he spelled his name scrupulously MacPherson, but, like
all the other dwellers in the Settlement, pronounced it MacPhairrson,
with a punctilious rolling of the r) was an old lumberman. Rheumatism,
brought on by years of toiling thigh-deep in the icy waters when the
logs were running in the freshets, had gripped him so relentlessly
that one of his legs was twisted to almost utter uselessness. With his
crutches, however, he could get about after his fashion; and being
handy with his fingers and versatile of wit, he managed to make a
living well enough at the little odd jobs of mechanical repairing
which the Settlement folk, and the mill hands in particular, brought
to his cabin. His cabin, which was practically a citadel, stood on a
steep cone of rock, upthrust from the bed of the wild little river
which worked the mill. On the summit of a rock a few square rods of
soil gave room for the cabin, half a dozen bushes, and some sandy,
sun-warmed turf. In this retreat, within fifty yards of the busy mill,
but fenced about by the foaming torrent and quite inaccessible except
by the footbridge, MacPhairrson lived with the motley group of
companions which men called his Happy Family.
Happy, no doubt, they were, in spite of the strait confines of their
prison, for MacPhairrson ruled them by the joint forces of authority
and love. He had, moreover, the mystic understanding which is
essential if one would be really intimate with the kindreds we
carelessly call dumb. So it was that he achieved a fair degree of
concord in his Family. All the creatures were amiable towards him,
because they loved him; and because they wholesomely feared him, they
were amiable in the main towards each other. There were certain
members of the Family who might be described as perennial. They were
of the nature of established institutions. Such were Stumpy, the
freak-legged dachshund-setter; James Edward, the wild gander; Butters,
the woodchuck; Melindy and Jim, the two white cats; Bones, the brown
owl, who sat all day on the edge of a box in the darkest corner of the
cabin; and Ananias-and-Sapphira, the green parrot, so named, as
MacPhairrson was wont to explain, because she was so human and he
never could quite make her out. Ebenezer, the pig, was still too young
to be promoted to permanence; but he had already shown such character,
intelligence, and self-respecting individuality that MacPhairrson had
vowed he should never deteriorate into pork. Ebenezer should stay,
even though he should grow so big as to be inconvenient.
But with Susan, the moose calf, and Carrots, the unsociable young fox,
it was different. MacPhairrson realized that when Susan should come to
her full heritage of stature, he would hardly have room for her on the
island. He would then send to the Game Commissioner at Fredericton for
a permit, and sell the good soul to the agent for some Zoological
Garden, where she would be appreciated and cared for. As for Carrots,
his conduct was irreproachable, absolutely without blot or blemish,
but MacPhairrson knew that he was quite unregenerate at heart. The
astute little beast understood well enough the fundamental law of the
Family, "Live and let live," and he knew that if he should break that
law, doom would descend upon him in an eye-wink. But into his
narrowed, inscrutable eyes, as he lay with muzzle on dainty,
outstretched black paws and watched the movements of James Edward, the
gander, or Butters, the fat woodchuck, a savage glint would come,
which MacPhairrson unerringly interpreted. Moreover, while his
demeanour was impeccable, his reserve was impenetrable, and even the
tolerant and kindly MacPhairrson could find nothing in him to love.
The decree, therefore, had gone forth; that is, it had been announced
by MacPhairrson himself, and apparently approved by the ever attentive
Stumpy and Ebenezer, that Carrots should be sold into exile at the
very first opportunity.
When the Boy came through the little bridge gate, the greetings
between him and MacPhairrson were brief and quiet. They were fellows
both in the taciturn brotherhood of the woods. To Stumpy and Ebenezer,
who nosed affectionately at his legs, he paid no attention beyond a
careless touch of caress. Even to Ananias-and-Sapphira, who had
hurriedly clambered from MacPhairrson's shoulder to his and begun
softly nipping at his ear with her dreaded beak, he gave no heed
whatever. He knew that the evil-tempered bird loved him as she loved
his master and would be scrupulously careful not to pinch too hard.
As the little procession moved gravely and silently up from the bridge
to the cabin, their silence was in no way conspicuous, for the whole
air throbbed with the rising and falling shriek of the saws, the
trampling of the falls, and the obscurely rhythmic rush of the torrent
around the island base. They were presently joined by Susan, shambling
on her ungainly legs, wagging her big ears, and stretching out her
long, ugly, flexible, overhanging nose to sniff inquiringly at the
Boy's jacket. A comparatively new member of MacPhairrson's family, she
was still full of curiosity about every one and everything, and
obviously considered it her mission in life to acquire knowledge. It
was her firm conviction that the only way to know a thing was to
smell it.
A few steps from the door James Edward, the wild gander, came forward
with dignity, slightly bowing his long, graceful black neck and narrow
snaky head as he moved. Had the Boy been a stranger, he would now have
met the first touch of hostility. Not all MacPhairrson's manifest
favour would have prevented the uncompromising and dauntless
gander from greeting the visitor with a savage hiss and uplifted
wings of defiance. But towards the Boy, whom he knew well, his dark,
sagacious eye expressed only tolerance, which from him was no small
condescension.
On the doorstep, as austerely ungracious in his welcome as James
Edward himself, sat Butters, the woodchuck, nursing some secret grudge
against the world in general, or, possibly, against Ananias-and-Sapphira
in particular, with whom he was on terms of vigilant neutrality.
When the procession approached, he forsook the doorstep, turned his fat,
brown back upon the visitor, and became engrossed in gnawing a big
cabbage stalk. He was afraid that if he should seem good-natured and
friendly, he might be called upon to show off some of the tricks
which MacPhairrson, with inexhaustible patience, had taught him. He
was not going to turn somersaults, or roll over backward, or walk
like a dancing bear, for any Boy alive!
This ill humour of Butters, however, attracted no notice. It was
accepted by both MacPhairrson and his visitor as a thing of course.
Moreover, there were matters of more moment afoot. That lively,
squirming bag which the Boy carried so carefully in the hollow of his
left arm was exciting the old woodsman's curiosity. The lumbermen and
mill hands, as well as the farmer-folk of the Settlement for miles
about, were given to bringing MacPhairrson all kinds of wild creatures
as candidates for admission to his Happy Family. So whenever any one
came with something alive in a bag, MacPhairrson would regard the bag
with that hopeful and eager anticipation with which a child regards
its Christmas stocking.
When the two had entered the cabin and seated themselves, the Boy in
the big barrel chair by the window, and MacPhairrson on the edge of
his bunk, not three feet away, the rest of the company gathered in a
semicircle of expectation in the middle of the floor. That is, Stumpy
and Ebenezer and the two white cats did so, their keen noses as well
as their inquisitive eyes having been busied about the bundle. Even
James Edward came a few steps inside the door, and with a fine
assumption of unconcern kept himself in touch with the proceedings.
Only Susan was really indifferent, lying down outside the door--Susan,
and that big bunch of fluffy brown feathers on the barrel in the
corner of the cabin.
The air fairly thrilled with expectation as the boy took the
wriggling bag on his knee and started to open it. The moment there was
an opening, out came a sharp little black nose pushing and twisting
eagerly for freedom. The nose was followed in an instant by a pair of
dark, intelligent, mischievous eyes. Then a long-tailed young raccoon
squirmed forth, clambered up to the Boy's shoulder, and turned to eye
the assemblage with bright defiance. Never before in his young life
had he seen such a remarkable assemblage; which, after all, was not
strange, as there was surely not another like it in the world.
The new-comer's reception, on the whole, was not unfriendly. The two
white cats, to be sure, fluffed their tails a little, drew back from
the circle, and went off to curl up in the sun and sleep off their
aversion to a stranger. James Edward, too, his curiosity satisfied,
haughtily withdrew. But Stumpy, as acknowledged dean of the Family,
wagged his tail, hung out his pink tongue as far as it would go, and
panted a welcome so obvious that a much less intelligent animal than
the young raccoon could not have failed to understand it. Ebenezer was
less demonstrative, but his little eyes twinkled with unmistakable
good-will. Ananias-and-Sapphira was extraordinarily interested. In a
tremendous hurry she scrambled down MacPhairrson's arm, down his leg,
across the floor, and up the Boy's trousers. The Boy was a little
anxious.
"Will she bite him?" he asked, preparing to defend his pet.
"I reckon she won't," answered MacPhairrson, observing that the
capricious bird's plumage was not ruffled, but pressed down so hard
and smooth and close to her body that she looked much less than her
usual size. "Generally she ain't ugly when she looks that way. But
she's powerful interested, I tell you!"
The little raccoon was crouching on the Boy's right shoulder.
Ananias-and-Sapphira, using beak and claws, scrambled nimbly to the
other shoulder. Then, reaching far around past the Boy's face, she
fixed the stranger piercingly with her unwinking gaze, and emitted an
ear-splitting shriek of laughter. The little coon's nerves were not
prepared for such a strain. In his panic he fairly tumbled from his
perch to the floor, and straightway fled for refuge to the broad back
of the surprised and flattered pig.
"The little critter's all right!" declared MacPhairrson, when he and
the Boy were done laughing. "Ananias-an'-Sapphira won't hurt him. She
likes all the critters she kin bully an' skeer. An' Stumpy an' that
comical cuss of a Ebenezer, they be goin' to look out fer him."