THE INDIAN TRAPPER
THE routine of life in a lumber camp never became tiresome, but it
systematized matters for the children. Every morning at five o'clock the
rising gong was beaten by the cook's helper, and at five-thirty the men
had breakfast. The families ate at six-thirty, and at seven-thirty an
hour was given to study of the daily lessons. Then an hour of freedom
came, followed by three hours of close application to school. The
classes met in one of the large rooms of the office building and Miss
Miller had scholars who were eager to study, for not one of them wished
to be detained after school; there were too many wonderful things to be
done, and being detained after school hours meant the missing of some of
the wonders.
After the first week in camp the children became quite resigned to the
early rising and breakfast, for it seemed to lengthen out the hours of
the day so that a great deal more could be crowded into the time for fun
and play.
On the second Sunday in camp everyone was sitting in the dining-room
listening while Mr. Latimer read the service. He had finished the Bible
reading and suggested a hymn that all of the men knew by heart, when the
door opened at one end of the shed and a queer old face peered in.
Don sat nearest the door and, seeing a stranger at the door, nudged his
twin. She leaned over and stared at the wrinkled skin, twinkling eyes,
and long straight hair.
"Why, Don, it's an Injun!" whispered Dot, with surprise.
By this time the door had opened far enough to admit the stranger and he
stepped in and squatted down just inside.
Most of the men sitting with faces toward the door saw him but the
reader and part of his audience were not aware of the visitor. Dot
nudged her father and whispered about the Indian's presence. The service
continued, however, without interruption, to the final song. Then many
of the men rose and came over to the visitor.
"Hello, Wilotemike! Where'd you come from?"
"Wilotemike! Let me see him!" exclaimed Mr. Starr, in great surprise. He
stepped out before the old Indian and saw the same friendly trapper that
had advised his friend Dean about the flooded river, and entertained
them for a week. He came forward and held out a welcoming hand.
"Well, well, I don't believe you know me, Mike, do you?" asked Mr.
Starr, grasping the old man's hand.
After thinking deeply for a few moments, the Indian's face lit up and he
smiled recognition at Mr. Starr.
"Mike know friend! Many moons he not come back!" said the Indian
reprovingly.
"Not my fault, Mike. Me want to come but find a nice squaw and she keep
me home," laughed Mr. Starr, beckoning for his wife to join him.
Of course the children were shown to Mike and the old Indian smiled as
he allowed his hand to light gently upon Bab's yellow curls.
Most of the timber men knew Mike, or had heard of the trapper, and he
was generally welcomed at any camp he visited. In this case, however, he
was doubly welcome, for he was a friend of one of the bosses, and the
story soon went the rounds of the entire camp.
"Going to visit us for the winter, Mike?" asked Mr. Latimer, thinking of
the great boon he would be to go about with the children after school
hours. Knowing the forests as he did, he could teach and show them
everything and at the same time prevent any danger from coming to them.
"Mike set traps nex' moon, way up mountain," replied Mike, laconically.
"Mike stay here till time for trap to catch big game!" eagerly came from
Mr. Starr, who sensed part of Mr. Latimer's plan.
"Mike, get much money for time he stay. Mike show little ones all over
woods and teach many good things about everything!" added Mr. Latimer.
By this time the ladies realized what the two men were after, and
abetted the plan with all of their persuasions.
Mike stood uncertain. He smiled down at the children who showed in their
faces how delightful life would be with a real Indian trapper to show
them about the woods, while the ladies urged the proposition
resistlessly, and the men stood waiting expectantly for an answer.
"Mike not make much pelts las' year. Not eat much this year. Mike tink
dis snow make a big pelt time--make much money," explained the trapper.
"Mike take all this money from this day to trapper's day. Mike go to
mountain on trapper day and set traps. Watch much. Get big pelt and come
back soon; Mike make more money here with white man," spoke Mr. Starr,
taking a roll of bills from his pocket and counting out fifty dollars
upon the table, giving Mike to understand that the money was his if he
would remain in camp until December 15, which day was generally
Trapper's Day in the North.
The Indian looked about at the faces and saw only the kindly desire to
have him remain, and his eyes became misty at the unusual welcome from
the white men.
Don and Dot could hardly restrain their impatience to have Mike say
"yes," so Don ran over, took the dark hand of the trapper in both his
and shook it, saying, "Come on, Mike, we want you."
The children all flocked about, coaxing the Indian to remain, until he
smiled and consented to be their guard after school hours. Miss Miller
heaved an audible sigh of relief, for she had had her troubles in the
last two weeks, trying to keep Babs and the twins always in a "safety
circle" beneath her watchful eye.
Cook came in just then and asked a question.
"Hey, boss, when is church out? My dinner is cooked an' waitin' fer the
two boys to set up de tables."
At that everyone hurried out that the cook might not be delayed in his
programme of feeding so many hungry people.
"Take Mike into the office and tell him all you have seen since you have
been here," suggested Mr. Latimer to the children.
While the children danced over the frozen ground showing the Indian the
way to the office, the elders gathered in the Starr's log hut and
discussed the value of the trapper.
"Everybody knows Mike for hundreds of miles around this part of the
country, and he knows every foot of ground, the depth of waters, the
bog-lands, and the haunts of wild animals. He is as true and honorable
as any white man, and more trustworthy than many," explained Mr. Starr.
"He is almost too old a man to continue trapping, I should think,"
remarked Mr. Latimer. "Why, he must be almost seventy years old."
"More than that, I think," replied Mr. Starr.
"You never can tell an Indian's age after a certain period. He may be a
hundred and fifty and he would not show it any more than to-day," said
Mrs. Latimer.
"Well, the one essential thing is that he is perfectly capable and agile
enough to guard the children in their wanderings," added Mrs. Starr, who
was greatly relieved to have such a treasure.
"If he would consent to give up trapping this winter, I would willingly
pay him more than he will get out of any pelts he might get. And life
here would be much easier for him without being too civilized," said Mr.
Starr.
"Well, we'll let him try it for a time and perhaps he will like the
children enough to wish to remain for the season," suggested Mr.
Latimer.
Meanwhile, the children were having a glorious time with their new
friend and guardian. The twins were enchanted to be living with a real,
true Indian, and Babs seemed to take a violent fancy to the long haired
old man.
Mike was like one of the children, telling them Indian legends in his
own queer English, which Paul called "Pidgin English." The afternoon
passed quickly for the children and they were all amazed when the gong
banged for supper.
The following day while the children were at school, Mike looked about
the camp with curiosity and then walked away to see how much timber the
men had cut. Unknown to anyone, Babs quietly crept after her new
play-fellow, and soon was out of sight of the camp.
Babs was past three years and quite able to amuse herself at times, and
since coming to the woods she had enjoyed playing in the clearing with a
toy shovel and pick and a blunt axe. She liked to make believe she was
chopping down trees and piling them up in tiny heaps of firewood that
cook's helper generally used for kindlings. No one was concerned about
the child as she had played quietly in that way for several days and she
was not given to adventure like the twins. So, it was with a startled
expression that Mrs. Starr called Babs and, receiving no reply, went to
the door of the log cabin to find her. As no Babs was to be seen, and
nobody had seen her anywhere for the past half hour, Mrs. Starr felt
frightened.
Mrs. Starr and Mrs. Latimer ran over to the school room to inquire, but
no one had seen Babs there. Then, they ran to the office where the two
bosses were writing and figuring, but neither one of them had seen Babs.
"Where's Mike?" asked Mr. Starr.
"Oh, I never thought of him," replied Mrs. Starr with a feeling of
relief.
"If Mike isn't about the clearing you can rest assured that he has Babs
with him, and she is as safe as she would be in bed," said Mr. Starr,
going out of the office to inquire about Mike at the cook's quarters.
As Mike had not been seen about for an hour, there was no doubt that
Babs and he were out together.
Now Mike had loped silently over the frozen ground toward the direction
of the timber cutting, without ever looking behind him. Had he glanced
back he might have seen a tiny little girl making great efforts to
follow after him. Mike was too entirely a creature of nature to walk in
a beaten path when a short-cut through the woods saved so many steps.
Therefore, Babs found her path beset by many obstacles as she tried to
follow exactly in the way Mike had chosen.
Her short little legs could not keep up with his agile old ones, and
soon Babs was left behind. Try as she would she could not run fast
enough to find Mike again. She could barely remember in which direction
she last saw him going, and finally, she sat down upon a flat rock and
cried. She was tired, she was hungry, she wanted to go home, and she
wanted Mike. But not one of these wants were satisfied, and she cried
lustily for someone to come and find her.
Since living in the forest, Mother had often warned the children never
to go out of sight of the clearing, for there might be bears about the
woods. To add to her fear of being lost, came a queer sound among the
underbrush.
"Oh, it's a bear!" wailed Babs, trying to locate the wild beast and
seeking shelter behind a huge tree.
She hugged the immense trunk of the pine while she poked her yellow head
out to see if the bear was in sight, but he had not yet come into view.
She stood behind the tree until wearied of inaction, and as the noise
could no longer be heard, crept out of hiding, and Babs started off in a
direction she hoped would bring her to Mike. She stumbled and fell over
roots, got up and went on again; dodged between the thick growth of pine
trees, and finally came to the road that was broken out by the men when
they first came to camp--the road that led to the trail running into
town.
Babs was thankful to find a road but not sure which direction to take,
and when a little girl is very tired and hungry and forlorn the work of
thinking hard is apt to put her to sleep, especially if she sits down
upon a large pile of pine needles and leans against a stump to think.
And so it was with Babs. She leaned her tousled curls against the stump
and closed her eyes.
In taking the short-cut to the timber-cutters, Mike had seen tracks of
wild hares and quail, and finding that the work in the timber was not as
interesting as he thought it would be, he decided to follow the road
back and get his rifle to shoot some game for the cook.
He was quietly loping along the road when he saw the little white hood
bobbing down behind the pine stump.
Mike looked all about for some evidence of the children or elders, but
not a sign or sound was to be heard except the strange cracklings of
forest silences. Mike gave a shrill whistle to call anyone who had
strayed close by, but no one answered except Babs who was suddenly
awakened from her nap.
"O-oh, Mike! Did oo know I is losted affer oo?" said she, rubbing her
eyes with her mittened hands.
"Mike take Babby home," coaxed Mike, lifting the child to his shoulder.
Reaching the clearing Mike carried Babs over to the office where he
heard how everyone missed the child and, finding that Mike was gone
also, they felt that Babs was safe, for doubtless the two were together.
Mike understood perfectly but said nothing about finding Babs alone a
mile from the clearing, for he silently vowed never to leave the little
one alone again.
So the devotion of the old man proved a great boon to Babs, for she soon
knew many simple wood-secrets that Mike taught her, as well as being
shown the homes of hares, quail, squirrels, and other small denizens of
the forests.
One day, Mike went off alone, with his rifle over his shoulder. Babs had
to remain indoors that day as she had fallen into a pool of water and
had to have all of her clothes dried in the kitchen. That night Mike
came into camp with a medium sized deer slung over his back. Everyone
was interested in the event and watched Mike hang it up by the legs,
while he went to his tiny log hut and brought out a sharp knife. The
deer was soon skinned and the meat cut up into steaks and chops which
were sent over to the cook. The skin was then prepared, as only an
Indian can cure it, and left for a time to season.
"What are you going to do with it, Mike?" asked Don.
But Mike smiled as he shook his head, refusing to tell.
The children insisted, however, and Mike confessed that he intended
making a deer-skin suit for Babs to wear out-of-doors.