One morning--several years later--Karr lay asleep on the porch. It was
in the early summer, the season of light nights, and it was as bright as
day, although the sun was not yet up. Karr was awakened by some one
calling his name.
"Is it you, Grayskin?" he asked, for he was accustomed to the elk's
nightly visits. Again he heard the call; then he recognized Grayskin's
voice, and hastened in the direction of the sound.
Karr heard the elk's footfalls in the distance, as he dashed into the
thickest pine wood, and straight through the brush, following no trodden
path. Karr could not catch up with him, and he had great difficulty in
even following the trail. "Karr, Karri" came the cry, and the voice was
certainly Grayskin's, although it had a ring now which the dog had never
heard before.
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" the dog responded. "Where are you?"
"Karr, Karr! Don't you see how it falls and falls?" said Grayskin.
Then Karr noticed that the pine needles kept dropping and dropping from
the trees, like a steady fall of rain.
"Yes, I see how it falls," he cried, and ran far into the forest in
search of the elk.
Grayskin kept running through the thickets, while Karr was about to lose
the trail again.
"Karr, Karr!" roared Grayskin; "can't you scent that peculiar odour in
the forest?"
Karr stopped and sniffed.
He had not thought of it before, but now he remarked that the pines sent
forth a much stronger odour than usual.
"Yes, I catch the scent," he said. He did not stop long enough to find
out the cause of it, but hurried on after Grayskin.
The elk ran ahead with such speed that the dog could not catch up with
him.
"Karr, Karr!" he called; "can't you hear the crunching on the pines?"
Now his tone was so plaintive it would have melted a stone.
Karr paused to listen. He heard a faint but distinct "tap, tap," on the
trees. It sounded like the ticking of a watch.
"Yes, I hear how it ticks," cried Karr, and ran no farther. He
understood that the elk did not want him to follow, but to take notice
of something that was happening in the forest.
Karr was standing beneath the drooping branches of a great pine. He
looked carefully at it; the needles moved. He went closer and saw a mass
of grayish-white caterpillars creeping along the branches, gnawing off
the needles. Every branch was covered with them. The crunch, crunch in
the trees came from the working of their busy little jaws. Gnawed-off
needles fell to the ground in a continuous shower, and from the poor
pines there came such a strong odour that the dog suffered from it.
"What can be the meaning of this?" wondered Karr. "It's too bad about
the pretty trees! Soon they'll have no beauty left."
He walked from tree to tree, trying with his poor eyesight to see if all
was well with them.
"There's a pine they haven't touched," he thought. But they had taken
possession of it, too. "And here's a birch--no, this also! The
game-keeper will not be pleased with this," observed Karr.
He ran deeper into the thickets, to learn how far the destruction had
spread. Wherever he went, he heard the same ticking; scented the same
odour; saw the same needle rain. There was no need of his pausing to
investigate. He understood it all by these signs. The little
caterpillars were everywhere. The whole forest was being ravaged by
them!
All of a sudden he came to a tract where there was no odour, and where
all was still.
"Here's the end of their domain," thought the dog, as he paused and
glanced about.
But here it was even worse; for the caterpillars had already done their
work, and the trees were needleless. They were like the dead. The only
thing that covered them was a network of ragged threads, which the
caterpillars had spun to use as roads and bridges.
In there, among the dying trees, Grayskin stood waiting for Karr.
He was not alone. With him were four old elk--the most respected in the
forest. Karr knew them: They were Crooked-Back, who was a small elk, but
had a larger hump than the others; Antler-Crown, who was the most
dignified of the elk; Rough-Mane, with the thick coat; and an old
long-legged one, who, up till the autumn before, when he got a bullet in
his thigh, had been terribly hot-tempered and quarrelsome.
"What in the world is happening to the forest?" Karr asked when he came
up to the elk. They stood with lowered heads, far protruding upper lips,
and looked puzzled.
"No one can tell," answered Grayskin. "This insect family used to be the
least hurtful of any in the forest, and never before have they done any
damage. But these last few years they have been multiplying so fast that
now it appears as if the entire forest would be destroyed."
"Yes, it looks bad," Karr agreed, "but I see that the wisest animals in
the forest have come together to hold a consultation. Perhaps you have
already found some remedy?"
When the dog said this, Crooked-Back solemnly raised his heavy head,
pricked up his long ears, and spoke:
"We have summoned you hither, Karr, that we may learn if the humans know
of this desolation."
"No," said Karr, "no human being ever comes thus far into the forest
when it's not hunting time. They know nothing of this misfortune."
Then Antler-Crown said:
"We who have lived long in the forest do not think that we can fight
this insect pest all by ourselves."
"After this there will be no peace in the forest!" put in Rough-Mane.
"But we can't let the whole Liberty Forest go to rack and ruin!"
protested Big-and-Strong. "We'll have to consult the humans; there is no
alternative."
Karr understood that the elk had difficulty in expressing what they
wished to say, and he tried to help them.
"Perhaps you want me to let the people know the conditions here?" he
suggested.
All the old elk nodded their heads.
"It's most unfortunate that we are obliged to ask help of human beings,
but we have no choice."
A moment later Karr was on his way home. As he ran ahead, deeply
distressed over all that he had heard and seen, a big black water-snake
approached them.
"Well met in the forest!" hissed the water-snake.
"Well met again!" snarled Karr, and rushed by without stopping.
The snake turned and tried to catch up to him.
"Perhaps that creature also, is worried about the forest," thought Karr,
and waited.
Immediately the snake began to talk about the great disaster.
"There will be an end of peace and quiet in the forest when human beings
are called hither," said the snake.
"I'm afraid there will," the dog agreed; "but the oldest forest dwellers
know what they're about!" he added.
"I think I know a better plan," said the snake, "if I can get the reward
I wish."
"Are you not the one whom every one around here calls old Helpless?"
said the dog, sneeringly.
"I'm an old inhabitant of the forest," said the snake, "and I know how
to get rid of such plagues."
"If you clear the forest of that pest, I feel sure you can have anything
you ask for," said Karr.
The snake did not respond to this until he had crawled under a tree
stump, where he was well protected. Then he said:
"Tell Grayskin that if he will leave Liberty Forest forever, and go far
north, where no oak tree grows, I will send sickness and death to all
the creeping things that gnaw the pines and spruces!"
"What's that you say?" asked Karr, bristling up. "What harm has Grayskin
ever done you?"
"He has slain the one whom I loved best," the snake declared, "and I
want to be avenged."
Before the snake had finished speaking, Karr made a dash for him; but
the reptile lay safely hidden under the tree stump.
"Stay where you are!" Karr concluded. "We'll manage to drive out the
caterpillars without your help."