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You are wise enough, Nibowaka, to paddle with the stream, you have turned so the big giant is on your side, and his power is making you great. But this is not for me; so only I have enough to eat, and comfort to sleep, I am content to watch for the light." Across the valley from the big store he dwelt, in a lodge from which he could easily see the sunrise.
When all cracks in the bed and near wall were treated with this, it greatly mitigated, if it did not quite end, the nuisance of the "plague that walks in the dark." Meanwhile, Quonab had made good his welcome by working on the farm. But when a week had flown, he showed signs of restlessness. "We have enough money, Nibowaka, why do we stay?"
"Three great warriors attacked one Sagamore. They were very brave, but he was Nibowaka and very strong; he struck them down as the Thunderbird, Hurakan, strikes the dead pines the fire has left on the hilltop against the sky. Now shall you eat their hearts, for they were brave.
So talk was rife, and there was one who showed a knife he had picked up near the ambuscade with R. K. on the shaft. Now a dark-faced scout rose up, stared at the knife, and quickly left the room. In three minutes he stood before General Macomb, his words were few, but from his heart: "It is my boy, Nibowaka; it is Rolf; my heart tells me. Let me go. I feel him praying for me to come.
When the big house went up on the river-bank, he indeed had felt that they were at the parting of the ways. His respect for Nibowaka had grown to be almost a worship, and yet he knew that their trails had yearly less in common. Rolf had outgrown him; he was alone again, as on the day of their meeting.
He opened out his furs; several otter, many sable, some lynx, over thirty beaver the whole lot for two hundred dollars. At Lyons Falls they were worth double that. Rolf saw a chance for a bargain. He whispered, "We can double our money on it, Quonab. What do ye say?" The reply was simply, "Ugh! you are Nibowaka."
Quonab looked inquiringly, for, of course, he heard the shot. He saw a glum and sorry-looking youth, who in response to his inquiring look gave merely a head-shake, and hung up the gun with a vicious bang. Quonab took down the gun, wiped it out, reloaded it, then turning to the boy said: "Nibowaka, you feel pretty sick. Ugh! You know why? You got a good chance, but you got buck fever.
At length Rolf ventured: "He surely lives by some river that way and within a day's journey. This track is gone, but we may strike a fresh one. We'll know it when we see it." The friendly look came back to the Indian's face. "You are Nibowaka." They had not gone half a mile before they found a fresh track their old acquaintance. Even Skookum showed his hostile recognition.
"Quonab, we must have money to get an outfit; this is the beginning of harvest; we can easily get work for a month. That will feed us and give us money enough to live on, and a chance to learn something about the country." The reply was simple, "You are Nibowaka." The farms were few and scattered here, but there were one or two along the lake.
He was old and hunting was too hard for him, but there was a strong arm about him now; he dimly thought of it at times the arm of the fifteen-year-old boy that one time he had shielded. There was no lack of food or blankets in the wigwam, or of freedom in the woods under the sun-up rock. But there was a hunger that not farseeing Nibowaka could appease, not even talk about.
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