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The river turned to the east, but a small stream ran into it from the north: up that Yan went through thickening woods and walls that neared each other, on and up until the walls closed to a crack, then widened out into a little dale that was still full of original forest trees. Hemlock, Pine, Birch and Elm of the largest size abounded and spread over the clear brook a continuous shade.
All the world loves an artist, and now there was danger of too much assistance. The cases could not be opened, but were swung around and shades raised to give the best light. Yan went at once to the bird he had "far-sketched" on the pond. To his surprise, it was a female Wood-duck.
When they were seated in the railway-carriage, he broke out in a sudden excitement: 'Wal, I never thowt, Hannah, to see yo do thissens naw moor! 'Aye, yo wor allus yan to mak t' warst o' things, she said to him, as she slowly settled herself in her corner. Nevertheless, Reuben's feeling was amply justified. It had been a resurrection.
"Well, this 'un hadn't, 'cause his tail was cut off in the days of his youth!" The Long Swamp The union of the tribes, however, was far from complete. Blackhawk was inclined to be turbulent. He was heavier than Beaver. He could not understand how that slighter, younger boy could throw him, and he wished to try again. Now Yan was growing stronger every day. He was quick and of very wiry build.
The Story of Yuen Yan, of the Barber Chou-hu, and His Wife Tsae-che
"There was no unanticipated divergence?" inquired the woman with interest and a marked approval of this delicate way of expressing the operation of an unpleasant necessity. "From detail to detail it was as this person desired and contrived," said Yan.
As it leaped to a still nearer place Yan got a dim view of a curious four-cornered face, shaggy and striped, like the one he saw so long ago in Glenyan it was an enormous Lynx.
"Seems to me there's something wrong; that Deer ought to have a trail." "That's so," assented Yan. "Wonder if he couldn't drag an old root!" "If there was snow it'd be easy." "I'll tell you, Sam; we'll tear up paper and leave a paper trail." "Now you're talking." So all ran to camp. Every available scrap of wrapping paper was torn up small and put in a "scent bag."
"Well, they don't," admitted Yan, humbly. "But I haven't a flint and steel, and don't know how to work rubbing-sticks, so we just got to use matches, if we want a fire." "Why, of course we want a fire. I ain't kicking," said Sam. "Go ahead with your old leg-fire sulphur stick. A camp without a fire would be 'bout like last year's bird's nest or a house with the roof off."
"What'll ye make the raft of?" asked Raften. "Cedar rails nailed together," answered Sam. "No nails in mine," objected Yan; "that isn't Injun." "An' none o' my cedar rails fur that. 'Pears to me it'd be less work an' more Injun to pack the stuff on yer backs an' no risk o' wettin' the beds." So the raft was given up, and the stuff was duly carted to the creek's side. Raften himself went with it.
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