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He went into the woods looking this way and that, and presently stopped at a lot of low shrubs. "Do ye know what this is, Yan?" "No, sir." "Le's see if yer man enough to break it aff." Yan tried. The wood was brittle enough, but the bark, thin, smooth and pliant, was as tough as leather, and even a narrow strip defied his strength. "That's Litherwood," said Raften.
He forgot his manhood; he seized Yan by the collar. He was considered a timid boy; his face was white; his lips set. The principal beat him with the rawhide till the school cried "Shame," but he got no cry from Yan. That night, on undressing for bed, his brother Rad saw the long black wales from head to foot, and an explanation was necessary.
I'd have one on each end of the trail coming in, an' one on each side of the creek where it comes in an' goes out." "Well, Sam, you have a pretty level head. I wonder I didn't think of that myself." "My son, the Great Chief does the thinking. It's the rabble that's you and Sappy that does the work." But all the same he set about it at once with Yan, Sappy following with a slight limp now.
"I want to go home!" he said miserably. The sight of the Mallard cheered him a little, and Yan said: "Come now, Pete, don't spoil everything, there's a good fellow. Brace up, and if I don't show you the Pine woods in twenty minutes I'll turn and take you home."
"Do you like these things?" said Yan, with sudden interest and warmth, in spite of the depressing surroundings. "You bet," said Sam. "And I'd a-had twice as many only Da said it was doing no good and birds was good for the farm." "Well, do you know their names?" "Wall, I should say so.
They were outlandish in garb and demeanor, and were headed by a rough, burly, bully ruffian, with fiery whiskers, a copper nose, a scar across his face, and a great Flaunderish beaver slouched on one side of his head, in whom, to their dismay, the quiet inhabitants were made to recognize their early pest, Yan Yost Vanderscamp.
It certainly was loud, though less dreadful than at night, and peering up Yan saw two large limbs that crossed and rubbed each other, when the right puff of wind came. This was the Banshee that did the wailing that had scared them all all but the Dog.
Malton moor is yours and I ken nea ither peat worth cutting. Mayhappen yan could find some soft trash on the back moor, but I doot if Osborn would let yan bring it doon." "Osborn does what his agent says, and it's weel kent Hayes is a friend o' Bell's," another agreed. Peter smiled and gave Kit a warning glance.
Maybe Caleb Clark knows," he added, with a significant twinkle of his eye. "Better ask him." Then he turned to give orders to the hired men, who, of course, ate at the family table. "Da, do you care if we go to Caleb?" "I don't care fwhat ye do wid him," was the reply. Raften was no idle talker and Sam knew that, so as soon as "the law was off" he and Yan got out the old wagon cover.
"Many a night me an' Caleb Clark slep' out this way on this very crick when them fields was solid bush. Do ye know how to make a bed?" "Don't know a thing," and Sam winked at Yan. "Show us." "I'll show ye the rale thing. Where's the axe?" "Haven't any," said Yan. "There's a big tomahawk and a little tomahawk." Raften grinned, took the big "tomahawk" and pointed to a small Balsam Fir.
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