Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 6, 2025
And you won't be called to take a hand in the business." Suddenly he pointed toward the cabin, where Thoreau and Mukoki were already at work packing a sledge. "It's a glorious day. We start right after dinner. Let us get your things in a bundle." David made no answer, but three minutes later he was on his knees unlocking his trunk, with Father Roland standing close beside him.
Mukoki and the Missioner had made their beds of balsam boughs, two on the floor and one in the bunk, and the Cree had already rolled himself in his blanket when David entered the shack. Father Roland was wiping David's gun. "We'll give you a little practice with this to-morrow," he promised. "Do you suppose you can hit a moose?" "I have my doubts, mon Père."
For a moment he forgot the paper which he held in his hand, forgot the old cabin, and the nearness of gold. In blank wonder he stared at Mukoki, and the old Indian shrugged his shoulders. "Ver' nice an' smooth!" "Ver' dam' smooth!" emphasized Wabi, without a suggestion of humor in his voice. "What does it mean?" asked Rod.
He looked at the placid satisfaction in the Little Missioner's face, and saw Thoreau's head wreathed in smoke, and he felt for the first time in those weeks the return of his old desire. While they were eating, Mukoki and another Indian had brought in his trunk and bags, and he went now to one of the bags, opened it, and got his own pipe and tobacco.
Mukoki came out into the open, reloading his rifle. Quickly he moved across the wilderness playground, now crimson with blood, unsheathed his knife, and dropped upon his knees close to the throat of the slain animal. "I'll go down and give him a little help, Rod," said Wabi.
That morning he did not set off ahead of the two boys with his pack but walked beside them, stopping to rest when they lowered their canoe, his eyes never ceasing their sharp scrutiny of the plain and distant ridges. Once when Mukoki mounted a big rock to look about him, Wabi whispered, "I tell you it's strange, Rod mighty strange!" An hour later the old warrior halted and threw off his load.
Mukoki gazed into his companion's face and his eyes were almost pleading as he laid a bronzed crinkled hand upon the white boy's arm. "You take front man ahead of Wabi," he whispered. "I take other t'ree. See that tree heem birch, with bark off? Shoot heem there. You no tremble? You no miss?" "No," replied Rod. He gripped the red hand in his own. "I'll kill, Mukoki.
That night and the next day and the terrible night and day that followed were filled with hours that Billy would never forget. He had sprained one hip badly in his fall, and could not rise from the cot Mukoki was often at his side, his face thinner, his eyes more lusterless.
This left Mukoki alone in camp. Thus far, in their desire to cover as much ground as possible before the heavy snows came, Wabi and his companions had not stopped to hunt for game and for six days their only meat had been bacon and jerked venison.
"Good" agreed the old hunter. "You two go north I take ridges." "No, you and I will take the ridges and Wabi will go north alone," amended Rod quickly. "I'm going with you, Mukoki!" Mukoki, who was somewhat flattered by this preference of the white youth, grinned and chuckled and began to talk more volubly about the plans which were in his head.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking