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Updated: May 19, 2025
Quonab taught him never to enter the canoe except when she was afloat; never to rise in her or move along without hold of the gunwale; never to make a sudden move; and he also learned that it was easier to paddle when there were six feet of water underneath than when only six inches.
Then one or two more traps and they reached home, arriving at the camp just as darkness and a heavy rainfall began. "Good," said Quonab, "our deadfalls are ready; we have done all the work our fingers could not do when the weather is very cold, and the ground too hard for stakes to be driven. Now the traps can get weathered before we go round and set them.
Whereas Quonab neither hid nor advertised his religious practices, and it was only after many Sundays had gone that Quonab remarked: "Does your God come only one day of the week? Does He sneak in after dark? Why is He ashamed that you only whisper to Him? Mine is here all the time. I can always reach Him with my song; all days are my Sunday."
"Where are you going, Quonab?" he asked one morning, as he saw the Indian rise at dawn and go forth with his song drum, after warming it at the fire. He pointed up to the rock, and for the first time Rolf heard the chant for the sunrise. Later he heard the Indian's song for "Good Hunting," and another for "When His Heart Was Bad."
Some thought it should not be allowed, but Horton, who owned the land on which Quonab was camped, could not see any reason for interfering. Ketchura Peck, spinster, however, did see many most excellent reasons. She was a maid with a mission, and maintained it to be an outrage that a Christian boy should be brought up by a godless pagan.
"I should think it is," said Rolf, as Quonab, by throwing to his right an imaginary pinch of sand, made the sign "refuse." They had talked over the value of that fox skin and Rolf said, "Why, I know of a black fox that sold for two hundred dollars." "Where?" "Oh, down at Stamford." "Why, that's near New York." "Of course; don't you send your fur to New York?"
"You catch rabbit?" asked Quonab one day when Rolf was feeling fit again. "I can shoot one with my bow," was the answer, "but why should I, when we have plenty of deer?" "My people always hunted rabbits. Sometimes no deer were to be found; then the rabbits were food. Sometimes in the enemy's country it was not safe to hunt, except rabbits, with blunt arrows, and they were food.
The Wigwam Under the Rock The early springtime sunrise was near at hand as Quonab, the last of the Myanos Sinawa, stepped from his sheltered wigwam under the cliff that borders the Asamuk easterly, and, mounting to the lofty brow of the great rock that is its highest pinnacle, he stood in silence, awaiting the first ray of the sun over the sea water that stretches between Connecticut and Seawanaky.
Tramping on their ancient trapping grounds, living over the days of their early hunts; and double zest was added when Rolf the second joined them and lived and loved it all. But this was no longer Kittering's life, rather the rare precarious interval, and more and more old Quonab realized that they were meeting only in the past.
There was an atmosphere of content and brotherly feeling; the evening was young, when Rolf broke silence: "Were you ever married, Quonab?" "Ugh," was the Indian's affirmative. "Where?" "Myanos." Rolf did not venture more questions, but left the influence of the hour to work. It was a moment of delicate poise, and Rolf knew a touch would open the door or double bar it.
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