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Updated: May 19, 2025
But next morning the body of one of these highly esteemed branches of the egg-plant was found in the corner, partly devoured. Quonab examined the headless hen, the dust around, and uttered the word, "Mink." Rolf said, "Why not skunk?" "Skunk could not climb to the perch." "Weasel then." "Weasel would only suck the blood, and would kill three or four."
Quonab waited till they were within forty yards; then, seeing the men, the wolves slowed up and veered; Quonab fired; one of the wolves gave a little, doglike yelp. Then they leaped into the bushes and were lost to view. A careful study of the snow showed one or two trifling traces of blood. In the deer yard they found at least a dozen carcasses of deer killed by the wolves, but none very recent.
In the skin of the fisher's neck and tail they found several quills, some of them new, some of them dating evidently from another fight of the same kind, but none of them had done any damage. There was no inflammation or sign of poisoning. "It is ever so," said Quonab, "the quills cannot hurt him."
As deadly as inexplicable, not a few of the states have classed it with black magic and declared its use a crime. But no such sentiment prevailed in the high hills of Quonab's time, and their preparations for a successful trapping season were nearly perfect. Thirty deadfalls made by Quonab, with the sixty made on the first trip and a dozen steel traps, were surely promise of a good haul.
Quonab kept one eye on the river, for navigable water was the main thing, and in about one hundred yards he was again on the stream's edge, at a good landing above the rapid. After the meal was finished and the Indian had smoked, they set to work. In a few loads each, the stuff was portaged across, and the canoe was carried over and moored to the bank.
Rolf and Quonab enjoyed it now about as much as Skookum had done all the time. The Grebes and the Singing Mouse Quonab puzzled long over the amazing fact that young Van Cortlandt had evident high standing "in his own tribe." "He must be a wise counsellor, for I know he cannot fight and is a fool at hunting," was the ultimate decision.
They skirted its uncertain edges and Quonab pointed out the many landing places of the beaver; little docks they seemed, built up with mud and stones with deep water plunge holes alongside.
Now he had a straight run of a quarter of a mile, and from time to time he saw a peculiar scratching mark that puzzled him. Once he found a speck of blood at one of these scratches but no other evidence that the buck was touched. A wounded deer is pretty sure to work down hill, and Quonab, leaving Skookum with Rolf, climbed a lookout that might show whither the deer was heading.
It was the latter's joyful duty to find and tree the birds, and "yap" below, till Quonab came up quietly with bow and blunt arrows, to fill his game-bag; and thus the best of fare was ever by the invalid's bed. Rolf's was easily a winning fight from the first, and in a week he was eating well, sleeping well, and growing visibly daily stronger.
"I'll take it in and heat it." He carried it off, thinking, "If Quonab won't let me give the bark extract, I'll make him give it." In the gloom of the kitchen he had no difficulty in adding to the tea, quite unseen, a quarter of the extract; when heated, he brought it again, and the Indian himself gave the dose.
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