Two Little Savages Part 46

The projecting wires of the feet were put through gimlet holes in the perch and made firm, and Si's Owls were ready for their positions.

They were now the most ridiculous looking things imaginable, wings floppy, heads hanging.

"Here is where the artist comes in," said Si proudly, conscious that this was himself. He straightened up the main line of the body by bending the leg wires and set the head right by hunching the neck into the shoulders. "An Owl always looks over its shoulder," he explained, but took no notice of Sam's query as to "whose shoulder he expected it to look over." He set two toes of each foot forward on the perch and two back to please Yan, who insisted that that was Owly, though Si had his doubts. He spread the tail a little by pinning it between two pieces of card (_Tl_, Fig. 10), gave it the proper slant, and now had the wings to arrange.

They were drooping like those of a clucking hen. A sharp wire of the small size was driven into the bend of each wing (_0_, Fig. 7), nailing it in effect to the body (_Ww_ and _Ww_, Fig. 10). A long pin was set in the middle of the back (_Bp_, Fig. 10), then using these with the wing wires and head wire as las.h.i.+ng points, Si wrapped the whole bird with the thread (Fig. 10), putting a wad of cotton here or a bit of stick there under the wrapping till he had the position and "feathering" perfect, as he put it.

"We can put in the eyes now," said he, "or later, if we soften the skin around the eye-sockets by putting wet cotton in them for twenty-four hours."

Yan had carefully copied Si's method with the second Owl, and developed unusual quickness at it.

His teacher remarked, "Wall, I larned lots o' fellows to stuff birds, but you ketch on the quickest I ever seen."

Si's ideas of perfection might differ from those of a trained taxidermist; indeed, these same Owls afforded Yan no little amus.e.m.e.nt in later years, but for the present they were an unmitigated joy.

They were just the same in position. Si knew only one; all his birds had that. But when they had dried fully, had their wrappings removed, the wires cut off flush and received the finis.h.i.+ng glory of their wooden eyes, they were a source of joy and wonder to the whole Tribe of Indians.

XIX

The Trial of Grit

The boys had made war bonnets after the "really truly" Indian style learned from Caleb. White Turkey tail-feathers and white Goose wing-feathers dyed black at the tips made good Eagle feathers. Some wisps of red-dyed horsehair from an old harness ta.s.sel; strips of red flannel from an old s.h.i.+rt, and some sc.r.a.ps of sheepskin supplied the remaining raw material. Caleb took an increasing interest, and helped them not only to make the bonnet, but also to decide on what things should count _coup_ and what _grand coup_. Sam had a number of feathers for shooting, diving, "ma.s.sacreeing the Whites," and his grand tufted feathers for felling the pine and shooting the Cat-Owl.

Among other things, Yan had counted coup for trailing. The Deer hunt had been made still more real by having the "Deer-boy" wear a pair of sandals made from old boots; on the sole of each they put two lines of hobnails in V shape, pointing forward. These made hooflike marks wherever the Deer went. One of the difficulties with the corn was that it gave no clue to the direction or doubling of the trail, but the sandals met the trouble, and with a very little corn to help they had an ideal trail. All became very expert, and could follow fast a very slight track, but Yan continued the best, for what he lacked in eyesight he more than made up in patience and observation. He already had a _grand coup_ for finding and shooting the Deer in the heart, that time, at first shot before the others came up even, and had won six other _grand coups_--one for swimming 200 yards in five minutes, one for walking four measured miles in one hour, one for running 100 yards in twelve seconds, one for knowing 100 wild plants, one for knowing 100 birds, and the one for shooting the Horned Owl.

Guy had several good _coups_, chiefly for eyesight. He could see "the papoose on the squaws back," and in the Deer hunt he had several times won _coups_ that came near being called _grand coup_, but so far fate was against him, and even old Caleb, who was partial to him, could not fairly vote him a _grand coup_.

"What is it that the Injuns most likes in a man: I mean, what would they druther have, Caleb?" asked Sappy one day, confidently expecting to have his keen eyesight praised.

"Bravery," was the reply. "They don't care what a man is if he's brave. That's their greatest thing--that is, if the feller has the stuff to back it up. An' it ain't confined to Injuns; I tell you there ain't anything that anybody goes on so much. Some men pretends to think one thing the best of all, an' some another, but come right down to it, what every man, woman an' child in the country loves an'

wors.h.i.+ps is pluck, clear grit, well backed up."

"_Well, I tell you_," said Guy, boiling up with enthusiasm at this glorification of grit, "_I_ ain't scared o' nothin'."

"Wall, how'd you like to fight Yan there?"

"Oh, that ain't fair. He's older an' bigger'n I am."

"Say, Sappy, I'll give you one. Suppose you go to the orchard alone an' get a pail of cherries. All the men'll be away at nine o'clock."

"Yes, and have old Cap chaw me up."

"Thought you weren't scared of anything, an' a poor little Dog smaller than a yearling Heifer scares you."

"Well, I don't like cherries, anyhow."

"Here, now, Guy, I'll give you a real test. You see that stone?" and Caleb held up a small round stone with a hole in it. "Now, you know where old Garney is buried?"

Garney was a dissolute soldier who blew his head off, accidentally, his friends claimed, and he was buried on what was supposed to be his own land just north of Raften's, but it afterward proved to be part of the highway where a sidepath joined in, and in spite of its diggers the grave was at the _crossing of two roads_. Thus by the hand of fate Bill Garney was stamped as a suicide.

The legend was that every time a wagon went over his head he must groan, but unwilling to waste those outcries during the rumbling of the wheels, he waited till midnight and rolled them out all together.

Anyone hearing should make a sympathetic reply or they would surely suffer some dreadful fate. This was the legend that Caleb called up to memory and made very impressive by being properly impressed himself.

"Now," said he, "I am going to hide this stone just behind the rock that marks the head of Garney's grave, an' I'll send you to git it some night. Air ye game?"

"Y-e-s, I'll go," said the Third War Chief without visible enthusiasm.

"If he's so keen for it now, there'll be no holding him back when night comes," remarked the Woodp.e.c.k.e.r.

"Remember, now," said Caleb, as he left them to return to his own miserable shanty, "this is the chance to show what you're made of.

I'll tie a cord to the stone to make sure that you get it."

"We're just going to eat. Won't you stay and jine with us," called Sam, but Caleb strode off without taking notice of the invitation.

In the middle of the night the boys were aroused by a man's voice outside and the scratching of a stick on the canvas.

"Boys! Guy--Yan! Oh, Guy!"

"h.e.l.lo! Who is it?"

"Caleb Clark! Say, Guy, it's about half-past eleven now. You have just about time to go to Garney's grave by midnight an' get that stone, and if you can't find the exact spot _you listen for the groaning _--_that'll guide you_."

This cheerful information was given in a hoa.r.s.e whisper that somehow conveyed the idea that the old man was as scared as he could be.

"I--I--I--" stammered Guy, "I can't see the way."

"This is the chance of your life, boy. You get that stone and you'll get a _grand coup_ feather, top honours fur grit. I'll wait here till you come back."

"I--I--can't find the blamed old thing on such a dark night.

I--I--ain't goin'."

"Errr--you're scared," whispered Caleb.

"I ain't scared, on'y what's the use of goin' when I couldn't find the place? I'll go when it's moonlight."

"Err--anybody here brave enough to go after that stone?"

"I'll go," said the other two at the same time, though with a certain air of "But I hope I don't have to, all the same."

"You kin have the honour, Yan," said the Woodp.e.c.k.e.r, with evident relief.

"Of course, I'd like the chance--but--but--I don't want to push ahead of you--you're the oldest; that wouldn't be square," was the reply.

"Guess we'd better draw straws for it."