"Kin you fix that to draw? You know more about it 'an me."
Yan now forced himself to step outside. The wind was rising and had changed. He swung the smoke poles till the vent was quartering down, then hoarsely whispered, "How's that?"
"That's better," was the reply in a similar tone, though there was no obvious difference yet.
He went inside with nervous haste and fastened up the entrance.
"Let's make a good fire and go to bed."
So they turned in after partly undressing, but not to sleep for hours. Yan in particular was in a state of nervous excitement. His heart had beaten violently when he went out that time, and even now that mysterious dread was on him. The fire was the one comfortable thing. He dozed off, but started up several times at some slight sound. Once it was a peculiar "Tick, tick, scr-a-a-a-a-pe, lick-scra-a-a-a-a-a-pe," down the teepee over his head. "A Bear" was his first notion, but on second thoughts he decided it was only a leaf sliding down the canvas. Later he was roused by a "Scratch, scratch, scratch" close to him. He listened silently for some time. This was no leaf; it was an animal! Yes, surely—it was a Mouse. He slapped the canvas violently and "hissed" till it went away, but as he listened he heard again that peculiar wail in the tree-tops. It almost made his hair sit up. He reached out and poked the fire together into a blaze. All was still and in time he dozed off. Once more he was wide awake in a flash and saw Sam sitting up in bed listening.
"What is it, Sam?" he whispered.
"I dunno. Where's the axe?"
"Right here."
"Let me have it on my side. You kin have the hatchet."
But they dropped off at last and slept soundly till the sun was strong on the canvas and filling the teepee with a blaze of transmitted light.
"Woodpecker! Woodpecker! Get up! Get up! Hi-e-yo! Hi-e-yo! Double-u-double-o-d-bang-fizz- whackety-whack-y-r-chuck-brrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-Woodpecker," shouted Yan to his sleepy chum, quoting a phrase that Sam when a child had been taught as the true spelling of his nickname.
Sam woke slowly, but knowing perfectly where he was, and drawled:
"Get up yourself. You're cook to-day, an' I'll take my breakfast in bed. Seems like my knee is broke out again."
"Oh, get up, and let's have a swim before breakfast."
"No, thank you, I'm too busy just now; 'sides, it's both cold and wet in that pond, this time o' day."
The morning was fresh and bright; many birds were singing, although it was July, a Red-eyed Vireo and a Robin were in full song; and as Yan rose to get the breakfast he wondered why he had been haunted by such strange feelings the night before. It was incomprehensible now. He wished that appalling wail in the tree-tops would sound again, so he might trace it home.
There still were some live coals in the ashes, and in a few minutes he had a blazing fire, with the pot boiling for coffee, and the bacon in the fryer singing sweetest music for the hungry.
Sam lay on his back watching his companion and making critical remarks.
"You may be an A1 cook—at least, I hope you are, but you don't know much about fire-wood," said he. "Now look at that," as one huge spark after another exploded from the fire and dropped on the bed and the teepee cover.
"How can I help it?"
"I'll bet Da's best cow against your jack-knife you got some Ellum or Hemlock in that fire."
"Well, I have," Yan admitted, with an air of surrender.
"My son," said the Great Chief Woodpecker, "no sparking allowed in the teepee. Beech, Maple, Hickory or Ash never spark. Pine knots an' roots don't, but they make smoke like—like—oh—you know. Hemlock, Ellum, Chestnut, Spruce and Cedar is public sparkers, an' not fit for dacint teepee sassiety. Big Injun heap hate noisy, crackling fire. Enemy hear that, an'—an'—it burns his bedclothes."
"All right, Grandpa," and the cook made a mental note, then added in tones of deadly menace, "You get up now, do you understand!" and he picked up a bucket of water.
"That might scare the Great Chief Woodpecker if the Great Chief Cook had a separate bed, but now he smiles kind o' scornful," was all the satisfaction he got. Then seeing that breakfast really was ready, Sam scrambled out a few minutes later. The coffee acted like an elixir—their spirits rose, and before the meal was ended it would have been hard to find two more hilarious and enthusiastic campers. Even the vague terrors of the night were now sources of amusement.
III
A Crippled Warrior and the Mud Albums
"Say, Sam; what about Guy? Do we want him?"
"Well, it's just like this. If it was at school or any other place I wouldn't be bothered with the dirty little cuss, but out in the woods like this one feels kind o' friendly, an' three's better than two. Besides, he has been admitted to the Tribe already."
"Yes, that's what I say. Let's give him a yell."
So the boys uttered a long yell, produced by alternating the voice between a high falsetto and a natural tone. This was the "yell," and had never failed to call Guy forth to join them unless he had some chore on hand and his "Paw" was too near to prevent his renegading to the Indians. He soon appeared waving a branch, the established signal that he came as a friend.
He came very slowly, however, and the boys saw that he limped frightfully, helping himself along with a stick. He was barefoot, as usual, but his left foot was swaddled in a bundle of rags.
"Hello, Sappy; what happened? Out to Wounded Knee River?"
"Nope. Struck luck. Paw was bound I'd ride the Horse with the scuffler all day, but he gee'd too short an' I arranged to tumble off'n him, an' Paw cuffled me foot some. Law! how I did holler! You should 'a' heard me."
"Bet we did," said Sam. "When was it?"
"Yesterday about four."
"Exactly. We heard an awful screech and Yan says, says he, 'There's the afternoon train at Kelly's Crossing, but ain't she late?'
"'Train!' says I. 'Pooh. I'll bet that's Guy Burns getting a new licking.'"
"Guess I'll well up now," said War Chief Sapwood, so stripped his foot, revealing a scratch that would not have cost a thought had he got it playing ball. He laid the rags away carefully and with them every trace of the limp, then entered heartily into camp life.
The vast advantage of being astir early now was seen. There were Squirrels in every other tree, there were birds on every side, and when they ran to the pond a wild Duck spattered over the surface and whistled out of sight.
"What you got?" called Sam, as he saw Yan bending eagerly over something down by the pond.
Yan did not answer, and so Sam went over and saw him studying out a mark in the mud. He was trying to draw it in his note-book.
"What is it?" repeated Sam.