Yan had his watch out and shouted "Go."
Two firm, unhasty strokes up on the south side of the tree left a clean nick across and two inches deep in the middle. The chopper then stepped forward one pace and on the north-northwesterly side, eighteen inches lower down than the first cut, after reversing his hands—which is what few can do—he rapidly chopped a butt-kerf. Not a stroke was hasty; not a blow went wrong. The first chips that flew were ten inches long, but they quickly dwindled as the kerf sank in. The butt-kerf was two-thirds through the tree when Yan called "One minute up." Sam stopped work, apparently without cause, leaned one hand against the south side of the tree and gazed unconcernedly up at its top.
"Hurry up, Sam. You're losing time!" called his friend. Sam made no reply. He was watching the wind pushes and waiting for a strong one. It came—it struck the tree-top. There was an ominous crack, but Sam had left enough and pushed hard to make sure; as soon as the recoil began he struck in very rapid succession three heavy strokes, cutting away all the remaining wood on the west side and leaving only a three-inch triangle of uncut fibre. All the weight was now northwest of this. The tree toppled that way, but swung around on the uncut part; another puff of wind gave help, the swing was lost, the tree crashed down to the northwest and drove the stake right out of sight in the ground.
"Hooray! Hooray! Hooray! One minute and forty-five seconds!" How Yan did cheer. Sam was silent, but his eyes looked a little less dull and stupid than usual, and Guy said "Pooh? That's nothin'."
Yan took out his pocket rule and went to the stump. As soon as he laid it on, he exclaimed "Seven and one-half inches through where you cut," and again he had to swing his hat and cheer.
"Well, old man, you surely did it that time. That's a grand coup if ever I saw one," and so, notwithstanding Guy's proposal to "leave it to Caleb," Sam got his grand Eagle feather as Axeman A1 of the Sanger Indians.
XVIII
The Owls And The Night-School
One night Sam was taking a last look at the stars before turning in. A Horned Owl had been hooting not far away.
"Hoo—hohoo-hoho—hoooooo."
And as he looked, what should silently sail to the top of the medicine pole stuck in the ground twenty yards away but the Owl.
"Yan! Yan! Give me my bow and arrow, quick. Here's a Cat-Owl—a chicken stealer, he's fair game."
"He's only codding you, Yan," said Guy sleepily from his blanket. "I wouldn't go."
But Yan rushed out with his own and Sam's weapons.
Sam fired at the great feathery creature, but evidently missed, for the Owl spread its wings and sailed away.
"There goes my best arrow. That was my 'Sure-death.'"
"Pshaw!" growled Yan, as he noted the miss. "You can't shoot a little bit."
But as they stood, there was a fluttering of broad wings, and there, alighting as before on the medicine pole, was the Owl again.
"My turn now! "exclaimed Yan in a gaspy whisper.
He drew his bow, the arrow flew, and the Owl slipped off unharmed as it had the first time.
"Yan, you're no good. An easy shot like that. Why, any idiot could hit that. Why didn't you fetch her?"
"'Cause I'm not an idiot, I suppose. I hit the same place as you did, anyway, and drew just as much blood."
"Ef he comes back again you call me," piped Guy in his shrill voice. "I'll show you fellers how to shoot. You're no good at all 'thout me. Why, I mind the time I was Deer-shooting——" but a fierce dash of the whole Tribe for Sappy's bed put a stop to the reminiscent flow and replaced it with whines of "Now you let me alone. I ain't doin' nothin' to you."
During the night they were again awakened by the screech in the tree-tops, and Yan, sitting up, said, "Say, boys, that's nothing but that big Cat Owl."
"So it is," was Sam's answer; "wonder I didn't think of that before."
"I did," said Guy; "I knew it all the time."
In the morning they went out to find their arrows. The medicine pole was a tall pole bearing a feathered shield, with the tribal totem, a white Buffalo, which Yan had set up to be in Indian fashion. Sighting in line from the teepee over this, they walked on, looking far beyond, for they had learned always to draw the arrow to the head. They had not gone twenty-five feet before Yan burst out in unutterable astonishment: "Look! Look at that—and that———"
There on the ground not ten feet apart were two enormous Horned Owls, both shot fairly through the heart, one with Sam's "Sure-death" arrow, the other with Yan's "Whistler"; both shots had been true, and the boys could only say, "Well, if you saw that in print you would say it was a big lie!" It was indeed one of those amazing things which happen only in real life, and the whole of the Tribe with one exception voted a grand coup to each of the hunters.
Guy was utterly contemptuous. "They got so close they hit by chance an' didn't know they done it. If he had been shooting," etc., etc., etc.
"How about that screech in the tree-tops, Guy?"
"Errrrh."
What a fascination the naturalist always finds in a fine Bird. Yan revelled in these two. He measured their extent of wing and the length from beak to tail of each. He studied the pattern on their quills; he was thrilled by their great yellow eyes and their long, powerful claws, and he loved their every part. He hated to think that in a few days these wonderful things would be disgusting and fit only to be buried.
"I wish I knew hew to stuff them," he said.
"Why don't you get Si Lee to show you," was Sam's suggestion. "Seems to me I often seen pictures of Injun medicine men with stuffed birds," he added shrewdly and happily.
"Well, that's just what I will do."
Then arose a knotty question. Should he go to Si Lee and thereby turn "White" and break the charm of the Indian life, or should he attempt the task of persuading Si to come down there to work without proper conveniences. They voted to bring Si to camp. "Da might think we was backing out." After all, the things needed were easily carried, and Si, having been ambushed by a scout, consented to come and open a night-school in taxidermy.
The tools and things that he brought were a bundle of tow made by unravelling a piece of rope, some cotton wool, strong linen thread, two long darning needles, arsenical soap worked up like cream, corn-meal, some soft iron wire about size sixteen and some of stovepipe size, a file, a pair of pliers, wire cutters, a sharp knife, a pair of stout scissors, a gimlet, two ready-made wooden stands, and last of all a good lamp. The boys hitherto had been content with the firelight.
Thus in the forest teepee Yan had his first lesson in the art that was to give him so much joy and some sorrow in the future.
Guy was interested, though scornful; Sam was much interested; Yan was simply rapt, and Si Lee was in his glory. His rosy red cheeks and his round figure swelled with pride; even his semi-nude head and fat, fumbling fingers seemed to partake of his general elation and importance.
First he stuffed the Owls' throats and wounds with cotton wool.
Then he took one, cut a slit from the back of the breast-bone nearly to the tail (A to B, Fig. 1, page 405), while Yan took the other and tried faithfully to follow his example.
He worked the skin from the body chiefly by the use of his finger nails, till he could reach the knee of each leg and cut this through at the joint with the knife (Kn, Fig. 1, page 405). The flesh was removed from each leg-bone down to the heel-joint (Hl, Hl, Fig. 1), leaving the leg and skin as in Lg, Figure 2. Then working back on each side of the tail, he cut the "pope's nose" from the body and left it as part of the skin, with the tail feathers in it, and this, Si explained, was a hard place to get around. Sam called it "rounding Cape Horn." As the flesh was exposed Si kept it powdered thickly with corn-meal, and this saved the feathers from soiling.