"I tell you I left here and went straight as a die, an' I seen a Woodchuck, but he wasn't in line, so I says: 'No, some other day. I kin get you easy any time.' Then I seen a Hawk going off with a Chicken, but that was off my beat, an' I found lots o' old stumps an' hundreds o' Chipmunks an' wouldn't be bothered with them. Then I come to a farmhouse 
an'—an' I went around that so's not to scare the Dog, an' I went pretty near as far as Downey's Dump—yes, a little a-past it—only to one side—when up jumps a Partridge as big as a Turkey, an' a hull gang of young ones—about thirty or forty. I bet I seen them forty rod away, an' they all flew, but one that lighted on a tree as far as—oh, 'cross that field, anyway. I bet you fellers wouldn't 'a' seen it at all. Well, I jest hauled off as ca'm as ca'm an' let him have it. I aimed straight for his eye—an' that's where I hit him. Now who gets a grand coup, for there he is!" Hawkeye unrolled his coat and turned out a bobtailed young Robin in the speckled plumage, shot through the body.
"So that's your Partridge. I call that a young Robin," said the First Chief with slow emphasis. "Rules is broke. Killed a Song-bird. Little Beaver, arrest the criminal."
But Hawkeye struggled with all the ferocity born of his recent exploit, and had to be bound hand and foot while a full Council was called to try the case. The angry protests weakened when he found how serious the Councillors were. Finally he pleaded "guilty" and was condemned to wear a black feather of disgrace and a white feather for cowardice for three days, as well as wash the dishes for a week. They would also have made him cook for that term, but that they had had some unhappy experiences with some dishes of Guy's make.
"Well, I won't do it, that's all," was the prisoner's defiant retort. "I'll go home first."
"And hoe the garden? Oh, yes; I think I see you."
"Well, I won't do it. You better let me 'lone."
"Little Beaver, what do they do when an Injun won't obey the Council?"
"Strip him of his honours. Do you remember that stick we burned with 'Sapwood' on it?"
"Good idee. We'll burn Hawkeye for a name and dig up the old one"
"No, you won't, you dirty mean Skunks! Ye promised me you'd never call me that again. I am Hawkeye. I kin see farder'n—n—" and he began to weep.
"Well, will you obey the Council?"
"Yes; but I won't wear no white feather—I'm brave, boohoo!"
"All right. We'll leave that off; but you must do the other punishments.
"Will I still be Hawkeye?"
"Yes."
"All right. I'll do it."
XXV
The Three-Fingered Tramp
Broad-shouldered, beetle-browed, brutal and lazy was Bill Hennard, son of a prosperous settler. He had inherited a fine farm, but he was as lazy as he was strong, and had soon run through his property and followed the usual course from laziness to crime. Bill had seen the inside of more than one jail. He was widely known in the adjoining township of Emolan; many petty thefts were traced to him, and it was openly stated that but for the help of a rich and clever confederate he would certainly be in the penitentiary. It was darkly hinted, further, that this confederate was a well-to-do Sangerite who had many farms and a wife and son and a little daughter, and his first name was William, and his second name Ra—— "But never mind; and don't for the world say I told you." Oh, it's easy to get rich—if you know how. Of course, these rumours never reached the parties chiefly concerned.
Hennard had left Downey's Dump the evening before, and avoiding the roads, had struck through the woods, to visit his partner, with important matters to arrange—very important for Hennard. He was much fuddled when he left Downey's, the night was cloudy, and consequently he had wandered round and round till he was completely lost.
He slept under a tree (a cold, miserable sleep it was), and in the sunless morning he set out with little certainty to find his "pal." After some time he stumbled on the trail that led him to the boys' camp. He was now savage with hunger and annoyance, and reckless with bottle assistance, for he carried a flask. No longer avoiding being seen, he walked up to the teepee just as Little Beaver was frying meat for the noonday meal he expected to eat alone. At the sound of footsteps Yan turned, supposing that one of his companions had come back, but there instead was a big, rough-looking tramp.
"Well, sonny, cookin' dinner? I'll be glad to j'ine ye," he said with an unpleasant and fawning smile.
His manner was as repulsive as it could be, though he kept the form of politeness.
"Where's your folks, sonny?"
"Haven't any—here," replied Yan, in some fear, remembering now the tramps of Glenyan.
"H-m—all alone—camped all alone, are ye?"
"The other fellers are away till the afternoon."
"Wall, how nice. Glad to know it. I'll trouble you to hand me that stick," and now the tramp's manner changed from fawning to command, as he pointed to Yan's bow hanging unstrung.
"That's my bow!" replied Yan, in fear and indignation.
"I won't tell ye a second time—hand me that stick, or I'll spifflicate ye."
Yan stood still. The desperado strode forward, seized the bow, and gave him two or three blows on the back and legs.
"Now, you young Pup, get me my dinner, and be quick about it, or I'll break yer useless neck."
Yan now realized that he had fallen into the power of the worst enemy of the harmless camper, and saw too late the folly of neglecting Raften's advice to have a big Dog in camp. He glanced around and would have run, but the tramp was too quick for him and grabbed him by the collar. "Oh, no you don't; hold on, sonny. I'll fix you so you'll do as you're told." He cut the bowstring from its place, and violently throwing Yan down, he tied his feet so that they had about eighteen inches' play.
"Now rush around and get my dinner; I'm hungry. An' don't you spile it in the cooking or I'll use the gad on you; an' if you holler or cut that cord I'll kill ye. See that?" and he got out an ugly-looking knife.
Tears of fear and pain ran down Yan's face as he limped about to obey the brute's orders.
"Here, you move a little faster!" and the tramp turned from poking the fire with the bow to give another sounding blow. If he had looked down the trail he would have seen a small tow-topped figure that turned and scurried away at the sound.
Yan was trained to bear punishment, but the tyrant seemed careless of even his life.
"Are you going to kill me?" he burst out, after another attack for stumbling in his shackles.
"Don't know but I will when I've got through with ye," replied the desperado with brutal coolness. "I'll take some more o' that meat—an' don't you let it burn, neither. Where's the sugar for the coffee? I'll get a bigger club if ye don't look spry," and so the tramp was served with his meal. "Now bring me some tobaccer."
Yan hobbled into the teepee and reached down Sam's tobacco bag.
"Here, what's that box? Bring that out here," and the tramp pointed to the box in which they kept some spare clothes. Yan obeyed in fear and trembling. "Open it."
"I can't. It's locked, and Sam has the key."
"He has, has he? Well, I have a key that will open it," and so he smashed the lid with the axe; then he went through the pockets, got Yan's old silver watch and chain, and in Sam's trousers pocket he got two dollars.
"Ha! That's just what I want, sonny," and the tramp put them in his own pockets. "'Pears to me the fire needs a little wood," he remarked, as his eye fell on Yan's quiverful of arrows, and he gave that a kick that sent many of them into the blaze.