Two Little Savages

by Ernest Thompson Seton

  X

  The Dam

  One hot day early in July they were enjoying themselves in the shallowbathing-hole of the creek, when Sam observed: "It's getting low. Itgoes dry every summer."

  This was not pleasing to foresee, and Yan said, "Why can't we make adam?"

  "A little too much like work."

  "Oh, pshaw! That'd be fun and we'd have a swimming-place for allsummer, then. Come on; let's start now."

  "Never heard of Injuns doing so much work."

  "Well, we'll play Beaver while we do it. Come on, now; here's fora starter," and Yan carried a big stone to what seemed to him thenarrowest place. Then he brought more, and worked with enthusiasm tillhe had a line of stones right across the creek bed.

  Sam still sat naked on the bank, his knees to his chin and his armsaround them. The war-paint was running down his chest in blue and redstreaks.

  "Come on, here, you lazy freak, and work," cried Yan, and flung ahandful of mud to emphasize the invite.

  "My festered knee's broke out again," was the reply.

  At length Yan said, "I'm not going to do it all alone," andstraightened up his back.

  "Look a-here," was the answer. "I've been thinking. The cattle waterhere. The creek runs dry in summer, then the cattle has to go to thebarnyard and drink at the trough--has to be pumped for, and hang roundfor hours after hoping some one will give them some oats, instead ofhustling back to the woods to get fat. Now, two big logs across therewould be more'n half the work. I guess we'll ask Da to lend us theteam to put them logs across to make a drinking-pond for the cattle.Them cattle is awful on my mind. Didn't sleep all night thinking o'them. I just hate like pizen to see them walking all the way to thebarn in hot weather for a drink--'tain't right." So Sam waited for aproper chance to "tackle" his father. It did not come that day, but atbreakfast next morning Raften looked straight at Yan across the table,and evidently thinking hard about something, said:

  "Yahn, this yer room is twenty foot by fifteen, how much ilecloththree foot wide will it call fur?"

  "Thirty-three and one-third yards," Yan said at once.

  Raften was staggered. Yan's manner was convincing, but to do all thatin his head was the miracle. Various rude tests were applied and thegeneral opinion prevailed that Yan was right.

  The farmer's face beamed with admiration for the first time. "Luk atthat," he said to the table, "luk at that fur eddication. When'll yoube able to do the like?" he said to Sam.

  "Never," returned his son, with slow promptness. "Dentists don't haveto figger on ilecloth."

  "Say, Yan," said Sam aside, "guess _you_ better tackle Da aboutthe dam. Kind o' sot up about ye this mornin'; your eddication hassoftened him some, an' it'll last till about noon, I jedge. Strikewhile the iron is hot."

  So after breakfast Yan commenced:

  "Mr. Raften, the creek's running dry. We want to make a pond for thecattle to drink, but we can't make a dam without two big logs across.Will you let us have the team a few minutes to place the logs?"

  "It ain't fur a swimmin'-pond, is it, ye mean?" said Raften, with atwinkle in his eye.

  "It would do for that as well," and Yan blushed.

  "Sounds to me like Sam talking through Yan's face," added Raften,shrewdly taking in the situation. "I'll see fur meself."

  Arrived at the camp, he asked: "Now, whayer's yer dam to be? Thar?That's no good. It's narrer but it'd be runnin' round both ends aforeye had any water to speak of. Thayer's a better place, a bit wider,but givin' a good pond. Whayer's yer logs? Thayer? What--my seasoningtimber? Ye can't hev that. That's the sill fur the new barrn; northat--it's seasonin' fur gate posts. Thayer's two ye kin hev. I'llsend the team, but don't let me ketch ye stealin' any o' my seasonin'timber or the fur'll fly."

  With true Raften promptness the heavy team came, the two great logswere duly dragged across and left as Yan requested (four feet apartfor the top of the dam).

  The boys now drove in a row of stakes against each log on the innerside, to form a crib, and were beginning to fill in the space with mudand stones. They were digging and filling it up level as they went.Clay was scarce and the work went slowly; the water, of course, risingas the wall arose, added to the difficulty. But presently Yan said:

  "Hold on. New scheme. Let's open her and dig a deep trench on oneside so all the water will go by, then leave a clay wall to it" [thetrench] "and dig a deep hole on the other side of it. That will giveus plenty of stuff for the dam and help to deepen the pond."

  Thus they worked. In a week the crib was full of packed clay andstone. Then came the grand finish--the closing of this sluicewaythrough the dam. It was not easy with the full head of water running,but they worked like beavers and finally got it stopped.

  That night there was a heavy shower. Next day when they came near theyheard a dull roar in the woods. They stopped and listened in doubt,then Yan exclaimed gleefully: "The dam! That's the water running overthe dam."

  They both set off with a yell and ran their fastest. As soon as theycame near they saw a great sheet of smooth water where the stony creekbottom had been and a steady current over the low place left as anoverflow in the middle of the dam.

  What a thrill of pleasure that was!

  "Last in's a dirty sucker."

  "Look out for my bad knee," was the response.

  The rest of the race was a mixture of stripping and sprinting and theboys splashed in together.

  Five feet deep in the deep hole, a hundred yards long, and all theirown doing.

  "Now, wasn't it worth it?" asked Yan, who had had much difficulty inkeeping Sam steadily at play that looked so very much like work.

  "Wonder how that got here? I thought I left that in the teepee?" andSam pointed to a log that he used for a seat in the teepee, but now itwas lodged in the overflow.

  Yan was a good swimmer, and as they played and splashed, Sam said:"Now I know who you are. You can't hide it from me no longer. Isuspicioned it when you were working on the dam. You're that tarnalRedskin they call 'Little Beaver.'"

  "I've been watching you," retorted Yan, "and it seems to me I've run upagainst that copper-coloured scallawag--'Young-Man-Afraid-of-a-Shovel.'"

  The dam was a great success]

  "No, you don't," said Sam. "Nor I ain't'_Bald-Eagle-Settin'-on-a-Rock-with-his-Tail-Hangin'-over-the-Edge,'_nuther. In fact, I don't keer to be recognized just now. Ain't it arelief to think the cattle don't have to take that walk any more?"

  Sam was evidently trying to turn the subject, but Yan would not bebalked. "I heard Si call you 'Woodpecker' the other day."

  "Yep. I got that at school. When I was a kid to hum I heerd Ma talkabout me be-a-u-tiful _golden_ hair, but when I got big enoughto go to school I learned that it was only _red_, an' they calledme the 'Red-headed Woodpecker.' I tried to lick them, but lots of themcould lick me an' rubbed it in wuss. When I seen fightin' didn'twork, I let on to like it, but it was too late then. Mostly it's just'Woodpecker' for short. I don't know as it ever lost me any sleep."

  Half an hour later, as they sat by the fire that Yan made withrubbing-sticks, he said, "Say, Woodpecker, I want to tell you astory." Sam grimaced, pulled his ears forward, and made ostentatiouspreparations to listen.

  "There was once an Indian squaw taken prisoner by some other tribe wayup north. They marched her 500 miles away, but one night she escapedand set out, not on the home trail, for she knew they would followthat way and kill her, but to one side. She didn't know the countryand got lost. She had no weapons but a knife, and no food but berries.Well, she travelled fast for several days till a rainstorm came, thenshe felt safe, for she knew her enemies could not trail her now. Butwinter was near and she could not get home before it came. So she setto work right where she was.

  "She made a wigwam of Birch bark and a fire with rubbing-sticks, usingthe lace of her moccasin for a bow-string. She made snares of theinner bark of the Willow and of Spruce roots, and deadfalls, too, forRabbits. She was starving sometimes, at first, but she ate the
budsand inner bark of Birch trees till she found a place where there werelots of Rabbits. And when she caught some she used every scrap ofthem. She made a fishing-line of the sinews, and a hook of the bonesand teeth lashed together with sinew and Spruce gum.

  "She made a cloak of Rabbit skins, sewed with needles of Rabbit boneand thread of Rabbit sinew, and a lot of dishes of Birch bark sewedwith Spruce roots.

  "She put in the whole winter there alone, and when the spring came shewas found by Samuel Hearne, the great traveller. Her precious knifewas worn down, but she was fat and happy and ready to set out for herown people."

  "Well, I say that's mighty inter-est-in'," said Sam--he had listenedattentively--"an' I'd like nothin' better than to try it myself if Ihad a gun an' there was lots of game."

  "Pooh, who wouldn't?"

  "Mighty few--an' there's mighty few who _could_.""I could."

  "What, make everything with just a knife? I'd like to see you makea teepee," then adding earnestly, "Sam, we've been kind o' playingInjuns; now let's do it properly. Let's make everything out of what wefind in the woods."

  "Guess we'll have to visit the Sanger Witch again. She knows all aboutplants."

  "We'll be the Sanger Indians. We can both be Chiefs," said Yan, notwishing to propose himself as Chief or caring to accept Sam as hissuperior. "I'm Little Beaver. Now what are you?"

  "Bloody-Thundercloud-in-the-Afternoon."

  "No, try again. Make it something you can draw, so you can make yourtotem, and make it short."

  "What's the smartest animal there is?"

  "I--I--suppose the Wolverine."

  "What! Smarter'n a Fox?"

  "The books say so."

  "Kin he lick a Beaver?"

  "Well, I should say so."

  "Well, that's me."

  "No, you don't. I'm not going around with a fellow that licks me. Itdon't fit you as well as 'Woodpecker,' anyhow. I always get _you_when I want a nice tree spoiled or pecked into holes," retorted Yan,magnanimously ignoring the personal reason for the name.

  "Tain t as bad as _beavering_," answered Sam

  "Beavering" was a word with a history. Axes and timber were thebiggest things in the lives of the Sangerites. Skill with the axe wasthe highest accomplishment. The old settlers used to make everythingin the house out of wood, and with the axe for the only tool. It waseven said that some of them used to "edge her up a bit" and shave withher on Sundays. When a father was setting his son up in life he gavehim simply a good axe. The axe was the grand essential of life andwork, and was supposed to be a whole outfit. Skill with the axe wasgeneral. Every man and boy was more or less expert, and did not knowhow expert he was till a real "greeny" came among them. There is aright way to cut for each kind of grain, and a certain proper way offelling a tree to throw it in any given direction with the minimum oflabour. All these things are second nature to the Sangerite. A Beaveris credited with a haphazard way of gnawing round and round a treetill somehow it tumbles, and when a chopper deviates in the least fromthe correct form, the exact right cut in the exact right place, he issaid to be "beavering"; therefore, while "working like a Beaver" ishigh praise, "beavering" a tree is a term of unmeasured reproach, andSam's final gibe had point and force that none but a Sangerite couldpossibly have appreciated.