Two Little Savages

by Ernest Thompson Seton

  XXV

  The Three-Fingered Tramp.

  Broad-shouldered, beetle-browed, brutal and lazy was Bill Hennard, sonof a prosperous settler. He had inherited a fine farm, but he wasas lazy as he was strong, and had soon run through his property andfollowed the usual course from laziness to crime. Bill had seen theinside of more than one jail. He was widely known in the adjoiningtownship of Emolan; many petty thefts were traced to him, and it wasopenly stated that but for the help of a rich and clever confederatehe would certainly be in the penitentiary. It was darkly hinted,further, that this confederate was a well-to-do Sangerite who had manyfarms and a wife and son and a little daughter, and his first name wasWilliam, and his second name Ra---- "But never mind; and don't for theworld say I told you." Oh, it's easy to get rich--if you know how. Ofcourse, these rumours never reached the parties chiefly concerned.

  Hennard had left Downey's Dump the evening before, and avoiding theroads, had struck through the woods, to visit his partner, withimportant matters to arrange--very important for Hennard. He was muchfuddled when he left Downey's, the night was cloudy, and consequentlyhe had wandered round and round till he was completely lost. He sleptunder a tree (a cold, miserable sleep it was), and in the sunlessmorning he set out with little certainty to find his "pal." Aftersome time he stumbled on the trail that led him to the boys' camp. Hewas now savage with hunger and annoyance, and reckless with bottleassistance, for he carried a flask. No longer avoiding being seen, hewalked up to the teepee just as Little Beaver was frying meat for thenoonday meal he expected to eat alone. At the sound of footsteps Yanturned, supposing that one of his companions had come back, but thereinstead was a big, rough-looking tramp.

  "Well, sonny, cookin' dinner?"]

  "Well, sonny, cookin' dinner? I'll be glad to j'ine ye," he said withan unpleasant and fawning smile.

  His manner was as repulsive as it could be, though he kept the form ofpoliteness.

  "Where's your folks, sonny?"

  "Haven't any--here," replied Yan, in some fear, remembering now thetramps 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 thatstick," and now the tramp's manner changed from fawning to command, ashe 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'llspifflicate ye."

  Yan stood still. The desperado strode forward, seized the bow, andgave 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'llbreak yer useless neck."

  Yan now realized that he had fallen into the power of the worst enemyof the harmless camper, and saw too late the folly of neglectingRaften's advice to have a big Dog in camp. He glanced around and wouldhave run, but the tramp was too quick for him and grabbed him by thecollar. "Oh, no you don't; hold on, sonny. I'll fix you so you'll doas you're told." He cut the bowstring from its place, and violentlythrowing Yan down, he tied his feet so that they had about eighteeninches' play.

  "Now rush around and get my dinner; I'm hungry. An' don't you spile itin the cooking or I'll use the gad on you; an' if you holler or cutthat cord I'll kill ye. See that?" and he got out an ugly-lookingknife.

  Tears of fear and pain ran down Yan's face as he limped about to obeythe brute's orders.

  "Here, you move a little faster!" and the tramp turned from poking thefire with the bow to give another sounding blow. If he had looked downthe trail he would have seen a small tow-topped figure that turned andscurried away at the sound.

  Yan was trained to bear punishment, but the tyrant seemed careless ofeven his life.

  "Are you going to kill me?" he burst out, after another attack forstumbling in his shackles.

  "Don't know but I will when I've got through with ye," replied thedesperado 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'llget a bigger club if ye don't look spry," and so the tramp was servedwith 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 tothe box in which they kept some spare clothes. Yan obeyed in fear andtrembling. "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 hesmashed the lid with the axe; then he went through the pockets, gotYan's old silver watch and chain, and in Sam's trousers pocket he gottwo dollars.

  "Ha! That's just what I want, sonny," and the tramp put them in hisown 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 kickthat sent many of them into the blaze.

  "Now, sonny, don't look at me quite so hard, like you was takingnotes, or I may have to cut your throat and put you in the swamp holeto keep ye from telling tales."

  Yan was truly in terror of his life now.

  "Bring me the whetstone," the tyrant growled, "an' some more coffee."Yan did so. The tramp began whetting his long knife, and Yan sawtwo things that stuck in his memory: first, the knife, which was ofhunting pattern, had a brass Deer on the handle; second, the hand thatgrasped it had only three fingers.

  "What's that other box in there?"

  "That's--that's--only our food box."

  "You lie to me, will ye?" and again the stick descended. "Haul itout."

  "I can't."

  "Haul it out or I'll choke ye."

  Yan tried, but it was too heavy.

  "Get out, you useless Pup!" and the tramp walked into the teepee andgave Yan a push that sent him headlong out on the ground.

  The boy was badly bruised, but saw his only chance. The big knife wasthere. He seized it, cut the cord on his legs, flung the knife afarin the swamp and ran like a Deer. The tramp rushed out of the teepeeyelling and cursing. Yan might have gotten away had he been in goodshape, but the tramp's cruelty really had crippled him, and the brutewas rapidly overtaking him. As he sped down the handiest, the southtrail, he sighted in the trees ahead a familiar figure, and yellingwith all his remaining strength, "Caleb! Caleb!! Caleb Clark!!!" hefell swooning in the grass.

  There is no mistaking the voice of dire distress. Caleb hurried up,and with one impulse he and the tramp grappled in deadly struggle.Turk was not with his master, and the tramp had lost his knife, so itwas a hand-to-hand conflict. A few clinches, a few heavy blows, andit was easy to see who must win. Caleb was old and slight. The tramp,strong, heavy-built, and just drunk enough to be dangerous, was toomuch for him, and after a couple of rounds the Trapper fell writhingwith a foul blow. The tramp felt again for his knife, swore savagely,looked around for a club, found only a big stone, and would have doneno one knows what, when there was a yell from behind, another big mancrashed down the trail, and the tramp faced William Raften, puffingand panting, with Guy close behind. The stone meant for Caleb hehurled at William, who dodged it, and now there was an even fight. Hadthe tramp had his knife it might have gone hard with Raften, but fistto fist the farmer had the odds. His old-time science turned theday, and the desperado went down with a crusher "straight from theshoulder."

  It seemed a veritable battle-field--three on the ground and Raften,red-faced and puffing, but sturdy and fearless, standing in utterperplexity.

  "Phwhat the divil does it all mane?"

  "I'll tell you, Mr. Raften," chirped in Guy, as he stole from his safeshelter.

  "Oh, ye're here, are ye, Guy? Go and git a rope at camp--quick now,"as the tramp began to move.

  As soon as the rope came Raften tied the fellow's arms safely.

  "'Pears to me Oi've sane that hand befoore," remarked Raften, as thethree fingers caught his eye.

  Yan was now sitting up, gazing about in a dazed way.
Raften went overto his old partner and said: "Caleb, air ye hurrt? It's me--it's BillRaften. Air ye hurrt?"

  Caleb rolled his eyes and looked around.

  Yan came over now and knelt down. "Are you hurt, Mr. Clark?"

  He shook his head and pointed to his chest.

  "He's got his wind knocked out," Raften explained; "he'll be all rightin a minute or two. Guy, bring some wather."

  Yan told his story and Guy supplied an important chapter. He hadreturned earlier than expected, and was near to camp, when he heardthe tramp beating Yan. His first impulse to run home to his punyfather was replaced with the wiser one to go for brawny Mr. Raften.

  The tramp was now sitting up and grumbling savagely.

  "Now, me foine feller," said William. "We'll take ye back to camp fora little visit before we take ye to the 'Pen.' A year in the coolerwill do ye moore good, Oi'm thinkin', than anny other tratement. Here,Guy, you take the end av the rope and fetch the feller to camp, whileI help Caleb."

  Guy was in his glory. The tramp was forced to go ahead; Guy followed,jerking the rope and playing Horse, shouting, "Ch'--ch'--ch'--getup, Horsey," while William helped old Caleb with a gentleness thatrecalled a time long ago when Caleb had so helped him after a fallingtree had nearly killed him in the woods.

  At camp they found Sam. He was greatly astonished at the procession,for he knew nothing of the day's events, and fearfully disappointed hewas on learning what he had missed.

  Caleb still looked white and sick when they got him to the fire, andRaften said, "Sam, go home and get your mother to give you a littlebrandy."

  "You don't need to go so far," said Yan, "for that fellow has a bottlein his pocket."

  "I wouldn't touch a dhrap of annything he has, let alone give it to a_sick friend_," was William's reply.

  So Sam went for the brandy and was back with it in half an hour.

  "Here now, Caleb," said William, "drink that now an' ye'll feelbetter," and as he offered the cup he felt a little reviving glow ofsympathy for his former comrade.

  When Sam went home that morning it was with a very clear purpose.He had gone straight to his mother and told all he knew about therevolver and the misunderstanding with Caleb, and they two had had along, unsatisfactory interview with the father. Raften was brutal andoutspoken as usual. Mrs. Raften was calm and clear-witted. Sam wasshrewd. The result was a complete defeat for William--a defeat that hewould not acknowledge; and Sam came back to camp disappointed for thetime being, but now to witness the very thing he had been strivingfor--his father and the Trapper reconciled; deadly enemies two hoursago, but now made friends through a fight. Though overpowered inargument, Raften's rancour was not abated, but rather increased towardthe man he had evidently misused, until the balance was turned by thechance of his helping that man in a time of direst straits.