CHAPTER XIV
RUNNING-WATER
When Shaggycoat regained his sight and full consciousness, for the stickand the tight collar on his neck had choked him almost into the longsleep, he was lying on the floor of what seemed to be a very largelodge, only this lodge was square and his own in the beaver colony wascircular. It was many times larger on the inside than even the greathouse in which Shaggycoat's own numerous family lived.
There must be some underground passages, he thought, just as there werein the beaver house, surely such powerful creatures as these would takethat precaution. He would watch his chance, and before they knew itplunge down the tunnel to freedom.
Once in the water, this terrifying creature would not get hold of himagain.
There were two of the strangers in the great lodge; the one with thecruel eyes, and a look that made Shaggycoat's long dark hair stand erecton his neck, and the other, smaller, and gentler.
When the smaller one talked, it was in a low, sweet voice that soothedShaggycoat's wild terror of being held a prisoner.
Her voice reminded him of a little rill gurgling through pebblygrottoes, and he was glad when she spoke. When Shaggycoat firststruggled to consciousness, she had been bending over him and somehow hewas not afraid to have her look at him, for there was no murder in hereyes, as there was in Joe's.
"I pring him to you, leetle gal," said Joe, "one long way, by gar. Heheavy, like one pig stone. He your beaver, you got no dog. He good petwhen you tame him. Injun often keep tame beaver in lodge. He pretty,Wahawa, don't you think, leetle gal?"
"Yes, very handsome, Joe, and I thank you. He will make a good pet if Ican tame him, but he is rather too old."
Wahawa, or Running-water, as her people called her, was Joe's Indianwife. She had been at the mission school for two years, and as she wasvery bright, spoke quite good English for the wilderness.
"See, how he trembles, Joe," she said. "He shakes like the aspen, whenthe fingers of the breezes are playing with it. Do you think I can tamehim?"
"O yes, you tame anything," laughed Joe. "You tame me and I wild ashawk."
"See how he starts every time we move or speak," said the dusky daughterof the forest. "I am afraid we scare his wits out, before he knows us."
Shaggycoat squeezed into the darkest corner of the shack, where hestood trembling with fright. There were many sights and smells in theroom that filled him with fear. First there was the strong repellentman-scent. This he always associated with traps and the "thunder stick"that killed the wild creatures so easily. One of these fearful thingsnow rested on some hooks against the wall and the hooks looked very muchlike a deer's horns. There were a great many of those cruel things thatlay in the water waiting for the paws of beaver or otter, hanging uponthe wall, suspended by the rattling snake-like thing that Shaggycoatknew the sound of, as it clattered over the stones. Some of these thingswere also lying on the floor, and, as Joe kicked them into a corner,they made the noise that the beaver knew so well.
"Don't, Joe, you scare him," said the Indian girl, seeing how the beaverstarted at the sound.
"Py thunder, we not run this shack just for one beaver," retorted Joe."He get used to noise. If he don't, I take his coat off, then he no mindnoise."
At first the captive beaver was so terrified that he noticed almostnothing of his surroundings, but his eyes roamed wildly about for someunderground passage through which he might escape, and, seeing none, hegot as far into one corner as he could.
Presently he noticed what at first looked like another beaver lying onthe floor asleep near him. But there was something strange and unnaturalabout the beaver that filled Shaggycoat with fear.
He seemed to be all flattened out just as though a tree or large stonehad fallen upon him. But even any kind of a beaver's company waspreferable to these creatures into whose power he had fallen, soShaggycoat poked the sleeping beaver, to waken him.
His nose was not warm and moist, as it should have been, but dry andhard. Shaggycoat poked again, and the sleeping beaver moved, not by hisown power, but the slight touch he had given had moved him. Again thebewildered Shaggycoat nosed his companion and the sleeper rolled over.
At the sight that met his eyes, every hair upon Shaggycoat's back andneck stood up, for the sleeping beaver was not a live beaver at all, butmerely a beaver skin that had come off in some unaccountable manner. Hehad often seen the winter coat of the water-snake lying on the bank ofthe stream, but never that of a beaver. What strange unknown thing wasthis that had happened to his dead kinsman!
Presently Joe opened a trap-door in the floor to descend to hisimprovised cellar, and quick as a flash the captive beaver shot downahead of him. But, alas, no fresh cool lake opened its inviting arms toreceive him as he had expected. Instead of this he landed with a bumpon the bottom of a cold, dark hole, which seemed even more like a prisonthan the room above.
It was something though to be away from their eyes, especially Joe's,and it was quiet down here and perhaps he could think what to do, soShaggycoat wriggled into a far corner and kept very quiet while Joerummaged about for flour and bacon. When he ascended the ladder to theroom above, the beaver felt less terrified, although he knew that hisplight was still desperate.
He had not been long alone when he began to dig himself a burrow in onecorner of the cellar. Perhaps it would lead down to the lake, for surelythese creatures would not be so foolish as to build their lodge on theland. Even if he could not strike water, the burrow would make a placeof refuge where he could get away from the noise and the man-scent thatfairly made his nostrils tingle.
So industriously he labored that when Wahawa came down the followingmorning to see if the beaver was spoiling their provisions, she couldsee nothing of him at first. Finally, after flashing the torchlight intoall the corners, she discovered a pile of dirt, and holding the torchdown to the entrance of the hole, found the beaver staring wild-eyed andpitifully up at her from the bottom of his new hiding-place.
"O thou, Puigagis, king of the beavers," she cried in a low ripplingvoice that again reminded the prisoner of the purling of a tiny stream,"come up to Wahawa, whose name is Running-water. She will not hurt you.She will feed you and caress you." The beaver was always the Indian'sfriend, teaching him industry and the need of a store of food for thecold winter months.
"Come up to Wahawa, O king of the beavers, and she will be your friend.The great trapper has gone to the lake and the streams to visit hismany traps and cannot harm you; besides you belong to Running-water.Come up and she will be your friend."
But the poor captive only cowered at the bottom of his burrow and wouldnot come up, so the Indian girl finally went away disappointed, but likethe rest of her race she was patient, and knew that it takes days andweeks, or even months to gain the confidence of the wild creatures.Nevertheless she had accomplished more than she knew, for Shaggycoat wasnot afraid of her voice. There seemed something about its tones akin tothe wind and the waters; a touch of nature, like the song of a bird orthe murmur of distant rivers. There was something in the voice that toldhim this creature was kind.
Later on in the day when she brought him a maple sapling that she hadcut with a hatchet, he felt that his confidence in the kindness of thisstranger was not misplaced and although he was too frightened andhomesick to eat, yet it did him good to see the tempting bark so nearand to know that the Indian girl understood his wants.
When darkness again spread its sombre mantle over the land, Shaggycoat,hearing Joe's voice in the room above and the rattle of chains, as hekicked some traps into one corner, scurried into his burrow.
There were two events in Shaggycoat's life during the old days when hehad been a beaver kid, playing with his brothers and sisters on theshores of their forest lake, in the old beaver city that he alwaysremembered in time of peril. Both were startling and tragic and they hadburned into his brain so deeply that he had never forgotten them, and heremembered them now in his lonely burrow.
One evening, just at
twilight, he had been searching in the bushes alongthe shore for wild hops, a favorite dainty with young beavers, when heheard a noise in the woods close at hand. A strange noise always meant,"keep still and watch and listen." Although Shaggycoat was only five orsix months old, the wild instinct of animal cunning was strong enough inhim to prompt this wariness.
Presently the bushes parted and a tall, imperious creature came stridingdown to the lake. As he was coming directly for the spot where the youngbeaver was concealed, Shaggycoat made haste to scramble into the water,where he hid under the lily pads.
At the sound of his splashing, the tall creature stopped and snorted andstamped. He, too, was suspicious of strange noises, but, finallyconcluding that it was either a big bullfrog or a musquash, he strodedown and began drinking in the lake. He stood very close to Shaggycoat,who should have kept quiet and let the stranger drink in peace, butcuriosity, which is strong in many wild creatures, prompted the youngbeaver to peep out from under his lily pad screen at the tall stranger.
Shaggycoat did not think that the buck looked harmful so he slowly edgedout from under the pads to get a better look at him. Then quick as aflash one of those slender hoofs rose and fell, and the young beaverwent kicking to the bottom, leaving a bright streak of blood behind him.One of the older beavers found him half an hour later, lying on his backin the lily pads, stunned and bleeding. His head did not resume itsnormal size for several days, but the event taught him a lesson that henever forgot and after that day curiosity was always tempered withprudence.
The second event that Shaggycoat could never forget happened like thefirst just at dusk. This time neither he nor his brother with whom hewas playing was at fault, but the thing happened, as things do in thewoods and the waters, and when the ripple had passed, the lake was asplacid and smiling as ever.
They were playing in the shallows. The game might have been water-tag,or perhaps it was just rough and tumble, but, in either event, they werehaving a jolly time. The sun had just set in a blaze of glory at theupper end of the lake and long shadows were stealing across the water.Then upon the stillness there broke a peculiar sound, who-o-o, who-o-o,who-o-o, who-o-o; the first few notes long and loud, and the last shortand soft like an echo. It was the hunting cry of the great horned owl,going forth on his twilight quest for food. There were two impatientowlets in the top of a tall tree, back in the woods who were waiting fortheir supper of mice and chipmunks or small birds. But Shaggycoat andhis brother had never even heard of the great horned owl so theycontinued their romp in the lily pads.
Who-o-o, who-o-o, who-o-o, who-o-o, came the cry again, this time closeat hand, but the young beavers continued their play and the great hornedowl his hunt.
Suddenly Shaggycoat noticed something large above them that darkened thesky and which kept flapping like the bushes along the lake when the windblew. There were two fiery, yellow balls and a strong hook between them,and two other sets of hooks that looked sharp as the brambles on thethorn-bush. This much Shaggycoat saw, for the great flapping thing wasjust above them and much nearer than he wished. Then a set of hooksreached down and gripped his brother in the back of the neck and borehim away. Higher and higher the strange thing went, carrying theowlets' supper in the strong set of hooks, and Shaggycoat knew by thepiteous cry floating back that something dreadful had happened, but hewas too young to understand just what.
Then a strange terror of the woods and the shore came over him and hefled to the lodge and did not leave it again for days.
Where his brother went, and who the stranger was, Shaggycoat never knew,but the owlets in the top of the tall tree in the deep woods tastedbeaver meat and found it good.
Shaggycoat: The Biography of a Beaver Page 16