A STORY OF NORTHERN ARIZONA.
BY KIRK MUNROE,
Author of "Rick Dale," "The Fur-Seal's Tooth," "Snow-Shoes and Sledges," "The Mate Series," etc.
CHAPTER V.
A ROBINSON CRUSOE SITUATION.
hen Todd reached the curtained doorway of the hut and looked out, he could not have told whether he was more disappointed or relieved by the sight that greeted him. He had fully expected to see human beings who would either prove friends or foes. He hoped they would give him something to eat, and at the same time feared they might kill him. But a single glance showed him that for the moment both his fears and his hopes were groundless. Instead of people he saw half a dozen goats grouped in front of the doorway, and gazing at him expectantly. A little kid among them bleated plaintively, and Todd knew in a moment that its voice was the one he had mistaken for that of a child.
He looked eagerly about for a herdsman or a shepherd boy, for even the tiniest Indian lad would have been welcomed just then; but none was to be seen. In his keen disappointment he became filled with wrath at the unoffending goats, and stepping forward with an angry gesture he bade them begone. For an instant they seemed bewildered at such unaccustomed treatment, and stood irresolute; but as Todd took another step towards them they recognized him for an enemy; and scampering away, were quickly lost to sight amid the surrounding trees.
Even before they disappeared the hungry boy regretted his hasty action. "For," he said to himself, "I might have captured one of them, and so have laid in a supply of food; or I might have milked the mother of that kid. What a chump I am, anyway. Seems to me I am always acting first and reflecting afterwards. I wonder if I can't overtake and make friends with them even now?"
Thus thinking, he started in pursuit of the goats; but though he saw them several times as they skipped among the trees, they easily eluded his feeble efforts to catch them, for he was too weak to run, and they were too well assured of his unfriendly intentions to allow him to approach them.
"If I only had my rifle," sighed the lad. "Though what would be the good of it anyway, for I haven't a fire nor any means of making one, and hungry as I am I don't believe I could eat raw-goat. How do people obtain fire under such circumstances anyhow? Matches? I haven't any. A burning-glass? I don't suppose there is such a thing within five hundred miles of this place. Rubbing two dry sticks together? That's all nonsense, and I don't believe it can be done, for I've tried it, and never succeeded in getting so much as a curl of smoke, let alone fire. I remember reading about some fellow up in Alaska doing it. Serge Belcofsky—yes, that was his name; but I don't believe he ever really did. That same Serge made a fire another time with brimstone and feathers, or at least the book said so; but as I haven't either of those things, I don't see that it does me any good to remember it.
"Then there was Phil Ryder, who made a fire by cutting open one of his cartridges, rubbing powder on his handkerchief, and shooting into it with his rifle. I have plenty of cartridges, and so could get the powder, but haven't any rifle—so that plan won't work. Flint and steel? That's a way you hear a good deal about, though I never saw any one really try it. Still, I suppose it can be done, and my knife will furnish the steel if I can only find a flint. I wonder what a flint looks like, anyway?"
By this time Todd had returned wearily to the hut and was sitting on the stone that formed its doorstep. Now he began striking at this with the back of his sheath-knife, and finally thought he saw a spark fly from the point of contact; but it was such a fleeting thing, and disappeared so instantly, that he could not be certain.
"Even if it was a spark," he said to himself, "how could anybody make a fire from it? I should want one as big as those that fly from red-hot horseshoes when the blacksmith pounds them, though I doubt if I could get a blaze even then, they go out so quickly. So, Todd Chalmers, you might as well make up your mind to go without a fire, and eat your food raw—that is, if you get any at all, which looks very doubtful just now.
"Oh dear! What do people do when they are cast away on desert islands? Not that this is one, but it's a desert valley, which is a great deal worse, for the others are always in the tropics, and have bread-fruit and things. And then the people always have wrecks to get supplies from, the same as Robinson Crusoe did. If I only had such a snap as he had I wouldn't say a word. Plenty of provisions, muskets, cutlasses, clothing, turtles, grapes, and pieces of eight, besides the knowledge of how to start a fire and make all sorts of things. No wonder he was grateful and contented. He ought to have been. And the Swiss Family Robinson. There's another cheerful crowd who had everything they wanted, and more than they knew what to do with. I just wish I knew what any of those chaps would do right here in my place at this very minute. I guess they'd find out what soft times they had in being wrecked where they were and as they were instead of the way I am. I suppose, though, they would start right off into the woods, where they would run across all sorts of fruits to eat and animals waiting to be cooked, besides everything they needed to make houses and clothing of, so that inside of two weeks they'd be living as comfortably and happily as though they were right alongside a Baltimore market. They'd know how to make a fire without matches too in at least a dozen different ways. That's what would happen if they were book people; but if they were real live folks like I am I don't believe they'd know any more how to get a square meal than I do at this minute.
"Going into the woods, though, and hunting for something to eat isn't a bad idea. There must be nuts or berries, or at least roots that would keep a fellow from starving. I suppose some of them will be poisonous and others won't, and the only way to find out which is which will be to eat them. The poisonous ones will kill you and the others won't. At the same time I shall surely die of hunger if I stay here doing nothing, and so here goes for a breakfast."
Up to this time Todd had been so certain of finding people who would supply him with food, that while fully realizing how faint and weak he was growing for want of it, he had not regarded his situation as perilous. From the moment of discovering the beautiful valley with its abundant water, he had felt that all real danger was over. He had imagined that the natives, after feeding him and allowing him a day's rest in which to regain strength, would willingly guide him to the river in return for the handsome reward that he knew he could safely promise them in his brother's name. Now that there did not appear to be any natives nor any food, it suddenly dawned upon our lad that he was very little better off in this beautiful place than he had been amid all the horrors of the Painted Desert, and it was with a decided feeling of uneasiness that he set forth on his search for food.
He first examined two small structures that he discovered back of the hut. One of these was evidently a fowl-house, and as soon as Todd recognized its character he had visions of fresh eggs. "They will be fine," he said to himself, "even if I can't cook them; for eggs are almost as good raw as cooked, anyway." So, though he had not as yet seen nor heard any hens, he entered the place hopefully. Yes, there were several nests, and an egg in each one. But, alas! they were only nest eggs that had done duty as such for so long a time that after breaking a couple of them poor Todd was glad to make a speedy escape from their vicinity. He was bitterly disappointed, and began to think that the inhabitants of the valley had recently emigrated from it, taking everything eatable, including their fowls, with them.
The other structure proved to be a corral or pen in which goats had been confined, but now it was empty and its gate stood wide open.
Continuing his search for food wearily and despondently, our lad soon came to several small fields, all showing traces of careful cultivation, and all enclosed by stout fences of wattle. In these he found oats, beans, squashes, and corn, of which the last named was the only one that seemed edible in its raw state. So Todd began to gnaw hungrily at an ear that had long since passed its green stage without becoming quite ripe enough to be hard. It was merely tough and toothless. Still it could be eaten, and served to fill, after a fashion, the aching void of which he had long been painfully conscious.
Beyond the fields he found a small grove of peach-trees; but they had been stripped of their fruit some time since, and what of it had fallen to the ground had evidently been devoured by goats, so that not a single peach rewarded his careful search.
By this time the sun stood directly overhead, and was pouring down a heat so intense as to make him feel giddy. So the boy gathered up his spoils, consisting of a sheaf of ripened oats, a dozen pods of beans, a green squash, and two ears of tough corn, with which he returned to the hut. There, after refreshing himself with a copious drink of water, he attempted to eat in turn each of the things he had brought with him. The green squash and raw beans were so unpalatable that he threw them out of the door in disgust. The oats were fairly good; but extracting the kernel from each separate grain was such slow work that he decided the attempt to sustain life in that manner would prove only another form of starvation.
"Oh, for a big dish of oatmeal and cream!" he exclaimed. "But I don't suppose I shall ever see one again."
He also thought of squash pies and baked beans with regretful longings, while the tough corn at which he gnawed with aching jaws suggested muffins, hot cakes, corn bread, hominy, and all the other attractive forms in which maize can be prepared, until he groaned aloud to think how very far beyond his present reach all such things were.
CHAPTER VI.
TODD'S FAILURE AS A HUNTER AND A FIRE-MAKER.
"If this wretched corn was only hard enough to pound into meal," reflected Todd, "I might mix it with water and make a sort of chicken feed that would at least keep me alive until I could find something better. As it is, I believe I am using up more strength in eating it than it will ever pay back. Oh, if I only had a fire in which to roast it, what a difference it would make!
"Hello! what's that? A rabbit, sure's I'm sitting here. And there's another! Why, the woods are full of them! I don't wonder the natives have to protect their fields with tight fences. If I could catch one, what a fine stew he'd make! I wonder how other fellows catch rabbits? They are all the time doing it in books. Seems to me trapping is one of the things that ought to be taught in school. My! how saucy these chaps are!"
One of the rabbits had indeed ventured to within a dozen feet of where the boy stood, attracted by the bits of green squash that he had thrown from the door a few minutes earlier. Instinctively Todd picked up a stone, while the rabbit, alarmed by the movement, ran off a short distance and looked at him inquiringly. As no further movement was made he presently returned to the bits of squash, where he was quickly joined by a companion.
Trembling with eagerness, Todd let drive his missile. To his astonishment it reached its destined mark, and one of the little creatures rolled over with a sharp squeak, kicked convulsively, and then lay quiet, while its companion scampered to a place of hiding.
"I hit him!" cried the young stone-thrower in a tone of mingled amazement and delight, as he hastened to pick up his prize. "Who would have thought that killing rabbits was so easy!"
No hunter of big game was ever prouder or more excited over his first trophy than was our city-bred lad over this proof of his skill. "I certainly can't starve," he said to himself, "so long as the supply of rabbits and rocks holds out, and there seems to be plenty of both. Isn't he fat, though!"
He had already carried his rabbit to the hut, stroking and admiring it as he went. From the job of skinning and cleaning it he shrank with repugnance, nor had he an idea of how to set to work. Still he knew these things must be done, and drawing his hunting-knife from its sheath he prepared to make a beginning. With the very first touch of the knife the rabbit drew a gasping breath, and began to struggle so violently that Todd dropped it in horror. In another moment the little creature, which had only been stunned, had darted away and vanished, leaving one of the most amazed boys in the world to gaze after it with an air of utter bewilderment.
"If that don't beat anything I ever heard of!" he muttered. "I wonder if they always have to be killed twice? That fellow would have jumped out of his skin if I'd only held on tight enough. Never mind; it's a lesson I won't forget in a hurry, and the next time I'll make sure that my game is dead before I begin to skin it."
It did not seem, however, that there was to be any next time; for though Todd filled his pockets with stones and hunted for more than an hour, he did not see another rabbit until he again returned to the hut, and was nearly tripped up by one that darted from the open doorway. It had been attracted by a portion of the squash left on the floor, and noting this, the lad threw out what remained, with the hope that it might cause others to come within range of his missiles. Several were thus tempted during the afternoon, but though the hungry lad threw stones at them until he was weary, he did not succeed in hitting another. Finally, pretty well convinced that the success of his first shot was an accident not likely to be repeated, he gave up this method of obtaining rabbits, and began to think of traps. As he had never made nor even seen one, the only thing in the shape of a trap that suggested itself was a box, one edge of which should rest on a short stick. He would use green squash for bait, fasten one end of a long string to the stick, hold the other in his hand, and when a rabbit was safely under the box jerk away the support.
"It wouldn't do me any good if I did catch them," he reflected, "since I have no fire with which to cook them. At the same time I don't see that I am going to do much with raw vegetables, either, and so a fire does appear to be one of the most necessary things. Seems to me I ought to make one with a cartridge, the same as Phil Ryder did, even if I haven't a rifle."
As a result of much thinking on this subject, Todd finally spread his pocket-handkerchief on the table, laid one of the brass cartridges that still filled his belt on it, and after a while succeeded in cutting it in two close to its rear end. Emptying out the black powder, he threw away the shell with its bullet still attached, and kept only that portion containing the percussion-powder. The next thing was to lay the handkerchief on the stone doorstep, spread the powder over it, and place the firing portion of the shell in the middle. Then he hunted up a stone that came to a point, and holding this firmly in his hand, struck the percussion-shell a violent blow.
The result was instantaneous, and in a certain sense satisfactory. There were a sharp explosion and a quick flash of flame that burned Todd's right hand so severely that he ran to plunge it in the cooling waters of the stream. When he returned to the hut, some five minutes later, ruefully nursing his wounded hand, the only trace remaining of his handkerchief was a film of ashes on the doorstep.
"I don't care," he remarked, stoutly. "I did make a fire, anyhow, and I would do it again if I only had another handkerchief. As I haven't, I suppose I must give up the idea for the present, and live on that beastly raw corn until I can find some other kind of tinder. If I only had some cotton, that would be the very thing. I might as well wish for matches, though, and done with it, as to hope for cotton in a place like this. It was a good scheme, all the same; every bit as good as Serge Belcofsky's brimstone and feathers, and I would have had an elegant fire by this time if I only hadn't burned my hand."
After Todd had again visited the field and brought back two more ears of the much-despised corn, from which he expected to make a frugal supper that night, and an equally unsatisfactory breakfast on the following morning, the sun was so low in the western sky that the shadows of the cliffs on that side extended clear across the valley. Night was close at hand, and the lad dreaded its loneliness in that strange place, without fire, or means of defence against its unknown dangers. For all that he knew, both wild men and wild beasts might only be awaiting the coming of darkness to attack him.
"I wonder if I hadn't better climb a tree," he reflected, "or shut myself up in that hen-house? It at least has a stout door, which is more than this hut possesses."
While he sat on the doorstep thinking of these things, and watching the shadows pursue the waning sunlight up the face of the eastern cliffs, his eye fell on something that caused him to start to his feet with an exclamation. From some unseen source high up on the rocky wall a slender column of blue smoke, curling gracefully towards the summit of the mesa, was plainly visible. Nor was that all; for even as the lad gazed wonderingly at it, a human figure clad in white appeared near the place from which the smoke ascended, and after standing for a moment as though looking expectantly down the valley, again moved out of sight.
HE MADE A MISSTEP AND FELL HEAVILY.
"That explains everything," cried Todd. "The natives are cliff-dwellers, and live somewhere up there among the rocks. From all accounts of such people, although they are filthy and degraded, they are not half a bad lot. So I'm going to hunt them out before it grows dark. Of course they won't be able to understand a word I say, but I'll make that all right somehow."
The excited boy had already set off in the direction indicated by the smoke, and before long he came across a plainly marked trail leading among the trees directly toward the cliffs. As it reached them it bent sharply upward, becoming steeper and more rugged with every step.
Until now Todd had not realized how very weak he had grown through long fasting and from his recent terrible experience on the desert. Every few steps he was obliged to pause for breath, and several times he was so overcome by giddiness that he was compelled to sit down. Thus his upward progress was very slow, and the sun had set before he reached a point at which the trail ended. Above him was a sheer face of rock some fifteen feet high, in which were cut rude steps and handholds. It was like a perpendicular rock ladder, and in his weakness Todd regarded it with dismay. He was afraid, too, of his wounded hand, and wondered if he could hold on by it.
"It's got to be tried, though," he said, resolutely, "for it would never do to spend the night here, and I hate the thought of that lonely hut; so here goes."
With this the boy began to climb slowly and unsteadily. If he had had two sound hands and his normal strength, it would have been easy enough; but weak, giddy, and wounded as he was, it seemed very doubtful if he could gain the top. Now, too, he began to fear concerning the reception that he might meet even if he succeeded. Suppose the natives should take him for an enemy, how easy it would be for them to push him from his precarious footing?
Filled with such thoughts, he had only ascended a few feet when suddenly there came a loud shout from close behind him. So startling was it that he made a misstep, clutched vainly at the smooth rock to save himself, and with a despairing cry, fell heavily to the steep pathway, where he lay stunned and motionless.