CHAPTER TEN

FOR THE HONOUR OF THE BLACK BEARS

“Who wants to sail over to Rosemary and bring back some burlap bags of hay?” called Fred, one rather cloudy morning when every one felt undecided about doing anything on account of the weather.

The three younger boys hastily volunteered and were told to get ready.

“Say, this is a case of sou’westers and oilskins, boys,” called Fred, when he saw them coming from the bungalow with caps and sweaters.

“Why do you need hay--we haven’t a horse or cow to feed?” questioned Dudley.

“Never mind,” replied Billy; “who knows what sort of a wild animal may be prowling around the island pretty soon.” As he spoke with a certain air of knowledge he buttoned a sou’wester strap high under his chin.

“Say--I bet I know!” laughed Paul, eyeing Billy, then Fred carefully.

“What?” demanded Dudley.

“We’re going to stuff a bear for the Mishi-mokwa game, aren’t we, Fred?”

“Right you are! We will, if Elizabeth will help us with the sewing of the burlap,” replied Fred.

“Oh, is that why you picked over that iron junk in Belfast and bought all those sharp-ended rods for spear points?” added Paul.

“When can we make it and have our first game?” asked Billy.

“The sooner we get started the sooner we will have the bear finished, and the rest depends upon that!” replied Fred.

When Uncle Tom heard about the project he willingly donated the burlap bags and hay. Trixie, very curious as she stood in the drizzle in her checked skirt, begged the boys to tell her all about the bear-spearing game.

“You’re going to be invited to the next Council and then you’ll see how to do it,” replied Billy.

“When will that be?” asked Trixie.

“Next Thursday afternoon at three o’clock,” said Fred.

“And then the Honour of the Black Bears will be upheld!” declared Billy.

“Now what do you mean by that,” again asked Trixie.

“Just come to the Council and find out,” was all Billy would say.

But Fred explained. “You see, Billy and I really belong to the Black Bear Tribe when we are home so we are going to challenge all of the members of the Pentagoet Tribe here and the visitors to a Bear Spearing contest. You can join the others if you like and try to beat our score.”

Trixie followed the boys to the shore and waved farewell until they were out of sight in the misty morning. Then she sat on the steps oblivious alike of her damp skirt and the drops of moisture that sparkled on her curls, longing for a camp-life and the simple fun of the Woodcrafters. Finally she realised she was becoming thoroughly wet from the fine rain so she went dolefully back to the house.

At Sunset Island, all hands watched Fred construct the bear. He found he would not need Elizabeth’s help for the sewing as his practice with sailor’s palm and needle came in good even if the stitches were uneven.

What a ludicrous creature it was when completed! A loop of rope for a tail, another for a nose, and a third on the middle of the back. Billy and Paul helped to swing the beast from between two tall birches and Dudley took the first fling of a spear at it. Dudley had occupied himself in trimming into a wooden spear one of the small standing dead firs that crowded the underbush of the island.

This gave Fred an idea.

“Say, boys, each one of you can make a lot of those kind of spears and we might use them for practice.”

“That’s right! The old bear will last longer than if we used the iron spears on him,” added Billy.

As night came on the fog shut in again and Fred called the boys from their spear-making to look after their tents for the night. That evening the bungalow fire made a cheery spot to gather about, for the dampness out-of-doors was chilly and unfriendly.

“Do you think it will be foggy all day to-morrow?” asked Dudley.

“I don’t think so, but we musn’t kick if it is, as we have had fine weather right along,” replied Fred.

“I know of a fine game to play in foggy weather!” hinted Mrs. Remington.

Instantly, she had every one’s attention--as she knew she would.

“The wood-boxes need a new supply and so many valiant Woodcrafters about here ought to be valiant woodchoppers for a change!” said she.

“Oh piffle! what a game!” sniffed Paul.

The others all laughed at his disgusted look but Fred said, “We’ll do it, mother! Of course it’s a great sacrifice of valuable time, but we would throw it away recklessly for _you_!”

“I am happy to have such generosity shown me, seeing that I am the only one who ever sits before the big fireplace!” laughed Mrs. Remington.

As she seldom had time to sit down with the others when they told stories and played games before the great fire, the children appreciated the sarcasm. And the following morning every available container was filled full of chopped wood.

The morning was foggy so, the wood-boxes attended to, the boys fished off the float-stage for lobster bait. Sculpins and flounders were caught and by this time the mist began lifting. The Captain thought they might row out to the traps to bait them and before the last lobster trap was baited and heaved over the side of the boat, the sun shone out. A little breeze from the west soon scattered the remaining curls of fog and the day turned out to be dazzlingly bright.

For all their patient working the boys found nothing but crabs and star-fish in the traps that morning, and they began to fear that the lobster supply around Sunset Island had been exhausted.

“I’ll tell you what we’ve got to do, we’ve got to change the traps and put them over towards the Isleboro side,” said Dudley. “I saw a lot of trap-buoys over that way.”

“Don’t you know those fishermen would gladly set their traps here if it wasn’t for us being on the island?” asked Billy.

And the Captain added: “Bill’s right; and some of these men say they’re goin’ to come and set their traps here anyway.”

“You’d think that all the refuse from fish that we’ve been throwing out from our fish-drying work would have attracted the lobsters long ago, wouldn’t you?” ventured Billy.

“They’re queer critters, all right,” admitted Captain Ed.

“I guess it will be clear for the bear-spearing to-morrow, after all,” Paul said, looking at the blue sky.

“I’ll finish my last iron spear-head to-night and be all ready for it,” added Fred.

Supper over that evening, Fred worked on the spear-head while the other boys tried various ways of tying knots. As the Captain was a master-hand at that craft, he was appealed to and when the boys had been taught to tie some sailor-knots he showed them several trick knots which caused great interest. Then, Mrs. Remington showed them how to do the string trick called “Throwing the Fish Spear.”

The following day was clear and sunny and the usual attendance at Council was counted upon by the Islanders. But they were in for a surprise.

When the guests began to arrive, a number of strange launches were seen in the wake of the Orion. It was then learned that neighbouring cottagers of Aunt Edith’s had heard of the fun and entertainment provided at a Woodcraft Council and had begged permission to be invited to the next one held on Sunset Island.

A hearty welcome was extended the visitors and the Council opened. When the tally of the last Council was read the guests laughed at the account of the poetry contest. Then came the call for report of scouts.

Billy saluted. “Oh Chief! I have to report that being desirous of obtaining a photograph of a young fish-hawk, or osprey, in a nest on Spruce Island, I climbed the tree carrying Paul’s kodak on my back. I found the young osprey dead, hanging dismembered upon a branch below the nest. I could not determine whether this was due to an accident or not. Evidently the bird had been dead some time. I found the tails of seven flounders in and about the nest, also the remnants of other fish.”

“I also found a piece of bamboo netting woven into the nest. I managed to climb above and snap a photograph of the nest and dead bird but I regret to say that it was a failure. The film was returned with nothing but blurs on it, so I think I made a mistake in focussing properly.”

A discussion ensued over the possible cause of the death of the osprey and the suggestion of accident was decided to be the plausible one.

Uncle Tom made a report on the presence of porcupines in his apple-orchard and asked the help of some brave hunter to help exterminate them. Billy instantly volunteered and was accepted, providing he came alone. Mr. Charlton knew that Billy was perfectly trustworthy with firearms, but accidents can easily happen when a number of boys are taken along.

“Oh Chief! I have an offer to lay before the parents and guardians here present. I will train the boys in target-shooting and offer a prize to that one who excels at a given time,” now added Uncle Tom.

“How, How!” echoed around the Council Ring at this news.

The vote was unanimous on the part of the younger faction so Fred put it to a motion.

“Oh Chief! I move that a committee be formed of parents to deliberate over this plan,” said Mrs. Remington.

“Second the motion!” added Mrs. Farwell.

On the final vote the motion was carried that the mothers form a committee to report later--not necessarily to the Council but to Uncle Tom or Fred.

The time devoted to the granting of honours now arrived and Elizabeth sprang to her feet.

“Oh Chief! I have a claim to present in behalf of another.”

“Present the claim,” said Wita-tonkan with dignity.

“In behalf of Wita-tonkan of the Black Bear Tribe, I, Pah-hlee-oh of the Apamwamis Tribe, claim low honour for constructing a bear, for the Bear Spearing Game according to the standards in the Book of Woodcraft, edition of 1915,” stated Elizabeth.

“Witnessed by Edward Blake, Dudley West, and William Remington,” concluded she, proudly looking at her brother Fred.

This was indeed a surprise to Fred as he really had forgotten that his recent work on the bear constituted and counted for a _coup_. Nevertheless, he announced as usual,

“You have heard this claim: it is properly witnessed and moreover will soon be demonstrated at this Council--what is your pleasure?”

The decision was unanimous for granting the _coup_ and the visitors’ attention was drawn to the burlap bear swinging between the trees just beyond the Council Ring.

Then the Chief announced: “Friends and members of the Pentagoet Tribe, you may not know that Shingebis and I are old Woodcraft Indians of the Honourable Tribe of Black Bear. To-day we wish to appear as Black Bears in our allegiance and introduce some of the customs of our Tribe. One of these is the challenging for scalps.

“Each Black Bear wears a black scalp-lock when he is in Council. Here is mine,” and Wita-tonkan held aloft a long strand of black horsehair with a loop of thong attached.

“This represents our life! When we challenge for scalps we stake our life. If we lose we have to remain dead until the Tribe votes us alive again.”

Advancing to the Council Fire Wita-tonkan, in the name of Shingebis and himself challenged the Pentagoet Tribe or any visitors present, to a Bear Spearing Contest for scalps!

Paul jumped up and cried, “We accept!”

And a chorus of “Hows!” showed that every one present was brave and daring.

“Oh Chief! How can we pay up if we have no hirsute adornments similar to the Black Bear scalps?” asked Uncle Bill.

“Every one who enters this contest must agree to forfeit a scalp like this or similar. _They can be procured!_” sternly answered Wita-tonkan.

A babel of voices then arose and finally it appeared that Wita-tonkan and Shingebis had twenty opponents arrayed against them in the contest.

“Gee! If the Black Bears win we won’t be able to see them--they will be so covered with scalps,” cried Dudley.

“Oh Chief! that reminds me! What happens should the two Black Bears lose? How can two scalps be divided among so many Pentagoets?” inquired Uncle Tom.

“Why, we each get a lock of hair from their two heads!” laughed Uncle Bill.

“I should say not! We each have one life to lose and we give what we have, one life apiece,” retorted the Chief.

“Then, _who_ will get your two scalps?” persisted Uncle Tom.

“No one--the Black Bears will get _yours_!” boasted Fred.

Every one laughed at that but the Chief added seriously: “Our two scalps, _should_ we lose, will become the possession of the two Braves opposing, who make the highest scores of individual hits out of the five shots allowed each contestant.”

That was plain and just so they all filed over to the burlap bear.

What a fight that was! The children and inexperienced spearsmen were soon cleared off of the field of action. Paul made a hit but it counted for little as it was not near the red-painted heart of the bear. Dudley scored in the same manner. Elizabeth hit the bear twice but alas! only one spear stuck in so she only scored once. Then they all shouted for a Black Bear. Shingebis stepped forward to try his skill.

The bear was swung erratically but impartially by Captains Ed and Benton. Billy chose his time well and took careful aim. Two of his spears dangled from the bear’s body, one in the very rim of the heart’s circle thus counting ten for his score and the other counting five, making a total of fifteen for his side.

“How! How!” shouted a chorus of voices.

“For the Honour of the Black Bears!” said Billy solemnly.

“Now, watch your Uncle Bill!” cried that worthy, and kerplunk went a spear! It struck the ground below the clumsy beast.

Every one yelled but Uncle Bill had four more trials. In these he netted his side fifteen, which with the three hits of Elizabeth, Paul and Dudley, totalled the Pentagoets eighteen against fifteen of the Black Bears.

Uncle Tom now tried and amid great excitement made a hit near the heart-circle, counting five.

“Hurrah!” shouted Paul, dancing wildly about.

“Twenty-three for our side!” yelled Dudley, throwing a rock out to sea in order to give vent to his pent-up frenzy.

“Beat it, Wita-tonkan--for the Honour of the Black Bears,” urged Billy, anxiously.

“Never fear!” spoke the Island Chief with confidence. “Have I speared the Bear at Wyndy-goul and at Lake Peequo for naught?”

And his boast proved good!

The three hits made by Wita-tonkan raised the Black Bear score, first to sixteen, then to twenty-one and finally to thirty-one.

“Scalp! scalp! Let’s dance the scalp-dance!” screamed Billy shrilly, with overwrought nerves.

“How! How!” came from the others as they participated.

“Now pay up your scalps!” ordered Fred.

“But, this is a serious matter. Here! All you Pentagoets and visitors--don’t you know we’re all dead ones!” cried Uncle Bill in a sepulchral tone.

Thereupon, without further warning, he fell to the ground, dragging Edith, Miriam and Paul down with him in the death-struggle.

The other losers of scalps failed to realise their demise in such a dramatic manner, and contented themselves with laughing heartily at Uncle Bill and his three wriggling understudies.

“Where can we procure scalps?” asked Aunt Edith.

“Why, at any harness store. Get the horsehair dingle-dangles that we use as a substitute for the Black Bear brand,” replied Elizabeth, laughingly.

“I’m going to get a bright red one to show my heart’s blood!” exclaimed Paul.

“Then you’d better get another to use after the tribe votes you alive again,” advised Billy.

“All right, then I’ll get a blue one for that.”

As there were so many dead Indians about, the Council of the living reconvened and voted the dead hunters alive again. Bill was sent out to bring them in, and then the Council closed by singing the Zuni Sunset song.

Every one stood in a semi-circle facing the red glow beyond the western mountains, the light fading perceptibly as they sang.

From the launches that bore away the visitors, the good-byes floated back to the group on shore. And loud and long was the chorus that came from Trixie and the Islanders on the float-stage, for the girl had been invited to remain and visit Elizabeth for a few days, and the young people were all delighted to have her with them.

The weather was very unsettled for the next few days, but that did not interfere with Trixie’s enjoyment. She sailed with Fred, fished with the others, and entered into all of the Island sports with an energy that quite won the admiration of the boys.

“Say, Trix, are you going to wear that checked skirt again to-day? I bet that’s what hoodoos the weather!” said Bill, one morning, seeing that the sun failed to shine.

“Yes, I am!”

“Then, we’ll postpone our walk on Isleboro, for every time you wear that skirt it rains,” continued Fred, teasingly.

“How ridiculous!”

“Nothing of the kind! If you just try another skirt for our sakes, I bet the sun will shine!” asserted Dudley, who saw the look exchanged between Fred and Bill.

“Well, I don’t believe in signs and hoodoos but to please you boys I will wear my short corduroy skirt--and it’s better anyway for walking through the woods,” admitted Trixie.

The boys knew it would be a fine day, and the mist that hid the sun would soon be dispelled, so they chuckled to themselves that Trixie would believe it was her change of skirt.

The walk on Islesboro was for the purpose of completing the tree and flower _coups_ of the Pentagoet Tribe and incidentally the sail over to Crow Cove would be enjoyable and add mileage to Fred’s sailing.

“How many miles have you made now, Fred?” asked Paul.

“Just one hundred and one miles.”

“Oh, he’ll do it all right,” said Dudley.

“I intend to,” added Fred, quietly.

“Let’s sail over to the old ‘wrack,’” laughed Billy, in imitation of Maine sailors.

“Maybe there will be enough water under her stern so’s we can sail close under and climb aboard if you want to,” suggested Fred.

This met with approval for every one wanted a good chance to see what a “dead-eye” was and this was an old-timer; though everything removable had long since been taken, the rows of “dead-eyes” stuck up along her sides empty for years of the shrouds they formerly secured.

“What queer names things on boats have,” commented Trixie.

“You will admit that dead-eyes are appropriate in their connection with shrouds,” laughed Elizabeth.

“I never thought of that,” chuckled Billy.

“And why is that rope you are holding called a ‘sheet’?” wondered Trixie.

“Because it is fastened to a corner of a sail,” replied Fred. “Sheet came from the old word meaning something that stuck out, or shot out. Shoot and shot are related words, you know. And as corners stick out a corner of the sail was first called a sheet-line and then the name was applied to the line itself leading from the corner.”

“Well! Where did you find all that out?” said his sister, surprised.

“In the encyclopedia; you see, I too thought the name a queer one so I looked it up.”

“Maybe sheets for a bed were called that because they had corners,” ventured Paul.

“Yes, the book thinks so,” returned Fred. “And the big anchor that was depended upon for safety was called a ‘sheet-anchor’--not because it had corners but because it was shot out into the water. The whole word means a mixup of things but all we need remember is that the sheet here is the line and not the sail.”

“I brought my camera to take a picture of the wreck,” said Paul, as they saw the vessel.

“Wait until I get on her and then take me too, will you, Paul?” asked Billy, eagerly.

“Of course he will, Billy, and we will name it ‘The Two Wrecks,’” laughed Dudley.

When the mariners were once more sailing the seas, Paul remarked, “I wonder if Trix knows the sun is shining!”

“Why, so it is!” cried the girl.

“See there! We told you that checked skirt was the hoodoo,” teased Fred.

“Don’t tell me you believe it would have rained had I worn it?” scoffed Trixie.

“Why not? It brought rain every other day!” laughed Billy.

“Pooh! Elizabeth told me that to-day promised fair, so I know you were only trying to tease me.”

The walk through the woods was enjoyed by all and the boys were delighted to find that they could add enough trees to their lists to make the twenty-five required for a _coup_. With beech, mountain-ash, aspen-poplar, white-cedar, and three kinds of birches and moose-leaf maple to add to the fir, spruce, and pine found on Sunset Island they were able to finish their collection begun with chestnut, catalpa, and various oaks, found in more southerly latitudes.

That evening, as Fred read aloud the list of trees for a Grand _Coup_, Elizabeth, the poetess, turned them into rhyme. Trixie watched her scribble and when through, took it and read it aloud to the circle in the living-room.

THE GRAND COUP FOR TREES

I want to know the trees that grow, they’re interesting, you see; Besides, a woodcraft honour high it may bring now to me. Don’t blame the dog-wood for this verse, though doggerel it be, Its flowers are much more beautiful than any lines from me. I’d like to tell you all about the trees both great and small; ’Twould keep me very busy to even name them all! The pine tree--that fine tree! the elms and the oaks, Make wood enough and good enough for any sort of folks. The beech tree, the peach tree together on the strand; The pretty girls the “peaches” love the “beaches’” shining sand. The palm tree, the balm tree, the bamboo, the teak; And others from the Orient if we go there to seek. The orange tree, whose blossoms be much loved on wedding days; The lemon and the grape-fruit, too, are kin in many ways. The apple and the apricot, the plum tree and the pear; The fruits of these are sure to please somebody, anywhere. The cedar and the hemlock, the fir and pine and spruce, Are members of one family with wood for any use. The cotton-wood, the willow for canoes and Indian beds; The aspen and the poplar that rustles o’er our heads, The hickory, the walnut, the pecan, now are all Nut bearers in the autumn to feed us in the fall. Mulberry trees, wild cherry trees; the mango and the date; The last you see must be the tree that keeps some men out late. The sycamores--yes by the scores they line the river’s brim. We know these trees afar, with ease, by mottled bark and limb. Persimmon and the chinquapin sound good and nice and sweet; We one and all late in the fall enjoy their fruits to eat. The china berry is a very charming, flowering tree. It grows down south, in spite of drought--up north it cannot be. The pendant locust blooms look good; the tree is fine for shade; For posts that last ’tis better wood than any other made. The butternut, the chip-munks’ friend, the wood is soft and dark; We know it by its frond-like leaves as well as by its bark. The maple is a staple tree, its syrup very sweet Its wood is good for floors you see; in its shade we like to meet. The hazel bush might raise a blush if called a tree, ’tis true; (The rhyme is fierce but in a rush we stop at nought--do you?) The chestnut is the best nut, its wood is very good; ’Tis easy to split and easy cut; the nuts are good for food. The basswood’s wood is fine for trunks, when bound with duck or leather. Saw up tree trunks in boards, not chunks, and fasten them together. The elder and the alder much delight in swamps to grow. The cedar also likes the touch of water at its toe. The sweet gum and the cypress are in Dixie’s forests found. Live oaks their mossy beards hang far to canebreaks on the ground. The evergreen and long-leafed pine lift high their spreading arms; Spring now endows their plumey spines with new and pleasing charms. In May old dark green needles show a bushy background there-- While new light shoots upstanding, grow like Christmas candles’ flare. Of beauty out-of-doors in Spring, of trees like these, and more, Of flowers and birds that mate and sing, old Earth has still full store.