how well the English has been acquired.



Chapter 4. The Coon Hunt Makes Trouble for Rolf

Not one hour, but nearly three, had passed before
Rolf sighted the Pipestave Pond, as it was called.
He had never been there before, but three short
whoops, as arranged, brought answer and guidance.
Quonab was standing on the high rock. When Rolf came
he led down to the wigwam on its south side. It was like
stepping into a new life. Several of the old neighbours at
Redding were hunters who knew the wild Indians and had
told him tales that glorified at least the wonderful
woodcraft of the red man. Once or twice Rolf had seen Indians
travelling through, and he had been repelled by their sordid
squalour. But here was something of a different kind;
not the Champlain ideal, indeed, for the Indian wore clothes
like any poor farmer, except on his head and his feet; his
head was bare, and his feet were covered with moccasins
that sparkled with beads on the arch. The wigwam was
of canvas, but it had one or two of the sacred symbols
painted on it. The pot hung over the fire was tin-lined
copper, of the kind long made in England for Indian trade,
but the smaller dishes were of birch bark and basswood.
The gun and the hunting knife were of white man's make,
but the bow, arrows, snowshoes, tom-tom, and a quill-
covered gun case were of Indian art, fashioned of the things
that grow in the woods about.