Читать книгу The Story That the Keg Told Me, and The Story of the Man Who Didn't Know Much - W. H. H. Murray - Страница 25

"Sagacious hound."—Virgil.

"Well, I didn't make myself known to him that night, for I felt onsartin as to the natur' of the man; and beside, I conceited I had no right to step in suddenly upon a man in the midst of his troubles, of whatever sort they might be;—for it always seemed to me that a mortal had a right to have ownership of his own grief, and to shet the door of it agin the whole world, as much as a hunter in his own camp has a right to shet the door of his lodge. So I shied off furder into the lake and made camp for the night, or what there was left of it, on the island yender.

Well, in the mornin' I bestirred myself, and started my fire ostentatious-like on the side of the island next the p'int, and it made as much smoke as ef it had been built by a boy from the settlements, or a college lad in his fust trip to the woods, whose tongue runs to words, and whose fires are all smoke,—for I wanted to call his eyes over my way and let him know that there was a human on the lake, and one that didn't seek concealment like a thievin' half-breed on an honest trapper's line; for a fire here in the woods is like the little keerds that the girls in the settlements, I have been told, send round to their friends to ax them to drink tea with them, or jine in a jig: a gineral invite to come in and feel at home. So I piled on the timber in a wasteful way, and dropped on a bit of punk now and then, until, 'twixt the blaze and the smoke, I warrant a hunter's eye, even in peace time, not to say a scout's when the redskins are loose, could have seen it ten miles away. But the man on the p'int never took the hint, and well enough he mightn't, for I arterwards larned that he never saw either blaze or smoke, for he was lyin' in his lodge back there in the swale, with his thoughts far away, and his eyes on other lights than such as the hands of man kindle.

Well, I cooked my breakfast for my hound there and me, and while we was eatin' it we both kept thinkin' of the man on the p'int; for a dog of breedin' knows what his master's thinkin' about, and I could tell by the movements of the hound's nose that the Lord was blowin' knowledge to him from the other side of the lake, and that his thoughts were not on the meat he was eatin', but over there where him and me had fetched our ambushment the night afore. So arter we had finished eatin' and cleaned things up, we stood around a while and kept our eye on the p'int for some friendly sign, and both me and the hound felt sort of disapp'inted-like, and the least bit oneasy in mind as to what it all meant; for it seemed mighty queer that the man should make no sign, not to say show himself, when he must have knowed that we wanted to be neighborly. So arter a while we put off toward the p'int, detarmined to see for ourselves what sort of a cretur he was, whose behavior had been so mighty onusual the night before. And I paddled over straight for the bushes where I knowed his boat was, and, sure enough, there it was plain in sight, where I felt it must be.

Then I went ashore and began to poke around, and the trail was plain enough for a man from the settlements to follow with his eyes half-shet; for it led from the boat straight up the hill, under the pines and down into the swale back of it. So I pushed along, keeping an eye open for the shanty that I knowed must be nigh, and soon sot my eyes on it, sure enough; but it was no shanty at all, only a mis'rable old tent. I will confess, Henry, that it rather sot me agin the man, whoever he was, when I saw him livin' shet up in a canvas bag, like a rat in his hole in the spring freshets, when he might have housed himself in a bark lodge, dry and airy, with one side open as a house always should be, arter my way of thinkin'; for it's a great blessin' to be able to see the bigness of the world in which ye be livin', and breathe the air as the Lord blows it to ye fresh and strong from the slope of mountains and the cool water level. And I conceit that whoever lives in a canvas shed that's damp and swashy as last year's mash grass, must be a very senseless or wicked bein', who don't know how handsome the world is, or else wants to hide himself from the eyes of man, and of the Lord, too, for that matter; for an honest man in the woods builds his lodge so he can see and be seen by day and by night, because he loves the sun and sky by day and the stars by night, and has no reason to hide himself or his traps from the Lord, or from his own kind,—which is open and noble-like, as I onderstand it. So when I seed the mis'rable and nasty old tent, where the bark was plenty and willin' to be peeled, I felt suspicious of the man, and conceited that the man's morals wasn't what they should be. But in spite of my suspicionin' I detarmined to go on and nose the man out; and I said to myself: 'What right have you, Old John Norton, to set in jedgment on a fellow mortal, and before even you have seed him? It may be the man is ignorant of the ways of the woods, and knows no better nor a babe how to care for himself; or perhaps he has been onfortunit and needs help more than jedgment.'

So I pushed ahead and laid my hand on the rag of a door and drew it aside in a frank sort of a way, and, by the Lord, Henry, the man lay dead before me! Leastwise I thought he was dead, for his eyes was half-shet and half-open, as a dead man's should be who has died onattended, and his face was as white as the moss on the rock when the moonshine is on it. Well, Henry, it was a solemn sight, I can tell ye, and one that made me ashamed of my suspicionin' of the man, and I trust the Lord forgave me the wicked thought I had had of a fellow mortal because he hadn't showed himself on the p'int, or called on me at my camp, when all the time the hand of death was heavy on him, and his legs were as strengthless as the reeds on the mash when the frost has smitten them.

Well, I stood at the door of the tent and I onkivered my head, as a mortal should in sech solemn sarcumstances, for I verily thought the man was dead; but the hound, there, knowed better, for the Lord has given a sense in sech things to a dog that he withholds from the master, for the hound, arter standin' respectful-like behind me a minit, as ef he would not be too forrard or shame me by his better knowledge, pushed in to the side of the body and put his nose to the cheek and then just turned his eyes up to me and wagged his tail. Ah me, it's wonderful what larnin' the Lord has gin to the creturs he has made, and how often they know more nor their masters; and here was a dog who knowed the livin' and the dead better than I did, though the body was the body of a mortal, and not of his kind.

Well, when I seed the hound move his tail, happy-like, I knowed the man was not dead, however nigh he might be on to it; and so I stepped in quick as powder ever barnt and h'isted the man up, and took him in my arms, and carried him out of the mis'rable tent into the fresh, cool air, and laid him down in the warm sunshine on the p'int, and fell to chafin' his legs and his wrists, and pressin' on his chest, and sprinklin' water in his face; and I blowed in his nostrils, and did as a man should in sech sarcumstances to one of his kind.

But he was mighty weak, and all the strength he had was in his eyes, for he couldn't move hand or foot, more nor a buck with a bullet through his spine the mornin' arter he is shot. And it was a very solemn sight to see a full-grown man lyin' on the sand with all natur' lively around him, and he onable to move a leg, or lift a finger; and it showed that the body of a mortal has no more life in it than a last year's beaver's hide, when his sperit has left it; and it was awful-like to see a fellow bein' dead in every member of his mortal frame but his eyes, and all there was of himself lookin' steadily out of them at ye. But I felt he would fetch around arter a while, for the sun was warm and the wind fresh, and I bolstered him up so it would blow straight into his mouth and nostrils, and I said to myself, Ef natur' can't bring him to, nothin' can. And so I felt cheerful-like, and pretty sartin that between the sun and warm sand and wind we would get his members warmed up and agoin' agin afore long; and the hound thought so too, for when the man fust opened his eyes the animil knowed it was a good sign as well as I did, for the cretur no sooner saw them open nater'ly, than he scooted a circle round the body in the sand lively as a young pup at play, and then he stopped in his foolishness and let a roar out of his mouth that might have been heerd over to Salmon Lake; and then he came back and sot down on his ha'nches close by the man, and watched him as 'arnestly as I did. Every few minits he would look up at me with a happy sort of look in his eyes and fetch a wag or two with his tail; and it was mighty cheerful and encouragin' to see the animil act so, and made me feel sort of chirpy myself, as I sot in the sand watchin' the man, for I knowed the hound was a truthful dog, and was wise in his gifts, and wouldn't lie agin the vardict of them, and I conceited that the man would pick up and be able to talk, if the dog said so.

Well, arter a while the man begun to pick up for sartin, for the blood come back into his skin, and his fingers begun to open and shet easy-like, and he put his tongue out and wet his lips nater'ly as a man does arter sleep in a hot lodge. I sarched my pack and found some tea a city woman gin me the summer afore for a sarvice I done her on the Racquette, which was no more than any man would do for a woman, but which she said she should never forgit till her dyin' day,—and I guess she never will, for I found somethin' she had lost that lay near her heart, and I never knowed a white woman, or squaw, neither, for that matter, forgit a man who done them a sarvice in that direction;—well, as I was sayin', I sarched for the tea the city woman had gin me, and steeped a cup of it for the man on the sand, and I made it strong as the leaf would make it, for I knowed it would help natur' to rally, and make him strong enough to take nourishment, and set his tongue goin', ef sech a thing could be by the Lord's app'intment.

So I gave him the drink; and it took hold on him at once. It was really amazin', Henry, how the yarb put life into him as ef it had the Lord's own power to call the soul back into the mortal frame and set the members of it workin'. Yis, it was a marvel to see the power that natur' had put into a few withered leaves—for the more he drank the better he felt, and by the time he had come to the bottom of the cup I could see that the man was nigh himself agin, and likely enough to begin to talk; and sure enough, in a minit he made a effort to speak, and arter one or two trials he got his tongue used to the motions, and said:

"Old man, who be ye, that has called me back from the gates of death and summoned me from the borders of the grave?"

"My name," I said, "is John Norton, and I be nobody but a hunter and trapper who has done nothin' but live in a nater'ly way and sarve his kind when the Lord gave him a chance; and as for bringin' ye back from the border of the grave, I think ye was pritty nigh onto it, and me and the hound yender, and the tea I steeped for ye, did mayhaps give ye a lift in the right direction—though it mustn't be overlooked, ef ye be cur'us in the matter, that the sun and wind done their part to bring ye to; and I dare say the Lord in His marcy has done more than us all, for ye sartinly would have died ef He hadn't gin the hound the sense to know the dead from the living and helped us in our endivors. And now, friend, what may your name be, and what game did ye have in mind when ye pushed your trail from the settlements into this lonely lake? for I see from the signs that ye know nothin' of the woods, and I marvel that a man of your ignorance should leave the ha'nts of your kind, and I dare say kindred, and resk yourself in these out-of-the-way places, which be pleasant to them who know them, but resky to them that doesn't; so I ax ye your name, and why I find ye here alone and onprotected as ef ye hadn't a friend on the 'arth."

"John Norton," said the man, "my name is Roberts, John Roberts; and I have not a friend on the earth, nor do I deserve one, for I have forfeited the love of all that ever loved me, by my evil acts, and the Lord has visited upon me the punishment I deserved by separating me from them. Yea, out of my sins has come judgment, and my evil thought has been the pit into which I have stumbled. But the mercy I had forfeited has been shown me, in my guilt, and the peace of the Spirit that made and lives in the universe has been breathed into me from these mountains and the sky and the majesties of nature in the presence of which, glad that my mortal life is ended, I lie dying;" and the man turned his eyes on the objects he named with the look of a hound in them when he meets the pleased face of his master.

"John Roberts," I said, "I do not understand ye, for the beauty of natur' is sech as to make men wish to live and not to die, and though I trust I may be willing to go when He calls, still I can't conceit of any place pleasanter or more cheerful-like for a human bein' to live in than these woods, and I hope He will let me stay here, scoutin' round, as long as His plans techin' me allow of, and, as for that matter, ef He should forgit us altogether I don't conceit that me and the hound would be very onhappy or feel cheated-like, but would hold it as a kind of a marcy, and keep on enjoyin' ourselves and sarvin' Him in the way of natur's app'intment; and as for friends, I haven't an inimy in the world but a thievin' Huron I caught on the line of my traps last winter, and shortened his left ear half an inch with a bullet, and a miser'ble half-breed or two I've larnt the commandments in a similar manner. But outside of these, me and the hound there be in peace with all the 'arth, and feel cheerful and pleasant-like toward every livin' bein', except the panthers,—yis, always exceptin' the panthers, that we keep a kind of runnin' account with, as the pedlers say in the settlements, and square up whenever we git a chance."

"Ye see, Henry," continued the old man, "I wanted to chirk him up as much as I could, because he was mighty weak still, and I thought that low sperits would sot him back agin, so even the hound and me couldn't bring him to; and so I talked the least bit frisky-like, and took on as ef I felt ondistarbed. But he knowed better all the time; for he looked at me with his eyes fixed solemnly on my face and said:—

"Old man, I know you can't understand, because you have lived an innocent life, and according to the light you had you have walked in the path of righteousness, and the peace of the upright is in your heart, and the light of it is over all the world, and makes it desirable to your eyes. And I can well understand that you need no other life than the one you lead, or other heaven than the lovely scenes which your gifts and your manner of life have taught you so well to enjoy, and I can understand, too, how you cannot grasp the meaning of guilt as those who sin against light feel it: the guilt of a man who has resisted God and hardened his nature by a cursed passion, and hated what he should have loved, and loved with lusting what he should have hated—for you have been as a child, and the Kingdom of Heaven has come to you with the years, because your aging took not the simple innocency of childhood from you. But I have lived so that memory is only fuel to remorse, and the earth a constant reminder of my guilt; and hence I would seek my heaven in the forgetfulness of death, and anticipate another land beyond the grave, in hopes of finding escape from what torments me here, and having ministered unto my life the boon of a new start. And you must know that there are those in the world beyond the grave whom I have wronged, and the load of their wronging lies heavy on my soul. I would find them, and on my knees ask their pardon; for, old man, even God himself cannot undo the structure of our minds, or perform duty for us, and I feel that the forgiveness of Heaven cannot make me happy until I have the forgiveness of my wife whom I deserted, and of my child whom I, with curses, refused to see in her dying hour.

And you should know, old man, that I am dying, and I long to die; nor do I ask aught save that I may have strength to tell you my story, and give you a few directions; for it will ease my soul to talk while dying, and I know it will delight you to hear of the goodness of that God whom you, in simple reverence, worship, and to learn from the lips of a dying sinner that the woods you so love have been to him the means of his salvation. So sit you down, old man, and listen closely, for I am weak, and I will tell you the story of my life;—why I am here, and what you are to do with what is left of me and mine when I am gone from here, as I soon shall be, forever."

Well, Henry, I seed that the man was in solemn 'arnest, and I knowed the Lord was apt to give a mortal nigh death a foreknowin' of the time and order of things techin' his departur', and I conceited the man was right in his idees, and that it would be onreasonable to resist him; so I sot down on the sand by his side and said, 'Well, friend, I allow there's reason in your words, and John Norton is not the one to argger agin a dyin' man nor distarb his thoughts with foolish talkin'. And it may be ye have come nigh the eend of the trail, as ye say, and ef so I sartinly advise ye to onload yerself of whatever bears heavy on ye; for a man should enter the Great Clearin' with nothin' heavier than his rifle about him, and ready for whatever sarvice the Lord app'ints. And as to the directions, ye may give me as many as ye have to tell, and ef it be within range of mortal power it shall all be done as ye tell me; for I have sot beside many a dyin' man arter the scrimmage was over, and heerd his words, and not one, white or redskin, friend or inimy, can rise in the jedgment and say John Norton didn't do jest as he was told to do. So you jest go ahead and ease yer mind, John Roberts, and me and the hound will listen, and as we larn yer wishes so will we do, even ef the traps ain't sot on the line next winter, or the trail of yer arrand takes us into the onnateral noise and diviltry of the settlements.'

So I promised the man, Henry, and kept my word, as the hound, there, knows, for he heerd it all and seed it all arterwards, and it was done jest as the man app'inted. And this is what he told me as he lay on the sand, with me and the hound listenin'.