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CHUBB had almost forgotten the cub that came with the old
mother-bear on the eventful day. Suddenly thinking of it when Jonas was his
nurse, he asked—
‘When you found the dead bear by our trap, Jonas, did you see the cub?'
‘Yes, for sure.'
‘Did you catch it?’
‘Yes, for sure.’
*What did you do with it?’
‘Keep it for Chubb. He get well soon. Train it to lie down with the calf.’
And the Indian’s eyes twinkled.
‘Do you believe that that can be done?’ said Chubb, almost springing out of
bed and looking Jonas squarely in the face.
‘Chubb try again,’ came from the almost imperturbable man.
‘Yes, I will,* replied Chubb, subsiding under the blankets.
‘When Jonas is around.’
‘All right; but where’s the calf?’
‘Dunno. Gone home, per’aps, for sure.’ With Mr. Hewitt’s permission the cub
was brought to the Parsonage. He was a sturdy-little fellow, about the size
of a collie dog. Jonas had given him a few lessons, so that he would now
stand, when asked, upon his hind legs and walk around the room, turn
somersaults, and do some other antics which were amusing in their
clumsiness.
This cub, with a new desire to repeat his experiment, helped Chubb’s
convalescence, and his improvement was now rapid.
Jonas and the teacher made Chubb a big easy-chair, and on fine days he would
sit outside in the sunshine. The cub was not far from him, and he would
watch the little fellow and talk to him. Chubb’s arm had to be carefully
kept in a sling, and his back was still so painful that he could not walk
much or sit up for any length of time. So, in spite of his new playmate, he
spent much of his time in bed.
Chubb’s query about the calf caused Jonas the next time his duties took him
near the Mores’ clearing to look into the place. He found Mrs. More and
Jennie, the latter with her omnipresent burden, the baby, upon her back, out
in the potato patch. Mrs. More was digging with a fork, and Jennie was
picking up the potatoes and putting them into a bag.
Not seeing any cattle, Jonas moved around towards the barn. Here, leaning
against a corner of the weather-beaten but unfinished shed, he saw the
proprietor himself—with folded arms, smoking. But he was not altogether
indifferent to his surroundings. He kept a sharp eye upon the women in the
field to see that they were not idle, and he saw Jonas almost as quickly as
Jonas saw him. Seeing that he was discovered, Jonas came out of the woods
and approached him at once.
‘What do you want around here?’ was More’s gruff reception.
‘Want to buy your red cow,’ Jonas replied, with business-like directness.
The result was electric. Out of his mouth More took his pipe and then keenly
scrutinized his visitor.
‘Buy her!’ he exclaimed. ‘Buy my red cow! Why, man, what have you got to
pay?’
‘Mr. More know a good bearskin when he see it?’
‘Guess I do.’
‘Know value?’
‘Yes, I’ve a pretty good idea.'
Jonas unrolled the skin of Chubb’s bear before the father’s eyes.
‘Prime.' said Jonas.
‘Not too bad,’ remarked the other.
‘Teacher say him worth twenty dollar.'
At the mention of the teacher More swore.
‘Don’t mention teacher to me,’ he exclaimed. ‘Look here, Jonas, with his
tomfoolery he has kept Chubb away from here nigh on to three weeks. I’ve
been nearly killed with hayin’ and harvestin’, and now the potatoes is to be
gathered.'
‘Bearskin worth twenty dollar,’ repeated Jonas, passing over More’s outburst
as irrelevant. ‘Red cow worth fifteen dollar. Trade even.’
The red cow had not come home with her calf, and so More did not know of the
existence of the latter, or whether the cow was dead or alive. Here was,
however, he thought, a chance to make something out of her, and so, after
some more haggling to keep Jonas from thinking he was any too ready to sell,
he carefully rolled up the bearskin and put it inside of his barn.
‘It’s a bargain, Jonas,' he said. ‘Now go and find the cow. She is
somewheres in the woods.'
‘Ugh!’ grunted Jonas.
More expected some disapproval; but ere Jonas could complain further, More
said— ‘Jonas, I wish you’d go to the teacher and tell him to send Chubb
home. I want him. The young rascal, he ought to be here to help his poor
father pick potatoes. Have you seen him lately, Jonas?'
‘Yes, for sure.’
‘Where?’
‘Made bear trap for him.'
‘Oh, he’s been truancing again with you, has he? Just wait till I catch him,
if I don’t hide him! Look here, Jonas, if I ever catch him with you, I’ll
thrash you too.'
Jonas smiled.
‘Tom More thrash Jonas, ha, ha!’ said the Indian very quietly, taking a step
forward and looking the white man squarely in the eyes. More stepped back
quickly.
‘Then, by Chubb’s trap.' continued Jonas, thinking to raise some fear, if
not kindly feelings in the father’s heart, ‘Jonas find bear, dead she-bear.
Claws filled with Chubb’s torn coat: but no Chubb.’
‘Oh, my boy is killed, my boy is killed!’ exclaimed the mother.
While the men were bargaining Mrs. More had ordered Jennie to continue the
work of digging and picking the potatoes, and then she came to hear what the
men were talking about. When she was within hearing she caught Jonas’ last
words.
‘Oh, the bear has killed him!’ she continued, wailing. ‘Oh, my dear Charley!
Tell me, will I never see him again?’
Jonas was about to answer, when she began her talking again, her imagination
and loquacity and endearments seeming to have no end. Jonas stood there,
politely waiting for her to finish, so that he might speak.
‘Oh, won’t you tell me? Then I’ll make you, you stupid Indian!’ said the
mother, suddenly drying her tears and stepping up to lay violent hands on
the Indian. Jonas gently but firmly pushed her aside.
‘Jonas saw dead bear by trap, but Chubb not there,’ he calmly repeated.
Then, with a stately bow, he stepped back and went into the woods. |
