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Bonnie Prince Fetlar: The Story of a Pony and His Friends

<h2>CHAPTER IV THE WOLF AND THE LAMB</h2> "Are there bears here?" asked Dallas in an awed voice; "real, live bears?" "Not many usually, this time of year, but there have been bad bush fires over the mountain, and bears, wolves and foxes have been driven down earlier than usual. We always hear wolves howling about us in October, but you see this is only July." "What did the bears do to you?" asked Dallas eagerly. "Took six of my sheep." "Killed them, do you mean?" "Yes, and I drove the rest of the flock down to a pasture back of my house. Mr. Talker just told me there's a lamb missing and I thought I'd come up to look for him. His mother was one mangled by the bears, and Lammie was found standing by her carcass. He was taken down to the house, but his young nerves must have got a shock for he acted queer, then disappeared." "Oh! I hope we'll find him," said Dallas. "I hope so too, but I doubt it. His mother was a great pet with my children and he too has been much pampered." [Pg 40] My young master's face fell. What a tender heart he had, and what was he thinking about as he went nimbly along, his eyes glued to Mr. Devering's back in a way that soon caused him to fall flat on his face. In the city a boy does not need to watch his feet. In the country it is wise to look to your steps. His young mind was going hop, skip, jump like his feet, and presently he called out, "Captain, I've been wondering a lot lately what I'll do when I'm a man." "What does your fancy run to?" Mr. Devering called back. "Sometimes I think I'd like to be the greatest home-run king in the world, and then when I see those high jumpers galloping over the roofs of houses in the movies I think I'd like to be an actor." "You like motion pictures." "Yes, Captain—John's a regular fan, and when we go home from seeing them he tells me how he used to lay out boys when he was my age. Of course he never touched a small kid—always fellows as big as himself." Mr. Devering looked thoughtful, but said nothing. Young Dallas went on, "But now, I think I'd like a farm some place where there weren't so many trees, and I'd go after bad bears who kill sheep." His tone was bold, but his eyes were timid.[Pg 41] This was a boy who fought battles in his mind and kept his fists in his pockets. "My boy," Mr. Devering called out, "time will settle your doubts. I had a young cousin who wasn't sure whether he'd run a candy store or drive a locomotive when he grew up." "And what did he do?" asked Dallas eagerly. "Went into a bank, and is vice-president. You see, Sub, when we're young we don't know everything. We just have to wait. Get a good education and when you're fit for your life work it will bob up serenely in front of you." "When you were a boy did you want to be a settler?" asked Dallas. "Never—I wanted to practise medicine." "And did you?" "No, I took my course in my home University of Toronto and got my degree, but I never practised." Young Dallas, who had a great thirst for information, said coaxingly, "I suppose you got ill and came here for your health." "No, my lad, I wasn't ill, but I knew I would be if I didn't stop breathing dust." "Street dust, Captain?" "Different kinds of dust. I was one of a struggling ant-heap. There was system and order, but no beauty, and I love beauty." "In my city," said the boy thoughtfully, "there was some dust and much loneliness—but it is a very fine place." "Your life was abnormal. The boys in my city[Pg 42] were rushing from one place to another. They could not keep their minds on their books, and here was this beautiful calm north country with air like wine and crying out for settlers." "Oh!" exclaimed my young master, "you are here to open up the country, but you are not poor. If you were, it would not be so agreeable." "Why not? Of course money talks in the wilds as in cities, but our government helps men who wish to clear land. Boy!—it's a great life." Dallas enveloped the big glowing figure of the man with a glance of warm admiration. "You are splendid, Captain." Mr. Devering went on as if he did not hear him. "Some day I will tell you of our great clay belt further north. I am buying farms there for my boys. Then there is Hudson Bay with its iron ore, coal, silver and pulp wood almost untouched by man. I tell you, lad, this is a great country of ours." Young Dallas grew solemn. "If I felt like that about the country, I should be happy." "You will, you will," said the man eagerly. "I hope with my lads you will push on and——" He checked himself suddenly, as if he were about to say too much. "Captain," cried Dallas, "you sound like one of my adventure books. I believe you are younger than I am." How Mr. Devering laughed. He even shouted, he was so much amused. Then he took off his hat and swung it in the air. Oh! he was a very jolly[Pg 43] man. Then something caught his eye on the ground and he bent over. "Hello! Sub, look here." Dallas went stepping over damp and mossy stones to stare at a layer of black mud in a hollow. "Tracks," said Mr. Devering. "See if you can tell what they are." "Sheep," said Dallas doubtfully. "Right you are, and what else?" "Deer?" "Yes, there are lots of them about lately. I saw three of them this morning out back of the barn at my deer-lick." "What's that, Captain?" "A natural deer-lick is a salty spot of ground where deer go to nibble or lick the earth. I made mine, for I have a great fancy for giving pleasure to our elegant and graceful Virginian deer who come down here from our provincial Algonquin Park, which is close by." "Are there many wild animals there, Captain?" "Heaps of them—they're protected; except wolves. There's a bounty on their heads of twenty-five dollars." "I'd love to visit that Park," said the boy. "You shall—we'll take canoes and go up the Fawn River. There are three portages that will interest you—come on, boy, I see a fresh track that I think is Lammie's." Dallas tore after him, very much excited about the danger threatening the lamb. He was talking[Pg 44] to me quite boastfully. "I'd like to see a bear lay a paw on any lamb when I was near." I was uneasy. All the horse family hate bears. Even a big cart-horse will turn round when he meets one. I knew that some had lately passed by, and I felt that there might be wolves about too. As if the boy understood me, he said gallantly, "Don't fret, Babe. If we find any wild beasts about here we'll make them chase themselves back to their dens," but as he spoke he gave me a queer look. Being unused to these solitudes and this wild life, he was frightened to death, and like a little dog out alone in the cold and darkness he was barking to keep his courage up. Afraid of something I knew not what, I went on in this game of Follow my Leader down into a sombre little valley where scarcely a ray of light penetrated. The branches not only met overhead but absolutely languished together. There was not a sound from our footsteps for the trail was overgrown with a delicate ferny moss into which our feet sank noiselessly. Not a bird peeped in this thicket. The most of my bird friends are like the boy and hate deep dark woods. They love fields with a few trees scattered here and there, or nice open groves, or best of all the neighbourhood of houses if cats and boys are not allowed to prey on them. Suddenly I heard the boy draw a long breath. He saw the sunlight at the end of this long leafy[Pg 45] tunnel. We were coming to the base of the abandoned farm on the hill. Oh! how thankful I was. We were out of the wood and climbing a faint little foot-path leading up over the grassy top of the hill. What a curious place! I shuddered, for it was so sad. If we had come upon a sturdy backwoodsman and his wife with a nice family of children, I should have tossed my head and kicked up my heels a bit. As it was, I plodded slowly on, head down, tail drooping. On our right as we went up the hill was an old grey barn and a desolate pasture. Here were many sheep tracks and Mr. Devering went into the lean-to hoping that the lamb might be there. "If Lammie-noo is here," he said, "this is where he would pass his nights." "Is that the lamb's name?" asked Dallas. "Yes, my children named him that from a song I sing." <div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <div>"'Ba ba Lammie-noo</div> <div>Cuddle doon tae mammie.'"</div> </div></div> </div> "Wouldn't bears come after him in this place with no door?" asked the boy with a shudder. "Yes, they would if they were hungry, but Lammie-noo has probably not been here more than a couple of nights, and if the bears have been roaming in some other direction they would not get wind of the fact that there was a nice plump lamb on the old Lonesome Hill farm—— Come up higher, and we'll spy the landscape o'er." We walked beyond the discolored barn which[Pg 46] was shedding its shingles as a pony sheds his hair, and came to a dull old orchard where some quite nice crab apple trees stood knee deep in selfish weeds that were taking the goodness out of the soil. "Poor patient trees," said Mr. Devering, "every year they give us some fruit for preserving. I've a great mind to build up this place again for some young settler." "Oh! please do so, Captain," said young Dallas whose sensitive soul was quivering with the loneliness of his surroundings. "Would you like it?" asked the man keenly. "I—I don't know," stammered Dallas. "Let old Mother Nature put her hand on your head, my boy, and listen to what she says; then you'll learn to love all her children, even the trees—I'll renew this offer later." When we passed the orchard and came to the dreary house I thought, "There's no chance of this young lad ever coming to live here." The building was like some old drunkard trying to stagger down hill. Its roof was gone, its window eyes were broken, its doors were flapping and the well beside it had half the curbstone broken down. Mr. Devering looked into it. I suppose he thought Lammie-noo might have tumbled in, then he swung back the partly open front door, which at his touch groaned and fell down flat. Dallas started back, then went bravely forward, only to fall back again and lay a trembling hand[Pg 47] on my neck. "Oh! what is that dead thing?" he asked. I looked over his shoulder and saw a porcupine shedding his quills for the last time. The corner of the open door had been gnawed by him or some other creature. I knew what that meant. Many wild animals will dig and tear at anything the salty hand of man has passed over, and in the back part of the room I noticed an old table worried up and down its seams by the teeth probably of this little creature who had found food crumbs in the cracks. Mr. Devering passed through the mournful little house. The bedrooms were deserted, the kitchen stove was lopping over, and the pots and pans were strewn about the floor. Chairs were broken and blinds tumbling from the windows. "Mischievous boys or campers have been here," said Mr. Devering, "the Talkers left the house in good shape. Before I'm a month older, I'll have it cleared up. It gives me the blues to see a former neat place in this condition—— Come outside, my lad." "Ah! there is a view," he said a few minutes later when we stood under the blue sky and surveyed the ranges and ranges of green hills surrounding us on every side with here and there a glimpse of a distant lake. "The everlasting hills—the everlasting hills." Young Dallas stood with the fresh wind blowing some color in his pale cheeks. He was smiling[Pg 48] now as he asked, "What is that highest peak of all, Captain?" "Old Mount Terror." "Why Terror?" "So many persons have been lost there. The Indians have a legend about its being bewitched, and about a pre-historic monster much larger than a moose who haunts its forests. I'll tell you about it some day. In the meantime I'm watching Lammie-noo." "You don't mean to say you've found him?" "Yes, down there against the cat-tails of Lonesome Lake. Can't you pick out that patch of dull white?" "Oh, yes—among the rushes. Has he gone there for a drink?" "Possibly, though he doesn't drink much when he gets plenty of green feed. I daresay he's sick and feverish. Would you like to be lost up here away from your friends?" "Good gracious! no, sir. To tell the truth, this place is a thousand times worse than your farm." Mr. Devering was not offended. With a glance of unspeakable love and sympathy he laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Watch Lammie—he's probably coming up to the barn thinking he has to sleep all night with his lonely little head in a corner." Poor Lammie-noo was turning round, and quite unaware of his good master so near at hand was wearily plodding up the hill. He went over everything. He was too tired to go round, and he[Pg 49] breasted weed patches and climbed over the heaps of rocks left by men in clearing the fields. He had the waning courage of a little creature whose heart has all gone out of him. "Won't my young ones feast him to-night?" said Mr. Devering. "Won't he get a brimming pail of milk from our good cook!" Dallas' face beamed. He and Mr. Devering were both intent on the lamb, but I with my lower animal instinct was terribly uneasy. The cool north wind brought us a wild gamy smell. Something lurked and crouched in that dreadful little hollow where the spruces grew so thickly. I could not see it, but I felt it. It was not a bear—it was something long and slinking. I was nearly crazy. Ponies and horses rarely cry out, they die without a sound, but we Shetlands are more like dogs than ponies and I am more dog-like than most Shetlands, for from the time I was a baby foal I have been like a brother to various human beings. So now, just because I knew it would pain my nice lad to see the lamb injured, I resolved to warn poor Lammie-noo. To get to the barn he had to pass the orchard, and to reach the orchard he had to skirt the spruce thicket where the wild creature waited for him. I gave the loud shrill alarm snort of a wild pony just as the dark streak took the form of a long lean wolf who sprang with a sideways leap from the shelter of the spruces and caught one of the hind legs of the unsuspecting lamb. [Pg 50] Mr. Devering was a pretty clever man. He flashed one swift glance at my trembling form, then he gave the biggest yell I ever heard from human lips, and started leaping down hill so violently that if the wolf had been as slow as some animals Mr. Devering would have landed on his back. However, I have heard hunters say that the wolf is the cutest animal that roams the woods—cuter even than the fox. This fellow just had time for one crunching bite, then he was away like a shot. Now that the lamb was all right, I turned my attention to my young master. Wasn't I sorry for him! I guessed that he had known nothing very much wilder than the peaceful stretches of Boston Common—and to come to this! He was in a pitiable state of fright, and unable to plan for himself, he started to do as his Captain has done, namely run down the hill. However, he didn't go very far. The ugly old house leering at him with its open doorway tempted him, and he whipped in. Of course I whipped in after him, for my place was with my master. I wasn't afraid of the wolf, for I knew there was no wolf there. He was legging it for home, the most surprised animal in the Highlands of Ontario. My boy skipped past the dead porcupine and the broken chairs and dishes, and threw himself flat against a mildewed wall that he would have shrunk from had not his eyes been blinded by fear. I nuzzled his neck with my soft lips. It was[Pg 51] dreadful to see a boy suffer so much, and reaching out a hand he laid it gropingly on my head. After he had gasped for a few seconds like a dying fish, he dragged himself to one of the broken windows. Down there on the grass Mr. Devering was bending over the lamb. No wolf was in sight, and my young lad pulled himself together and cried in a relieved voice, "Come on, Babe," then he tore out of the house and down the hill. When we got to Mr. Devering we saw that he had an open first-aid case on the grass beside him, and he was unwinding a roll of bandage. "Is Lammie much hurt?" asked Dallas miserably. "One nip—hind leg—it isn't bad. I'll take a few stitches. Hold his head and shoulders, will you?" <hr /> [Pg 52] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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