 Section 6 of Rewards and Ferries. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Meredith Hughes, Cambridge, Massachusetts. Rewards and Ferries by Rudyard Kipling. Section 6. The Knife and the Naked Chalk. The wield is good, the downs are best. I'll give you the run of them, east to west. Beachy Head and Windor Hill. They were once, and they are still. Furl, Mount Cabern, and Mount Harry. Go back as far as sums'll carry. Ditchleek Beacon and Chanktonbury Ring. They have looked on many a thing. And what those two have missed between them, I reckon truly Hill has seen them. Hyden, Bignor, and Duckton Down, New Old England before the crown. Lynchdown, Trafford, and Sunwood, New Old England before the flood. And when you end on the Hampshire side, Butzers old as time and tide, The downs are sheep, the wield is corn. You'll be glad you are Sussex-born. The Knife and the Naked Chalk. The children went to the seaside for a month, and lived in a flint village on the bare, windy Chalk Downs, quite thirty miles away from home. They made friends with an old shepherd called Mr. Doodney, who had known their father when their father was little. He did not talk like their own people in the wield of Sussex, and he used different names for farm things, but he understood how they felt, and let them go with him. He had a tiny cottage about half a mile from the village, where his wife made mead from thyme honey, and nursed sick lambs in front of a coal fire, while Old Jim, who was Mr. Doodney's sheepdog's father, lay at the door. They brought up beef bones for Old Jim. You must never give a sheepdog mutton bones. And if Mr. Doodney happened to be far from the Downs, Mrs. Doodney would tell the dog to take them to him, and he did. One August afternoon, when the village water cart had made the street smell especially townified, they went to look for their shepherd, as usual, and, as usual, Old Jim crawled over the doorstep and took them in charge. The sun was hot, the dry grass was very slippery, and the distances were very distant. It's just like the sea, said Una, when Old Jim halted in the shade of a lonely flint barn on a bare rise. You see where you're going, and you go there, and there's nothing between. Dan slipped off his shoes. When we get home, I shall sit in the woods all day, he said. Poof! said Old Jim to show he was ready, and struck across a long rolling stretch of turf. Presently he asked for his beef bone. Not yet, said Dan. Where's Mr. Doodney? Where's Master? Old Jim looked as if he thought they were mad and asked again. Don't you give it to him, Una cried. I'm not going to be left howling in a desert. Show, boy, show, said Dan, for the down seemed as bare as the palm of your hand. Old Jim sighed and trotted forward. Soon they spied the blob of Mr. Doodney's hat against the sky a long way off. Right, all right, said Dan. Old Jim wheeled round, took his bone carefully between his blunted teeth, and returned to the shadow of the old barn, looking just like a wolf. The children went on. Two kestrels hung bivering and squealing above them. A gull flapped lazily along the white edge of the cliffs. The curves of the down shook a little in the heat, and so did Mr. Doodney's distant head. They walked toward it very slowly, and found themselves staring into a horseshoe-shaped hollow a hundred feet deep, whose steep sides were laced with tangled sheep tracks. The flock grazed on the flat at the bottom, under charge of young Jim. Mr. Doodney sat comfortably knitting on the edge of the slope, his crook between his knees. They told him what old Jim had done. Ah, he thought you could see my head as soon as he did. The closer you be to the turf, the more you see things. You look warm like, said Mr. Doodney. We be, said Una, flopping down, and tired. Said beside me here, the shadow will begin to stretch out in a little while, and a heat-shake of wind will come up with it that'll overlay your eyes like so much wool. We don't want to sleep, said Una indignantly, but she settled herself as she spoke in the first strip of early afternoon shade. Of course not. You come to talk with me same as your father used. He didn't need no dog to guide him to Norton Pit. Well, he belonged here, said Dan, and laid himself down at length on the turf. He did, and what beats me is why he went off to live among the messy trees in the wild, when he might have stayed here and looked all about him. There's no profit to trees. They draw the lightning and sheep shelter under him, and so, like as not, you'll lose a half-score you struck dead in one storm. Tch, your father knew that. Trees aren't messy, Una rose on her elbow, and what about firewood? I don't like coal. Eh? You lie a piece more uphill, and you'll lie more natural, said Mr. Dudney, with his provoking deaf smile. Now press your face down and smell to the turf. That's a south-down time which makes our south-down mutton beyond compare, and my mother told me to cure anything except broken necks or hearts. I forget which. They sniffed, and somehow forgot to lift their cheeks from the soft, timey cushions. You don't get nothing like that in the wild. Watercress, maybe, said Mr. Dudney. But we've water, brooks full of it, where you paddle in the hot weather, Una replied, watching a yellow and violet-banded snail shell close to her eye. Brooks flood, then you must shift your sheep, let alone foot-rod afterward. I put more dependence on a dew-pond any day. Has a dew-pond made, said Dan, and tilted his hat over his eyes. Mr. Dudney explained. The air trembled a little, as though it could not make up its mind whether to slide into the pit or move across the open. But it seemed easiest to go downhill, and the children felt one soft puff after another slip and sidle down the slope in fragrant breaths that baffed on their eyelids. The little whisper of the sea by the cliffs joined with the whisper of the wind over the grass, the hum of insects in the time, the ruffle and rustle of the flock below, and the thickish mutter deep in the very chalk beneath them. Mr. Dudney stopped explaining, and went on with his knitting. They were roused by voices. The shadow had crept halfway down the steep side of Norton Pit, and on the edge of it, his back to them, Puck sat beside a half-naked man who seemed busy at some work. The wind had dropped, and in that funnel of ground every least noise and movement reached them like whispers up a water pipe. "'That is clever,' said Puck, leaning over. "'How truly you shape it!' "'Yes, but what does the beast care for a brittle flint-tip?' "'Bah!' the man flicked something contemptuously over his shoulder. It fell between Dan and Una, a beautiful dark blue flint arrow-head still hot from the maker's hand. The man reached for another stone and worked away like a thrush with a snail-shell. "'Flint work is fool's work,' he said at last. One does it because one always did it, but when it comes to dealing with the beast, no good,' he shook his shaggy head. "'The beast was dealt with long ago.' "'He has gone,' said Puck. "'He'll be back at lambing-time. I know him.' He chipped very carefully, and the flints squeaked. "'Not he. Children can lie out on the chalk now all day through and go home safe.' "'Can they?' "'Well, call the beast by his true name, and I'll believe it,' the man replied. "'Surely,' Puck leaped to his feet, curved his hands round his mouth, "'Wolf! Wolf!' Norton Pitt threw back the echo from its dry sides. "'Wolf! Wolf!' like young Jim's bark. "'You see? You hear?' said Puck. "'Nobody answers. Grey Shepherd is gone. Feet in the night has run off. There are no more wolves.' "'Wonderful!' the man wiped his forehead as though he were hot. "'Who drove him away? You?' "'Many men through many years, each working in his own country.' "'Were you one of them?' Puck answered.' The man slid his sheepskin cloak to his waist, and without a word pointed to his side, which was all seemed and blotched with scars. His arms, too, were dimpled from shoulder to elbow with horrible white dimples. "'I see,' said Puck. "'It is the beast's mark. What did he use against him?' "'Hand, hammer, and spear, as our fathers did before us.' "'So, then how?' Puck twitched aside the man's dark brown cloak. "'How did a flint-worker come by that?' "'Show, man! Show!' he held out his little hand. The man slipped along dark iron knife, almost a short sword from his belt, and after breathing on it handed it hilt first to Puck, who took it with his head on one side, as you should when you look at the works of a watch. Squinted down the dark blade and very delicately rubbed his forefinger from the point to the hilt. "'Good,' said he, in a surprised tone. "'It should be.' The children of the night made it,' the man answered. "'So I see by the iron. What might it have cost you?' "'This,' the man raised his hand to his cheek. Puck whistled like a wheeled starling. "'By the great rings of the chalk,' he cried. "'Was that your price? Turn somewhere that I may see better and shut your eye.' He slipped his hand beneath the man's chin and swung him till he faced the children of the slope. They saw that his right eye was gone and the eyelet lay shrunk. Quickly Puck turned him round again and the two sat down. It was for the sheep. "'Are the people,' said the man, in an ashamed voice. "'What else could I have done?' "'You know, old one.' Puck sighed a little, fluttering sigh. "'Take the knife. I listen.' The man bowed his head, drove the knife into the turf and while it still quivered, said, "'This is the witness between us that I speak the thing that has been. Before my knife and the naked chalk I speak. "'Touch!' Puck laid a hand on the hilt. It stopped shaking. The children wriggled a little nearer. "'I am of the people of the worked flint. I am the one son of the priestess who sells the winds to the men of the sea. I am the buyer of the knife, the keeper of my people,' the man began, in a sort of singing shout. "'These are my names in this country of the naked chalk between the trees and the sea.' "'Yours was a great country. "'Your names are great, too,' said Puck. "'One cannot feed some things on names and songs.' The man hid himself on the chest. "'It is better, always better, to count one's children safe round the fire, their mother among them.' "'A-hi,' said Puck. "'I think this will be a very old tale. "'I warm myself and eat at any fire that I choose, but there is no one to light me a fire or cook my meat. "'I sold all that when I bought the magic knife for my people. "'It was not right that the beast should master man. "'What else could I have done?' "'I hear. I know. I listen,' said Puck. "'When I was old enough to take my place in the sheep-guard, the beast gnawed all our country like a bone between his teeth. "'He came in behind the flocks at watering-time and watched them round the dew-ponds. "'He leaped into the folds between our knees at the shearing. "'He walked out alongside the grazing flocks and chose his meat on the hoof while our boys threw flints at him. "'He crept by night into the huts and licked the babe from between the mother's hands. "'He called his companions and pulled down men and broad daylight on the naked chalk. "'No, not always did he do so. "'This was his cunning. "'He would go away for a while to let us forget him. "'A year, two years, perhaps. "'We neither smelt nor heard nor saw him. "'When our flocks had increased, "'when our men did not always look behind them, "'when children strayed from the fenced places, "'when our women walked alone to draw water, "'back, back, back came the curse of the chalk, "'grey shepherd, feet in the night, "'the beast, the beast, the beast.' "'He laughed at our little brittle arrows "'and our poor blunt spears. "'He learned to run in under the stroke of the hammer. "'I think he knew when there was a flaw in the flint. "'Often it does not show till you bring it down on his snout. "'Then, poof, the false flint falls all to flinters "'and you are left with the hammer-handle "'in your fist and his teeth in your flank. "'I have felt them. "'At evening, too, in the dew, "'or when it has misted and rained, "'your spearhead lashing slack off, "'though you have kept them beneath your cloak all day. "'You are alone, but so close to the home ponds "'that you stop to tighten the sinews with hands, teeth, "'and a piece of driftwood. "'You bend over and pull, so. "'That is the minute for which he has followed you "'since the stars went out.' "'Ah!' he says. "'Brah!' he says. "'Norton Pip gave back the growl like a pack of real wolves. "'Then he is on your right shoulder, "'feeling for the vein in your neck "'and perhaps your sheep run on without you "'to fight the beast is nothing "'but to be despised by the beast when he fights you. "'That is like his teeth in the heart. "'Old one, why is it that men desire so greatly "'and can do so little? "'I do not know. "'Did you desire so much?' said Puck. "'I desired to master the beast. "'It is not right that the beast should master man. "'But my people were afraid. "'Even my mother, the priestess, "'was afraid when I told her what I desired. "'We were accustomed to be afraid of the beast. "'When I was made a man and a maiden, "'she was a priestess, waited for me at the Dupons, "'the beast flitted from off the chalk. "'Perhaps it was a sickness. "'Perhaps he had gone to his gods "'to learn how to do us a new harm. "'But he went and we breathed more freely. "'The women sang again. "'The children were not so much guarded. "'The flocks grazed far out. "'I took my yonder,' he pointed inland "'to the hazy line of the wheeled, "'where the new grass was best. "'They grazed north. "'I followed till we were close to the trees,' he lowered his voice. "'Close there where the children of the night live.' He pointed north again. "'Ah, now I remember a thing,' said Puck. "'Tell me, why did your people fear the trees so extremely? "'Because the gods hate the trees "'and strike them with lightning. "'We can see them burning for days "'all along the chalk's edge. "'Besides, all the chalk knows that the children of the night, "'though they worship our gods, are magicians. "'When a man goes into their country, "'they change his spirit. "'They put words into his mouth. "'They make him like talking water. "'But a voice in my heart told me to go toward the north. "'While I watched my sheep, "'there I saw three beasts chasing a man "'towards the trees. "'By this I knew he was a child of the night. "'We flint-workers feared the trees more than we feared the beast. "'He had no hammer. "'He carried a knife like this one. "'A beast leaped at him. "'He stretched out his knife. "'The beast fell dead. "'The other beasts ran howling, "'which they would never have done from a flint-worker. "'The man went in among the trees. "'I looked for the dead beast. "'He had been killed in a new way. "'By a single, deep, clean cut, "'without bruise or tear, "'which had split his bad heart. "'Wonderful. "'So I saw that the man's knife was magic, "'and I thought how to get it. "'Thought strongly how to get it. "'When I brought the flocks to the shearing, "'my mother the priestess asked me, "'What is the new thing which you have seen "'and I see in your face?' "'I said, it is a sorrow to me,' "'and she answered, "'All new things are sorrow. "'Sit in my place and eat sorrow.' "'I sat down in her place by the fire "'where she talks to the ghosts in winter, "'and two voices spoke in my heart. "'One voice said, "'Ask the children of the night for the magic knife. "'It is not fit that the beast should master man.' "'I listened to that voice. "'One voice said, "'If you go among the trees, "'the night will change your spirit. "'Eat and sleep here.' "'The other voice said, "'Ask for the knife.' "'I listened to that voice. "'I said to my mother in the morning, "'I go away to find a thing for the people, "'but I do not know whether I shall return in my own shape.' "'She answered, "'Whether you live or die or are made different, "'I am your mother.' "'True,' said Puck. "'They themselves cannot change men's mothers "'even if they would. "'Let us thank the old ones. "'I spoke to my maiden, "'the priestess who waited for me at the Dupons. "'She promised fine things, too.' The man laughed. "'I went away to that place "'where I had seen the magician with the knife. "'I lay out two days on the short grass "'before I ventured among the trees. "'I felt my way before me with a stick. "'I was afraid of the terrible talking trees. "'I was afraid of the ghosts in the branches, "'the soft ground underfoot "'of the red and black waters. "'I was afraid, above all, of the change. "'It came.' "'They saw him wipe his forehead once again "'and his strong back muscles quivered "'till he laid his hand on the knife-hilt. "'A fire without a flame burned in my head. "'An evil taste grew in my mouth. "'My eyelids shut hot over my eyes. "'My breath was hot between my teeth "'and my hands were like the hands of a stranger. "'I was made to sing songs and to mock the trees, "'though I was afraid of them. "'At the same time, I saw myself laughing "'and I was very sad for this fine young man who was myself. "'Ah, the children of the night know magic.' "'I think that is done by the spirits of the mist. "'They change a man if he sleeps among them,' said Puck. "'Had you slept in any mists?' "'Yes, but I know it was the children of the night. "'After three days, I saw a red light behind the trees "'and I heard a heavy noise. "'I saw the children of the night dig red stones from a hole "'and lay them in fires. "'The stones melted like tallow "'and the men beat the soft stuff with hammers. "'I wished to speak to these men, "'but the words were changed in my mouth "'and all I could say was, "'Do not make that noise. It hurts my head.' "'By this I knew that I was bewitched "'and I clung to the trees "'and prayed the children of the night to take off their spells. "'They were cruel. "'They asked me many questions which they would never allow me to answer. "'They changed my words between my teeth till I wept. "'Then they led me into a hut "'and covered the floor with hot stones "'and dashed water on the stones "'and sang charms till the sweat poured off me like water. "'I slept. "'When I waked, my own spirit, "'not the strange shouting thing, "'was back in my body "'and I was like a cool bright stone "'on the shingle between the sea and the sunshine. "'The magicians came to hear me, women and men, "'each wearing a magic knife. "'Their priestess was their ears and their mouth. "'I spoke. I spoke many words "'that went smoothly along like sheep "'in order that when their shepherd, "'selling on a mound, can count those coming "'and those far off getting ready to come. "'I asked for magic knives for my people. "'I said that my people would bring meat and milk and wool "'and lay them in the short grass outside the trees "'if the children of the night would leave magic knives "'for our people to take away. "'They were pleased. "'Their priestess said, "'For whose sake have you come?' "'I answered, the sheep are the people. "'The beast kills our sheep, our people die. "'So I come for a magic knife to kill the beast. "'She said, we do not know if our God would let us trade "'with the people of the naked chalk. "'Wait till we have asked.' "'When they came back from the question place, "'their gods are our gods. "'Their priestess said, "'The God needs a proof that your words are true. "'I said, what is the proof?' "'She said, the God says "'that if you have come for the sake of your people, "'you will give him your right eye to be put out. "'But if you have come for any other reason, "'you will not give it. "'This proof is between you and the God. "'We ourselves are sorry.' "'I said, this is a hard proof. "'Is there no other road?' "'She said, yes. "'You can go back to your people "'with your two eyes in your head if you choose. "'But then you will not get any magic knives for your people.' "'I said, it would be easier "'if I knew that I were to be killed.' "'She said, perhaps the God knew this, too. "'See, I have made my knife hot.' "'I said, be quick, then. "'With her knife heated in the flame, "'she put out my right eye. "'She herself did it. "'I am the son of a priestess. "'She was a priestess. "'It was not work for any common man.' "'True, most true,' said Puck. "'No common man's work that. "'And afterwards?' "'Afterwards I did not see out of that eye any more. "'I found also that a one eye "'does not tell you truly where things are. "'Try it.' "'At this, Dan put his hand over one eye "'and reached for the flint arrowhead on the grass. "'He missed it by inches.' "'It's true,' he whispered to Una. "'You can't judge distances a bit with only one eye.' "'Puck was evidently making the same experiment, "'for the man laughed at him. "'I know it is so,' said he. "'Even now I am not always sure of my blow. "'I stayed with the children of the night till my eye healed. "'They said I was the son of Tyr, "'the God who put his right hand in a beast's mouth. "'They showed me how they melted their red stone "'and made the magic knives of it. "'They told me the charms they sang over the fires "'and at the beatings. "'I can sing many charms.' "'Then he began to laugh like a boy. "'I was thinking of my journey home,' he said, "'and of the surprised beast. "'He had come back to the chalk. "'I saw him. "'I smelt his lairs as soon as I ever left the trees. "'He did not know I had the magic knife. "'I hid it under my cloak, "'the knife that the priestess gave me.' "'Oh, that happy day was too short. "'See, a beast would wind me. "'Wow,' he would say. "'Here is my flint-worker.' "'He would come leaping, tail in air. "'He would roll. "'He would lay his head between his paws "'out of mariness of heart at his warm, waiting kneel. "'He would leap "'and owe his eye in mid-leap when he saw, "'when he saw the knife held ready for him. "'It pierced his hide as a rush pierces curdled milk. "'Often he had no time to howl. "'I did not trouble to flay any beasts I killed. "'Sometimes I missed my blow. "'Then I took my little flint hammer "'and beat out his brains as he cowered. "'He made no fight. "'He knew the knife. "'But the beast is very cunning. "'Before evening all the beasts "'had smelt the blood on my knife "'and were running from me like hares. "'They knew. "'Then I walked as a man should, "'the master of the beast. "'So I came back to my mother's house. "'There was a lamb to be killed. "'I cut it in two halves with my knife "'and I told her all my tale. "'She said, This is the work of a god. "'I kissed her and laughed. "'I went to my maiden who waited for me at the Dupons. "'There was a lamb to be killed. "'I cut it in two halves with my knife "'and I told her all my tale. "'She said, It is the work of a god. "'I laughed, but she pushed me away "'and being on my blind side "'ran off before I could kiss her. "'I went to the men of the sheep-guard "'at watering time. "'There was a sheep to be killed for their meat. "'I cut it in two halves with my knife "'and told them all my tale. "'They said, It is the work of a god. "'I said, We talk too much about gods. "'Let us eat and be happy "'and tomorrow I will take you to the children of the night "'and each man will find a magic knife. "'I was glad to smell our sheep again "'to see the broad sky from edge to edge "'and to hear the sea. "'I slept beneath the stars and my cloak. "'The men talked among themselves. "'I led them the next day to the trees "'taking with me meat, wool, "'and the curdled milk as I had promised. "'We found the magic knives laid out on the grass "'as the children of the night had promised. "'They watched us from among the trees. "'Their priestess called to me and said, "'How is it with your people?' "'I said, Their hearts are changed. "'I cannot see their hearts as I used to. "'She said, That is because you only have one eye. "'Come to me and I will be both your eyes.' "'But I said, I must show my people "'how to use their knives against the beast "'as you showed me how to use my knife. "'I said this because the magic knife "'does not balance like the flint. "'She said, What you have done, "'you have done for the sake of a woman "'and not for the sake of your people. "'I asked of her, "'then why did the god accept my right eye "'and why are you so angry?' "'She answered, "'because any man can lie to a god, "'but no man can lie to a woman. "'And I am not angry with you. "'I am only very sorrowful for you. "'Wait a little, "'and you will see out of your one eye "'why I am sorry.' "'So she hid herself. "'I went back with my people, "'each one carrying his knife "'and making it sing in the air. "'See, see, "'the flint never sings. "'It mutters, ump, ump. "'The beast heard. "'The beast saw. "'He knew. "'Everywhere he ran away from us. "'We all laughed. "'As we walked over the grass, "'my mother's brother, the chief on the men's side, "'he took off his chief's necklace "'of yellow sea stones. "'How? Eh? "'Oh, I remember. "'Amber,' said Puck. "'And would have put them on my neck. "'I said, No, I am content. "'My other eye sees fat sheep "'and fat children running about safely.' "'My mother's brother said to them, "'I told you he would never take such things.' "'Then they began "'to sing a song in the old tongue, "'the song of tear. "'I sang with them, "'but my mother's brother said, "'This is your song, oh buyer of the knife. "'Let us sing it, tear.' "'Even then "'I did not understand. "'Til I saw that "'and stepped on my shadow. "'And I knew they thought me to be a god, "'like the god, tear, "'who gave his right hand to conquer a great beast. "'By the fire in the belly of the flint, "'was that so?' Puck rapped out. "'By my knife "'and the naked chalk, so it was. "'They made way for my shadow "'as though it had been a priestess "'walking to the barrows of the dead. "'I was afraid. "'I said to myself, "'my mother and my maiden will know "'I am not, tear. "'But still I was afraid, "'with the fear of a man who falls "'into a steep flint pit while he runs "'and feels that it will be hard to climb out. "'When we came to the Dupons, "'all our people were there. "'The men showed their knives "'and told their tale. "'The sheep guards also had seen "'the beast flying from us. "'The beast went west "'across the river in packs, howling. "'He knew the knife had come "'to the naked chalk at last. "'He knew. "'So my work was done. "'I looked for my maiden "'among the priestesses. "'She looked at me, but she did not smile. "'She made the sign to me "'that our priestesses must make "'when they sacrifice to the old dead "'in the barrows. "'I would have spoken, "'but my mother's brother made himself "'my mouth, as though I had been "'one of the old dead in the barrows "'for whom our priests speak "'I remember. "'Well, I remember those midsummer mornings,' said Puck. "'Then I went away angrily "'to my mother's house. "'She would have knelt before me. "'Then I was more angry, but she said, "'Only a god would have spoken "'to me thus, a priestess. "'A man would have feared "'the punishment of the gods. "'I looked at her and I laughed. "'I could not stop my unhappy laughing. "'They called me from the door "'by the name of Tyr himself, "'a young man with whom I had watched "'my first flocks and chipped my first arrow "'and fought my first beast, "'called me by that name in the old tongue. "'He asked my leave "'to take my maiden. "'His eyes were lowered, "'his hands were on his forehead. "'He was full of the fear of a god, "'but of me, a man, "'he had no fear when he asked. "'I did not kill him. "'I said, call the maiden. "'She came also "'without fear, this very one "'that had waited for me, "'that had talked with me by our dupons. "'Being a priestess, "'she lifted her eyes to me. "'As I looked on a hill or a cloud, "'so she looked at me. "'She spoke in the old tongue, "'which priestesses use "'when they make prayers to the old dead "'in the barrows. "'She asked leave that she might light "'the fire in my companion's house, "'and that I should bless their children. "'I did not kill her. "'I heard my own voice, "'little and cold, "'say, let it be as you desire. "'And they went away, "'hand in hand. "'My heart grew little and cold. "'A wind shouted in my ears. "'My eye darkened. "'I said to my mother, "'Can a god die?' "'I heard her say, "'What is it? "'What is it, my son?' "'I fell into darkness full of hammer noises. "'I was not. "'Oh, poor, poor God,' said Puck. "'And your wise mother?' "'She knew. "'As soon as I dropped, she knew. "'When my spirit came back, "'I heard her whisper in my ear, "'Whether you live or die, "'or are made different, "'I am your mother.' "'That was good. "'Better even than the water she gave me "'and the going away of the sickness. "'I was ashamed to have fallen down, "'yet I was very glad. "'She was glad, too. "'Neither of us wished to lose the other. "'There is only the one mother for the one son. "'I heaped the fire for her "'and barred the doors "'and sat at her feet as before I went away, "'and she combed my hair and sang. "'I said at last, "'What is to be done to the people "'who say that I am tear?' "'She said, "'He who has done a god-like thing "'must bear himself like a god. "'I see no way out of it. "'The people are now your sheep till you die. "'You cannot drive them off.' "'I said, "'This is a heavier sheep than I can lift.' "'She said, "'In time it will grow easy. "'In time, perhaps, "'you will not lay it down for any maiden anywhere. "'Be wise. "'Be very wise, my son, "'for nothing is left you except the words "'and the songs and the worship of a god.' "'Oh, poor gods,' said Puck. "'But those are not altogether bad things.' "'I know they are not, "'but I would sell them all, "'all, all, "'for one small child of my own, "'smearing himself with the ashes "'of our own house fire.' "'He wrenched his knife from the turf, "'thrusted into his belt, "'and stood up. "'What else could I have done?' he said. "'The sheep are the people.' "'It is a very old tale,' Puck answered. "'I have heard the like of it, "'not only on the naked chalk, "'but also among the trees, "'under oak, ash, and thorn.' "'The afternoon shadows filled "'all the quiet emptiness of Norton Pit. "'The children heard the sheep bells "'and young gyms busybark above them, "'and they scrambled up the slope to the level. "'We let you have your sleep out,' "'as Mr. Dudney is the flock scattered before them. "'It's making for tea time now.' "'Look what I've found,' said Dan, "'and held up a little blue-flint arrow-head, "'as fresh as though it had been chipped that very day.' "'Oh,' said Mr. Dudney, "'the closer you be to the turf, "'the more you're up to see things.' "'I've found them often.' "'Some says the fairies made them, "'but I says they was made by folks like ourselves, "'only a goodish time back. "'They're lucky to keep. "'Now, you could never have slept, "'not to any profit, among your father's trees, "'same as you've laid out on the naked chalk, could you?' "'One doesn't want to sleep in the woods,' said Una. "'Then what's the good of them?' said Mr. Dudney. "'Might as well set in the barn all day.' "'Fetch them long, gym-boy!' "'The downs, that looked so bare and hot when they came, "'were full of delicious little shadow dimples, "'the smell of the thyme and the salt mixed together "'on the south-west drift from the still sea, "'their eyes dazzled with the low sun, "'and the long grass under it looked golden. "'The sheep knew where their fold was, "'so young Jim came back to his master, "'and they all four strolled home, "'the scabies' heads swishing about their ankles "'and their shadows streaking behind them, "'like the shadows of giants.' "'Song of the men's side.' "'Once we feared the beast, when he followed us, we ran. "'Ran very fast, though we knew it was not right "'that the beast should master man. "'But what could we flint-workers do?' "'The beast only grinned at our spears round his ears, "'grinned at the hammers that we made. "'But now we will hunt him for the life with the knife, "'and this is the buyer of the blade.' "'Room for his shadow on the grass, let it pass, "'to left and right, stand clear. "'This is the buyer of the blade, be afraid. "'This is the great God, Tyr.' "'Tyr thought hard till he hammered out a plan, "'for he knew it was not right, "'and it is not right that the beast should master man, "'so he went to the children of the night. "'He begged a magic knife of their make for our sake, "'when he begged for the knife, they said, "'the price of the knife you would buy is an eye, "'and that was the price he paid. "'Tell it to the barrows of the dead, run ahead, "'shout it so the women's side can hear. "'This is the buyer of the blade, be afraid. "'This is the great God, Tyr.' "'Our women and our little ones may walk on the chalk, "'as far as we can see them and beyond. "'We shall not be anxious for our sheep "'when we keep tally at the shearing-pond. "'We can eat with both our elbows on our knees, "'if we please, we can sleep after meals in the sun. "'For shepherd of the twilight is dismayed at the blade. "'Feed in the night have run. "'Dog without a master goes away. "'Hey, Tyr, devil in the dusk has run. "'Room for his shadow on the grass, let it pass. "'To left and right, stand clear. "'This is the buyer of the blade, be afraid. "'This is the great God, Tyr.' End of Chapter 6. Chapter 7 of Rewards and Ferries This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Kiki Bissell, Kikala.org. Rewards and Ferries by Rudyard Kipling. Section 7, Brother Square-Tose. Philadelphia. If you're off to Philadelphia in the morning, you mustn't take my stories for a guide. There's little left indeed of the city you will read of, and all the folk I write about have died. Now, if you will understand if you mentioned Tally Rand, or remember what his cunning and his skill did, and the cabman at the wharf do not know Count Zinnendorf, nor the church in Philadelphia he builded. It is gone, gone, gone with lost Atlantis. Never say I didn't give you warning. In 1793, it was there for all to see, but it's not in Philadelphia this morning. If you're off to Philadelphia in the morning, you mustn't go by everything I've said. But Bignol's southern stages have been laid aside for ages, but the limited will take you there instead. Toby Hurt can't be seen at 118 North Second Street, no matter when you call. And I fear you'll search in vain for the wash house down the lane, where the pharaoh played the fiddle at the ball. It is gone, gone, gone with Thebes the Golden. Never say I didn't give you warning. In 1794, it was a famous dancing floor, but it's not in Philadelphia this morning. If you're off to Philadelphia in the morning, you must telegraph for rooms at some hotel. You needn't try your luck at Epley's or The Buck, though the father of his country liked them well. It is not the slightest use to inquire for Adam Goose, or to ask where pastrameter has removed. So you must treat as out of date the story I relate of the church in Philadelphia he loves so. He is gone, gone, gone with Martin Luther. Never say I didn't give you warning. In 1795 he was, rest his soul, alive, but he's not in Philadelphia this morning. If you're off to Philadelphia this morning, and wish to prove the truth of what I say, I pledge my word you'll find the pleasant land behind, unaltered since red jacket rode that way. Still the pine wood sent the noon, still the cat bird sings his tune, still autumn sets the maple forest blazing. Still the grapevine through the dusk, flings her soul compelling musk, still the fireflies in the corn make night amazing. They are there, there, there with earth immortal, citizens I give you friendly warning. The things that truly last when men and time have passed, they are all in Pennsylvania this morning. Brother's square toes. It was almost the end of their visit to the seaside. They had turned themselves out of doors while their trunks were being packed and strolled over the downs toward the dull evening sea. The tide was dead low under the talk cliffs and the little wrinkled waves grieved along the sands from the coast to New Haven and down the coast to Long Gray Brighton, whose smoke trailed out across the channel. They walked to the gap where the cliff is only a few feet high, a wind last for hoisting shingle from the beach below, stands at the edge of it. The coast guard cottages are a little farther on and an old ship's figurehead of a turk and a turban stared at them over the wall. This time tomorrow we shall be at home, thank goodness, said Una. I hate the sea. I believe it's all right in the middle, said Dan. The edges are the sorrowful parts. Quarterie, the coast guard, came out of the cottage, leveled his telescope at some fishing boats, shut it with a click and walked away. He grew smaller and smaller along the edge of the cliff where the neat piles of white chalk every few yards under the path, even on the darkest night. Where's Quarterie going? said Una. Halfway to New Haven, said Dan. Then he'll meet the New Haven coast guard and turn back. He says if coast guards were done away with, smuggling would start up at once. A voice on the beach under the cliff began to sing. The moon she shied on Tulpscom Ty, on Tulpscom Ty at night it was. I saw the smugglers riding by, a very pretty sight it was. Feet scrabbled on the flinty path. A dark, thin-faced man in very neat, brown clothes and broad-toed shoes came up, followed by Puck. Three Dunkirk boats was standing in, the man went on. Hush, said Puck. You'll shock these nice young people. Oh, shall I, mill pardon. He shrugged his shoulders almost up to his ears, spread his hands abroad and jabbered in French. No comprené, he said, I'll give it to you in low German. And he went off in another language, changing his voice and manner so completely that they hardly knew him for the same person. But his dark, beady brown eyes still twinkled merrily in his lean face and the children felt that they did not suit the straight, plain, stuffy brown coat, brown knee-bridges and broad-brimmed hat. His hair was tied in a short pigtail, which danced wickedly when he turned his head. Ha, done, said Puck, laughing. Be one thing or the other, Varro, French or English or German, no great odds which. Oh, but it is, though, said Unaquickly. We haven't begun German yet, and we're going back to our French next week. Aren't you English, said Dan, we heard you singing just now. Aha, that was the Susick side of me. Dad, he married a French girl out of Bourgogne, and French, she stayed till her dying day. She was an arrette, of course. We Lees mostly marry arrettes. Have you ever come across the saying, arrettes and Lees, like as-to-pees, what they can't smuggle, they'll run overseas? Then you're a smuggler, cried Una. And have you smuggled much, said Dan. Mr. Lees nodded solemnly. Mind you, said he, I don't uphold smuggling for the generality of mankind. Mostly they can't make a do of it. But I was brought up to the trade, do you see, in a lawful line of dissent on. He waved across the channel, on both sides of the water. It was all the family, same as Fidelin. The arrettes used mostly to run the stuff across from Bourgogne. But we Lees landed it here and ran it up to London Town by the Safest Road. Then where did you live, said Una? You mustn't ever live too close to your business in the trade. We kept our little fishing shack at Shoreham. But otherwise we Lees was all honest cottager folk at Warminghurst under Washington, Bramble Bay. On the old Penn estate. Ah, said Puck, squatting by the windlass. I remember a piece about the Lees at Warminghurst. I do. There was never a Lees to Warminghurst that wasn't a gypsy last and first. I reckon that's the truth, Farrow. Farrow laughed. Admin, that's true, he said. My gypsy blood must be war pretty thin, for I've made and kept a worldly fortune. By smuggling? asked Dan. No, in the tobacco trade. You don't mean to say you gave up smuggling just to go and be a tobacconist? Dan looked so disappointed that they all had to laugh. I'm sorry. But there's all sorts of tobacconists, Farrow replied. How far out now would you call that smack with a patch on her foresail? He pointed to the fishing boats. A scant mile, said Puck, after a quick look. Just about. It's seven fathom under her clean sand. That was where Uncle Arette used to sink his brandy kegs from Bourgogne, and we fished him up and rode him into the gap, here for the ponies to run inland. One thickish night in January of 93, Dad and Uncle Lot and me came over from Shoreham in the smack. We found Uncle Arette and the Le Stranges, my cousins, waiting for us in their lugger with New Year's presents from mother's folk in Bourgogne. I remember Aunt Cecile she'd send me a fine new redded cap, which I put on then and there, for the French was having their revolution in those days, and red caps was all the fashion. Uncle Arette tells us that they had cut off their King Louis' head, and moreover the breast forts had fired on an English man-a-war. The news wasn't a week old. That means war again when we was only just getting used to the peace, says Dad. Why can't King George's men and King Louis' men do on their uniforms and fight it out over our heads? Me too, I wish that, says Uncle Arette. But they'll be pressing better men than themselves to fight for him. The press gangs are already on our side. You look out for yours. I'll have to buy to shore and grow cabbages for a while after I've run this cargo. But I do wish, Dad says, going over the lugger side with our New Year's presents under his arm, and young, less strange holding the lantern. I just do wish that those folk, which make war so easy, had to run one cargo a month all this winter. It'd show them what honest work means. Well, I've warned you, said Uncle Arette. I'll be slipping off now before your revenue cutter comes. Give my love to Sister and take care of the kegs. It's thickening to Southward. I remember him waving to us and young Stephen Strange blowing out the lantern. By the time we'd fished up the kegs, the fog came down so thick, Dad judged it risky for me to row a mature, even though we could hear the ponies stamping on the beach. So he and Uncle Lot took the dinghy and left me in the smack, playing on the fiddle to guide him back. Presently, I heard guns. Two of them sounded mighty like Uncle Arette's three pounders. He didn't go naked about the seas after dark. Then come more, which I reckoned was Captain Giddens and the revenue cutter. He was open-handed with his compliments, but he would lay his guns himself. I stopped fiddling to listen, and I heard a whole sky full of French up in the fog, and Hybeau come down on top of the smack. I hadn't time to call or think. I remember the smack keeling over, and me standing on the gunwale, pushing against the ship's side, as if I hoped to bear her off. Then the square of the open port, with the lantern in it, slid by in front of my nose. I kicked back on our gunwale as it went under and slipped through that port into the French ship, me and my fiddle. Gracious, said Una. What an adventure. Didn't anybody see you come in? said Dan. There wasn't anyone there. I'd made use of an Orlop deck port. That's the next deck below the gun deck, which by rights should not have been open at all. The crew was standing by their guns up above. I rolled on to a pile of dunnage in the dark, and I went to sleep. When I woke, men was talking all around me, telling each other their names and sorrows, just like Dad told me pressed men used to talk in the last war. Pretty soon I'd made out they'd all been above board, together by the press gangs, and left to sort themselves. The ship, she was the Invescott, a 36-gun Republican frigate. Captain Jean-Baptiste Bombard was two days out of Le Havre, going to the United States with the Republican French ambassador of the name of Genet. They had been up all night clearing for action on account of hearing goons in the fog. Uncle Orrette and Captain Giddens must have been passing the time of day with each other off New Haven, and the frigate had drifted past them. She never known she'd run down our smack. Seeing so many aboard was total strangers to each other. I thought one more mightn't be noticed. So I put on Ant's a seal's red cap on the back of my head, and my hands in my pockets like the rest. And as we French say, I circulated until I found the galley. What? Here's one of them that isn't six as a cook. Take his breakfast to Citizen Bombard. I carried the tray to the captain, but I didn't call this Bombard citizen. Oh, no. Mon Capitaine was my little word, same as Uncle Orrette used to answer in King Louis' Navy. Bombard, he liked it. He took me on for Captain Servant, and after that, no one asked questions. And thus I got good vignoles and light work all the way across to America. He talked a heap of politics, and so did his officers. And when this Ambassador Genet got rid of his land stomach and laid down the law after dinner, a Rook's Parliament was nothing compared to their cabin. I learned to know most of the men which had worked in the French Revolution, through waiting at table and hearing talk about them. One of our four cause les six pounders was called Danon, and the other Marat. I used to play the fiddle between them, sitting on the cap stand. Day in and day out, Bombard and Monsieur Genet talked to what France had done. And now the United States was going to join her to finish off the English in this war. Monsieur Genet said he'd just about make the United States fight for France. He was a rude common man, but I liked listening. I always helped drink any health that was proposed, especially Citizen Danton's, who'd cut off King Louis' head. And all Englishmen might have been shocked. But that's where my French blood saved me. It didn't save me from getting a dose of ship's fever, though. The week before we put Monsieur Genet ashore at Charleston. And what was left of me after bleeding and pills took the dumb horrors from living between decks. The surgeon, Kerrigan, with his name, kept me down there to help him with his plasters. I was too weak to wait on Bombard. I don't remember much of any account for the next few weeks, till I smelt lilacs. And I looked out of the port. And we was moored to a wharf edge. And there was a town of fine gardens, and red brick houses, all the green leaves of God's world waiting for me outside. What's this, I said to the sick bay man, old Pierre Thimpage he was. Philadelphia, said Pierre. You've missed it all. We're sailing next week. I just turned round and cried for longing to be amongst the lilacs. If that's your trouble, says old Pierre, you go straight ashore, none'll hinder you. They're all gone mad on these coasts, French and American together. It isn't my notion of war. Pierre was an old King Louis man. My legs was pretty tautly, but I made shift to go on deck, which it was like a fair. The frigate was crowded with fine gentlemen and ladies pouring in and out. They sung, and they waved French flags, while Captain Bombard and his officers, yes, some of them in, speechified to all in sundry about war with England. They shouted, down with England, down with Washington, hurrah for France and the Republic. I couldn't make sense of it. I wanted to get out from that crunch of swords and petticoats and sit in a field. One of the gentlemen said to me, is that a genuine cap of liberty you're wearing? Doisance assiles red one and pretty near war out. Oh yes, I says, straight from France. I'll give you a shilling for it, he says, and with that money in my hand and my fiddle under my arm I squeezed past the entry port and went ashore. It was like a dream. Meadows, trees, flowers, birds, houses and people all different. I sat me down in a meadow and fiddled a bit and then I went in and out of the streets looking and smelling and touching like a little dog at a fair. Fine folks was sitting on a white stone doorstep of their houses and a girl threw me a handful of laylock sprays and when I said merci without thinking she said she loved the French. They all was the fashion in the city. I saw more tricolor flags in Philadelphia than I'd ever seen in Bourgogne and everyone was shouting for war with England. A crowd of folks was cheering after our French ambassador, that same Monsieur Genet, which we'd left at Charleston. He was a horseback paven as if the place belonged to him and commanding all in sundry to fight the British but I'd heard that before. I got into a long straight street as wide as the broil where gentlemen was racing horses. I'm fond of horses. Nobody hindered him and a man told me it was called race street at that purpose. When I followed some black niggers which I had never seen close before but I left them to run after a great proud copper-faced man with feathers in his hair and a red blanket trailing behind him. A man told me he was a real red Indian called Red Jacket and I followed him into an alleyway off Race Street by 2nd Street where there was a fiddle playing. I'm fond of fiddling. The Indian stopped at the baker shop, Conrad Gearheads it was and bought some sugary cakes. Hearing what the price was I was going to have some too but the Indian asked me in English if I was hungry. Oh yes I says. He opens a door on the staircase and leads the way up. We walked into a dirty little room full of flutes and fiddles and a fat man fiddling by the window in a smell of cheese and medicines fit to knock you down. I was knocked down too for the fat man jumped up and hit me a smack in the face. I fell against the old spinnet covered with pillboxes and the pills rolled about on the floor. The Indian never moved an eyelid. Pick up the pills. Pick up the pills. The fat man screeches. I started picking him up, hundreds of him meaning to run out under the Indians arm but I came on giddy all over and I sat down. The fat man went back to his fiddling. Toby says the Indian after a while I brought the boy to be fed not hit. What says Toby? I thought it was Gert Squantfelder. He said he was a little fiddler and took a look at me. Himmel, he says, I've hit the wrong boy. It's not the new boy. Why are you not the new boy? Why are you not Gert Squantfelder? I don't know, I said. The gentleman in the pink blanket brought me. Says the Indian. He's hungry, Toby. Christians always feed the hungry, so I bring him. You should have said that first, said Toby. He pushed plates at me and the Indian put bread and pork on them I told him I was off the French ship which I had joined on account of my mother being French. That was true enough when you think of it and besides I saw that the French was all the fashion in Philadelphia Toby and the Indian whispered and I went on picking up the pills. You like pills, eh? says Toby. No, I says. I've seen our ship's doctor roll too many of them. Oh, he says and shoves two bottles at me. What's those? Gert Squantfelder. He says, one week I've tried to treat Gert Squantfelder the difference between them yet he cannot tell. You like to fiddle, he says. He'd just seen my kit on the floor. Oh, yes, as I. Oh, he says. What note is this drawing his boat across? He meant it for an A, so I told him it was. My brother, he says to the Indian I think this is the hand of Providence. I warned that Gert if he went to play upon the wharves any more he would hear it from me. Now look at this boy and say what you think. The Indian looked me over whole minutes. There was a musical clock on the wall and dolls came out and hopped while the hour struck. He looked me over all the while they did it. Good, he says at last. This boy is good. Good then, says Toby. Now I shall play my fiddle and you shall sing your hymn, brother. Boy, go down to the bakery and tell them you were young Gertz-Quankfelder that was. The horses are in Davy Jones' locker. If you ask any questions you shall hear from me. I left him singing hymns and I went down to old Conrad Gerhard. He wasn't at all surprised when I told him I was young Gertz-Quankfelder that was. He knew Toby. His wife she walked me into the backyard without a word and she washed me and she cut my hair with a basin and she put me to bed and oh how I slept. How I slept in that little room behind the oven looking on the flower garden. I didn't know Toby went to the embus god that night and bought me off Dr. Currigan for twelve dollars in a dozen bottles of cynical oil. Currigan wanted a new lace on his coat and he reckoned I hadn't long to live so he put me down as discharged sick. I like Toby, said Una. Who was he, said Puck. Apothecary Tobias Hurt, Farrah replied. 118 Second Street the famous cynical oil man that lived half of every year among Indians. He let me tell my tale my own way same as his brown mare used to go to Lebanon. Then why did he keep her in Davy Jones' locker? Dan asked. That was his joke. He kept her under David Jones' hat shop in the Buck tavern yard and his Indian friends kept their ponies there when they visited him. I looked after the horses when I wasn't rolling pills on top of the old spinnet. While he played his fiddle and red jacket sang hymns. I liked it. I had good vignoles, light work, a suit of clean clothes, a plenty of music, and quiet smiling German folk all around that let me sit in their gardens. My first Sunday Toby took me to his church in Mordevan Alley. That was in the garden too. The women wore long-eared caps and handkerchiefs. They came in at one door and the men at another and there was a brass chandler so you could see your face in and a nigger boy to blow the organ bellow. I carried Toby's fiddle and he played pretty much as he chose all against the organ and the singing. He was the only one they let do it for they was a simple-minded folk. They used to wash each other's feet in the attic to keep themselves humble which Lord knows they didn't need. How very queer, said Una. Pharaoh's eyes twinkled. I've met many and seen much, he said. But I haven't yet found any better or quieter or forebearinger people than the brethren and sister-in of the Mordevan church in Philadelphia. Nor will I ever forget my first Sunday. The service was in English that week. With the smell of the flowers coming in from Pastor Meter's garden where the big peach tree is and me looking at all the clean strangeness and thinking of tweendex on the embo scot only six days ago. Being a boy it seemed to me it had lasted forever and was going on forever. But I didn't know Toby then and as soon as the dancing clock struck midnight that Sunday I was lying under the spinnet. I heard Toby's fiddle. He'd just done his supper which he always took late and heavy. Gert says he, get the horses. Liberty and independence forever. The flowers appear upon the earth and the time of the singing birds has come. We are going to my country seat in Lebanon. I rubbed my eyes and fetched him out of the buck's staples. Redjacket was there saddling his and when I'd packed the saddle bags we three rode up Brace Street to the ferry by starlight. So we went traveling. It's a kindly, softly country there back of Philadelphia down's Lancaster Way. Little houses and bursting big barns, fat cattle, fat women and all as peaceful as heaven might be if they farmed there. Toby sold medicines out of saddle bags and gave the French war news to folk along the roads. Him and his long hilted Umbarel was as well known as the stagecoaches. He took orders for that famous cynical oil which he had the secret of from Redjacket's Indians and he slept in friends' farmhouses but he would shut all the windows so Redjacket and me slept outside. There's nothing to hurt except snakes and they slip away quick enough if you thrash in the bushes. I'd have liked that, said Dan. I'd know Fault to find with those days in the cool of the morning the cat bird sings he's something to listen to and there's a smell of wild grapevine growing in damp hollows which you drop into after long days in the heat which is beyond compare for sweetness so the puffs out of the pine woods of afternoons come sundown, the frogs strike up and later in the fireflies dance in the corn. Oh me, the fireflies in the corn we were a week or ten days on the road tacking from one place to another such as Lancaster, Bethlehem and Frauda though Bethlehem and Frauda and so we jogged into dozy little Lebanon by the Blue Mountains where Toby had a cottage and a garden of all fruits he came north every year for this wonderful cynical oil the Seneca Indians made it for him they'd never sell to anyone else and he doctored him with von Sweden pills which they valued more than their own oil he could do what he chose with them and of course he tried to make them more events the Seneca's are a seemly quiet people and they'd had trouble enough from white men American and English during the wars to keep them in that walk they lived on a reservation by themselves way off by their lake Toby took me up there and they treated me as if I was their own blood brother Red Jacket said the mark of my bare feet in the dust was just like an Indians and my style of walking was similar I know I took to their ways all over maybe the gypsy drop in your blood helped you said Puck sometimes I think it did Farrah went on anyhow Red Jacket and the corn planter the other Seneca chief they let me in but be adopted into the tribe it's only a compliment of course but Toby was angry when I showed up with my white face painted they gave me a side name which means two tongues because do you see I talked French and English they had their own opinions I've heard them about the French and the English and the Americans they'd suffered from all of them during the wars and they'd only wish to be left alone but they thought a heap of the president of the United States corn planter had had dealings with him and in some French wars out west when general Washington was only a lad his being president afterwards made no odds to him they always called him Big Hand for he was a large fisted man and he was all of their notion of a white chief corn planter had sweep his blanket around him and after I'd filled his pipe he'd begin in the old days long ago when braves were many and blankets were few Big Hand said if Red Jacket agreed to the say so he'd trickle a little smoke out of the corners of his mouth if he didn't he'd blow through his nostrils then corn planter would stop and Red Jacket take on Red Jacket was the better talker of the two I've laid and listened to him for hours oh they knew general Washington well corn planter used to meet him at Eplice the great dancing place in the city before district Marshal William Nichols bought it they told me he was always glad to see him and he'd hear him out to the end if they had anything on their minds they had a good deal in those days I came at it by degrees after I was adopted into the tribe the talk up in Lebanon and everywhere else that summer was about the French war with England and whether the United States would join in with France or make peace treaty with England Toby wanted peace so as he could go about the reservation buying his oils but most of the white men wished for war and they was angry because the president wouldn't give the sign for it the newspaper said men was burning guy in the box images of general Washington and yelling after him in the streets of Philadelphia you'd have been astonished what those two fine old chiefs knew of the ins and outs of such matters the little I've learned of politics I picked up from corn planter and red jacket on the reservation Toby used to read the Aurora newspaper he was what they call a Democrat though our church is against the brethren considering themselves with politics I hate politics too said Una and Pharaoh laughed I might have guessed it he said there's something that isn't politics one hot evening late in August Toby was reading the newspaper on the stoop and red jacket was smoking under a peach tree and I was fiddling of a sudden Toby drops his Aurora I'm an oldish man too fond of my own comforts he says I will go to the church in Philadelphia my brother lend me a spare pony I must be there tonight good says red jacket looking at the sun my brother shall be there I will ride with him and bring back the ponies I went to pack the saddle bags Toby had cured me of asking questions he stopped my fiddling if I did besides Indians don't ask questions much and I wanted to be like them when the horses were ready stop get off says Toby stay in mind the cottage till I come back the Lord has laid this on me not you I wish he hadn't he powders off down the Lancaster road and I sat on the doorstep wondering after him when I picked up the paper to wrap his fiddle strings in I spelled out a piece about the yellow fever being in Philadelphia so dreadful everyone was running away I was scared for I was fond of Toby we never said much to each other but we fiddled together and musics as good as talking to them that understand did Toby die yellow fever not him there's justice left in the world still he went down to the city and bled him well again in heaps he sent back word by red jacket that if there was a war he died I was to bring the oils along to the city but till then I was to go on working in the garden and the red jacket was to see me to it down at heart all Indians reckon digging the squalls business and neither him nor corn planter when he relieved to watch was a hard task master we hired a nigger boy to do our work and a lazy grinning renegade he was when I found Toby didn't die the minute he reached town why boy like I took him off my mind and went with my Indians again oh those days up in north at Kesta nago running races and gambling with the cynicas or be hunting in the woods or fishing in the lake Farrow side and looked after across the water but it's best he went on suddenly after the first frosts you roll out of your blanket and find every leaf left green overnight turned red and yellow not by trees that time but hundreds and hundreds of miles of them like sunset splattered upside down on one of such days the maples was flaming scarlet and gold and the some inch bushes were redder corn planter and red jacket came out in full war dress making the very leaves look silly feathered war bonnets yellow doe skin leggings fringed and tassled red horse blankets and their bridles feathered and shelled and beaded no bounds I thought it was war against the British till I saw their faces weren't painted and they only carried wrist whips I then hum Yankee doodle at them they told me they was going to visit big hand and find out for sure whether he meant to join the French and fighting the English or to make a peace treaty with England I reckon those two would have gone out on their war path at a nod from big hand but they knew well if there was a war twist England in the United States their tribe would catch it from both parties same as all the other wars they asked me to come along and hold the ponies that puzzled me because they always put their ponies up at the buck or at least when they went to general Washington in the city and horse holding is a nigger's job besides I wasn't exactly dressed for it do you mean you were dressed like an Indian Dan demanded Pharaoh looked a little abashed this didn't happen at Lebanon he said but a bit farther north on the reservation and at that particular moment in time so far as blanket, hairband moccasins and sunburn went there wasn't much odds twix me in a young Seneca buck you may laugh he smoothed down his long skirted brown coat but I told you I took to their ways all over I said nothing though I was bursting to let out the war whoop like young men had taught me no and you don't let one out here either said puck before Dan could ask go on brother square toes we went on Pharaoh's narrow dark eyes gleamed and danced we went on forty, fifty miles in a day for days on in we three braves and how a great tall Indian a horseback can carry his war-bonnet at a center through thick timber without brushing a feather beats me my silly head was banged often enough by low branches but they slipped through like running elk we had evening hymn singing every night after they'd blown their pipe smoke to the quarters of heaven where did we go I'll tell you but don't blame me if you're no wiser we took the old war trail from the end of the lake along the east Susa Quahana through the Nantago country right down to Fort Shemakin on the Sincones River we crossed the Juanita by Fort Grandville got into Shippensburg over the hills of the Oshwick Trail and then to Williams Ferry it's a bad one from Williams Ferry across the Shendor over the Blue Mountains through Ashby's Gap and so southeast by South from there till we found the president at the back of his own plantations I'd hate to be trailed by Indians and earnest they caught him like a partridge on a stump after we'd left our ponies we scouted forward through a woody piece and creeping slower and slower at last if my moccasins even slipped red-jacketed turn and frown I heard voices Monsieur Jeunet's for choice long before I saw anything and we pulled up at the edge of a clearing where some niggers and a gray and red liveries were holding horses and half a dozen gentlemen but one was Jeunet we were talking among fell timber I fancied they'd come to see Jeunet on a piece of his road for his port mantle was with him I hid in between two logs as near the company as I be to that old wind last there I didn't need anybody to show me big hand he stood up very still his legs a little apart listening to Jeunet that French ambassador which never had more manners than a Beauchamp tinker Jeunet was as good as ordering him to declare war on England at once I had heard that clack before on the embo scott he'd said he'd stir up the whole United States to have war with England whether big hand liked it or not big hand heard him out of the last end I looked behind me my two chiefs had vanished like smoke says big hand that's very forcibly put Monsieur Jeunet citizen citizen the fellow spits in I at least am a Republican citizen Jeunet he says you may be sure it will receive my fellow's consideration this seemed to take citizen Jeunet back piece he rode off grumbling and never gave his nigger a penny no gentleman the others all assembled around big hand then and in their way they said pretty much what Jeunet had said they put it to him here was France and England at war in a manner of speaking right across the United States stomach and paying no regards to anyone the French was searching American ships on pretense they was helping England but really for to steal the goods the English was doing the same only the other way around and besides searching they was pressing American citizens into their navy to help them fight France on pretense that those Americans was lawful British subjects his gentleman put this very clear to big hand it didn't look to them they said as though the United States should try to keep out of the fight was any advantage to her she only catch it from both French and English they said that nine out of ten good Americans was crazy to fight the English then and there they wouldn't say whether that was right or wrong they only wanted big hand to turn it over in his mind he did for a while I saw a red jacket and corn planter watching him from the far side of the clearing and how they had slipped round there was another mystery then big hand drew himself up and let his gentleman have it hit him asked Dan no, nor yet was it what you might call swearing he blasted him with his natural speak he asked them half a dozen times over whether United States had enough iron ships for any shape or sort of war with anyone he asked them if they thought she had those ships to give him those ships and they looked on ground as if they expected to find them there he put it to him whether setting ships aside their country I reckon he gave him good reasons whether the United States was ready or able to face a new big war she having but so few years back wound up won against England and being all holds full of her own troubles as I said the strong way he laid it to him all before him blasted him and when he'd done it he was like a still in the woods after a storm but they all looked little pipes up like a young rook in a blowed down nest nevertheless general it seems you will be compelled to fight England quick big hand wheeled on him and is there anything in my past which makes you think I am averse to fighting Great Britain everybody laughed except him oh general you mistake us entirely they says I trust so he says but I know my duty must have peace with England at any price says the man with the rook's voice at any price says he word by word our ships will be searched our citizens will be pressed but then what about the Declaration of Independence says one deal with facts not fantasy says big hand the United States are in no position to fight England but think of public opinion another one starts up the feeling in Philadelphia alone as at fever heat he held up one of his big hands gentlemen he says slow he spoke but his voice carried far I have to think of our country let me assure you that the treaty with Great Britain will be made though every city in the union burn me in effigy at any price the actor like chap keens on croaking the treaty must be made on Great Britain's own terms what else can I do he turns his back on him and they looked at each other and slinked off to the horses leaving him alone and then I saw he was an old man then red jacket and corn planter rode down the clearing from the far end as though they had just chanced along back went big hand's shoulders up went his head and he stepped forward one single pace with a great deep hoe so pleased he was it was a stylified meeting to behold three big men and two of them looking like jeweled images among the spattle of grey colored leaves I saw my chief's war bonnets sinking together down and down they made the sign which no Indian makes outside of the medicine lodges a sweep of the right hand just clear of the dust and an in bend of the left knee at the same time and those proud eagle feathers almost touched his boot top what did it mean? said Dan mean? cried Pharaoh why it's what you what we it's the sacrum's way of sprinkling the sacred cornmeal in front of oh it's a piece of Indian compliment really and it signifies that you are a very big chief big hand looked down on him first he says quite softly my brothers know it is not easy to be a chief then his voice grew my children he says what is in your minds? says corn planter we came to ask whether there will be a war with King George's men but we have heard what our father has said to his chiefs we will carry away that talk in our hearts to tell to our people no, says big hand leave all that talk behind it was between white men only but take this message from me to your people there will be no war his gentlemen were waiting so they didn't delay him only corn planter says, using his old side name big hand did you see us among the temper just now? surely, says he you taught me to look behind trees when we were both young and with that he cantored off neither of my chiefs spoke till we were back on our ponies again and half an hour along the home trail when corn planter says to redjacket we will have the corn dance this year there will be no war and that was all there was to it pharaoh stood up as though he had finished yes said pup rising too and what came out of it in the long run let me get it my story my own way was the answer look, it's later than I thought that shorham smacks thinking of her supper the children looked across the darkening channel a smack had hoisted the lantern and slowly moved west where brightened pier lights ran out in a twinkling line when they turned round the gap was empty behind them I expect they've packed our trunks by now said dan this time tomorrow we'll be home if if you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you if you can trust yourself when all men doubt you but make allowance for their doubting too if you can wait and not be tired by waiting or being lied about don't deal in lies or being hated don't give way to hating and yet don't look too good nor talk too wise if you can dream and not make dreams your master if you can think and not make thoughts your aim if you can meet with triumph and disaster and treat those two imposters just the same if you can keep to hear the truth you've spoken twisted by naves to make you trap for fools or watch the things you gave your life to broken and stoop to build them up with worn out tools if you can make one heap of all your winnings and risk it on one turn if pitch and toss and lose and start again at your beginnings and never breathe a word about your loss if you can force your heart and nerve and sin you to serve your turn long after they are gone and so hold on when there is nothing in you except the will which says to them hold on if you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue or walk with kings nor lose the common touch if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you if all men count with you but none too much if you can fill the unforgiving minute with 60 seconds worth of distance run yours is the earth and everything that is in it and which is more you'll be a man my son