Wongo And The Wise Old Crow — The Thunder Drum 1: The Year Of The Great Thirst, Grayhead The Grizzly, At The Cave Of Cho-gay

CHAPTER 1 THE YEAR OF THE GREAT THIRST

_The shadows of Timbertangle Wood Have hidden many a tale Of wild adventure and treasure trove, And magic of forest trail.

_ _But here is a tale as it came to me, And I’m told that it’s really true (By the little black bird who told it to me!

) So I’m handing it on to you!

_ Wongo, the little bear, stood at the entrance to his cave, his head hanging almost to his paws.

He looked and felt very lonely and discouraged.

He was weak and hungry and his friend Kaw, the wise old crow, was away.

Wongo did not know where he had gone and did not know what to do without him.

The world seemed a sad, dark place.

The sides of Wongo’s empty stomach seemed to rub together and call for food, but stronger, much stronger than that was the call of loneliness in his heart.

He felt that if he were left this way much longer he would just lie down and die, all by himself.

But Wongo did not die, as you shall see.

This is a tale of adventure and great Magic, and let it never be forgotten that the little bear did his part in the Magic and did it well.

It was the year of the great thirst in Timbertangle--a year that all animals have good reason to remember, the year of the warm winter, when no snows came to melt into streams and pools in the spring.

All things that should have been green and fresh hung brown and dusty and rattled at the touch.

Berries dried on the stem, before they were ripe, and nuts, when they were picked, were found to be just little withered specks in their hollow shells.

Most of the streams were merely beds of bleached bowlders, white with dust, and only here and there, where water had been a rushing torrent in years past, was there a tiny trickle between the stones--just enough to satisfy the thirst of the many animals of Timbertangle.

Even these little streams grew scantier each day and first one and then another dried up altogether.

It had been many, many moons since any rain had fallen and the larger animals were mere ghosts of themselves, for the smaller animals on which they fed had long ago died, or gone away in search of the green things on which they lived.

It must not be thought that Kaw, the crow, had been idle in all this time.

He had flown many a day’s journey in every direction to see if he could find water, but always came back with the same tale--no rains had fallen anywhere and everywhere growing things were brown and dry and all living things cried for water.

A sort of watchman of Timbertangle was Kaw, for the little crow seemed never to sleep and there was not much that escaped his bright eyes.

It was a mystery to many of the animals why Kaw and Wongo were on such friendly terms, the quick, alert bird and the lumbering little bear, but they certainly were almost always together, for seldom was Wongo seen that somewhere in the tree tops could not be distinguished the sheen of Kaw’s black feathers.

Wongo’s head dropped lower and lower as he considered these things and he grew more and more lonely and depressed, when suddenly he jerked up with a start!

Without preliminary flutter or noise of any kind the voice of Kaw broke sharply in on his sad thoughts: “Stand on your head and jig and dance, Or wiggle your legs and howl and prance;

But _don’t_ stand there with a hanging head, As if some friend of ours was dead!

What awful thing has happened now, That you should wear such a troubled brow?

” Wongo looked up and heaved a great sigh of relief.

There sat Kaw on his accustomed limb, and immediately the world seemed a different, brighter place.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re alive anyway,” continued the crow.

“You hadn’t moved since I landed here.

I have been watching you for some time and was beginning to wonder if you had learned to sleep standing up.

Anything very terrible happened while I was away?

” “Nothing worse than when you were here,” said Wongo.

“Where in the world have you been?

Have you found anything?

” “Well, y-e-s--and no,” said Kaw, a bit doubtfully, answering the last question.

“I’ve found an idea and ideas can be very helpful sometimes.

You can never tell.

Have you seen Cho-gay, the Indian boy, lately?

” [Illustration: _“Just follow me,” cried Kaw, “and you shall see”_] “Not very lately,” said Wongo.

“Why?

” He sat back on his haunches.

Things did not seem so dark now with Kaw back, even though the old crow himself was exceedingly dark, and Wongo’s hollow insides did not seem to cry nearly so loudly for food.

“That can wait,” said the crow, and cocked his head on one side.

“Not hungry, are you?

” asked he, and pretended to jump with fright at the snort let out by the little bear.

“Oh, well, don’t eat _me_, but I happened to find out just a short while ago where old Chac, the gray wolf, who fell two days ago and broke his neck, kept his meat.

There’s some there yet.

” Gone was Wongo’s despondency.

He sprang to his feet and sniffed the air.

“Where?

” was the single word he uttered, and Kaw, with a great pretense of hurry and bustle, flapped his wings and rose from his limb, crying as he did so: “Just follow me And you shall see-- My nose is true, And yours is, too.

Please use it now, As you know how;

But don’t be long, The smell is strong, And may be stronger If we’re longer.

It may meet us-- Even cheat us-- For we’ll lose it And confuse it, If we meet!

” “Oh, hush!

” shouted Wongo.

“You make my head buzz.

What are you talking about?

” “Oh, I don’t know,” answered Kaw.

“If the smell should meet us, _which_ would be the meat?

That’s what I want to know--meet bear or bear meat--I can’t see much difference--” But he got no further.

He had been flying from tree to tree, giving Wongo plenty of time to follow on his rather wabbly legs, and now there was no doubt but that they had come to the place to which he had referred, and Wongo paid no further attention to Kaw for a time.

The little bear wondered, as he ate, why the other animals had not found the meat, for, as Kaw had said, the smell was certainly plain and strong.

He found a fairly good supply of mountain sheep in the cache, but where old Chac had killed it he could not imagine.

It was good, though, and he was thankful to have his stomach again filled.

When he had eaten until he was satisfied and had carefully hidden what remained of the meat, Wongo turned gratefully to his old friend, who sat preening his feathers on a near-by cottonwood tree.

“Now I am ready to listen to what it was you were going to say awhile ago,” he said.

“What about Cho-gay?

” Kaw did not answer for a moment, but continued his cleaning operations.

Presently, with a final shake, he settled himself on his limb and looked down at Wongo.

“Have you anything particular to do this morning?

” he asked, as if in idle questioning.

“What about Cho-gay?

” Wongo asked again.

“You had something to tell me about him.

” “Patience, patience, my young friend,” said the old crow gravely.

“I shall come to that presently.

” Wongo felt very comfortable and lazy now.

He stretched himself out on a warm rock in the sun and waited good-naturedly for what his friend had to say.

He grunted with satisfaction and contentment as he fuzzed out his hairy coat and felt the rays of the sun sink down to his skin.

When Wongo had eaten his fill he always was sleepy.

“As you evidently haven’t anything to do this morning,” continued the crow, “I’ll go on with what I was going to say.

” “Go on,” grunted Wongo, and his eyes were nearly closed.

“For goodness sake _don’t_ go to sleep!

” called Kaw, suddenly alert.

“There are things to do, and to do _now_ if we expect to see another winter in Timbertangle--Here!

Wake up!

” “What’s the matter?

” grunted Wongo.

“Who’s going to sleep?

I was never more awake in my life.

” With a great effort, he opened his eyes wide to prove what he said.

“What is there to do and who is going to do it?

” “Well, that sounds more like it,” said Kaw.

“If you really _are_ awake, come on over to Cho-gay’s cave and we will talk there.

” The little bear got up very slowly, and shook himself carefully all over, beginning with first one leg and then the other and ending with the little flap he called a tail.

“All right, I’m ready,” he said, “only it seems to me the really sensible thing to do would be to take a nap.

” Kaw chuckled.

“It’s plain to me the nap will soon take you if you don’t take it, if we wait here one minute longer.

This is no time for naps, my friend.

You and I have work to do.

I have a plan, you see.

” “No, I don’t see,” said Wongo, a trifle crossly.

“You mean you know of a place where we can get a good supply of water?

” “N-o, not exactly--but--well, come on and you’ll see later.

” Kaw flopped from his tree and flew slowly off in the direction of Cho-gay’s cave, the little bear following, a bit reluctantly, in his wake.

Wongo was still sleepy and not a little puzzled by Kaw’s words.

Curiosity as to what was meant, as much as loyalty to his friend, now spurred him on.

Kaw soon disappeared through the branches of the trees and the little bear followed slowly, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, as he wished in vain for a cool drink.

CHAPTER 2 GRAYHEAD, THE GRIZZLY

Wongo had gone only a short distance, following Kaw towards Cho-gay’s cave, when he heard a voice coming from a little clearing ahead of him and recognized it to be the voice of old Grayhead, an ancient grizzly who had lived long in Timbertangle and had known Wongo’s father.

The old bear was possessed with the idea that he was chief of the animals of the region and never tired of telling how he won his position, much to the weariness of his hearers, who had secretly nicknamed him “Old Waggle-jaw,” but who never dared mention the name to his face.

For, though he was old, Grayhead was still easily the biggest and strongest bear in Timbertangle, and none would care to invite a swing from one of his mighty paws.

So his tales had to be listened to with grave faces, but once behind his back his listeners would laugh at him and mock him and the name of “Waggle-jaw” was freely used.

Wongo felt too lazy to walk around the clearing and thus avoid meeting old Grayhead, so he went straight on, much to his regret a few minutes later.

He walked into the clearing, looking neither to right nor left, and attempted to cross it without being stopped, but he reckoned without Grayhead.

[Illustration] The old bear looked up with a grunt of satisfaction and spoke to a group seated about him: “Here is one who knows that I tell the truth, for his father was there.

Wongo, I was just about to tell these friends here of the act of daring and courage that made me chief of Timbertangle.

” Wongo gave an inward groan and cast his eyes in the direction in which Kaw had flown.

He thought he could see him far away, flitting among the trees.

“I can’t stop now,” he said hurriedly.

“Some other time--” Old Grayhead caught him by the leg and pulled him down toward him.

“Not so fast, my young friend,” he said.

“Who has a better right to your time than I--your chief?

Come, it will not take long.

I just want you as witness to the truth of what I say.

” A far-off voice came back through the trees: “Come on, come on, slow poke!

” “I _can’t_!

” shouted Wongo.

Forgetting himself in his anger at being detained, he called out, “It’s ‘Waggle-jaw!

’” Old Grayhead looked at him and frowned deeply.

“What do you mean by shouting at me in that way?

And who or what is ‘Waggle-jaw’?

” He had evidently not heard the call of the crow, and the other animals (two bears and a gray wolf) looked startled and exchanged strange glances.

Wongo was startled, too, and frightened at what he had said in his annoyance.

He longed to escape but saw no immediate chance, as old Grayhead held him tight by the leg awaiting his explanation of the name “Waggle-jaw.

” “It’s--it’s--it’s an animal--” stammered the little bear, and a snicker passed between the two bears and the wolf, and he heard an echo of it from a near-by tree and knew that Kaw had returned to discover the cause of his delay.

“An animal?

” repeated Grayhead.

“Called ‘Waggle-jaw’?

I never heard of it.

It can’t be in Timbertangle.

” “Yes,” said Wongo, picking up courage, “that’s where I was going now.

It’s a queer animal, and I was going to hunt it.

” “Humm-m,” said Grayhead.

“What _kind_ of an animal?

Does it look good to eat?

” The bears and wolf gave a queer, smothered yell at this and Grayhead looked up with a threatening frown.

“Silence, there!

Have more respect for your elders.

If there is an animal in this forest that can be hunted down and eaten, it is for me, your chief, to do it.

But tell me where it was that you last saw this--this--‘Wabble-jaw,’ Wongo.

We will all go and find him.

” Wongo wriggled uneasily and cast an imploring glance up at the tree where Kaw sat smoothing his feathers.

He was in a trap and he looked hopefully to his friend to get him out, as he usually did, but Kaw made no sign.

“He--he--wasn’t far from here--” began the little bear uncertainly, when to his great relief and joy Kaw broke in, clearing his throat several times to gain the attention of the group below him, and addressing himself particularly to Grayhead-- “I believe,” he began, with a little cough, “that I know more about this ‘Waggle-jaw’ than anyone else, and, er--with your kind permission I’ll tell you about him--especially as our friend Wongo seems to be a little short of breath.

” Grayhead nodded shortly and Kaw went on: “Now, ‘Waggle-jaw’ lives fairly near here--that is, at times.

Then again he lives quite far away, for he isn’t always at each place--as is the way with most of us.

As to how he _looks_--w-e-l-l--” Kaw began to drawl in a comical way, and a quick giggle broke from the other animals, as Kaw dropped into verse: “When once you’ve seen him face to face, You’ll know him without doubt, For on his head there’s not a trace, When he is turned about, Of any hair--except what’s there-- Nor on his back a spot, Of fur or skin that’s dark or fair, Except where there is not.

And he’s a fearful creature, too, As you will surely find.

For he can bite a tree in two With only half a mind.

The other half--so I am told-- He uses as a paw, When enemies get overbold, To club them in the jaw.

” “Now, the reason he is in this neighborhood,” continued Kaw slowly, “is that he has heard that _you_ want to meet him and then, too, he is _very_ fond of bear meat and this is his hungry time of year.

I saw him as I passed a little while ago and, thinking to do you a favor, I told him that you were many miles from here--on the other side of the divide, in fact--and he was headed that way when I left him.

S-o-o,” drawled the old crow, in finishing his tale, “he isn’t likely to make you a call to-day!

” He looked rather self-conscious, as he ceased speaking, and sat back on his limb with an attempt at dignity as he waited for Grayhead to speak.

That old bear was too much confused to say anything.

He did not know what to think.

He felt as if he should thank Kaw for saving his life, and yet he did not feel just certain about anything.

He looked at the other bears, but they would not meet his eye, as they were quivering with concealed mirth.

All of them, however, felt it wise to keep silent.

Before Grayhead could collect his puzzled thoughts enough to speak, Kaw began again: “I thought, as I came near, that I heard you telling of how you became chief of Timbertangle.

” That was a safe thing to say, as it was seldom that Grayhead spoke of anything else.

“How well I remember hearing Wongo’s father, old Silvertip, tell of that wonderful time and of your heroic actions.

” Old Grayhead held his head high and looked, with an “I told you so” air, at his companions.

“And I nearly laughed myself sick,” continued Kaw, “at the picture he drew of the animals scrambling up the sides of the canyon as you held the great bowlder against the flood waters that were pouring through the gap.

It makes me laugh now to think of it!

Haw, haw, haw!

” and the other animals, including Wongo, joined with a whoop in his merriment, letting out all the mirth that had been filling them for the last half hour, in shouts of joy, rolling on the ground and clawing at the dry leaves until the tears ran from their eyes and the near-by hills echoed to their shouts.

Grayhead joined in, rather feebly at first, but finally he laughed with all the vim of the others, not realizing that they were laughing _at_ him and not _with_ him.

[Illustration] When the wave of merriment had quieted down a little, Kaw spoke again: “That is the finest tale in Timbertangle.

That reminds me, as I passed the cave of the two cinnamon bears a short while ago I heard them speaking about it.

I think you have never told it to them and they were wishing they could hear it first-hand.

” Kaw almost choked on the last words, but he got them out.

Grayhead rose immediately: “The cinnamon bears, you say?

I’ll go now.

I have nothing particular to do,” and he was ambling off through the timber almost before the words were out of his mouth.

As soon as Grayhead was beyond earshot the laughter began anew and Kaw almost rolled off his perch in glee.

But suddenly recollecting his business of the morning, he attracted Wongo’s attention.

“Come, we’ve lost a lot of time.

Let’s go,” he called, and the two set off as if they had had no interruption to their journey.

CHAPTER 3 AT THE CAVE OF CHO-GAY

Wongo and Kaw found Cho-gay, the Indian boy, in front of his cave, cutting raw-hide into long strips--to make traps, he told them.

He was plainly very glad to see them.

Cho-gay had lived in Timbertangle since most of the animals could remember, though how he came there was a mystery to all but Kaw, who seemed to know everything.

The little Indian boy was at home and on friendly terms with all animals and birds who attended to their own proper business, but it was well known that when a law of the woods or desert was broken, Cho-gay did all he could to hunt down and punish the wrong-doer, so he had some enemies, but many friends, in Timbertangle.

When the two visitors had made themselves comfortable on the rock in front of his cave, Cho-gay brought out a handful of seeds for the crow and for the bear some ripe berries from a little patch he had managed to keep green in spite of the terrible drouth.

After the manner of Indians, the animals were silent for some time, and did not immediately come to the reason for their visit, but finally Kaw spoke: “Chu-ta-win, the eagle, is a friend of yours, isn’t he, Cho-gay?

” “Yes,” answered Cho-gay, “the eagle and I are good friends.

He really owes his life to me.

” “As I thought,” said Kaw.

“Would he do big things for you?

” “I think he would do anything I’d ask,” answered the Indian boy.

“Why?

” “Umm-m,” said Kaw, without answering the question.

“Do you know where he is?

” “I can whistle for him.

We have a signal.

If he doesn’t hear, there are those who carry the message to him.

” “Suppose you whistle now,” said Kaw.

“No--on second thought don’t!

Chu-ta-win and I are not exactly on friendly terms; he had better not see me, just yet.

I have a scheme on foot and it would be best for no one to know just what it is but myself.

I’ll tell you this much--I’m after water--much water--and I want to know if you two are willing to trust me and ask no questions.

” “Yes!

” answered Cho-gay and Wongo at the same moment, and this ready answer plainly pleased the old crow very much.

He gave a sigh of relief.

“Well, _that’s_ settled.

Now for business.

You, Wongo, must go up to the top of Skull-top mountain and on the bald spot that you know of there, make the biggest, thickest bed of leaves you ever made in your life.

” Wongo sat back on his haunches and his jaw dropped open.

“What on earth--” he began, and stopped short, for Kaw cocked his head on one side and snapped out: “What did I say-- Now there you go-- Just right away, ’Twas ever so.

Instead of going to your task, You simply sit and gape, and _ask_!

” “Well,” answered Wongo, a trifle sheepishly, “you didn’t want me to rush right off now, did you?

” “Yes,” Kaw remarked dryly.

“It will take you quite a while to get up the mountain and longer to gather the leaves.

Make the pile big and deep, mind you.

” “But can’t I hear what Cho-gay is going to do, first?

” “No,” said Kaw, “you’ll hear all about that later.

Run along now, for your job’s very important.

” Wongo left them, going very slowly, it is true, and with many a backward glance at the two.

Kaw chuckled to himself: “A good, kindly friend, my little bear, Always good natured and merry;

Anything doing, he’s sure to be there;

But curious--?

Very--Oh, VERY!

” He chuckled again and turned to Cho-gay: “I want Chu-ta-win, the eagle, to take _you_ to the Up-above Country.

Have you ever been?

” pointing to the clouds.

“No, I haven’t,” said Cho-gay.

“Why in the world do you want me to go up there, and what would I do after I got there?

You’re asking much, friend Kaw.

” “You promised to do as I said and not ask questions.

Are you going back on your word?

” “No,” answered Cho-gay slowly.

“Go on.

” “I’ll tell you what we are going for on the way up,” went on Kaw, “and as for what you will do, well, I’ll be there too, you see, and I’ll tell you that at the time.

Tell Chu-ta-win to take you up, as you have important business in the Cloud Country.

Suppose you call him now.

There is no time to lose, as we are, if we succeed, about to do a service for Timbertangle that will never be forgotten.

” [Illustration: _Wongo left them, going very slowly_] “If it’s a real adventure,” said Cho-gay, “I’m for it,” and he gave a clear, shrill whistle which was repeated some distance away and then again far off in the forest.

“I’ll just step inside your cave while you talk with Chu-ta-win,” said Kaw, and suiting the action to the word he hopped into the cave-mouth.

After a short interval, there came a rush of wind, and Kaw knew that the great eagle had arrived.

“You called for me, little brother,” said a voice, and Cho-gay answered: “Yes, Chu-ta-win, I have a great favor to ask.

” “You have only to name it, little brother.

My bones would have been drying on Skull-top mountain, if it had not been for you, and my heart is grateful.

What is it that I can do for you?

” “I have some important business in the Up-above Country.

Can you take me there?

” “Why, yes,” answered Chu-ta-win, readily enough.

“I am chief of the Air people, as you know, and have a right to entrance to the Up-above Country.

I will tell them that you are my tribe brother and they will welcome you.

When would you like to go?

” “Now,” answered Cho-gay.

“Well,” said Chu-ta-win, “fortunately I have flown but little this morning and my wings are fresh.

Have you a bit of food handy?

We’ll both need a meal before we’re back.

” “I have a bag of dried goat’s meat and seeds of the pinyon,” said Cho-gay.

“Will that do?

” “Fine,” answered Chu-ta-win, “bring it along.

It has been many, many moons since I tasted the meat of the goat.

” So Cho-gay went back into the cave, and while he was getting the bag of goat meat, he whispered to Kaw: “The eagle will take me as soon as I get some food.

Now, how about you?

You say you are going, too?

” “Yes, I am going in disguise,” said Kaw in a low voice.

“Hurry just a bit with what you are doing, for you must do something for me before I can show myself to your friend Chu-ta-win.

” So Cho-gay fastened the bag of meat to a thong at his waist as quickly as he could and stepped over to Kaw.

“Have you some red paint?

” asked the crow.

“Yes,” replied Cho-gay.

“Well, get it,” continued the crow, “and paint me all over with it.

Make my beak white.

Hurry!

” Cho-gay hesitated for a long moment, but seeing that Kaw was very much in earnest, he took a small bag from a peg in the cave wall and went swiftly to work.

He had long ago discovered many bright rocks and brilliantly colored bits of earth that could be carefully powdered and, when mixed with water, made wonderful paint.

Then he had discovered the need of having something to draw with and had used small pieces of hide with hair attached, which he had tied about the ends of little twigs, and dipping them in his paints made great drawings in color of the animals and birds and trees of the forest, much to the admiration of all Timbertangle.

He had never before painted a _living_ creature, but he rather enjoyed his task.

When the beak was painted a snowy white, the crow turned gravely round for Cho-gay to examine him carefully to see that the disguise was complete.

Cho-gay, almost choking with inner laughter, but afraid to show his amusement for fear of offending his friend, assured him that even his mother would not know him if she saw him now.

“Are you _sure_ I look all right?

” insisted Kaw.

“Fine!

” answered Cho-gay, and grinned in spite of himself.

“Well, we’ll go now.

Introduce me to Chu-ta-win as a friend of yours--Mr. Redskin, suppose we say--and be _sure_ to say I have a bad cold.

” Cho-gay could not resist asking, “What is the trouble between you and Chu-ta-win?

” but he was sorry the moment he had asked, for he could see, strange as it seemed, that the question had made Kaw uncomfortable.

He gave the impression of being red in the face, but, of course, that might have been the paint, for he was red all over.

He stretched his neck and hesitated for a second.