Authors: Karl Kofoed
Hannington looked at Jocko and smiled. “I had a feeling I was being watched back then.”
Johnny told rest of the story to the doctor. As he talked the doctor got up and carefully approached Jocko. He looked at the wound on the back of Jocko’s head.
“I see you heal quickly,” observed the doctor. “Faster’n any critter I’ve seen. Look at that. This wound completely healed in just four days! I’ve never seen anything like that.”
Johnny smiled at the doctor.
“He’s a strange one, all right,” offered Gert.
Jocko didn’t move. He was getting used to the touch of humans and believed if he kept calm he could avoid trouble.
So far this had been true, but if things got too unpleasant he could run.
Every time he touched Johnny, Jocko felt a peculiar bond with him, almost a feeling of family. But Jocko knew humans could never be family.
All the human eyes were upon him as the doctor
concluded his inspection. Another human touching him? It made Jocko squirm.
The doctor returned to his seat and Gert poured him some more lemonade.
“Thank you most kindly, Gertrude.” He lifted the glass to his lips. “I do feel sorry to have barged in on you like this. But circumstances are somewhat extreme.”
He put down his drink. “I believe your story, Johnny. I’m not sure anyone else would. But I do. You know, the reason I came out here was to find Johnny, and to be honest, find out if Jocko was here.”
Johnny stood up, walked over to Jocko, and put a hand on his shoulder.
“A lot can happen in four days,” said Johnny. “I mean, you get to know a person real well. Truly, Doc, I don’t think I can give him up. Not without a fight.”
Johnny looked at his aunt but she remained silent. He looked at the wooden planks beneath his feet. He had no justification for how he felt toward the mountain-boy, and he wanted his life to return to normal. But that was impossible, now.
“I can’t explain this, Doc, but I can’t let Jocko be taken to some circus sideshow. It ain’t fair. Nobody owns him. You seen it yourself, I know you did. Jocko is somebody! A person.”
The doctor looked down and shook his head. “You don’t want to go to war with your own people over a sasquatch, do you?”
Johnny looked away, scratching his head. “No. Of course I don’t. But I gotta help Jocko.”
The doctor looked at Gert. “You’re quiet, Gertrude. Can’t you talk some sense into the boy?”
“This is between you two,” she said. “Besides, I have no idea what’s right when a sasquatch is sittin’ a few feet away like part of the family.” She wasn’t smiling. “But Johnny’s right. Jocko is special. Not your average animal. He’s a different kind of person. I’m no abolitionist but I ain’t no slaver neither. No, sir.” Gert looked at the doctor. “Jocko is people, and to cage him would be like slavery.”
She looked into the doctor’s eyes and smiled. “You’ve done right by us today, Doc. Johnny and me and that, whatever it is, sittin’ over there, are grateful.” She looked at Johnny warmly. “Johnny hasn’t forgotten what a good friend you’ve been to us. A good friend indeed.”
Johnny frowned in frustration. “Of course not, Aunt Gert.
But that’s not what I’m talkin’ about. I know you’re a friend, Doc. I meant no offense. But that I still can’t hand him over.”
“Of course not, Johnny,” said the doctor. “But there are other things you might want to consider. The Fair, for example. An attraction like Jocko might put Yale on the map.
A situation like that might benefit us all financially.”
Johnny couldn’t believe his ears. He wondered if he should just grab Jocko’s arm and bolt out the door. But he decided to stay and hear what the doctor had to say. After a pause for another sip of lemonade, Hannington continued.
Unlike Gert, he hadn’t noticed Johnny stiffen at his words.
“It’s not my opinion that matters. Costerson is looking for Jocko and if the mayor ever catches wind of this, well, there’ll be a tug of war over your friend.” He looked squarely into Johnny’s eyes. “I couldn’t stand for that to happen either, Johnny,” he said with sincerity. “That’s why I came out to see you. I thought about it last night after I heard about the telegram. I don’t think the mayor really is sure there is an animal. He spoke to me last night, late, and I told him that there wasn’t anything more than a black bear that got hit by a train and that it wasn’t hurt too bad. I said as far as I had heard it woke up and somehow got free and lit out into the woods. Of course, I’m not sure if Mayor Hayes believed me.
“There’s no doubt that the agent, Costerson, will pursue this matter because of the deal with Barnum. He said he had it and it got away. His reputation is on the line. Also, I’m sure he sees it as his chance to make a fortune.”
“He had gold in his eyes from the moment he saw Jocko,” said Johnny.
“So …” Hannington continued, “I came out to warn you.
You know, there’s plenty of folks who believe in these sasquatch. Indians and trappers call ’em mountain men. Now, looking at Jocko, makes me wonder if he isn’t some kind of Indian. He may be hairy but, as far as I can see, he’s human
– or at least part human.”
Johnny still had his hand on Jocko’s shoulder. While the doctor spoke, emotions and images had flowed back and forth between the two, leaving them both confused and disoriented.
Removing his hand from Jocko’s shoulder, Johnny made himself a promise to be more judicious with his touch.
Communication with Jocko had nearly drowned out the doctor’s words, but Johnny heard enough to reassure himself that the doctor was no enemy.
Once his head had cleared, he looked at the doctor. “I’m tryin’ to do the right thing here, Doc, not just for me and Jocko but for everybody. There’s something else going on here, and maybe the best way for me to explain it is just to let you see for yourself.”
While the three humans had been talking, Jocko listened to their words. It was gibberish to him except when Johnny touched him. In those moments images would come, colored by the feelings Johnny had about them; pictures filtered through emotions.
To say Jocko understood them was only partially true. He was distracted by his own voice, the one driven by instinct. It wanted him to leave the humans and return to the safety of the wilderness.
Jocko never had to stifle that voice before
.
Johnny looked at Jocko and placed his hand on the mountain-boy’s shoulder again. “Jocko, I want you to let the doctor touch you.”
Johnny pointed at the doctor with his other hand. Dr Hannington looked surprised.
“Don’t worry, Doc,” said Johnny. “I want to show you something.” He removed his hand from Jocko’s shoulder.
“C’mon and put your hand here, Doc. Try talking to him.”
“Sure. Why not?” The doctor wore a dubious expression as he rose from his chair.
Jocko stood fast as the doctor approached. He was wary of the human but had understood Johnny’s request. He suppressed the urge to pull away as the doctor reached out to touch his shoulder.
“That’s right, doc. Just put your hand on his shoulder and leave it there,” said Johnny.
The fine fur on Jocko’s shoulder felt human to the doctor.
He looked at Johnny as he touched the sasquatch. “Like this?”
Jocko looked up at the doctor but didn’t resist his touch.
Johnny nodded. “Now look into Jocko’s eyes and talk to him. Tell him something, anything.”
The doc smiled at Jocko. “Well, Jocko, I hope you can understand me when I say that we, or I, mean you no harm.”
Jocko was returning the doctor’s stare and it made the doctor uneasy.
Eye contact is one of the greatest intimacies among all creatures. Ideas can sometimes be clearly and instantly communicated. So it was at this moment between the doctor and the mountain-boy. Jocko understood what the doctor said and smiled, sensing that the doctor was at this moment simply another creature who wished to be understood. He reached out with his own hand and touched the doctor’s other arm.
When Jocko touched his bare wrist a tear ran down the doctor’s cheek. “I think … oh … my God, Johnny. I see,” he said softly.
Johnny pulled the doctor’s hand away from Jocko. He didn’t want the man to be overwhelmed. Johnny sensed that this form of communication was not for everyone.
Jocko’s lips parted and he said: “Doc.”
From that moment Jocko had a new ally.
Seeing the placid expression come over Hannington allowed Johnny to relax a bit. He sat back down in his chair and stretched his arms over his head.
“You see what I mean, Doc? I just couldn’t explain it. You had to see for yourself. Whatever Jocko is, he ain’t no animal.”
The doctor returned to his seat, glad to get his weight off his wobbling knees. “If that isn’t the darndest thing.” He wiped a sleeve across his brow.
They sat silently for a moment while the doctor regained his composure. Finally he said: “Gertrude, Johnny. I’ve seen some strange things but this tops ’em. If I hadn’t seen it for myself … But I don’t know how I’d ever explain this to anybody, least of all people like Costerson, or Craig, or Mayor Hayes.”
He thought for a moment and continued, “I’m going to stick my neck out for you, though, Jocko. I’ll do what I can to head them off.”
“How?” asked Johnny’s aunt.
“Well, I’ll tell them I came out to check on you and found nothing. That should hold them off for a while.”
“Why just for a while?” asked Gert.
“Because Costerson isn’t going to give up easily. He’ll probably want to see for himself, regardless of what I say.”
The doctor drank the last of his lemonade. “I think Costerson and Craig ought to be in town by now, so I better be leaving. If they come here you can tell them I visited you to see how your sprained ankle was doing. Okay?” he said looking at Gert.
She nodded. “Thank God it was you that came out here instead of them. Johnny and I owe you.”
The doctor shook his head. “You owe me nothing. I’m glad I came.”
He stood up and put on his broad brimmed hat, pausing for a moment to take another look at Jocko. Then he nodded to the sasquatch and went out the door.
As he walked to his buggy he shook his head in disbelief.
When he was gone Johnny looked at Gert. “I have to get Jocko out of here, the sooner, the better, I think.”
“Where will you take him?”
“To find his family. The only way for him to find them is to pick up their trail.” Johnny looked at the hills to the east. “Out there is the place we found him. If there’s a trail he can pick up it’ll be there, at the top of a bluff, near tunnel number seven.”
“The main logging trail goes by there,” Gert said. “Should take no more than a half hour to get there from here. I guess you’ll be back before dinner.”
Johnny smiled as he took Jocko’s hand and led him to the wagon. “I don’t know when we’ll be back. Don’t wait for me.”
Gert stood silently on the porch with her arms folded watching the two of them. As Johnny climbed into the buckboard, she looked up at him shading her eyes from the afternoon glare. “I know you’re all concerned about Jocko, but don’t forget about your job, Johnny. I’d hate to see you lose it.”
Johnny sighed. “Anybody can shovel coal. The railroad’s okay, but I can’t be a coalman all my life.”
Gert smiled. “Until you find something better the pay isn’t bad.”
Johnny nodded.
“I don’t have to tell you to be careful, do I?” she asked.
Johnny shook his head and pulled on the reins. “I will.
Let’s go, Tilly.”
Tilly reared slightly and took off, nearly pitching Jocko off the wagon. Soon they were out of sight.
Part III
DOC jonny help joko woman help joko
run wagun to Iron road to find
opf, taka, pah, pata.
Tilly was an old horse, but she often amazed Johnny with her ability to negotiate sharp turns and the steepest grades.
Johnny used to make her gallop for the fun of it. Now, as he and Jocko trotted down the old loggers’ road in Gert’s wagon, Johnny thought of those times with a sense of guilt. If Gert knew what he’d put her horse through she’d have never let him take the wagon. Tilly wanted to run, but Johnny held her back.
“No you don’t, girl,” shouted Johnny. “No more Derby runs for you.”
Tall pines lined the edges of the narrow dirt road. Rain had gashed it with deep furrows in places, revealing stones and boulders left by the mighty glaciers eons ago. Older and wiser now, Johnny wondered how Tilly had negotiated the road without breaking a leg.
The country was still wild, but more and more people were coming in all the time. Before too long humans would tame even these vast regions; men and machines would come to strip the mountains of their riches. There was talk of gold farther up in Alaska, and men and women were beginning to stream into the area, willing to endure great hardships just to fill their pockets.
As the wagon pitched and wobbled down the road,
Johnny looked at Jocko seated next to him.
Johnny wondered. What about Jocko’s kin? How would they deal with humanity when it encroached on their world?
They were out there, somewhere, rarely seen and living on the edges of man’s realm. There was still room for them today, because there still existed vast areas where white men and perhaps even the Indians had never set foot. But even these places would one day feel the hand of mankind.
Would Jocko, and those like him, be rendered obsolete by the advance of humans? Would they fall by the wayside like history’s other great beasts?
A few days ago Johnny was involved in nothing more exciting than riding the rails to Yale. Now he was sitting in a buckboard wondering about the fate of his good friend Jocko, The Wildman; Jocko, the Mythical Creature from the deep woods; Jocko, The Ape-Man.
He thought of Barnum. Convinced he would have a million dollar sideshow attraction, he was probably planning publicity to sell his new geek, a real wild man.
He thought of Jocko, steeped in the darkest side of humanity. The gaudy lights, the drunken fair-goers pushing and shoving to get a better look and yell derisive commands at Jocko while the sasquatch sat cowering in his cage, unable to fathom the world around him.
“No!” said Johnny. “I’ll never let them have you.”
Jocko was experiencing a most extraordinary mode of travel.
True, he had traveled in the wagon before, but that was at night and covered by a blanket .
Now he was sitting like a human in broad daylight, rumbling along on a strange construction built of timbers and supported by four rolling round things, things that didn’t look substantial enough to hold the rest of the wagon.
His knuckles were white as they gripped the seat. He was thankful for strong arms because he was sure that if he let go for a moment he would fly off the wagon.
Jocko was pleased with himself, frightened though he was, because he had managed to extricate himself from the area of the big human tribe Johnny called Yale. Twice he had effectively been invisible to the eyes of curious humans.
And he had freed himself from the cage after the bad men put him on the train. He could have linked with them but he knew somehow that it wouldn’t have been the same as with Johnny. Johnny was open. The rest were closed. Except for the woman called Gert and the man called Doc. They had open hearts.
Then there was the ‘good wolf’ Rocky; a wolf had opened its heart to humans long ago. That’s why it could be touched by everyone.
Johnny, Gert, Doc, and Good Wolf. He trusted them all as much as one can trust a human.
He wondered what his family would think of these humans. Why had his people never bonded with humans as he had done so easily with Johnny?
Jocko searched his memory for the circumstances that led to his falling off the bluff. He could recall very little. He’d been traveling at night, following a ridge with his mother, opf; his brother, taka; and his two sisters, pah and pata. The rising sun reflected off something below; two ribbons of white on the road at the foot of the bluff.
He remembered hands. Was he pushed from the rocks?
The wagon hit a stone as it rumbled down a steep grade, breaking Jocko’s train of thought.
Jocko was tired of gripping the seat of the wagon and of gritting his teeth against the shocks. He hoped that this would be his last ride in a wagon.
Johnny and Jocko rumbled toward their destination, now only a few miles down the road. Johnny was trying to make the trip in as short as possible because he didn’t want to encounter others on the road. So far they had made excellent time.
At last Johnny pulled the wagon reins tight and Tilly slowed to a trot. Johnny and Jocko examined the woods, looking for a trail they might follow that would take them to the bluffs.
After a few minutes Jocko tugged Johnny’s sleeve and pointed to a stand of pines. Johnny, seeing no trail at all, shook his head. Jocko settled the argument by leaping down from the wagon.
“Whatever you say,” said Johnny, bringing Tilly to a halt.
“Just don’t run off without me.” But Jocko was already walking toward a deer trail he saw winding through the woods.
Johnny jumped from the wagon and quickly tied Tilly’s reins to a fallen limb. He had to run to catch up with Jocko.
“By Gosh! There is a trail here,” he exclaimed as he entered the woods. “How did you see it?”
Soon the two of them were moving through underbrush.
Jocko moved slower than he would have liked so Johnny could keep up with him.
Johnny tried hard to keep up Jocko’s pace, but he stumbled and made a lot of noise. The sasquatch had to stop frequently and wait for Johnny to catch up.
Johnny tried to imitate the way the sasquatch moved, stooped over and moving his arms in tandem with his footsteps. Jocko didn’t have to look back to see if Johnny was keeping up. The human was making more noise than an army of sasquatch.
Johnny noticed that their stride and speed was increasing.
In imitating Jocko’s gait he found himself covering ground with great speed. And, for some reason, he wasn’t making as much noise. It amazed him the sasquatch was able to cover ground so quickly and still be as silent as a ghost.
The path they followed sloped gradually up to the top of the bluffs. Ahead, he could see the rock outcroppings that overlooked the railroad.
Soon, thought Johnny, Jocko would find his family’s trail.
Jocko was already smelling the wind, the twigs and leaves they passed. His search had begun when they left the road.
He had found nothing so far. His nose probed the air as birds and insects leapt from their path. Every so often Jocko would grab a wiggling snack from web or ground without missing a step.
Try as he would, Johnny couldn’t overlook Jocko’s eating bugs. He’d look away but still could hear the soft crunching of beetle shells between Jocko’s molars.
Just ahead of them an outcropping of rock told Johnny they were near the place where Jocko had fallen. He moved closer to see the rails below and there they were, about fifty feet below.
Johnny hadn’t brought his pocket watch but guessed the time to be about two in the afternoon. It had taken far longer than he or Gert had expected to reach the place. He paid close attention to the path they’d taken because the sasquatch might find what he was looking for and light out, never to be seen again. If that happened he’d be on his own finding his way back to the road.
If that happened, he had already decided he would forgive Jocko. Johnny knew full well that reuniting with one’s family was what mattered. In his mind, Johnny had already said goodbye to Jocko.
The afternoon and the search wore on. Johnny sat perched on a rock looking at the forest below. Jocko had been out of sight for about an hour.
The orange sun slowly crept toward the distant mountains, their contours blended with blue-grey clouds that slowly reddened as sunset approached. Johnny wondered how much longer he should wait. Would Jocko return?
Johnny stood up. Blood rumbled in his ears as he stretched the kinks from his stiff muscles. He thought he heard someone or something whistling. He looked around.
The shadows in the thick woods had deepened and he realized that Jocko, or a grizzly for that matter, could be inches away from him and he wouldn’t have known it.
A steady wind rustled the nearby leaves and, adding their whining voices to nature’s chorus, gnats and mosquitoes began forming a hungry cloud around Johnny.
Time to leave the forest
, he thought.
But he didn’t want to go. He missed Jocko already.
Sadness began to replace the sense of relief he had felt, seeing Jocko free and looking for his kin.
Swatting at a brazen deer fly, he hopped off the rock. As he hit the grassy turf he heard the whistle again. It was farther away but clearly a human sound. Reflexively, he whistled back.
A few seconds later came an answer. “Jo-neee!” it called from the shadows.
Johnny stood totally still for a moment staring in the direction of the voice. He knew it was Jocko. He listened hard, trying not to overlook the slightest snap of a twig. A minute passed but he could hear nothing.
Then from behind him and above came a voice. “Jo-nee,” it said in a l ow monotone.
Johnny spun around to see Jocko sitting on the rock where he had just spent the last two hours. Jocko had apparently been playing a game, too, as evidenced by the broad grin on his face.
“Well, aren’t you the sneak!” said Johnny.
That was the first time he heard Jocko laugh, kind of a
‘hooo-hooo-hooo’ sound that reminded him of an ape. But obviously, Jocko’s sense of humor was very human.
Jocko slipped off the rock and stood facing Johnny. His face turned somber as his eyes moved from Johnny and scanned the woods. Johnny touched Jocko’s arm and knew suddenly that Jocko had no luck in finding the trail of his family.
Jocko sniffed the air and shook his head.
The bugs were starting to bother Johnny. He touched Jocko. “I’m sorry, Jocko. I really am. I wanted you to find them.”
Johnny thought of telling Jocko to try again, but he knew that would be fruitless. Jocko’s kin were nowhere nearby. If Jocko was ever to have his reunion it would not be here.
“Let’s go back to the wagon, Jocko,” he said, walking away from the bluff.
At first it was difficult for Johnny to see the path back to the road. As he moved through the thickets he imitated the sasquatch’s crouched, arm-swinging gait, and soon he was covering ground with amazing speed despite the ever-increasing darkness.
At some primal level he could see. How it worked he couldn’t guess, but it failed him only when he thought about it.
When his mind went blank he was able to move faster than most people could on a clear trail. Johnny was amazed.
“Wow, Jocko, I’m walkin’ like a sasquatch!”
As they neared the road, Johnny noticed that Jocko wasn’t behind him.
Johnny stopped and turned around. He could see the shadow he knew to be Jocko about fifty feet back on the trail, still moving, but slowly.
Johnny scanned the roadway for signs of people but saw and heard nothing.
He waited for a minute until he was sure that no one else was around and then called to Jocko, waving an arm: “Jocko, let’s go!”
“Joooneee Naga Tweeeeooaaa Moooaaaa Bsssst Oph
Ooooom Ooooom, Takaa Pahh,” said Jocko.
Johnny was startled. “What did you say? Is that your language?”
“Joooneee Naga Tweeeeooaaa Moooaaaa Bsssst Oph
Ooooom Ooooommmmm,” repeated Jocko. Then the sasquatch let out a mournful cry that echoed through the forest.
Johnny walked back to Jocko and found the mountain-boy curled in a ball at the foot of an oak. He wondered if Jocko had died of a broken heart. But Jocko was very much alive.
Johnny could hear his sobs.
Johnny was reluctant to touch the sasquatch. He knew it would mean feeling what Jocko felt, and he couldn’t bear the thought of that. It was just too sad. He stood silently looking down at the ape-boy, realizing that he was the only one who could help Jocko.
Johnny cautiously touched his hairy shoulder. To his surprise he had no adverse reaction. The emotion he felt was simply sadness. Jocko didn’t seem to mind his touch, so he rubbed Jocko’s back.
“Don’t worry, Jocko. We’ll find your folks.”
All at once Johnny saw images of a sasquatch family; an adult, perhaps a woman, and three young; one male and two females. The image was foggy and ill defined, almost as if it were founded not on an actual scene but on a memory rooted deep in Jocko’s mind.
Jocko looked up at him.
“Jooonneee,” Jocko said. “Jonnneee hooome.”
Johny knew what Jocko was saying. Jocko needed his family. He wanted a home. “Why did they leave you?”
Jocko touched Johnny’s arm. It was then that the mountain-boy’s sadness became almost unbearable. He began to sense that Jocko was not like other sasquatch.
Something about him was different.
Johnny took Jocko’s hand and tried to pull him to his feet.
Jocko was surprisingly heavy.
“Let’s go to the wagon,” he urged, pulling a bit harder.
“There’s nothing here. Come and stay with me and Gert.”
Jocko seemed to understand. He slowly rose to his feet and together they walked to the road.
Evening was upon them as they climbed into the buckboard. The sounds of the forest had resumed. Crickets, frogs and the howl of a coyote filled the gloom.
Johnny was thankful that Tilly hadn’t spooked when Jocko wailed. “Good girl,” he said encouragingly as he picked up the reins. “Let’s go, Tilly.”
When they got to the homestead Rocky heralded their arrival and Gert came out to greet them. At first she didn’t see Jocko s eated in the back of the wagon.