THE BOY WHO HAD NEVER SEEN AN INDIAN
"I saw Painted Feathers this morning," the boy said as he threw himselfdown on the rude log settle in front of the fire and stretched out hishands to feel the blaze. "He seemed angry about something," he went on,"but he and the young braves were glad to see me. They like us, mother.Painted Feathers remembers how you took care of his little daughter,Laughing Eyes, when she strayed away from the camp up in the Blue Ridge,and he still wears the beads you gave him around his neck. Heap bigchief, Painted Feathers, but I guess we've made him our friend."
The woman in homespun, who bent over a savory stew brewing in a kettlethat hung from the crane, smiled as she looked down at the boy's manlyface. He was the counterpart of his father, who had gone over the BlueRidge hunting, and had never returned--lost in the trackless wildernessof the woods, they feared. He wore the same kind of rough suit of tannedskins, hide boots, and fur cap. His eyes were just as deep and fearlessas his father's had been. He was his mother's mainstay now in the littlecabin set so far from any other habitation in the depth of thewilderness. There were Indians near, but, so far, they had been friendlyto the two settlers.
"I tried to understand what Painted Feathers was angry about," the ladcontinued.
"What was it, Eli; nothing that we have done, I trust?" the boy's motherasked, her voice trembling a little as she peered out through the windowat the gathering dusk and the gloomy forest that surrounded them.
"Oh, no, mother," Eli hastened to assure her. "As nearly as I could makeout, Painted Feathers and the tribe are afraid of losing their land.They pointed toward the direction the Shenandoah takes, beyond the BlueRidge as it flows into the Potomac. They say that the land in thatvalley is being measured off with strange instruments and by white menwho are going to bring their own tribes and build their own camps there.You can't blame Painted Feathers, mother, for his tribe settled herefirst. I thought as I came home what a pity it would be to take the landaway from the Indians; such lofty trees, and the silver river, and thebuds of the wild flowers opening everywhere. I never saw the mountainslook so blue as they did in the sunshine this morning, and PaintedFeathers has lived here for years and years," he said, his clear, boyishvoice full of sympathy.
"I know, too, how Painted Feathers feels about this valley," Eli'smother said. "He knows every deer track and every spring and partridgecall for miles around. But I think this is all talk about surveyorsbeing near, son. No one has marked out the lands in all this time, andthey would scarcely begin now. How much longer the days are!" she added,turning toward the door to open it and let in the earth-soaked wind ofthe evening. It was early spring and the twilight was long and mellow.
To her surprise, she found a boy standing outside. His hand which he hadraised to knock with went like a flash to his cap. He pulled it off andstood, bareheaded, as he bowed like a young cavalier and smiled up ather. He was about Eli's age, she thought, between fifteen and sixteen,but a different sort of lad from her sturdy son. His long, pale face hadthe lines of an aristocrat. Even his slender fingers showed his gentleheritage.
"May I ask shelter of you for the night," he begged courteously. As hespoke, Eli's mother noticed that he carried surveying instruments, andhis clothing was weather-stained and worn.
"I have come all the way up the Shenandoah and over the mountains,measuring and marking the land, and making maps of its importantfeatures," he said. "I have not slept more than three or four nights ina bed, but after tramping through your wild forests all day, have laindown before a fire on a little straw or fodder or a bearskin like somebeast of the wood. And my cooking has been done on sticks over the samefire with chips of wood for plates." He smiled as he told of thehardships. "I have strayed away from my companions," he said, "and donot know where to spend the night."
"'MY COOKING HAS BEEN DONE ON STICKS OVER THE FIRE'"]
Eli, crowding close to his mother in the doorway, had been listening tothe tale of the stranger lad with the greatest interest. He pushed openthe door now.
"Come in," he said.
"Yes, you must come in and share our supper, and stop with us in thecabin as long as you like," Eli's mother added. And in a few minutes thethree were gathered around the rough deal table before the fire, eatingbowlfuls of the steaming broth.
"My name is Eli. What is yours?" Eli asked, between mouthfuls.
"George," said the other lad. "I live at Mount Vernon. Our neighbor,Lord Fairfax, has an estate that is so large it extends way over theBlue Ridge Mountains. Ever since I was a little lad I have ridden andwalked with Lord Fairfax, and when he decided to have his estatesurveyed, even as far as this distant boundary, I gladly undertook thework. I like this wild life and the adventure of making new paths in thewilderness."
"Tell me about some of your adventures, George," Eli begged, leaningacross the table, his eyes bright with excitement.
"The narrowest escape we had," George replied, "was when we made ourstraw beds on the ground a few nights since and were awakened bysmelling something scorched. The straw was on fire, and we were almostburned ourselves."
"Have you seen any Indians?" Eli asked.
"Not an Indian," the young surveyor replied. "Indeed, I wish that Imight, for I never have seen an Indian in my life. They were long agodriven out of Virginia, you know, by the Colonists. Once, though," headded, "and not so many days ago, if I remember rightly, we were settingup our stakes about a tract of land near here and we heard a suddencrackling in the bushes. There was a bit of bright color showing amongthe branches as we looked, like the bright feathers of a chief'sheaddress, but it was gone in a moment. It may have been only a scarlettanager, or a red-headed woodpecker," he said carelessly.
The words had scarcely escaped his lips, though, when a sudden lightflashed against the window of the cabin, lighting like day the sceneoutside. As scarlet and yellow leaves are whirled in a moment by asudden gust of wind from a forest, so the thirty or more Indians whosurrounded the cabin seemed to have flashed out of the woods--as swiftlyand as silently. Painted Feathers led them, decked in fresh war paint,as were all the other braves, and a scalp dangled menacingly from hisbelt to show that he was bent on warfare. With fierce gestures towardthe cabin and the three white faces that peered in terror from thewindow, the Indians made their preparations. One of the younger bravesdrummed loudly on a deerskin that he had stretched over an iron pot;another rattled a huge, dried gourd filled with shot and decorated witha horse's tail. The others built a great fire directly in front of thecabin, pulled blazing brands from it, and danced in a circle with wildyells and whoops.
Eli whispered his frightened explanation to the other lad. "It's PaintedFeathers and his band of braves, and they're dancing the death dance.When they finish they'll set fire to our cabin, I'm afraid. He used tobe our friend, but this morning he seemed in a great rage about his landand hunting ground being taken away from the tribe by settlers." Eli'svoice was trembling as he finished. "It wasn't a wild bird that youheard and saw in the woods when you were surveying, George. It wasPainted Feathers watching you, and now he has followed you to ourcabin."
The other lad's heart beat with terror, but his voice did not falter, ashe spoke: "Then I am going out to give myself up to the Indians, Eli. Iwon't have your life and that of your mother endangered when you havebeen so kind to take me, a stranger, into your house, and feed, andshelter me." He made a quick movement toward the door, but Eliintercepted him.
"Wait, George! It would only satisfy their rage without doing any good.Let me think a moment."
But as the three waited and watched, the cabin lighted by the fireoutside, the seconds seemed hours. The shouting, excited Indians piledmore logs upon the fire and fed it with pine knots until the sparksdarted in a crimson cloud as high as the tops of the trees. As theydanced, they circled nearer and nearer the cabin, their shrieks growingeach moment more shrill and menacing. It was time to act if the cabinand its occupants were to be saved. Before either his mother or the boysurveyor could stop h
im, Eli stepped out in front of the cabin, alone,and unprotected. He stood there, one hand held out in welcome to theterrible Indian chief.
"ELI STEPPED OUT ... ALONE AND UNPROTECTED"]
The sudden apparition of the boy was a surprise to the Indians. Theywere silent for a moment, spellbound by the boy's bravery, andinterested, as well, in something that he drew from his coat and heldout in supplication toward Painted Feathers. He had grasped the objectfrom its place on the shelf over the fireplace before he left the cabin.It was a tiny moccasin made of the softest of deerskin and embroideredwith bright beads. Painted Feathers drew nearer to look, and Eli spoketo him.
"Laughing Eyes left her moccasin in the wigwam of her paleface friends.We kept the moccasin because we love Laughing Eyes. We found her whenshe strayed away from the tribe and we gave her back to her father,Painted Feathers, the big chief."
As the boy spoke, Painted Feathers nodded his great head slowly, and hiscruel face softened a little. Eli was quick to see the advantage that hehad gained and he acted upon it.
"A strange pale face has come to the cabin. He measures the land in thevalley, but he is the friend of the Indians. He will protect theirhunting grounds and keep away strange tribes from the west. Will PaintedFeathers say 'how' to the stranger?" Eli asked, his voice trembling alittle at what might be the outcome of his bold request.
Painted Feathers held the little moccasin in his hand now, the touch ofit warming and softening his stony heart. Then he slowly nodded his headin assent, stalking nearer the cabin door.
"Come, George," cried Eli breathlessly. "Come out and meet your friend,Painted Feathers, the big chief."
In the flaring light of the torches, the great Indian solemnly shookhands with the boy surveyor. Then, as the two boys stood in the doorway,the chief went back to the fire and gave a quick order to the braves. Ina second their fearful death dance was changed to the slow, statelysteps of a dance of welcome. At its end they put out the fire, and filedsilently back into the forest.
Snuggled under bearskins in front of the warm hearth, the two boys sleptbut little that night, and talked a great deal about their wonderfuladventure.
"You needn't be afraid to go in the morning, George," Eli assured theboy surveyor. "Painted Feathers' tribe is the only band of Indiansanywhere around here, and now that he knows you are his friend, he won'tharm you."
"I shall never forget you, Eli," said George. "You have taught me how tobe brave."
His companions found the lad in the morning and, with many thanks andassurances of his friendship, the young surveyor left the settler'scabin and started to finish his work and his trip.
More than a score of years passed. Where the trees had grown there was atown now, and the cabin itself was replaced by a comfortable framedwelling. Eli's mother was an old lady and he, a man grown. It was atime of much stress for America, the period of the Revolution.
"Great news, mother!" Eli exclaimed as he came in one day. "They saythat General George Washington has taken Lord Cornwallis and all hisarmy as prisoners. Yorktown has surrendered, and the war is over."
"General George Washington?" repeated his mother, her mind going backthrough the years. Then a thought came to her. "Eli," she said, "do youremember the lad surveyor who stayed with us for a night when you were aboy? He told me his full name as he was leaving and, all these years, Ihave never thought to speak of it to you. George Washington, he said hewas."
The man's eyes flashed. "One and the same," he said. "The great general,and our guest, George, who had never seen an Indian."
Boys and Girls of Colonial Days Page 12
