Brother Billy

by George Bird Grinnell

  CHAPTER II. INDIANS

  "You are the dearest children," exclaimed Aunt Florence. "I wish Icould take you back to New York with me. You can't remember yourgrandfather and grandmother at all, can you, Billy?"

  "No, wouldn't know 'em if I'd meet 'em."

  "It's a shame. Never mind, I'll tell them all about you two and Gerald,and some day I'm coming north on purpose to take you all home with me,and we'll have the best kind of a time."

  "Guess you wouldn't think of coming after us if we lived where we donow, and it was a hundred years ago," suggested Betty.

  "Why not?"

  "Oh, because you would have had to come from Detroit in a canoe, andthis was all woods then, deep, deep woods full of Indians."

  "Dear me, Betty, don't speak of it! It seems to me there are woodsenough here now. My! What a dreary place! the undergrowth is so thickyou can't see the water, and yet you can hear every wave. BettyGrannis, do you mean to tell me that you ever come out here to the oldfort alone?"

  "Oh, not very often; it is rather dreary, isn't it, auntie? You see,this is an old, old Indian trail, and that is why the pines meetoverhead. Let's walk faster. I don't believe you'll want to stay long,auntie, after you get to the fort."

  "I agree with you, Betty, this is a lonesome walk. I almost wish we'dstayed at home."

  "Let's turn around and go back," suggested Billy.

  "Oh, I must find some beads," Aunt Florence insisted. "Do you ever seeIndians around here nowadays?"

  "Oh, just tame ones," Billy was honest enough to say.

  "You must be brave children," the young lady remarked, as she followedBetty through the gloomy forest.

  "We're used to it," Betty sung over her shoulder, and Billy knew shewas laughing. "Besides that, we can run like the wind if we have to.Then you know, auntie, the awful things that happened here happenedover a hundred years ago, and there isn't any real danger now, ofcourse. It just makes you feel shivery, that's all. Isn't it queerabout Indian trails, how they wind in and out so often? This trailis exactly as it used to be. Did you ever read 'The Conspiracy ofPontiac,' auntie?"

  "No, Betty, I never read it all; I simply know about the massacre here.Have you read it?"

  "She knows it by heart," said Billy. "She can say bushels of Indianspeeches. Tell her one, Betty. Tell her that one where the Indian saidto Alexander Henry, 'The rattlesnake is our grandfather.'"

  "Yes, do, Betty, only tell me first who Alexander Henry was."

  "Why, auntie, don't you know? He was the English fur-trader whoselife was saved by the Indian chief Wawatam. I like him best of anyfur-trader I ever knew."

  "Do tell me his story, Betty."

  "Oh, I can't tell it, it is too long. Do you want to know what happenedto him in the spring of 1761, two years before the massacre?"

  "Yes, certainly."

  "Well, of course, you know all about the French and Indian War, auntie?"

  "Yes, I know something about it."

  "Then, auntie, you know that the French liked the Indians, and theIndians liked them, but the English despised the Indians, and treatedthem so badly the Indians hated all Englishmen. That was why theIndians helped the French in their war. They wanted to drive theEnglish out of the country. Well, when the war was over, the Indiansdidn't know that the English came out ahead, and that the Frenchsoldiers would have to march out of every fort and that the Englishsoldiers would march in. Even my Pontiac didn't know it."

  "He'd have known all about his own war and where he died if he'd hadyou for a sister," mocked Billy.

  "Don't talk quite so loud, Billy dear," cautioned Aunt Florence.

  "'Fraid?" questioned Billy.

  "Oh, not exactly; go on, Betty, we're listening. How much longer isthis Indian trail, anyway?"

  "Only half a mile, auntie. Billy, you'll punch a hole through yourpocket if you aren't careful."

  "Go on with your story, Bet, and don't turn around so much."

  "Well," continued Betty, giving Billy a look that meant "Don't you darelose those beads," "well, auntie, in the spring of that year, 1761, theFrench soldiers had left this fort, and only Canadian families wereliving in it. The English soldiers hadn't come yet, but they were onthe way. The fort was over a hundred years old then. Only think of it!

  "Alexander Henry, my Englishman, wasn't afraid of anything, that's whyI like him. He came up here with canoes full of beads and things totrade with the Indians for furs. On the way he was warned again andagain to go back if he didn't want to be killed. He probably would havebeen killed long before he got here if he hadn't put on the clothes ofa Canadian voyageur."

  "They're the ones," interrupted Billy, "that used to paddle the canoesand sing 'Row, brothers, row,' and--"

  "She knows that," sniffed Betty; "even our baby knows that much. Well,auntie, when Alexander Henry got here, the Canadians were bad to himand tried to scare him. They wanted him to go away before anythinghappened. He hadn't been here but a short time when Minnavavana, aChippewa Indian chief, came with sixty warriors to call on him. Theymarched to his house single file, auntie. Their faces were painted withgrease and charcoal, and they had feathers through their noses andfeathers in their hair. Their bodies were painted with white clay. Thatisn't the worst of it. Every warrior carried a tomahawk in one handand a scalping-knife in the other. I suppose they came along this verytrail.

  "Alexander Henry says they walked into the house without a sound. Thechief made a sign and they all sat on the floor. Minnavavana asked oneof the interpreters how long it was since Mr. Henry left Montreal, andthen he said it seemed that the English were brave men and not afraidto die, or they wouldn't come as he had, alone, among their enemies.Then all the Indians smoked their pipes, and let Alexander Henry thinkabout things while it was nice and quiet. Just think of it, auntie!

  "When the Indians were through smoking, Minnavavana made a speech. Idon't know it by heart, but it was something like this:

  "'Englishman, it is to you that I speak. Englishman, you know that theFrench king promised to be our father. We promised to be his children.We have kept this promise. Englishman, it is you that have made warwith our father. You are his enemy. How could you have the boldness toventure among us, his children? You know his enemies are ours.

  "'Englishman, our father, the King of France, is old and infirm. Beingtired of war, he has fallen asleep. But his nap is almost at an end.I think I hear him stirring and asking for his children, the Indians,and, when he does awake, what must become of you? He will destroy youutterly.'"

  Betty, becoming much in earnest, was walking backward.

  "'Englishman, we have no father, no friend among the white men butthe King of France,'" the child went on. "'But for you, we havetaken into consideration that you have ventured your life among usin the expectation that we should not molest you. You do not come tomake war; you come in peace to trade with us. We shall regard you,therefore, as a brother, and you may sleep tranquilly, without fear ofthe Chippewas. As a token of friendship, we present you this pipe tosmoke.'"

  Whereupon, Betty, making a serious bow, offered her little shovelto Aunt Florence. For the moment, she actually believed herselfMinnavavana, the Indian chief, though Billy's face quickly brought herback to the present.

  "I am thankful to say," resumed Betty, joining in the laugh followingthe presentation of the shovel, "that after three hundred warriors ofanother tribe came and were going to make trouble, the English soldiersarrived, and the red flag of England soon floated above the fort. Then,for two years, nothing much happened, but I'm glad I wasn't here then.I wouldn't have slept a wink, I know."

  "Neither should I, Betty," Aunt Florence agreed.

  "Frenchy'd have been all right, though," remarked Billy. "There's thefort, Aunt Florence, straight ahead; the trail ends here. Now we willfind an old cellar-hole and hunt for beads. Let me go first, Betty."

  "The fort," repeated Aunt Florence, "where is it?" She saw nothing buta wild
erness of wild-rose blooms.

  "Oh," laughed Betty, "there's nothing left of the fort but part ofthe old palisades. Most of the buildings were burned the day of themassacre."

  "It's unspeakably dreary, in spite of the sunshine and the roses,"commented Aunt Florence, "but I do want some beads."

  "Come on, come on," cried Billy. "Oh, hurry up, Aunt Florence, I'mfinding beads by the bushel."

  "Where is the child? can you see him, Betty?"

  "'Way over there, auntie, in that cellar-hole near the old apple-tree.We think that is where one of the storehouses used to be, because allaround it is where most of the beads have been found."

  For awhile Aunt Florence forgot the surrounding woods, in her eagersearch for beads. Had she known Betty and Billy as their mother knewthem, she might have understood that there was more of mischief thanpure joy in their smiles.

  "Never found so many beads in one place in my life," declared Billy.

  "Nor anybody else in the last hundred years," added Betty. "Fun, isn'tit?"

  "Fun!" echoed Aunt Florence, "why, children, I won't want to go homeuntil dark."

  Betty stared, and Billy made faces. This was an unexpected blow. Atlast the beads that Betty had collected, after working hours and hoursthrough many a day, were all found.

  "Now we'll look for another place," announced Aunt Florence.

  "I guess we are alone out here," suggested Betty, glancing about, asthough she felt uneasy.

  "Oh, no," was the cheerful reply, "down there nearer the lake I saw twosunbonnets not three minutes ago. We're all right, children; I'm notthe least bit timid."

  Patiently Aunt Florence continued her search for beads, encouraged bythe hope of finding another place equal to the first.

  "It seems strange that there should have been so many beads in one spotof earth, and so few everywhere else," she said, "but I'm not going togive up now, after such luck in the beginning."

  "You'll just have to scare her to death, I guess," grumbled Billy."Lost your beads for nothing, too."

  "Trouble is," confessed Betty, moving nearer Billy and farther from heraunt, "this isn't a good place to tell Indian stories."

  "Why not?"

  "Because, Billy, I get scared myself. Honest and truth, I don't evenlike to think of such horrible things right here where they happened."

  "Don't make any difference, you've got to," protested Billy. "Don't youknow she said she'd stay here till dark?"

  "I know it, Billy; let me see, how'll I begin. Oh, I know, AlexanderHenry was in his room in the fort writing letters home. Perhaps, Billy,we are standing on the very place where his house was. He was so busywith his letters he didn't want to take the time to go down to thebeach to see the canoes that had just arrived from Detroit. First thinghe knew, he heard the war-whoops. Mercy, Billy! Don't scream like thatagain!"

  "Billy Grannis," called Aunt Florence, "what's the matter?"

  "Why, that was just an Indian war-whoop, auntie. Frenchy and I havebeen practising whoops lately."

  "Well, please don't practise any more now; you made me jump so I lostthree beads. I don't believe an Indian could give a worse yell."

  "Oh, yes, he could," exclaimed Betty, "my, that's nothing!" and, seeingher opportunity, she began telling stories. Even Billy grew solemn inhis very mind as he listened, and it wasn't long before Betty succeededin scaring herself, however Aunt Florence may have felt.

  Suddenly the air was filled with shrieks. Aunt Florence became white asthe daisies, as she stared at Betty, while terror seized Billy.

  "It's the sunbonnet girls," gasped Betty; "what do you s'pose is thematter? What is the matter?" she demanded of the flying maidens.

  "Indians, Indians, run quick, run, run! I tell you they're after us!"

  One glance toward the lake was enough for Betty. She saw canoes beingdrawn up on the beach, and Indians coming straight toward them. Thechild was never more frightened in her life. Forgetting Billy, she andAunt Florence fairly flew over the rough ground. Billy, poor fellow!never could run because he was too plump. He hadn't gone ten breathlesssteps before he fell into a cellar-hole, and, before he could scrambleout, a big Indian overtook him.

  "Match," grunted the Indian, "want match."

  "N-n-no, I don't want any matches," answered Billy, trying to steadyhis trembling knees.

  "Humph! Indian want match. Give Indian match. Indian build fire," wasthe explanation.

  Billy shook his head, and the Indian turned away disappointed.

  "That Betty'd leave you to be eaten up by Indians," grumbled Billy,and, because he was so angry and because he had been so badlyfrightened over nothing, he began to cry.

  "Billy, Billy, don't cry, I came back after you, you poor child." Itwas the voice of Aunt Florence, though Billy couldn't see her.

  "Here I am, behind this clump of goose-berry bushes, Billy. I didn'tdare come straight back, so I kept behind trees and bushes. Comequick; now let's run."

  "There isn't anything to run for, Aunt Florence," sobbed Billy. "Don'tyou see, they're just tame Indians, and wouldn't hurt anybody? Don'tyou see the little Indian children and the squaws, too? I s'posethey've come with baskets to sell. Yes, there comes a squaw, going totown now with a load of baskets."

  "Then I guess I'll sit down and rest a minute," said Aunt Florence,"for I'm tired out. It's dreadful to be so frightened. I'm tremblingyet."

  "Me, too," confessed Billy. "Where's that Betty?"

  "Home by this time, I presume," was the laughing reply, "unless shecouldn't stop running when she got there, in which case she's probablyin the lake. Well, Billy, let's walk on now, or the whole missionarysociety will be coming to our rescue."

  "Oh, Billy, I've been crying my eyes out, fear something had happenedto you," was Betty's greeting when she saw her little brother.

  Billy made a face, as he replied in scornful tones: "'Fore I'd runaway from tame Indians!" For many a day thereafter, if Billy wantedanything that belonged to Betty, it was his if he but threatened to say"Tame Indians."