Two Indian Children Of Long Ago Part 11

MOVING THE DOLLS' CAMP

White Cloud ran out of her wigwam home. Her work was done, and a happy time of play was before her.

She hurried through the tall gra.s.s toward a near-by lodge, calling: "Flying Squirrel, come and play with me."

The skin curtain hanging over the lodge door was raised and a little head appeared. But there was no squirrel to be seen, only an Indian girl with the blackest of hair and eyes.

Her playmates had given her the name of Flying Squirrel because she was always climbing trees and jumping from one branch to another.

"Bring your dolls," said White Cloud. "We'll build lodges for them.

Come as soon as you can, for my baby is trying to get away."

"Your baby! What do you mean? Where did you find a baby?"

White Cloud was rejoicing in a family of young puppies--new playthings for her. She had bound one of them to a board, and had tied the board cradle to her back, as a squaw carries a papoose.

"Be still! Be still, bad baby!" she cried to her squirming pet. But the little dog would not be still. He howled louder and louder, and struggled so hard that he broke away from his cords and bands.

"Bad baby! Bad baby!" said White Cloud. "Next time I'll tie you tighter!"

Flying Squirrel brought out an armful of dolls, and the children went to the bushes to cut long straight sticks. They soon found enough poles for their dolls' wigwams. Each child set up her sticks in a circle, bringing them together at the top.

"Now we'll hunt birch bark," said Flying Squirrel. "My father has made me a new knife."

Soon the small lodges were covered with long strips of bark and the floors sprinkled with cedar twigs.

"I wish we had skin covers for our dolls' wigwams," said White Cloud.

Flying Squirrel looked at the even strips of bark that were well placed around her frame of slender poles. "Lots of people have bark covers," she replied. "My father has seen whole villages of bark-covered lodges."

"When the peace pipe was smoked over west, my father was there," said White Cloud. "Now we can get big skins in trade, and sometime we'll have ponies. Have you ever seen a pony, Flying Squirrel?"

"No; but my father saw white men when he went north in the moon of snow to trade furs. He says the tribes west will come and fight us again for our rice beds. Let's play a war is coming and move our camp.

Where are your dolls, White Cloud?"

"I couldn't bring them, for I had my puppy baby. You have dolls enough for both of us."

Flying Squirrel gave her playmate two of the queerest-looking dolls you ever saw. They were rolls of deerskin with faces painted in black on the ends.

The children tied the smaller dolls in board cradles, hung them to the lodge poles, and sang lullabies.

Good Bird had packed a basket of food for her little daughter. Dried meat, berries, parched rice, and corn made a fine feast. All were invited, even the puppy, and the largest dolls were honored guests.

"I wish I had my new beaded bag to show you," said White Cloud. "I shall put my doll's best clothes in it and hang it over her bed. Are you learning to sew, Flying Squirrel?"

"I don't like to sew. I would rather climb trees. It's time to move now. Let's get ready. We will go to the stream that flows into the lake." And Flying Squirrel began to whistle for her dogs.

"My big dog is home with the rest of her puppies. May I have one of yours?" asked White Cloud. "Last moon my father visited a friendly camp. There were thirty lodges and more dogs than he could count. I wish he had brought me another big one."

White Cloud did not say "thirty," for she knew no word for so large a number. She raised her ten fingers three times, just as she had seen her father do.

Flying Squirrel called her dogs, and they came running to her. She had begun to train them to draw loads, and they stood quite still while the girls harnessed them for moving. The bark covers of the two lodges were taken off and carefully rolled. Then the lodge poles were corded in two long straight bundles. Flying Squirrel crossed the small ends and fastened them above the dog's back. The large ends dragged on the ground.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Back of the dog the sticks were held in place by two cross pieces of wood carefully tied a little way apart. Between the cross pieces was a strong netting that hung down like a shallow bag. The dolls and rolls of bark were laid in one of the nets. What should the other dog carry?

"I know," exclaimed White Cloud. "My puppy shall have a ride." He was caught and firmly tied. The net was a comfortable bed, and he made no objection.

Soon the camp was packed, and the children started. The dogs trotted along quietly, and everything went well for a time. As they came near the little stream where they wished to set their camp, a rabbit ran across the trail. Away went the dogs.

The rabbit leaped over the narrow stream. One of the dogs plunged after him, and out went the dolls and bark into the water.

The other dog shook himself free from his harness. The lodge poles he was dragging turned upside down, holding the howling puppy in the mud.

"Oh, my puppy will drown!" cried White Cloud as she dashed down the muddy banks in rescue.

"My dolls! My best dolls are spoiled!" mourned Flying Squirrel.

Soon the dogs were called back, everything found, the dolls bathed and laid out to dry. Then the lodges were set up, and the children rested in the sun.

As they looked about, White Cloud saw a feather lying on the gra.s.s.

It was painted, as if it had fallen from a warrior's bonnet.

"You had better take that feather to your father now," said Flying Squirrel. "Perhaps there is going to be a war, and a spy has pa.s.sed this way. I am afraid. I shall pack all my things and go home with my dogs.

"Here, put this leaf around it and run to your mother. She will know what to do."

Away ran White Cloud, holding a sprawling puppy in her arms and trying to protect the feather, which she had concealed in a large leaf.

FINDING A WAR FEATHER

"Look, Mother; look at the big feather I have found. It is not like the ones in my father's war bonnet."

Good Bird took the feather and examined it carefully.

"Where did you find it, White Cloud?" she asked.

"Near the little stream that runs into the lake. Flying Squirrel and I have moved our dolls' lodges this morning."

"You must take the feather to your father at once. It may be that some enemy is planning war and getting ready to surprise our camp.

"Then you must move your dolls and their lodge near by where I can see you play. You may be in danger.