The Sun Maid Part 16

Yet there was n.o.body, however austere or unhappy, who could long resist the happy influence of the little girl, and least of all the woman who so loved her. As the Sun Maid's color returned to her face, and her stiffened limbs began to resume their suppleness, something of the anxiety left Wahneenah's eyes, and she condescended to receive a bowl of milk and a slice of bread from Abel's hand.

The fact that she would at last break her own fast made all comfortable; and as soon as Gaspar's appet.i.te was so far appeased that he could begin upon the beans, the settler demanded:

"Now, sonny, talk. Tell me the whole endurin' story from A to Izzard.

Where'd you come from now? Where was you bound? What's your name? an'

her's? an' the little tacker's? My! but ain't she a beauty! I never see ary such hair on anybody's head, black or white. It's gettin' dry, ain't it; an' how it does fly round, just like foam."

"I'm not 'sonny,' nor 'bubby.' I'm Gaspar Keith. I was brought up at Fort Dearborn. After the ma.s.sacre, I was taken to Muck-otey-pokee.

I--"

But the lad's thoughts already began to grow sombre, and he became so abruptly silent that Abel prompted him.

"Hmm, I've heard of that--that--Mucky place. Indian settlement, wasn't it? Took prisoner, was you?"

"No. I wasn't a prisoner, exactly. I was just a--just a friend of the family, I guess."

"Oh? So. A friend of an Indian family, sonny?"

"If you'd rather not call me Gaspar, you can please say 'Dark-Eye.'

That's my new Indian name; but I hate those other ones. They make me think I am a baby. And I'm not. I am a man, almost."

"So you be. So you be," agreed Abel, admiring the little fellow's spirit. "I 'low you've seen sights, now, hain't you?"

"Yes, dreadful ones; so dreadful that I can't talk about them to anybody. Not even to you, who have given us this nice food and let us warm ourselves. I would if I could, you see; only when I let myself think, I just get queer in the head and afraid. So I won't even think.

It doesn't do for a boy to be afraid. Not when he has his mother and sister to take care of."

There was the faintest lightening of the gloom upon the Indian woman's face as Dark-Eye said this. But he was, apart from his terror of bloodshed and fighting, a courageous lad, and had, during their past days of wandering, proved the good stuff of which he was made. Many a day he had gone without eating that the remnant of their food might be saved for the Sun Maid; and though it was, of course, Wahneenah who had taken all the care of the children, if it pleased him to consider their cases reversed he should be left to his own opinion.

"You're right, boy. I'll call you Gaspar, easy enough. Only, you see, I hain't got no sons of my own an' it kind of makes things seem cosier if I call other folkes's youngsters that way. Every little shaver this side of Illinois calls me 'Uncle Abe,' I reckon. But go on with your yarn. My, my, my! Won't Mercy be beat when she comes home an' hears all that's happened whilst she was gone. Go on."

So Gaspar told all that had occurred since the Black Partridge parted from his sister in the cavern and rode away toward St. Joseph's. How that very day came one of the visiting Indians who had been staying at Muck-otey-pokee and whose behavior toward the neighboring white settlers had been a prominent cause of bringing the soldiers' raid upon the innocent and friendly hosts who had entertained him.

The wicked like not solitude, and in the train of this traitor had followed many others. These had turned the cave into a pandemonium and had appropriated to their own uses the stores which Black Partridge had provided for Wahneenah. When to this robbery they had added threats against the lives of the white children, whose presence at the Indian village they in their turn declared had brought destruction upon it, the chief's sister had taken such small portion of her own property as she could secure and had set out to find a new home or shelter for her little ones.

Since then they had been always wandering. Wahneenah now had a fixed dread of the pale-faces and had avoided their habitations as far as might be. They had lived in the woods, upon the roots and dried berries they could find and whose power to sustain life the squaw had understood. But now had come the cold of approaching winter and the Sun Maid had shown the effects of her long exposure. Then, at Gaspar's pleading, Wahneenah had put her own distrust of strangers aside and had come with him to the first cabin of white people which they could find.

"And now we're here, what will you do with us?" concluded the lad, fixing his dark eyes earnestly upon his host's face.

Abel fidgetted a little; then, with his happy faculty of putting off till to-morrow the evil that belonged to to-day, he replied:

"Well, son--bub--I mean, Gaspar; we hain't come to that bridge yet.

Time enough to cross it when we do. But, say, that little creatur'

looks as if she hadn't known what 'twas to lie on a decent bed in a month of Sundays. She's 'bout dried off now; an' my! ain't she a pretty sight in them little Indian's togs! S'pose your squaw-ma puts her to sleep on the bed yonder. Notice that bedstead? There ain't another like it this side the East. I'll just spread a sheet over the quilt, to keep it clean, an' she can snooze there all day, if she likes. I'll play you an' Wahneeny a tune on my fiddle if you want me to."

Gaspar was, of course, delighted with this offer but the chief's sister was already tired of the hot house and had cast longing glances through the small window toward the barn in the rear. That, at least, would be cool, and from its doorway she calculated she could keep a close watch upon the door of the cabin, and be ready at a second's notice to rush to her children's aid should harm be offered them.

Meanwhile, for this dark day, they would have the comfort to which their birthright ent.i.tled them. So she went out and left them with Abel.

The hours flew by and the storm continued. Abel had never been happier nor jollier; and as the twilight came down, and he finally gave up all expectation of Mercy's immediate return, he waxed fairly hilarious, cutting up absurd antics for the mere delight of seeing the Sun Maid laugh and dance in response, and because, under these cheerful conditions, Gaspar's face was losing its premature thoughtfulness and rounding to a look more suited to his years.

"Now, I'll dance you a sailor's hornpipe, and then I must go out and milk. If ma'd been home, it would have been finished long ago. But when the cat's away the mice will play, you know; so here goes."

Unfortunately, at that very moment the "cat" to whom he referred, Mercy, in fact, approached the cabin from a direction which even Wahneenah did not observe, and opened a rear door plump upon this unprecedented scene.

Abel stopped short in his jig, one foot still uplifted and his fiddle bow half drawn, while the Sun Maid was yet sweeping her most graceful curtsey; and even the serious Gaspar had left his seat to prance about the room to the notes of Abel's music.

Mercy also remained transfixed, utterly dumfounded, and doubting the evidence of her own senses; but after a moment becoming able to exclaim:

"So! This is how lonesome you be when I leave you, is it?"

CHAPTER XII.

AFTER FOUR YEARS.

Despite a really warm and hospitable heart, it was not pleasant for Mercy Smith to find that her submissive husband had taken upon himself to keep open house in this fas.h.i.+on for all who chose to call; and, as she often expressed it, the settler's wife "hated an Indian on sight."

Upon her unexpected entrance, there had ensued a brief silence; then the two tongues which were accustomed to wag so nimbly took up their familiar task and a battle of words followed. Its climax came rather suddenly, and was not antic.i.p.ated by the housewife who declared with great decision:

"I say the children may stay for a spell, till we can find a way to dispose of 'em. The boy's big enough to earn his keep, if he ain't too lazy. Male creatur's mostly are. An' the girl's no great harm as I see, 'nless she's too pretty to be wholesome. But that red-face goes, or I do. There ain't no room in this cabin for me an' a squaw to one time. You can take your druther. She goes or I do"; and she glanced with animosity toward Wahneenah, who, when hearing the fresh voice added to the other three, had come promptly upon Mercy's return to take her stand just within the entrance. There she had remained ever since, silent, watchful, and quite as full of distrust concerning Mercy as Mercy could possibly have been toward herself.

"Well," said Abel, slowly, and there was a new note in his voice which aroused and riveted his wife's attention. "Well--you hear me. I don't often claim to be boss, but when I do I mean it. Them children can stay here just as long as they will. For all their lives, an' I'll be glad of it. The Lord has denied us any little shavers of our own, an'

maybe just because in His providence He was plannin' to send them two orphans here for us to tend. As for the squaw, she's proved her soul's white, if her skin is red, an' she stays or goes, just as she elects--ary one. That's all. Now, you'd better see about fixing 'em a place to sleep."

Because she was too astonished to do otherwise, Mercy complied. And Wahneenah wisely relieved her unwilling hostess of any trouble concerning herself. She followed Abel to the barn, to attend him upon his belated "ch.o.r.es," and to beg the use of some coa.r.s.e blankets which she had found stored there. Until she could secure properly dressed skins or bark, these would serve her purpose well enough for the little tepee she meant to pitch close to the house which sheltered her children.

"For I must leave them under her roof while the winter lasts. They are not of my race, and cannot endure the cold. But I will work just so much as will pay for their keep and my own. They shall be beholden to the white woman for naught but their shelter. For that, too, I will make rest.i.tution in the days to come."

"Pshaw, Wahneeny! I wouldn't mind a bit of a sharp tongue, if I was you. Ma don't mean no hurt. She's used to bein' boss, that's all; an'

she will be the first to be glad she's got another female to consort with. I wouldn't lay up no grudge. I wouldn't."

But the matter settled itself as the Indian suggested. It was pain and torment to her to hear Mercy alternately petting and correcting her darlings, yet for their sakes she endured that much and more. She even failed to resent the fact that, after a short residence at the farm, the Smiths both began to refer to her as "our hired girl, that's workin' for her keep an' the childern's."

It did not matter to her now. Nothing mattered so long as she was still within sight and sound of her Sun Maid's beauty and laughter; and by the time spring came she had procured the needful skins to construct the wigwam she desired. Her skill in nursing, that had been well known among her own people, she now made a means of sustaining her independence. Such aid as she could render was indeed difficult to be obtained by the isolated dwellers in that wilderness; and having nursed Abel through a siege of inflammatory rheumatism, as he had never been cared for before, he sounded her praises far and near, and to all of the chance pa.s.sers-by.

For her service among those who could pay she charged a very moderate wage, but it sufficed; and, for the sake of pleasing her children, she adopted a dress very like that worn by all the women of the frontier.

Kitty, also, had soon been clothed "like a Christian" by Mercy's decision; but Wahneenah still carefully preserved the dainty Indian costume Katasha had given the child; along with the sacred White Bow and the priceless Necklace.

As for the three horses on which she and the two children had stolen away from their enemies in the cave of refuge, Abel had long ago decided that they were but kittle cattle, unfitted for the sober work of life which his own oxen and old nag Dobbin performed so well. So they were left in idleness, to graze where they pleased, and were little used except by their owners for a rare ride afield. The Chestnut, however, carried Wahneenah to and fro upon her nursing trips; for, unless the case were too urgent to be left, she always returned at nightfall to her own lodge and the nearness of her Sun Maid.

Thus four uneventful years pa.s.sed away, and it had come to the time of the wheat harvest.

"And it's to be the biggest, grandest frolic ever was in this part of the country," declared the settler, proudly.

Whereupon, days before, Mercy began to brew and bake, and even Wahneenah condescended to a.s.sist in the household labor. But she did this that she might if possible lighten that of her Sun Maid, who had now grown to a "real good-sized girl an' just as smart as chain lightning."