THE LITTLE INDIAN.
Prudy came into the house one day in a great fright, and said they'd "better hide the baby, for there was a very wicked woman round."
"Her hair looks like a horse's tail," said she, "and she's got a black man's hat on her head, and a table-cloth over her."
Aunt Madge took Prudy in her lap, and told her it was only an Indian woman, who had no idea of harming any one.
"What are Nindians?" asked the child.
Her aunt said they were sometimes called "red men." The country had once been filled by them: but the English came, a great many years ago, and shook off the red men just as a high wind shakes the red leaves off a tree; and they were scattered about, and only a few were left alive.
Sometimes the Oldtown Indians came round making baskets; but they were quiet and peaceable people.
Horace and his friend "Grasshopper," as they were strolling up the river, came upon a tent made of canvas, and at the door of the tent sat a little boy about their own age, with a bow and arrow in his hand, in the act of firing.
Grasshopper, who was always a coward, ran with all his might; but as Horace happened to notice that the arrow was pointed at something across the river, he was not alarmed, but stopped to look at the odd little stranger, who turned partly round and returned his gaze. His eyes were keen and black, with a good-natured expression, something like the eyes of an intelligent dog.
"What's your name, boy?" said Horace.
"Me no understand."
"I asked what your _name_ is," continued Horace, who was sure the boy understood, in spite of his blank looks.
"Me no hurt white folks; me bunkum Indian."
"Well, what's your name, then? What do they call you?"
No answer, but a shake of the head.
"I reckon they call you _John_, don't they?"
Here the boy's mother appeared at the door.
"His name no _John_! Eshy-ishy-oshy-neeshy-George-Wampum-Shoony-Katoo; short name, speak um quick!--Jaw-awn! Great long name!" drawled she, stretching it out as if it were made of India rubber, and scowling with an air of disgust.
"What does she mean by calling 'John' _long_?" thought Horace.
The woman wore a calico dress, short enough to reveal her brown, stockingless feet and gay moccasons.
Her hair was crow-black, and strayed over her shoulders and into her eyes. Horace concluded she must have lost her back-comb.
While he was looking at her with curious eyes, her daughter came to the door, feeling a little cross at the stranger, whoever it might be; but when she saw only an innocent little boy, she smiled pleasantly, showing a row of white teeth. Horace thought her rather handsome, for she was very straight and slender, and her eyes shone like glass beads. Her hair he considered a great deal blacker than black, and it was braided and tied with gay red ribbons. She was dressed in a bright, large-figured calico, and from her ears were suspended the longest, yellowest, queerest, ear-rings. Horace thought they were shaped like boat-paddles, and would be pretty for Prudy to use when she rowed her little red boat in the bathing-tub. If they only "scooped" a little more they would answer for tea-spoons. "Plenty big as I should want for tea-spoons," he decided, after another gaze at them.
The young girl was used to being admired by her own people, and was not at all displeased with Horace for staring at her.
"Me think you nice white child," said she: "you get me sticks, me make you basket, pretty basket for put apples in."
"What kind of sticks do you mean?" said Horace, forgetting that they pretended not to understand English. But it appeared that they knew very well what he meant this time, and the Indian boy offered to go with him to point out the place where the wood was to be found. Grasshopper, who had only hidden behind the trees, now came out and joined the boys.
"Wampum," as he chose to be called, led them back to Mr. Parlin's grounds, to the lower end of the garden, where stood some tall silver poplars, on which the Indians had looked with longing eyes.
"Me shin them trees," said Wampum; "me make you basket."
"Would you let him, Grasshopper?"
"Yes, indeed; your grandfather won't care."
"Perhaps he might; you don't know," said Horace, who, after he had asked advice, was far from feeling obliged to take it. He ran in great haste to the field where his grandfather was hoeing potatoes, thinking, "If I ask, then I shan't get marked in the blue book anyhow."
In this case Horace acted very properly. He had no right to cut the trees, or allow any one else to cut them, without leave. To his great delight, his grandfather said he did not care if they clipped off a few branches where they would not show much.
When Horace got back and reported the words of his grandfather, Wampum did not even smile, but shot a glance at him as keen as an arrow.
"Me no hurt trees," said he, gravely; and he did not: he only cut off a few limbs from each one, leaving the trees as handsome as ever.
"Bully for you!" cried Horace, forgetting the blue book.
"He's as spry as a squirrel," said Grasshopper, in admiration; "how many boughs has he got? One, two, three."
"Me say 'em quickest," cried little Wampum. "Een, teen, teddery, peddery, bimp, satter, latter, doe, dommy, dick."
"That's ten," put in Horace, who was keeping 'count.
"Een-dick," continued the little Indian, "teen-dick, teddery-dick, peddery-dick, bumpin, een-bumpin, teen-bumpin, teddery-bumpin, peddery-bumpin, jiggets."
"Hollo!" cried Grasshopper; "that's twenty; jiggets is twenty;" and he rolled over on the ground, laughing as if he had made a great discovery.
Little by little they made Wampum tell how he lived at home, what sort of boys he played with, and what they had to eat. The young Indian assured them that at Oldtown "he lived in a house good as white folks; he ate moose-meat, ate sheep-meat, ate cow-meat."
"Cook out doors, I s'pose," said Grasshopper.
Wampum looked very severe. "When me lives in wigwam, me has fires in wigwam: when me lives in tent, me puts fires on grass;--keep off them things," he added, pointing at a mosquito in the air; "keep smoke out tent," pointing upward to show the motion of the smoke.
Horace felt so much pleased with his new companion, that he resolved to treat him to a watermelon. So, without saying a word to the boys, he ran into the house to ask his grandmother.
"What! a whole watermelon, Horace?"
"Yes, grandma, we three; me, and Grasshopper, and Wampum."
Mrs. Parlin could not help smiling to see how suddenly Horace had adopted a new friend.
"You may have a melon, but I think your mother would not like to have you play much with a strange boy."
"He's going to make me a splendid basket; and besides, aren't Indians and negroes as good as white folks? 'Specially _tame_ Indians," said Horace, not very respectfully, as he ran back, shoe-knife in hand, to cut the watermelon.
This was the beginning of a hasty friendship between himself and Wampum.
For a few days there was nothing so charming to Horace as the wild life of this Indian family. He was made welcome at their tent, and often went in to see them make baskets.