ROGER GOES TO THE INDIAN RACES
One day Little Metacomet came to timid Susan with a message that caused
her to stand long silent, with lifted hands and open mouth.
"My father has sent for Roger."
"But you scare me; I can't spare him; he is all I've got. What does the
king want him for?"
"To see the races. He wants to be good to Roger because you have been
good to me--you give me pancakes."
"What are the races?"
"The races of the Indian boys at Mt. Hope. The boys race, jump over a
rock into the water, and swim, swim, swim, and he who runs and swims
the fastest and farthest, is given moccasins, and is made a runner."
"And what is a runner?"
"He carries words from one part of the country to another."
"Roger, I will have to let you go. It will be better for us to do as
Philip wishes."
So Roger went with Little Metacomet to Mt. Hope.
It was a land of brightness, beauty, and history. Here the forest lords
may have reigned for a thousand years.
The throne of Philip was a tall cliff, at whose foot ran a natural
spring. The cliff and spring are still to be seen. It faced the sea,
and over-looked the far forests, the Indian villages of Kickemuit and
Sowams, both of which were at natural springs near the sea.
Here he lighted his council fires. Here he gathered his warriors to
national dances. Here he prepared to make his last hunt with a thousand
warriors, which he believed would end the dominion of the English race.
Wetamoo, the warrior queen of his dead brother Alexander, reigned at
the sunny highlands of Pocasset, across the bay from the throne cliff
of Mt. Hope.
Philip made Mt. Hope the place of his royal residence. Here were
the shell villages, the national cornfields, and the ancient
burying-ground of the Indian race. There were other royal places, but
this was the favored resort.
What a beautiful elevation about the seas, these rocks were! The shores
were shaded by great oaks, and the rocks were green with savins. Here
the ospreys or fishing eagles made their nests and wheeled screaming
in the purple sky at noon. Here were the great river meadows where the
night heron wandered. Over the bay, where Fall River now is, were the
woods of Pocasset, grand with ancient trees and tangling vines. The
wild grape grew there, its vines purpling in the fall. There was sumac.
There the arbutus bloomed in the snow of early spring, the laurel
blazed in early summer and the wild aster and purple gentian fringed
the meadows.
To the west from the great boulders on the summit of the Sugar Loaf
Mountain lay the cerulean expanse of the Narragansett, into which the
sail of Verazzumi had ventured, and found the shores a vineland. At the
foot of the mountain were shelving rocks where the Northmen are thought
to have landed in 1001. After the tradition, the first white child in
America was born there, near the place where now is the Sanitarium. To
the north ran the Kickemuit through cornfields, and sea meadows--where
grew the giant thatch of which cabin roofs were made. There were the
shell villages around the natural springs.
It was a bright day in early spring, that of the races. Across the bay
came the skiff of Queen Wetamoo, seeming as light as air. The queen was
plumed, and bedecked with red robes and glittering pearl shells. She
was to crown the winner of the race.
Her sister, Philip's wife, who was called the beautiful princess,
received her. Then the drums were beaten, and the tribe formed a
semicircle, with Philip on a black horse in the front, and the signal
was given, and the race began.
Twelve or more youths started from the top of the hill and seemed to
fly over the ground and through the air. They wheeled down to a rock
on the borders of the bay, leaped the rock, and went swimming out into
the tide. The Indian warriors shouted and the women cried out and waved
their hands.
An Indian boy, shorter but more nimble than the rest, won the race, and
came swimming back to receive the moccasins from Queen Wetamoo.
Then Philip spread out his hands. The tribe formed a circle, and the
princess brought forward a pair of moccasins, decorated with pearl.
The Indians' eyes were all fixed upon Roger.
The princess came up to Roger, and laid one hand on his shoulder.
"These are for you," she said. "You have a good mother. We have all
heard of the good woman of the haystack, who fries pancakes for the
young chief. Put up your foot."
The princess put the shoes on Roger's feet, and said--
"Now carry my heart to your mother."
A shout went up that seemed to pierce the sky, and Roger went home to
his mother, his heart almost bursting with pride and joy.