overtaken.
"'T was but the Indian shooting the deer," said John Howland, laughing
in spite of himself at poor Zeb's wild-eyed terror. "'T is a promise
of safety for the present at least. Nevertheless I like not the look
of it. The red-skin saw us; make no doubt of that; for when I first
beheld him he was peering at us as though to fix our faces in his
mind."
"I, too, marked how he stared," answered the Goodman, as he seized the
cowering Zeb and swung him again to his seat on the pillion.
"I have it," he said, stopping short as he was about to mount. "The
savage is without doubt of the Narragansett tribe. He caught a glimpse
of the dark skin of this boy and mistook him for an Indian lad--one of
the hated Pequots, who they thought were either all dead or sold
out of the country. 'T is likely they have no knowledge of other
dark-skinned people than themselves."
"It may be so," said John Howland, doubtfully, "but 't is as likely
they mistook him for a devil. It once befell that some Indians,
finding a negro astray in the forest, were minded to destroy him by
conjuring, thinking him a demon. To be sure 't is but a year since the
Narragansetts helped the English destroy the Pequot stronghold, and
the few Pequots who were neither killed nor sold they still hold in
subjection. Whatever their idea, it bodes no good either to Zeb or to
us, for their enmity never sleeps."
Zeb, meantime, sat clutching the pillion and looking from one grave
face to the other as if he knew they were talking of him, and the
Goodman patted his shoulder reassuringly as he mounted again. They
were now nearing a small settlement, and the path widened so the two
horses could walk abreast.
"Thou 'lt have a special care in the stretch from well beyond Mount
Dagon," said John Howland, "for thou knowest of the notorious Morton,
who founded there the settlement called Merry Mount. It was the
worshipful Endicott who wiped it out. Much trouble hath Morton to
answer for. He hath corrupted the savages, adding his vices to theirs.
He hath also sold them guns and taught them to use them, for which
cause the Indians of this region are more to be feared than any along
the coast. They are drunken, armed, and filled with hate for any whom
they esteem their enemies."
Daniel's hair fairly stood on end. He had felt prepared for pirates,
but Indians lurking in dark forests were quite another matter! He
wished with all his heart that John Howland were going with them all
the way to Cambridge, but he well knew that could not be. His spirits
rose somewhat as they came in sight of the settlement, and a hearty
supper at the house of Goodman Richards put such life and courage into
his heart that before it was over the Indians were no more to him than
pirates! Then, while his father and John Howland arranged with Goodman
Richards for the purchase of a horse to take them the rest of their
journey, Goodwife Richards stowed Dan away in an attic bed, while Zeb,
worn out with fear and fatigue, slept soundly on the hearth.
Courage is always highest in the morning, and Daniel felt bold as a
lion the next day, as he and his father bade John Howland and the
Richards family good-bye and, with Zeb, again entered the forest
trail. The two boys walked on ahead, while the Goodman became
acquainted with the new horse, whose name, Goodman Richards had told
him, was Penitence, but which they shortened to Penny. Later, when he
had assured himself that the animal was trustworthy, Goodman Pepperell
put the two boys in the saddle and walked beside them, leading Penny
by the bridle. Taking turns in this way, they went on for some
miles without incident, until Dan almost forgot his fears, and even
Zeb--watching his face and echoing its expression on his own--grew
less and less timid.
[Illustration]
They had passed the place which Howland had called Mount Dagon and
which is now known as Wollaston, and had crossed the Neponset River by
a horse bridge and were walking along quite cheerfully, the two boys
at some distance ahead of Penny, when they saw a little way ahead of
them an Indian standing motionless beside the trail. Dan immediately
drew Zeb behind a bush, and when an instant later his father came up,
the Indian disappeared as suddenly as he had come.
The Goodman looked troubled. "It is the same one we saw yesterday, I
feel sure!" he said. "I like not his following us in this way, Daniel.
I must trust thee even as though thou wert a man. Do thou get upon
the horse's back with Zeb behind thee. I will walk ahead with my gun
ready. Should the savage attack us, do thou speed thy horse like the
wind to the next village, and bring back help. Remember it is thy part
to obey. Three lives may hang on it."
With his heart pounding like a trip-hammer Dan mounted Penny. Zeb was
placed on the pillion behind him with both arms clutching his waist,
and the Goodman strode ahead, his keen eyes watching in every
direction for any sign of danger. There was not a sound in the forest
except the soft thud of the horse's feet, the cawing of a crow
circling out of sight over the tree-tops, and the shrill cry of a blue
jay.
"Confound thee, thou marplot, thou busy-body of the wood," muttered
the Goodman to himself as he listened. "Wert thou but a human gossip,
I 'd set thee in the stocks till thou hadst learned to hold thine evil
tongue!"
But the blue jay only kept up his squawking, passing the news on to
his brethren until the forest rang with word of their approach.
It did not need the blue jays to tell of their progress, however, for
though no other sound had betrayed their advance, two Indians were
creeping stealthily through the underbrush, keeping pace with the
travelers, and when they had reached a favorable spot in a small
clearing, they suddenly sprang from their hiding-place. With a
blood-curdling cry they leaped forward, and, seizing one of Zeb's
legs, tried to drag him from the horse's back.
The yells of the Indians were as nothing to those that Zeb then let
loose! The air was fairly split by blood-curdling shrieks, and the
horse, terrified in turn, leaped forward, tearing Zeb from the grasp
of the Indian and almost unseating Dan by the jerk. But Dan dug his
knees into the horse's sides, flung his arms about her neck, and,
holding on for dear life, tore away up the trail with Zeb clinging
like a limpet to his waist.
Never was a ride like that. Even John Gilpin's was a mild performance
beside it, for Zeb shrieked every minute of the way as they sped
along, with the horse's tail streaming out behind like the tail of a
comet, and the daylight showing between the bouncing boys and Penny's
back at every wild leap. Even if Daniel had not been minded to obey
his father's command, he could not have helped himself, for Penny took
matters into her own four hoofs, and never paused in her wild career
until, covered with foam, she dashed madly into a little hamlet where
the village of Neponset now stands.
Samuel Kittredge was just starting for the forest with his axe on his
shoulder, when his ears were smitten by the frantic shrieks of Zeb,
and, thinking it must be a wildcat on the edge of the clearing,
he started back to the house for his gun. Before he reached it,
Penitence, with the two boys on her back, came thundering toward him
at full gallop, and stopped at his side.
"What in tarnation is the matter with ye?" he exclaimed, gazing in
amazement at the strange apparition. "I declare for it, that nigger is
all but scared plumb white! What ails ye?"
"Indians!" gasped Dan, pointing toward the trail. "My father--quick!"
No more words were needed. Samuel Kittredge dashed into his house,
snatched his gun from the chimney, and, dashing out again, fired it
into the air. Poor Zeb! He slid off over the horse's tail on to the
ground and lay there in a heap, while a knot of men, responding to the
signal of Sam Kittredge's gun, gathered hurriedly before his house and
started at once down the trail.
"You stay here," said Sam to Dan as he started away. "We 'll be back
soon with your father if the pesky red-skins have n't got him."
"Or if they have," added another man grimly, and off they went.
Goodwife Kittredge now took charge of Dan and Zeb, while her son, a
boy of eleven, tied Penny to a tree beside their cabin. Zeb recovered
at once when she offered him a generous slice of brown-bread, but
Dan was too anxious about his father to eat. He stood beside Penny,
rubbing her neck and soothing her, with his eyes constantly on the
trail and his ears eagerly listening for the sound of shots. It seemed
an age, but really was not more than half an hour, before he saw the
men come out of the woods, and, oh joy! his father was with them!
Leaving Penny nibbling grass, he ran to meet them and threw his arms
about his father's neck, crying, "Oh, dear father, art thou hurt?"
"Nay; the Lord was merciful," answered the Goodman. "I fired but one
shot, and hit one of the red-skins, I am sure, for they both dived
back into the woods at once. I hid myself in the thick underbrush on
the other side of the trail and waited, thinking perhaps I could creep
along beside it out of sight, but Zeb's roaring must have frighted the
Indians. Doubtless they knew it would rouse the countryside. At any
rate I saw no more of them, and when these Good Samaritans came along
I knew I was safe."
"The lungs of that blackamoor are worth more to thee than many guns,"
laughed Sam Kittredge. "'T is a pity thou couldst not bottle up a few
of his screeches to take with thee when thou goest abroad. They are of
a sort to make a wildcat sick with envy." The men laughed heartily,
and, leaving the Goodman and Daniel with Sam, returned to their
interrupted tasks.
Goodwife Kittredge insisted on their resting there for the night
before resuming their journey. "You must be proper tired," said she,
with motherly concern, "and if you go on now 't is more than likely
those rascally knaves will follow you like your shadow. You 'll stand
a sight better chance of safety if you make an early start in the
morning."
"Your horse needs rest, too," added Sam. "I 'll rub her down and give
her a measure of corn when she 's cooled off. Get to bed with the
chickens, and start with the sun, and to-morrow night will find you
safe in your own home again."
To this plan the travelers gladly agreed. Early next morning, after a
hearty breakfast in the Kittredges' cheerful kitchen they set forth
once more. The roosters in the farmyard were still crowing, and the
air was sweet with the music of robins, orioles, and blackbirds
when they again plunged into the forest trail. All day they plodded
steadily along, delayed by bad roads, and it was not until late that
evening that they at last came in sight of the little house, where
Nancy and her mother slept, little dreaming how near they were to a
happy awakening. When, at last they reached the cabin, the Goodman,
fearing to alarm his wife, stopped on the door-stone and gently called
her name. He had called but once when a shutter was thrown open and
the Goodwife's head was thrust through it.
"Husband, son!" she cried joyfully. "Nancy!--awake child!--it is thy
father and brother!" and in another moment the door flew open,
and Nancy and her mother flung their arms about the necks of the
wanderers. When the horse had been cared for, they went into the
cabin. Nancy raked the coals from the ashes, the fire blazed up, and
the Goodwife gave them each a drink of hot milk. Zeb blinked sleepily
at the reunited and happy family, as Dan and his father told their
adventures, and when at last they had gone to their beds in the loft
he sank down on a husk mattress which the Goodwife had spread for him
on the floor, and in two minutes was sound asleep.
[Illustration]
V
THE NEW HOME
Goodman Pepperell and his wife rose early the next morning, and,
leaving the two children still sleeping; crept down the ladder to the
floor below. There lay Zeb, also sound asleep, with his toes toward
the ashes like a little black Cinderella. The Goodwife's mother heart
was stirred with pity as she looked down at him. Perhaps she imagined
her own boy a captive in a strange land, unable to speak the language,
with no future but slavery and no friends to comfort his loneliness.
"Poor lad--let him sleep a bit, too," she said to her husband.
They unbolted the door and stepped out into the sunlight of a perfect
June morning. The dew was still on the grass; robins and bobolinks
were singing merrily in the young apple trees, which, owing to a late,
cold spring, were still in bloom, and the air hummed with the music of
bees' wings.
The Goodman drew a deep breath as he gazed at the beauty about him.
"'T is good to be at home again," he said to his wife. "And 't is a
goodly land--aye, better even than old England! There 's space here,
room enough to grow." He looked across the river to the hills of
Boston town. "I doubt not we shall live to see a city in place of yon
village," he said; "more ships seek its port daily, and there are
settlements along the whole length of the bay. 'T is a marvel where
the people come from. The Plymouth folk are scattering to the north
and south, and already villages are springing up between Plymouth and
New Amsterdam. God hath prospered us, wife."
"Praise be to his holy name," said the Goodwife, reverently. "But,
husband," she added, "what shall we do with our increase? Thou hast
brought home a horse and the black lad. The horse can stay out
of doors during the summer, but there is not room for him in the
cow-shed, and the lad cannot sleep always before the fire."
"I have thought of that," said the Goodman, "and when the crops are in
I purpose to build a larger house."
"Verily it will be needed," she answered. "The crops grow like weeds
in this new soil. If there were but a place for storage, I could put
away much for winter use that now is wasted. Go thou and look at the
garden, while I uncover the coals and set the kettle to boil."
"Wait a moment, wife," said the Goodman, "I have somewhat to tell
thee. There is ever a black spot in our sunshine. Though the danger
grows less all the while as the settlements increase, it is still true
that the Indians are ever a menace, and I fear they are over watchful
of us." Then he told her of the attack in the forest. "I have reason
to think the red-skins spied upon us all the way to Boston town," he
finished. "I did not tell Daniel, but twice I saw savages on our trail
after we left Kittredge's. I wounded one in the encounter, and they
will not forget that. I know not why they should plot against the
black boy, unless it is to revenge themselves upon me, but it is
certain they tried to drag him away with them into the woods." The
Goodwife listened with a pale face.
"'T is well, then, that we have a watchdog added to our possessions,"
she said at last. "Gran'ther Wattles's shepherd hath a litter of pups,
and he hath promised one to the children. Nancy hath waited until Dan
came home that he might share the pleasure of getting it with her."
"She hath a generous heart," said her father, tenderly. "Aye,--she is
a good lass, though headstrong."
When their mother reached the cabin, she found the Twins up and
dressed and Daniel trying to rouse the sleeping Zeb. "Wake up," he
shouted, giving him a shake. Zeb rolled over with a grunt and opened
his eyes.
"Take him outdoors while I get breakfast," said the Goodwife. "Mercy
upon me, what shall I do with a blackamoor and a dog both underfoot!"
"A dog!" cried Daniel. "What dog? Where is he?"
"Nancy will tell thee," said his mother, and, not able to wait a
moment to hear and tell such wonderful news, the two children rushed
out at once, followed by Zeb. When their mother called the family
to breakfast half an hour later, Zeb had been shown the garden, the
corn-field, the cow-shed, the pig-sty, the straw-stack where eggs were
to be found, the well with its long well-sweep, and the samp-mill. He
had had the sheep pointed out to him, and been introduced to Eliza,
the cow, and allowed to give Penny a measure of corn. The children had
shouted the name of each object to him as they had pointed it out,
and Zeb had shown his white teeth and grinned and nodded a great many
times, as if he understood.
[Illustration]
"I know he 's seen eggs before, for he sucked one," Dan told his
mother. Zeb was given his breakfast on the door-stone, and Dan tried
to teach him the use of a spoon, without much success; and afterwards
he was brought in to family prayers. His eyes rolled apprehensively
as he looked from one kneeling figure to another, but, obeying Dan's
gesture, he knelt beside him, and for ten minutes he stuck it out:
then, as the prayer continued to pour in an uninterrupted stream
from the Goodman's lips, he quietly crawled out on all fours and
disappeared through the door. Dan found him afterwards out by the
straw-stack, and as there was a yellow streak on his black face,
concluded he had learned his lesson about the hen's nest altogether
too well. He was given a hoe and taken to the corn-field at once.
Here Daniel showed him just how to cut out the weeds with the hoe and
loosen the earth about the roots of the corn. Zeb nodded and grinned
so cheerfully that, after watching him a few moments, Daniel called
Nancy and they started for Gran'ther Wattles's house in the village to
get the puppy. They had gone but a short distance when Nancy, glancing
around, saw Zeb following them, grinning from ear to ear.
"No--no--no--go back," bawled Daniel, pointing to the corn-field. Zeb
nodded with the utmost intelligence and followed right along. "Oh,
dear!" groaned Daniel. "I 've taught him to do things by showing how,
and now he thinks he must do _everything_ that I do."
[Illustration]
He sat down on a stone and gazed despairingly at Zeb. Zeb promptly sat
down on another stone and beamed at him! In vain Daniel pointed and
shouted, and shook his head. Zeb nodded as cheerfully as ever and
conscientiously imitated Dan's every move. In spite of all they could
do he followed them clear to Gran'ther Wattles's house.
"Oh, dear!" said Nancy, "it 's just like having your shadow come to
life! You 'll have to work all the time, Dan, or Zeb won't work at
all!"
Even with the wonderful new puppy in his arms Dan took a gloomy view
of the situation. "I 'm sick of being an example," he said. "I had to
be one at Aunt Bradford's all the time, for she told Mercy and Joseph
to watch how I behaved, and now here 's this crazy blackamoor mocking
everything I do! I guess Father 'll wish he had n't bought him."
The days that followed were trying ones for everybody. The Goodwife
was nearly distracted trying to house her family and do her work in
such crowded quarters. Zeb followed Dan like a nightmare, and the
Goodman delved early and late to catch up with the work which had
waited for his return. Among other duties there were berries to be
picked in the pasture and dried for winter use, and this task fell to
the children. It was work which Zeb thoroughly enjoyed, but alas, he
ate more than he brought home. On one occasion he ate green fruit
along with the ripe, and spent a noisy night afterward holding on to
his stomach and howling at each new pain. In vain the Goodwife tried
to cure him with a dose of hot pepper tea. Zeb took just enough to
burn his mouth and, finding the cure worse than the disease, roared
more industriously than ever. She was at her wit's end and finally
had to leave him to groan it out alone beside the fire. It was weeks
before he learned to understand the simplest sentences, and meanwhile
poor Dan had to go on being an example.
Finally one day the Goodman brought home a large saw from Boston, and
he and Dan showed Zeb how to use it. Then day after day Dan and Zeb
sawed together, making boards for the new house, while Nancy brought
her carding or knitting and sat on a stump near by with the puppy at
her feet or nosing about in the bushes. They had named the dog Nimrod,
"because," as Nancy said, "he is surely a mighty hunter before the
Lord, just like Nimrod in the Bible. He sniffs around after field mice
all the time, and if he only sees a cat he barks his head off and
tears after her like lightning!"
[Illustration]
* * * * *
[Illustration]
The summer passed quickly away, with few events to take them outside
the little kingdom of home in which they lived. Twice the Captain
stopped to see them when the Lucy Ann put in at Boston Harbor, and it
was from him they got such news as they had of the world without. By
October, Nimrod had grown to be quite a large dog and was already
useful with the sheep, and Zeb could understand a good deal of what
was said to him, though it was noticeable that he was very dull when
it concerned tasks he did not like. With Dan to guide him he was able
to help shock the corn and pile the pumpkins in golden heaps between
the rows. He could feed the cattle and milk the cow and draw water for
them from the well. While the Goodman and the two boys worked in the
fields gathering the crops, Nancy and her mother dried everything that
could be dried and preserved everything that could be preserved, until
there was a wonderful store of good things for the winter.
One day when all the rafters were festooned with strings of
crook-necked squashes, onions, and seed corn braided in long ropes by
the husks, the Goodman appeared in the doorway with another load of
seed corn and looked in vain for a place to put it.
"There is no place," said the Goodwife. "The Lord hath blessed us so
abundantly there is not room to receive it. As it is, I can hardly do
my work without stepping on something. If it is not anything else, it
is sure to be either Zeb or Nimrod. Truly I can no longer clean and
sand my floor properly for the things that are standing about."
The Goodman sat down on the settle and looked long and earnestly at
the crowded room, whistling softly to himself. Then he rose and went
to the village, and as a result the neighbors gathered the very next
week to help build the new house. They came early in the morning,
the men with axes and saws on their shoulders and the women carrying
cooking-utensils. Then while the men worked in the forest felling
trees, cutting and hauling timbers, and putting them in place, the
women helped the Goodwife make whole battalions of brown loaves and
regiments of pies, beside any number of other good things to eat.
Nancy, Dan, and Zeb ran errands and caught fish and dug clams and
gathered nuts to supply materials for them, and were promptly on hand
when meal time came.
There were so many helpers that in a wonderfully short time the
frame-work was up, the roof boards were on, and a great fireplace had
been built into the chimney in the new part of the house. Also a door
had been cut through to connect the new part with the old cabin, which
was now to be used for storage and as a stable for Penny and Eliza,
and a sleeping-space for Zeb. When all this was done and the roof on,
the neighbors returned to their own tasks, leaving the Pepperells to
lay the floors, cover the outside with boards, and do whatever was
necessary to finish the house. It was late in the fall before this was
accomplished and the family had settled down to the enjoyment of their
new quarters.
One day as Dan and Zeb were bringing in boards to sheathe the room on
the inside, they were startled to see two Indians peering out at them
from the shelter of the near-by woods. Dropping the board they were
carrying, they ran like deer to the house, and Dan told his father
what they had seen. The Goodman looked thoughtful as he went on with
his task of sheathing, and that very evening he worked late building
a secret closet between the chimney and the wall. "It will be a handy
place to hide thy preserves," he said to his wife, "and a refuge
should the Indians decide to give us trouble." He cut a small square
window high up in the outside wall and contrived a spring, hidden in
the chimney, to open the door. When this spring was pressed a hole
would suddenly appear in what seemed a solid wall, revealing the
well-stored shelves. This closet was the Goodwife's special pride, but
to Zeb it was a continuous mystery. At one moment there was the solid
wall; the next, without touch of human hands, a door would fly open,
giving a tantalizing glimpse of things to eat which he could never
touch, for if he came near, the door would close again as mysteriously
as it had opened. Dan loved to tease him with it, and Zeb, fearing
magic, would take to his heels whenever this marvel occurred.