INDIANS AND STRAWBERRIES
“Should you mind driving all night?” asked Jack, as they prepared to
start on after the meal and a short rest.
“Not a bit, if you will take turns driving,” replied Desiré promptly.
“Priscilla can stretch out on the blankets, and you and I alternate at
the reins.”
“The Indians have such a start on us,” went on Jack. “You see in the
first place they left earlier; and then we lost all the time of our
search, and going to Bear River and back; and it’s important to catch up
as soon as possible, lest they should leave the road somewhere and take a
crosscut to the reservation.”
“Of course,” assented Desiré.
Darkness fell; the stars came out; and the full moon gave them light
enough to follow the winding road. Several times during the night Desiré
persuaded Jack to let her guide Dolly and Dapple while he rested and
dozed in the corner of the seat.
On past dark farmhouses whose occupants were sound asleep; past somber,
solemn woods, so beautiful in the daylight, but so dense, mysterious,
almost terrifying at night; across murmuring black streams; up long hills
which made the tired horses breathe heavily, and down the other side
where one had to hold a tight rein to keep the faithful animals from
stumbling. Occasionally a bat swooped low enough to make Desiré duck her
head with fright, and once, while Jack was napping, she caught sight of a
huge dark bulk near the edge of a woods; but it disappeared before the
snorting horses could be urged onward.
At last the moonlight darkness faded to grey; then to a lighter grey; the
sky was slashed with faint rose, growing rapidly deeper and mingling with
gold streaks, until the sun climbed up to survey the land; and another
day had come.
“Look, Jack!” cried Desiré, elbowing her sleeping brother.
“Where?” he asked, yawning.
“In that hollow!”
They were on the crest of a hill, from which they could look down into a
nearby valley.
“Tents!” exclaimed the boy, now fully aroused.
“Indians!” shouted Priscilla, who, wakened by their voices, had crept up
to look over their shoulders.
“Prissy! How you scared me!” cried her sister, jumping violently.
Jack took the reins, and, as fast as the team could travel, headed for
the encampment. They reached their objective just as the Indians were
beginning to break camp. Everything was in confusion; braves striding
here and there; squaws shouldering the big bundles; children crying; dogs
barking. Running back and forth from one group to another, they spied
René.
Throwing the reins to Desiré, Jack jumped down and approached an Indian
who seemed to be directing affairs. With some difficulty, he made the red
man understand his story. Partly by signs, partly by broken English, the
chief replied that “two suns ago they had found strange white child among
them. Where belong, they not know. Going on to reservation. Then send
back young brave who know English to find boy’s people.”
At that moment, René caught sight of his brother, ran across the grass,
and threw himself into Jack’s arms, crying:
“I found Indians, Jack! I found Indians! Ain’t they _fine_?”
“Yes, I see you did, and they are fine,” replied the boy gravely, handing
him over to Desiré, who had left the team and hurried toward them. “Put
him in the wagon, and bring me all the candy we have.”
In a moment the girl was back again with several jars of candy. Jack
distributed the gaily colored sticks to all the little Indian children,
and tried to make the chief understand his gratitude for the care taken
of René.
The tribe then struck out through the woods, away from the main road.
“How lucky that we caught up to them right here,” said Desiré, watching
them, while René waved his hand and shouted goodbyes.
“You’re a bad, bad boy,” declared Priscilla, “to run away like that and
frighten us all!”
René gave her a look which was a compound of disgust and astonishment.
“They were nice to me, and I had a good time. I bet you wish you’d been
along. When _you_ ran away, you didn’t go with nice Indians, but a smelly
old cat who—”
“Never mind, children,” interrupted Jack, as he started the horses and
they drove up a slight elevation to a juniper grove.
“We’ll stay here for a while to let the team rest, and incidentally get
some ourselves,” he decreed, turning in the shade.
While he made Dolly and Dapple comfortable, Desiré had been trying to
make René understand how much trouble he had caused. “You were very
naughty,” she was saying, as Jack joined them.
“Yes,” agreed the older boy, “and he’ll have to be punished to make him
remember it.”
Jack’s tone made Desiré give him an entreating look; but he pretended not
to see.
“Come with me, René,” he said quietly, breaking a small switch from a
nearby tree, and leading the child farther into the grove.
A short silence, then a little boy’s cries could be heard; another
silence, during which Desiré worked madly at anything she could think of
to keep her mind off of what was going on within the woods. Although she
recognized the need of drastic punishment in this instance, yet she hated
to have the baby hurt. After what seemed like hours, really not more than
five or ten minutes, the brothers emerged from among the trees, hand in
hand.
“I’m never, _never_ going to run away again, Dissy,” promised the little
boy, grasping her around the neck as she stooped to put her arms around
him.
“Angry?” asked Jack softly, as the child released himself and ran off to
join Priscilla who was playing quietly with a turtle she had discovered.
“Of course not,” replied Desiré quickly. “How could you think such a
thing?”
“I hated to do it, especially since I knew it hurt you so much; but he
really needed a lesson. We couldn’t risk that sort of thing happening
again; it might not turn out so pleasantly another time.”
“I know you do your best for all of us, dear,” she said, laying her head
against his arm for a moment; “and don’t worry so much about what we may
or may not think about what you do.”
On blankets laid on the ground, Jack and Desiré slept much of the
afternoon, while the children played all kinds of games with the turtle.
All the morning the young Wistmores had been driving along roads bordered
on either side by hundreds of apple trees. In the valley between the
North Mountain on the Bay of Fundy side, and the South Mountain, there
are seventy-five miles of orchards where are grown some of the choicest
varieties of apples, many barrels of which are shipped to the United
States every year.
“This is the most celebrated apple district in the world,” commented
Jack.
“How gorgeous the trees must look when they are covered with blossoms,”
Desiré remarked. “I think apple trees in bloom are among the most
beautiful things in the world.”
“The whole section is famous,” continued Jack. “The first ships built on
the American continent were launched down here on the Annapolis River;
and on Allen’s Creek, which flows along one side of the fort, the first
mill was put up. That was in the days of Champlain.”
They reached Annapolis Royal by this time, and Jack drove up the hills to
see the remains of the fort, and point out the items of interest to the
members of his family.
“Champlain sailed up the Bay of Fundy,” he said, motioning toward that
body of water, “and when he saw the little inlet down there, entered by
means of it, into that broad calm body of water called Annapolis Basin.
The tree-covered sides of the hills which you see sloping gently to the
water’s edge were dotted with lively waterfalls, and he thought it a fine
place for a settlement.
“In those days,” he continued, turning toward René, “Great Beaver, who
was an enemy of Glooscap, lived in Annapolis Basin with his best friend,
a wolf. Now the wolf liked to sail, and Great Beaver made a big raft for
him so he could go back and forth across the water. One day Mr. Wolf was
lying on the top of North Mountain, resting after his sail, and he saw
the Bay of Fundy. Right down to the Great Beaver he rushed, and asked him
to dig a canal between the two bodies of water in order that he might
have more room for his raft. Great Beaver didn’t like salt water; so he
refused to spoil his own home by letting in the tide from Fundy. Clever
Mr. Wolf, who knew that Glooscap and the Beaver were not good friends,
went secretly to Glooscap and asked him to join the two pieces of water.
Glooscap sent the lightning to split open the North Mountain, and through
the narrow opening Mr. Wolf sailed gaily back and forth between the Bay
of Fundy and Annapolis Basin.”
“And what became of the poor Beaver?” asked Priscilla.
“Oh, he had to go and build a new home in the Basin of Minas.”
“Poor Beaver,” commented René, adding, “Jack, where is Glooscap _now_?”
“He became angry at the number of white men coming to take possession of
the land; so he called a big whale to carry him away to some far-off
shore. The Indians think, though, that some day he will come back.”
“Oh, I wish he would,” cried the little boy; “I wish he would right
_now_, so’s I could see him.”
Going down the hill, they reached the shores of the Basin in time to see
the tide come in. Great masses of blue, green and silver water rushed in
the Gap to fill to overflowing the Basin and all its tributary streams.
“What a wonderful sight!” exclaimed Desiré.
“I should think the Wolf would have been drowned,” observed René,
watching the flood of water, his eyes open very wide.
“Why, he’d go up on the mountain and watch it, not stay _in_ it,” said
Priscilla in such a scornful tone that Jack and Desiré smiled.
Several days later, they had passed through many little towns and stopped
in front of many an isolated house where they disposed of many or few of
their wares. The dooryards were gay with flowers, now; for no one was too
poor or too lazy to have a garden. Sometimes these gardens were elaborate
in shape, and of fair size, with colors and varieties blended
beautifully; sometimes only a clump of cheerful red or golden
nasturtiums, clustering around a stump or unsightly rock.
“Just look at that field!” exclaimed Desiré, suddenly.
“What’s the matter with it?” inquired Jack.
“It’s just red with strawberries!”
“Oh, let’s get out and pick some,” proposed Priscilla.
“Don’t you think we might be able to sell them in the next town if we
gathered enough?” Desiré asked Jack.
“Perhaps. There is a hotel, and lots of boarding houses in Kentville; so
I’m told.”
They left the horses to graze in the shade of some trees, and the whole
family, armed with various sized dishes, scattered over the field. After
a couple of hours’ steady work, they transferred the berries to a basket,
covered them with leaves, and continued on their way.
“Who’s going to sell them?” questioned Jack, when they were nearly to
Kentville.
“Never thought of that,” confessed Desiré.
“I will,” offered Priscilla. “Let me!”
“Me too,” chimed René. “I can sell berries fine.”
“You’re a bit young, Renny,” said Jack with a smile; then, turning to
Priscilla, he said, “All right, if you want to.”
Desiré looked a bit surprised at his willingness; but Jack just drew the
team up in front of one of the smaller boarding houses and suggested,
“Try here.”
The little girl took the basket which he handed down to her, walked
boldly up the path to the front door, and knocked. Through the screen
door they heard an annoyed voice say—“Now, I’ve told you—Oh, what is it,
child?”
A low conversation ensued, and Priscilla flew out to the wagon again,
displaying proudly a couple of silver coins.
“She’ll take some any time, she says; and she knows other places where
they would.”
“How would it be,” inquired Desiré thoughtfully as they went on, “if we
took time for berry picking so long as they last; even if we don’t cover
so much ground, it will be clear profit.”
“We could,” said Jack slowly; “and it would be better for us all to be
out of the wagon for a while.”
“In that case,” asked Desiré, “hadn’t we better camp nearby, since we
know we can find quantities of berries here, and Kentville is a pretty
good market.”
Jack agreed.
A most delightful spot beside a noisy brook, just outside the town, was
selected as a camp site; and for two whole weeks they scoured the
surrounding country for berries, taking their harvest in to Kentville
once a day.
“I guess these are the last,” commented Desiré rather regretfully, as
they climbed up a slope toward a bridge on their way home one afternoon.
“Oh, I see a few down there,” cried Priscilla, starting toward the edge
of the river bank.
“Be careful,” called Jack, as she put one foot part way down the bank to
reach some clusters beyond her, rather than walk a little farther.
His warning came too late. Even as he spoke, her foot slipped on the mud;
and before she could save herself, she slid all the way down the soft
slope and rolled into the river.