BATHSHEBA'S FEAST
INDIAN JOHN had been slightly changing the direction in which they were
running, although Little Peter had not perceived the change. At first
they had kept close to the water's edge, and at times the creeping tide
had rolled up to their feet. As his companion had gradually drawn closer
to the higher ridge which extended somewhat farther back from the beach,
Peter had thought nothing of the slight divergence, except that the
Indian was desirous of keeping a little farther from the water.
Along this ridge in advance of him, Peter saw that thick bushes and
stunted trees were growing, and he thought of the possibility of finding
some hiding-place there; but he was hardly prepared for the change which
Indian John then made. They had just passed a bend in the ridge which
shut out the view of their pursuers, and come to a little gully which
the winter storms had in the course of many years cut deep into the
bank. Here Indian John turned sharply, and, bidding his companion follow
him, turned directly into the woods, which extended from the shore far
back into the adjoining country.
Little Peter instantly followed, but they had not gone many yards before
they came suddenly upon a wigwam in the midst of the forest. Indian John
stopped, and, after a few hurried words with the Indian who was standing
near and who had silently watched the approaching fugitives, beckoned
for Peter to follow him, and both entered the conical shaped dwelling
and threw themselves upon the ground.
The lad was so thankful for the respite, and was so nearly exhausted by
his efforts, that for a time he said nothing, being only too glad of an
opportunity to rest. Every moment he expected to hear the voices of
their pursuers, and more than once was on the point of starting forth
from the hut and resuming his flight, so certain was he that the men had
discovered the hiding-place.
After a time he was positive that he was not deceived. He could hear the
voices of men in conversation with the Indians, and all of his fears
returned. His companion placed his hand upon the arm of the trembling
lad, and Peter waited, listening intently, and fearful every moment that
some one would enter the hut and summon them to come forth.
The conversation lasted several minutes, and then abruptly ceased. Peter
could not determine whether the strangers had departed or not; but he
waited anxiously and did not speak.
The moments slowly passed and his suspense increased. It seemed to him
that he must escape from the place in which he was concealed. The very
air was strangely oppressive, and the ignorance as to what was going on
outside the wigwam increased the anxiety of the frightened boy.
He did not know where he was, nor who were the people whose abode Indian
John had so unceremoniously entered. No voice within or without the hut
could now be heard, and the silence itself added to his alarm.
He could see that Indian John was seated upon the ground with his head
resting upon his knees. He had not moved nor changed his position since
they had entered. Motionless as a statue he remained seated, as if he
were utterly unmindful of all about him.
"John!" whispered Little Peter at last.
The Indian raised his head and looked at his companion, but did not
speak.
"John, don't you think we'd better start on again?"
Indian John still made no reply, and his head dropped again upon his
knees. Peter then perceived that his companion intended neither to speak
nor to depart, and that he must wait in silence for him to explain his
purpose, or to act.
The impatient lad endeavored to possess his soul in patience, but as the
moments passed his anxiety and fear increased. The uncertainty, he
thought, was even more difficult to be borne than was the pursuit
itself, for action of some kind was then possible, while this waiting in
silence was almost unbearable. Not a sound could now be heard. The very
birds were silent under the burning heat of the noontime, and the
grating notes of the crickets had ceased.
At last it seemed to him he could bear it no longer, and he was about to
arise and go forth from the hut, regardless of consequences, when some
one entered and spoke a few words in an unknown tongue to Indian John.
"Come," said the Indian gently, standing erect as he spoke; and Little
Peter at once followed him out into the open air.
He glanced quickly about him, but no one was to be seen except three
Indians, one of whom was a man, and the others, two women. Little Peter
instantly recognized them as Moluss, or "Charlie" Moluss, as many of the
whites called him, and his wife and her sister.
The two women were busily engaged in preparing the contents of a small
iron vessel, which was hanging from a stick supported by two forked
branches, driven into the ground, and beneath which a brisk fire was
burning.
One of the women was feeding the fire, while the other was stirring the
contents of the hanging pot. A savory odor greeted Little Peter's
nostrils, and as soon as he perceived that he was in no immediate danger
he realized that he was hungry; and, with the passing of his alarm,
there came an eager interest in the occupation of the two women before
him.
Little Peter had seen the trio many times before this. They had their
home with others of their tribe in a little settlement several miles
back in the interior. This settlement was commonly known as Edgepelick,
or Edge Pillock, and to it the Indians had gradually withdrawn after
they had disposed of their lands, for the good people of Old Monmouth
were as scrupulous as their New England cousins in not taking the lands
from the dusky owners without giving a so-called equivalent for them.
It is true that this "equivalent" sometimes was a barrel of cider, or a
piece of bright-colored cloth; but perhaps the Indians thought that was
better than nothing, and as their lands were certain to be taken from
them, even such an equivalent as that which was offered was not to be
despised, and so they had submitted to the unequal exchange. At all
events, the exchanges had been made, and in the summer of 1778, many of
the Indian families were dwelling in Edge Pillock, and there continued
to reside until the year 1802, when the men who had driven such shrewd
bargains with them caused them all to be removed to Oneida Lake, in the
neighboring State of New York.
Charlie Moluss, with his wife and her sister, had been frequent visitors
in Little Peter's home, and he knew them almost as well as he did Indian
John. Somehow, they had not been content to abide continuously in Edge
Pillock, and at least twice each year came down to the shore, where they
erected a wigwam, and while Moluss fished and gathered oysters and
clams, the women made baskets and sold them among the scattered homes of
the settlers. Doubtless this, then, was their annual visit, thought
Little Peter, and their abiding place had been known to Indian John, who
had sought its shelter as a place of refuge from their pursuers. And
Little Peter was quite content, at least for the present, and his
feeling of relief was not diminished by the savory odor which now arose
from the iron vessel.
Charlie Moluss's wife was a strikingly handsome Indian woman, and was
known as Bathsheba, which the irreverent settlers had shortened into
"Bath," as they had her sister's name into "Suke."
Bathsheba was considered as an Indian queen, and the respect which the
Indians showed her was, to a certain extent, shared by the white people,
especially by the Quakers. She was regarded as a highly intelligent
woman, and the most prominent people of the region were always glad to
welcome her to their homes.
Little Peter thought of all these things as he seated himself upon the
ground beside the two men, who were, apparently, as deeply interested in
the occupation of the women as was he, himself. The work went steadily
on, and, while Peter found that his hunger was increasing, he
nevertheless listened to what Indian John told him of Moluss's success
in turning their pursuers back to their camp at Refugee Town. Some of
them had followed the fugitives as far as the wigwam, but had turned
away after the Indian had professed his inability to give them the
information they desired, and, doubtless, before this time, were safely
back in "'Gee Town," as Indian John termed their little settlement by
the Hook.
Just why they had been pursued Indian John could not explain, but he had
connected it in some way with the appearance of the boat off the shore,
and Little Peter was not inclined to differ from his conclusion. He was
satisfied now that his father was not to be found in Refugee Town, and
he had decided to go farther down the shore to the place where he
thought he would be likely to find Captain Dennis, or some of the local
militia who had been stationed near to protect the salt works and
strive to hold back the pine robbers, many of whom had their places of
concealment not far away.
Just at present, however, the thought of his dinner was uppermost in his
mind. He eagerly watched Bathsheba and her sister in their work, and,
from their movements, he concluded that his waiting time was soon to
end. One of the women entered the wigwam and brought out several small
wooden bowls. Into these she dipped some of the steaming contents of the
iron vessel, placing each bowl upon the ground when it had been filled.
A word from Bathsheba caused Moluss to arise, and, approaching the fire,
he took one of the bowls in both hands and then seated himself upon the
ground and proceeded to blow with his breath upon the soup, preparatory
to drinking it.
His example was speedily followed by Indian John and Little Peter, who
took their bowls and seated themselves beside Moluss on the ground. An
expression of deep satisfaction was manifest upon the faces of the two
men, while the women, apparently proud of their success in the culinary
art, looked on with evident pleasure. Little Peter also raised the bowl
in his hands and blew upon it.
"Good!" said Moluss, taking a long draught. "Good hop! Hop good!"
"Good!" muttered Indian John, following his friend's example. "Good hop!
Good hop!"
"What?" said Little Peter suddenly, placing his bowl again on the ground
before him as he spoke. "What was that you said, John?"
"Good! Good hop," replied the Indian, with evident satisfaction.
"You don't mean to say that hop-toads are in this soup, do you?"
"Um!" replied Indian John, with a grunt of pleasure. "Good! Little
hop-hop! John like um! Good hop! John like um little hop-hop!" And,
suiting the action to the word, he proceeded to take a deeper draught of
the savory mixture.
All of Little Peter's hunger, however, had disappeared. He quickly arose
from his seat, and, with an expression of disgust upon his face, which
he could not entirely repress, prepared to pass the group and go into
the forest.
A loud laugh greeted his action, and as he passed Moluss, the Indian
held forth his bowl, and said, "Peter like um hop-hop? Good! Moluss like
um hop-hop! John like um hop-hop! Squaw like um hop-hop! All like um
hop-hop! All like um hop-hop! Peter like um, too?"
Little Peter was not to be tempted, and the broad grin upon the faces of
the women, as well as the loud laugh of the men which followed him as he
turned into the forest, did not tend to overcome his feeling of disgust.
How was it possible that they could be willing to eat such filthy
creatures as hop-toads? Little Peter was all in ignorance of some of the
dainty viands which, under high-sounding names, are served up in our
modern restaurants, and so, as a matter of course, could draw no
comparison between the tastes of the rude, uncivilized savages and those
of the more highly cultivated men of our own times. Perhaps he would not
have compared them if he had been possessed of the prophet's foresight.
He knew, however, that his own hunger had disappeared, and as he walked
on he found many excuses for his uncivilized friends. They were welcome
to their own customs, but they must not expect him to join them in their
feasts.
He had gone so far from the wigwam by this time that he thought the
repast, which had so highly delighted his friends, would be ended by
the time he could walk back. Accordingly, he reversed his steps, but as
he walked on his own pressing problem returned in full force.
His father was not to be found in Refugee Town, of that he felt certain;
for, while Indian John had not said much, he knew him so well that he
was satisfied he had known whereof he had spoken.
Where, then, could he be? It was currently reported that Fenton's band
had a place in the lower part of the county, to which they carried their
booty and from which they started forth on their raids. It was just
possible that his father had been taken there by the outlaws in their
flight, but he would not long be retained there. Fenton knew what
American prisoners were worth in the New York market, and, doubtless, he
would find some means by which he could send him there. And the pine
robber would act soon, too, for with the approach of the armies, there
would be many opportunities for his own special work, and he would not
long be hampered by the presence of a single prisoner, whose value would
be slight compared with that of the plunder he might secure.
Little Peter decided that what he was to do he must do quickly. He
would start at once for the place where Captain Dennis's men were said
to be, and place the entire matter in their hands. The captain was a man
whose bravery was well known in Old Monmouth, and he was ever ready to
aid the scattered settlers.
Captain Dennis would surely help him, too, Peter thought, and, with his
heart somewhat lightened, he began to walk more rapidly. He would return
to the wigwam and inform Indian John of his decision. If John would go
with him, he would be glad of his aid, but, whether he went or not, the
lad felt that his own problem was, in a measure, already solved.
"Little Peter, is that you?"
The startled lad looked up quickly at the unexpected summons, and saw,
standing directly in his pathway, nine men. Each had a musket in his
hands, but they wore no uniforms, and for a moment Little Peter could
not determine whether they were friends or foes.