PARTINGS AND MEETINGS.
Gaspar's courage returned, and he led her to a sheltered place under
the stockade, where he made her sit beside him for the brief time that
was his.
"Not all because I do not like it; but because I am almost a man and I
have found the chance of my life. There is one here, a _voyageur_,
with his boat. The finest vessel I ever saw, though they've not been
so many. He is going north into the great woods; will sail this
morning. He is a great trader and hunter and he has asked me to
apprentice myself to him. He promises he will make my fortune. He has
taken as great a liking to me, I reckon, as I have to him. We shall
get on famously together. In that broad, free life I shall grow a full
man, and soon. I can earn money, and make a home for you and
Wahneenah, and many another lonely, helpless soul. Yes, I must go. I
can't let the chance pass. And you must be brave, and the Sun Maid
still, and forever. I shall want to think of you as always bright and
full of laughter. Like yourself. But you are not like yourself now,
Girl-Child. Why don't you speak? Why don't you say something?"
"I guess there isn't any 'say' left in me, Gaspar," answered the girl,
in a tone so hopelessly sad that it almost made the lad waver in his
determination. Only that wavering had no portion in the character of
the ambitious youth, and he looked far forward toward a great good
beyond the present pain.
When the day was well advanced, the schooner sailed away, from the
dock at the foot of the path from fort to lake, with Gaspar upon her
deck, trying to look more brave and manly than he really felt. But a
forlorn little maid watched with eyes that shed no tears, and a
pitiful attempt at a smile upon her quivering lips till the vessel
became a mere speck, then disappeared.
After a long while, she was aroused by something again moving over the
water.
"He's coming back! My Gaspar's coming back!" she cried, and tossed
back the hair which the wind blew about her face that she might see
the clearer. A moment later her disappointment found words: "It's
nothing but a common Indian canoe!"
However, she remembered her foster-brother had set her a task to do.
She must begin it right away. She was to be as helpful to everybody
she ever should meet as it was possible. Here might be one coming who
hadn't heard about that dreadful fifty-dollar prize money. She must
call out and warn him. So she did, and never had human voice sounded
pleasanter to any wayfarer. But her own intentness discovered
something familiar in the appearance of the young brave, paddling so
cautiously toward her and keeping so well to the shore. She began to
question herself where she had seen him, and in a flash she
remembered. Then, indeed, did she shout, and joyfully:
"Osceolo! Osceolo! Don't you know me? Kitty? The Sun Maid? The
daughter of your own tribe? Osceolo!"
"By the moccasins of my grandfather! You here? How? When? No matter.
The brother of the Sun Maid rejoices. Never a friend so convenient.
Run around to the edge of the wharf. There must be talk between us,
and at once."
He pushed his little boat close under the shadow of the pier that had
long since been deserted of those who had come down to watch, as Kitty
had done, the sailing of the northern-bound schooner. There was none
to hear them, yet Osceolo chose to muffle his tones and to make
himself mysterious. In truth, he was fleeing from justice, having been
mixed up in a raid upon a settler's homestead a few miles back; in
which, fortunately, there had been no bloodshed, though a deal of
thieving and other dirty work which would make it uncomfortable for
the young warrior should he be caught just then. The story he was
prepared to tell was true as far as it went; and the Sun Maid was too
innocent to suspect guile in others. She thought he was referring to
the prize money when he spoke of quite other matters; and after the
briefest inquiry and answer as to what had befallen either since their
parting at doomed Muck-otey-pokee, he concluded:
"Now, Sister-Of-My-Heart, Blood-Daughter-Of-My-Chief, you must help
me. You must give me, or lend me, a horse; and you must bring me food.
Then I will ride to fetch you back Wahneenah."
"Oh! You know where she is? Can you do it and not be taken?"
"Is not the Brother of the Sun Maid now become a mighty warrior?"
"You--you don't look so very mighty," returned the girl, truthfully.
Osceolo frowned. "That is as one sees. Fetch me the horse and the
meat, if you would have your Other Mother restored."
"I will. I will!" she cried, and ran back to the Fort. She went first
to the kitchen, and begged a meal "for a stranger that's just come,"
and the food was given her without question. Strangers were always
coming to be fed; herself, also, no longer ago than the last evening.
From the kitchen to the stables, where a bright thought came to her.
She would lead the Tempest to Osceolo, and herself ride the Snowbird.
Together they would go to find Wahneenah.
"The black gelding?" asked the soldier of whom she sought assistance.
"The hostler can maybe tell you. But I think the Black Partridge rode
away on him before daybreak."
"The Black Partridge! Oh! I had forgotten him in my trouble about
Gaspar. Did any harm come to him, sir?"
"No. What harm should? If every red-skin in Illinois was like him
there'd be little need of us fellows out here in this mud-hole. But
you look disappointed. If you want to take a ride, there's the white
mare you came on. But you'd better not go far away. It isn't safe for
a child like you."
"I'm not afraid, but--Well, if Tempest's gone, I can't. That's all."
So the Snowbird was brought out, and she led the pretty creature away
behind the shelter of the few trees which hid the spot where Osceolo
had bade her meet him.
"I tried to get Tempest for you, but the Chief has ridden him away. I
meant to go with you. But you'll have to go alone. Tell my darling
Other Mother that I am here, and waiting. Tell her about Gaspar, and
that he said he had found out she would be quite safe here. Why, so, I
suppose, would you. I didn't think."
"No, I shouldn't," returned the young Indian hastily. Then, noting her
surprise, explained:
"I'm a warrior, you see. That makes a difference."
"It will be all right, though, I think. And if you cannot come back
with Wahneenah, do hurry and send her by herself. Will you?"
"Oh, I'll hurry!" answered the youth, evasively, and leaped to the
Snowbird's back. The food he had stuffed within his shirt till a more
convenient season, and with a cry that even to Kitty's trusting ears
sounded in some way derisive, he was off out of sight along the
lakeside.
As the Snowbird disappeared, Kitty felt that the last link between
herself and her friends had been severed, and for a moment the tears
had sway. Then, ashamed of her own weakness and remembering her
promise to Gaspar that she would be "just the sunniest kind of a girl,
and true to her name," she brushed them away and entered the busy
Fort, to proffer her services to the women in charge.
These had already learned her story and had reprimanded her for
running away from her protectors, the Smiths; but it was nobody's
business to return her and, meanwhile, she was safe at the Fort until
they should choose to call for her.
"Well, there is always plenty of work in the world for the hands that
will do it," said an officer's wife, with a kindly smile. "You seem
too small to be of much practical use; but, however, if you want a
task, there are some little fellows yonder who need amusing and
comforting. Their mother has died of a fever, and their father is more
of a student and preacher than a nurse. I guess his wife was the
ruling spirit in the household, and now that she has left him, he is
sadly unsettled. He doesn't know whether to go on and take up the
claim he expected or not. He and you, and the oddly-named little sons,
may all yet have to become wards of the Government."
"I'm very sorry for him."
"You well may be. Yet he's a gentle, blessed old man. No more fit to
marry and bring that flock of youngsters out here into the wilderness
than I am to command an army. She was much younger than he, and felt
the necessity of doing something toward providing for their children
and educating them. But the more I talk, the more I puzzle you. Run
along and lend them a hand. The very smallest Littlejohn of the lot
has filled his mouth with dirt, and is trying to squall it out. See if
a drink of water won't mend matters."
Kitty hastened to the child, and begged;
"My dear, don't cry like that. You are disturbing the people."
"Don't care. I ain't my dear; I'm Four."
"You're what?"
"Just Four. Four Littlejohns. What pretty hair you've got. May I pull
it?"
"I'd rather not. Unless it will make you forget the dirt you ate."
But the permission given, the child became indifferent to it. He
pointed to three other lads crouching against the door-step, and
explained:
"They're One, Two, and Three. My father, he says it saves trouble.
Some folks laugh at us. They say it's funny to be named that way. I
was eating the dirt because I was--I was mad."
"Indeed! At whom?"
"At everybody. I'm just mis'able. I don't care to live no longer."
The round, dimpled face was so exceedingly wholesome and happy,
despite its transient dolefulness, that Kitty laughed and her
merriment brought an answering smile to the four dusty countenances
before her.
"Wull--wull--I is. My father, he's mis'able, too. So, course, we have
to be. He's a minister man. He can't tell stories. He just tells true
ones out the Bible. Can you tell Bible stories?"
"No. I--I'm afraid I don't know much about that book. Mercy had one,
but she kept it in the drawer. She took it out on Sundays, though. She
didn't let Gaspar nor me touch it. She said we might spoil the cover.
That was red. It was a reward of merit when she was a girl. It had
clasps, and was very beautiful. It had pictures in it, too, about
saints and dead folks; but I never read it. I couldn't read it if I
tried, you know, because I've never been taught."
This was amazing to the four book-crammed small Littlejohns. One
exclaimed, with superior disgust:
"Such a great big girl, and can't read your Bible! You must be a
heathen, and bow down to wood and stone."
"Maybe I am. I don't remember bowing down to anything, except when I
say my prayers."
"Your prayers! Then you can't be a real heathen. Heathens don't say
prayers, not our kind. Hmm. What lovely eyes you've got and how pretty
you are! All the women never saw such wonderful hair as yours, nor the
men either. I heard them say so. If I had a sister, I'd like her to
look just like you. But it's wicked to be vain."
"What do you mean, you funny boy?"
"I'm not funny. I'm serious. My mother--my mother said--my mother--Oh!
I want her! I want her!"
Religion, superiority, priggishness, all flew to the winds as his real
and fresh grief overcame him; and it was a heart-broken lad that
hurled himself against the shoulder of this sympathetic-looking girl
who, though so much taller, was not so very much older than he.
The Sun Maid's own heart echoed the cry with a keen pain, and she
received the orphan's outburst with exceeding tenderness. Now,
whatever One, the eldest, did the other young numerals all imitated,
so that each was soon weeping copiously. Yet, from very excess of
energy, their grief soon exhausted itself and they regarded each other
with some curiosity. Then Three began to smile, in a shamefaced sort
of way, not knowing how far his recovery of composure would be
approved by sterner One.
After a habit familiar to him the latter opened his lips to reprove
but, fortunately, refrained, as he discovered a tall, stoop-shouldered
man crossing the parade-ground.
This gentleman seemed oddly out of place amid that company of
immigrants and soldiers. Student and bookworm was written all over his
fine, intellectual countenance, and his eyes had that absent
expression that had made the commandant's wife call him a "dreamer."
His bearing impressed the Sun Maid with reverent awe; a feeling
apparently not shared by his sons. For Three ran to him and shook him
violently, to secure attention, as he eagerly exclaimed:
"Oh, father! We've found one of 'em already! A heathen. Or, any way, a
heatheny sort of a girl, but not Indian. She doesn't know how to read,
and she hasn't any Bible. Come and give her one and teach her quick!"
"Eh? What? A heathen? My child, where?"
"Right there with my brothers. That yellow-headed girl. She's nice.
Are all the heathen as pretty as she is?"
"My son, that young person? Surely, you are mistaken. She must be the
daughter of some resident at the Fort, or of some traveller like
ourselves."
"I don't believe she is. She's been taking care of herself all day. I
haven't heard anybody tell her 'Don't' once. If she belonged to folk
they'd do it wouldn't they?"
"Very likely. Parents have to discipline their young. Don't drag me
so. I'm walking fast enough."
"That's what I say, father. 'Don't' shows I belong to you. But I do
wish you'd come. She might get away before you could catch her."
"Catch her, Three? I don't understand."
"I know it. My mother used to say you never did understand plain
every-day things. That's why she had to take care of you the same as
us. Oh! I wish we'd never come to this horrid place."
The reference to his wife and the child's grief roused the clergyman
more completely than even an appeal for the heathen. Laying his thin
hand tenderly upon the small rumpled head, he stroked it as he
answered:
"In my flesh I echo that wish, laddie; but in my spirit I am resigned
to whatever the Lord sends. If there is a heathen here, there is His
work to do, and in that I can forget my own distress. I will walk
faster if you wish."
The other small Littlejohns, with Kitty, now joined their father and
Three, the girl regarding him with some curiosity, for he was of a
stamp quite different from any person she had ever seen. But he won
her instant love as, holding out his hands in welcome, he exclaimed:
"Why, my daughter! Surely the lads were jesting. You look neither
ignorant nor heathen, and in personal gifts the Lord has been most
kind to you."
"Has He? But I am rather lonely now."
"And so am I. Therefore, we will be the better friends. Why, sons,
this is just what we need to make our group complete. Maybe, lassie,
your parents will spare you to us, now and then."
"I have no parents. I am a ward of Government, though I don't
understand it. I wish--are you too busy to hear my story, and will you
advise me? Gaspar told me some things, but he's not old and wise like
you, dear sir."
"Old I am, indeed, but far from wise. Though, so well as I know I will
most gladly counsel you. Let us go yonder, to that shady place beside
the great wall, where there are benches to rest on and quiet to listen
in."
Now small Four Littlejohns had heard a deal about heathen. They had
been the dearest theme of all the stories told him, and he caught his
father's hand with a detaining grasp:
"She might eat you all up, father!"
"Boy, what are you saying?"
"She isn't like the picture in my story-book of the heathen that lived
in India, and all the people worshipped, that was named a god, One
told me when I asked him; but I guess heathens can change like
fairies; and, please don't go, father, don't!"
"Nonsense, Four. What trash are you talking? It is you who are the
heathen now."
"I, father? _I!_"
In horror of a possible change in his person, the child began to feel
of his plump face and pinch his fat body. He even imagined he was
stiffening all over. Suddenly, he drew his wide mouth into a grotesque
imitation of the engraving as he remembered it, planting his feet
firmly and setting up a tragic wail.
"I'm not like him. I won't be. I won't, I won't, I won't!"
Kitty understood nothing but the evident distress, which she attempted
to soothe and merely aggravated.
"Get away! Don't you touch me! You go away home and sit on a table
with your legs all crooked up--so; and stop playing you're a regular
girl. Leave go my father's hand, I say!"
Then One came to the rescue. As soon as he could stop laughing, he
explained the situation to the others, and though the incident seemed
a trivial one to the younger people to the good Doctor it was weighty
with reproach for the ignorance he had permitted in his own household.
It also had its far-reaching results; for it led him to observe the
Sun Maid critically, and, when he had heard her simple story, to ask
out of the fulness of his own big heart:
"Will you come and share our home with us, my daughter? Surely, you
have much good sense and many wonderful gifts. The Lord has thrown us
into one another's company, and I believe you can, in large measure,
take their mother's place to these sons of mine. Will you come and
live in our home, dear Sun Maid?"
"Indeed, I will! And love you for letting me!" cried the grateful
girl, catching the Doctor's hand and kissing it reverently.
But it did not occur to either of these innocents that there was, at
that time, no home existing for them.