CHAPTER V--The Story of Little Gwen
"It was a long time ago," began Friend Morris, "when a little Welsh girlnamed Gwen set sail from England, with her father and mother and acompany of Friends, to cross the Atlantic Ocean and make a new home forthemselves in America. When they were perhaps halfway across, Gwen had anew little brother, and as he was born on the ocean he was given thename 'Seaborn.'
"Travel was slow in those days, and it seemed a long time to little Gwenbefore the ship reached land, and she could run and jump as much as shepleased on the solid ground, as she could not do on the crowded ship'sdeck. But even then their travels were not over, for Gwen's father, witha few other men and their families, pushed on into the woods where theymeant to settle and build their homes."
"Were there Indians in the woods?" asked Sammy eagerly.
"Yes, plenty of them, but all friendly to the Quakers," answered FriendMorris. "I'm sorry for thee, Sammy, but there won't be a single fight inthis story."
"Never mind," said Sammy generously, "I'll like to hear it just thesame."
"What kind of a house did Gwen have in the woods?" asked Mary Ellen,anxious to hear the story.
"No house at all, for a time," said Friend Morris. "At first, eachfamily chose its own tree, and under it they lived, glad of any shelterthat would protect them from sun and rain."
"Like the squirrels and rabbits," murmured Lydia.
"Then, as the weather grew colder, they dug caves in the bank of theriver, where with a roof of boughs and comfortable beds of leaves, theylived until they were able to build real houses of logs or stone."
"That was nice," said little Tom. "I'd like to live in a cave. I'd keepthe bears out with my sword."
"Gwen liked it, too, though I don't know that she saw any bears,"answered Friend Morris. "But oh, how glad her mother was when their loghouse was finished. It had a ladder on the outside that led to the upperroom, and Gwen learned to run up and down this ladder as quickly as asquirrel runs up a tree. Gwen's father had built the house on theriver-bank far away from his friends, for some day he meant to clear theland and have a large farm.
"There was little time for visiting in those busy days, and Gwen mighthave been lonely if it had not been for Seaborn. He was a fat roly-poly,a year old now, creeping and crawling into all kinds of mischief, andGwen spent her spare moments trotting around after him. He was agood-natured baby, but now he was cutting his teeth, and this made himcross and fractious. And he cried. Oh! how he cried. His mother rubbedhis gums with her thimble to help his teeth through, and he cried harderthan ever. Gwen danced up and down and shook his home-made rattle, agourd filled with dried peas, but he only pushed her away. And just thencame the time for the big Friends' Meeting to be held across the riverin the town of Philadelphia.
"'Father will go, but we must stay at home, Gwen,' said her mother. 'Wemeant to take thee, and Seaborn, too, but thee couldn't ask me to takethis crying baby anywhere.'
"'How long would thee be gone, Mother? Two days and a night?' askedGwen. 'Wouldn't thee trust me to stay at home and take care of Seaborn?'
"And Gwen coaxed and wheedled, and wheedled and coaxed, until the nextmorning, feeling very important and grown-up, she saw her father andmother start across the river in their little boat, bound for the greatQuarterly Meeting.
"That very afternoon Seaborn's nap was so quiet and peaceful that Gwenwasn't the least surprised, on peeping into his mouth when he woke, tosee a big new tooth shining in that pink cavern. What if it was rainingand they couldn't go out of doors? It was easy enough to amuse Seabornnow.
"All day and all night it rained, and the next morning the sky was asgray and the rain came down as hard as ever. Gwen saw that the river wasrising, and had overflowed its banks, and she hoped nothing wouldprevent Mother and Father from coming home that night. She was a littlelonely, but not one bit frightened until, late in the afternoon, anarrow stream of water came under the door, and trickled slowly acrossthe floor. Gwen ran to the window. There was water several inches deepall around the house, and she could see that it was rising everymoment."
"Oh dear," said Polly, "what did she do?"
"This is what she did," said Friend Morris. "The only way to go upstairswas by the ladder on the outside of the house. Gwen wrapped Seaborn in ashawl, and splashing through the water, she carried him upstairs. Thendown she ran for milk and a bowl of cold porridge, and by that time thewater was so deep she was afraid to go downstairs again."
"I think she was a clever little girl to think and act so quickly," saidMrs. Blake, who was enjoying the story quite as well as the children.
"She was a brave little girl, too," went on Friend Morris. "She wrappedup warmly, and, lighting a candle, sat down in the doorway of the upperroom to watch and wait. It grew darker and darker, and still the rainfell steadily. Seaborn was sound asleep, and Gwen was nodding, whensuddenly she sat up with a jerk. A little boat was moving toward themover the water that covered the ground in front of the house, and toGwen's delight it stopped at the foot of the stairway ladder.
"'Father,' called Gwen, 'Mother, has thee come home? Here we are,upstairs in the doorway.'
"But it was neither father nor mother who answered. A deep voice said,'Ugh! Missy come, I take.' And Gwen looked down into the brown face ofan Indian."
"In his war paint, with a tomahawk?" asked Sammy, his own feathersstanding out with interest.
"No, indeed," said Mrs. Morris, "in peaceful attire. He had often tradedwith Gwen's father, and he knew the Quakers were having a Meeting overthe river. So when he saw the light in the house, he came as a friend tohelp. He was called Lame Wolf, because he limped a little, and Gwen wasvery glad indeed to see him.
"'I take,' said Lame Wolf again, and held up his arm to beckon Gwen.
"Down the ladder she scrambled, with Seaborn in her arms, and off thecanoe glided through the darkness. And that is the last sleepy littleGwen remembered until she woke the next morning with the sun shining inher face.
"She was lying in an Indian wigwam, with a fire burning in the middle ofthe floor, and beside it, crouching over the blaze, an old Indian squaw.
"'My brother!' cried Gwen, springing up; 'where is Seaborn?'
"The old woman seemed to understand, for she grunted and pointedoutside. And there, hanging from the low branch of a big tree, incompany with several Indian babies, swung Seaborn."
"Oh, didn't it hurt?" asked Lydia, with a little shudder. "Did they hanghim by the neck?"
"No, Lydia, no," said Friend Morris, with a smile. "He was strapped inan Indian cradle, a flat board covered with skins and moss. And heseemed to like it, for he smiled and chuckled when he saw his sister.
"Gwen knew they must be in an Indian camp, for she saw many wigwams, andhorses tethered about them. Already, groups of Indian squaws were atwork, scraping animal skins and trimming leggings and moccasins withbright-colored beads. Little girls were going to and fro, carrying woodand water. Little brown boys ran past, with bows and arrows in theirhands, off for a day's play. Gwen was glad to see her friend, Lame Wolf,limping toward her. He said, 'Eat! Come!' and led the way back into thewigwam where the old squaw gave Gwen a bowl of soup.
"Then Lame Wolf lifted Seaborn down from the tree, and took them beforethe chief Big Bear. Big Bear listened to Lame Wolf's story. He lookedkindly at Gwen, motioned Lame Wolf to hang Seaborn on a near-by tree,where his own papoose swung in the shade, and then called to his littlegirl, Winonah, peeping shyly round the wigwam. She took Gwen by the handand led her off to see her dolls."
"Dolls?" said Polly and Lydia together. "Do little Indian girls havedolls?"
"Certainly they do. These dolls were made of deerskin, with paintedface, beads for eyes, and one had a fine crop of horsehair and anotherone of feathers. Each doll had its cradle, too, and Gwen and the chief'slittle daughter played happily together.
"In the afternoon, Seaborn and Papoose, all the name the chief's littleboy owned as yet, were taken from their cradles and put upon
the groundto roll and tumble to their hearts' content. Gwen and Winonah were nearby watching them. Suddenly little Papoose began to choke and cough. Hiseyes grew big and round and he gasped for breath. Winonah ran for hermother and left Gwen alone. And then in a flash, Gwen knew what she mustdo. Once Seaborn had swallowed a button and it had lodged in his throat.Little Papoose must have put something in his mouth that was choking himnow. So Gwen did as she had seen her mother do for Seaborn. She bravelyput her fingers down poor little Papoose's throat, grasped something,and drew it out. It was a smooth white pebble big enough to choke adozen little Papooses!"
"She was as good as a Red Cross nurse," said Mary Ellen excitedly, hereyes shining. "Didn't Big Bear and little Papoose's mother praise herfor saving his life?"
"Yes, indeed, Mary Ellen," answered Friend Morris. "They praised her,and they gave her presents when she went home the next day, and all herlife they were her good friends. And that was really best of all."
"What were the presents?" asked the children in chorus.
"An Indian dress for herself, a cradle for Seaborn, a doll in its littlecradle, and beautiful skins as a present for her mother. And that is allmy story," ended Friend Morris, smiling down into the flushed facesgathered about her knee.
"Thank you, Friend Morris," said Lydia, giving her apple a last twirl."Gwen was a nice girl."
"It was a good story," said Sammy, with a nod of his feathered head,"even if there wasn't any fighting in it."
"Now, eat your apples, children," said Miss Martin. "Here's Alexandercome to take us home, and somehow you must be turned back into boys andgirls again before you can go out into the street."
It was hard to go back to checked aprons and blouses after ribbons andfeathers and war paint, but at last it was done. And Mary Ellen said"Thank you" for all of them when she put her arms round Mrs. Blake'sneck.
"Good-night," said Mary Ellen. "And please do ask us soon again."
Little Friend Lydia Page 5