by Keineth(Lit)
home about two miles from here. Part of it is over one hundred years
old! She lives there all alone. And her house is filled with the most
wonderful furniture--queer chairs and great big beds with posts that go
to the ceiling and one has to step on little stepladders to get into
them, only no one ever does because she lives there all alone. She has
some plates that Lafayette ate from and a cup that George Washington
drank out of--"
"And the funniest toys--a doll that belonged to her grandmother and is
made of wood and painted, with a queer silk dress, all ruffles! She
always lets me play with it."
"And her great-great-grandmother, when she was a little girl, held an
arch with some other children, at Trenton, for Washington to pass
through when he went by horse to New York for his first inauguration.
They all wore white and the arch was covered with roses. Grandma Sparks
loves to tell of it and how Washington patted her great-great-grandmother
on the head! If you ask her to tell you the story she will be very
happy, Keineth."
"I like her guns best--" cried Billy. "She's got all kinds of guns and
things they used way back in the Revolution!"
"And she has a roomful of books and letters from great people that her
ancestors collected. Why, Father says that she would be very rich if
she'd sell the papers she has, but she will not part with a thing!
Mother says she just lives in the past and she'd rather starve than to
take money for one of her relics!"
"I'd rather have the money, you bet," muttered Billy.
"I wouldn't--I think it must be wonderful to have a letter that was
really written and signed by President Lincoln himself," Barbara
declared.
"I'm awfully glad we're going there," said Keineth eagerly.
"Let's ask her to tell us about how her brother dug his way out of
Andersonville Prison! She'll show us the broken knife, Ken!"
"Why, Billy, she's told us that story dozens of times--let's ask for a
new one!" To Keineth: "After she gives us gingerbread and milk and
little tarts she tells us a story while we all sit under the apple
tree!"
"And say, she can make the best tarts!" interrupted Billy. "Oh, I wish
the Fourth would hurry and come!" echoed Keineth. It did come--a
glorious sunny morning! Billy's bugle wakened them at a very early
hour. Before breakfast the children, with Mr. and Mrs. Lee, circled
about the flag pole on the lawn, and, while Billy slowly pulled the
Stars and Stripes to the top, in chorus they repeated the oath of
allegiance to their flag. Keineth--her eyes turned upward, suddenly
felt a rush of loneliness for her father. A little prayer formed on her
lips to the flag she was honoring. "Please take care of him wherever he
is!"
At noon, in Genevieve, they started merrily off for Grandma Sparks! In
her mind Keineth had drawn a picture of a stately Colonial house, with
great pillars, such as she had sometimes seen while driving with Aunt
Josephine. Great was her surprise when Billy turned into a grass-grown
driveway which led past a broken-down gate and stopped at the door of
a weather-gray house; its walls almost concealed by the vines growing
from ground to gable and even rambling over the patched roof. At the
door of the house stood a noble apple tree, spreading its branches in
loving protection over the old stone steps which led to the threshold.
Through the small-paned window Grandma Sparks had been watching for
them. She came out quickly; a tiny figure in a dress as gray and
weather-beaten as the house itself, a cap covering her white head. Her
hands were stretched out in eager welcome and her smile seemed to
embrace them all at once.
"Well--well--well," was all she could say.
Keineth felt suddenly as though this quaint little lady had indeed
stepped out of one of her own dusty old books--she could not be a part,
possibly, of their busy world! And while the others talked she
examined, with unconcealed interest, the queer heavy furniture, the
colored prints on the walls and the old spinnet in the corner. Billy
was already taking down the guns and Alice sat rocking the doll.
Keineth was shown the picture of the great-great-grandmother who had
held the arch and was told the story; she saw the plates and the cup
and the broken knife. They unfolded the flags that had been in the
family for generations and reread the letters that Mrs. Sparks kept in
a heavy mahogany box. One of them--most treasured of all--had been
written to her mother in praise of her brother's bravery on the
battlefield under action, and was signed "A. Lincoln."
"My greatest grief in life," the little old lady said, holding the
letter close to her heart, "is that I have no son who may for his
generation serve his country, if they need him!"
Afterwards Barbara told Keineth that Mrs. Sparks had once had a little
boy who had been born a cripple and died when he was twelve years old.
While Barbara and Peggy were busy spreading a picnic--table under the
apple tree, Keineth told Grandma Sparks of her own father and how he
had gone away to serve his country, too; but that it was a secret and
no one knew he was a soldier because he wore no uniform.
"The truest hearts aren't always under a uniform, my dear," and the old
lady patted Keineth's hand. "The service that is done quietly and with
no beating of drums is the hardest service to do!" After the
picnic--and the picnic _had_ included the gingerbread and tarts and
patties that Barbara had described and which the dear old lady had
spent hours in preparing--they grouped themselves under the apple tree;
Grandma in the old rocker Billy had brought from the house.
"Not about Andersonville, please," begged Peggy. "Why, I know that by
heart! A new one!"
"Something about the war," Billy urged.
Barbara interrupted, shuddering. "No--no! I can't bear to think there
is a war right now--"
"Child--I had thought that never again in my lifetime would this world
know a war! We have much to learn, yet--we are not ready for a lasting
peace. But it will come!"
"That's what my father says--we must all learn to live like families in
a nice street," added Keineth gravely.
"Oh, well--if the girls can't stand a story about the war, tell us
something about the early settlers! I like adventure--if I'd lived in
those days you bet I'd have discovered something!" "I remember," mused
the old lady, "a story my father used to tell! We have the papers about
it somewhere. Let me think--it was about a trading post on the Ohio and
a captive maiden brought there by the Indians!"
Billy threw his cap in the air.
"Indians! Hooray!"
CHAPTER IX
THE CAPTIVE MAIDEN
Grandma Sparks folded her hands contentedly in her lap and fastened her
eyes upon the distant tree-tops.
"Years and years ago, when this land was a vast forest, a band of
Canadian and French soldiers and traders made their way through the
wilderness to the banks
of the Ohio where they built a small fort and
started a trading post. The land was rich about them and they were soon
carrying on a prosperous trade with the Indians who came to the fort.
Though these Indians were friendly the soldiers had made the fort as
strong as possible, for they knew that no one could tell at what moment
they might be attacked! Sometimes weeks and months would pass when no
Indian would come their way; then some of the traders would journey
back along the trail with their wealth, leaving the others at the fort
to guard it.
"In their number was a soldier who had once escaped from England; had
gone into France and from there to Canada, all because he had made the
King angry! Everyone in England thought he was dead. After years of
lonely wandering he had joined the little band of adventurers when they
started for the West--as they called it in those days! He was a queer
man, for he seldom talked to his fellows, but they knew he was brave
and would give up his life for any one of them! They called him
Robert--no one knew his other name, nor ever asked.
"It was the custom at the trading post to treat the Indians with great
politeness. Sometimes great chiefs came to the fort and then the
soldiers and traders acted as though they were entertaining the King of
England.
"One early morning a sentry called out to his fellows that Indians were
approaching. The soldiers quickly made all preparations for their
reception. The commanding officer went forward with some of his men to
meet them. The Indian band was led by a chief--a, great, tall fellow
with a kingly bearing, and behind him another Indian carried in his
arms the limp form of a white girl.
"Briefly the chief explained that the girl was hurt; that they, the
white men, must care for her! Where they had found her--what horrible
things might have happened before they made her captive no one could
know, for an Indian never tells and the white men knew better than to
ask! The girl was carried into shelter and laid upon a rough wooden
bed. It was Robert, the outlaw, who helped unwind the covers that bound
her.
"In astonishment the soldiers beheld the face of a beautiful
girl--waxen white in her unconsciousness. Silently the Indians let the
white medicine-man care for their captive. She had been so terribly
hurt that for days she lay as though dead! While the soldiers
entertained the Indians, the medicine-man and Robert worked night and
day to save the young life.
"Having finished trading with the white men the Indians prepared to
return to their village, which, they told the white men, was far away
toward the setting sun. The girl was too ill to be moved; so, with a
few words, the Indian Chief told the officer of the fort that soon they
would return for the girl--whom he claimed as his squaw--and that if
ill befell her, or, on their return, she was gone--a dozen scalps he
would take in turn! The officer could do no more than promise that the
Indian's captive would be well guarded.
"And every white man of them knew that as surely as the sun sets the
Indian would return for the girl whom he claimed as his squaw, and that
if she was not there for him to take, twelve of them would pay with
their lives!
"The weeks went on and the girl grew well and strong, but, because of
her horrible accident, could remember nothing of her past. She was like
an angel to the rough traders and soldiers; going about among them in
the simple robe they had fashioned for her of skins and sacking, with
her fair hair lying over her shoulders and her eyes as blue as the very
sky. And because she could not tell them her name they called her
Angele.
"One day a message was brought to their fort telling of war in the
Colonies--that the English were fighting the French and that all Canada
would be swept with flame and blood! Almost to a man they said they
would go back to fight. One among them did not speak--it was Robert!
Though he had fled from England never to return, he could not lift his
hand against her. And someone must stay with Angele!
"By the camp fire they talked it over. It was decided that four of them
would remain at the fort until the chieftain came to claim his captive.
One of these would be Robert; the other three would be chosen by lot.
"So while the others went home along the trail over which they had
come, the four guarded the little fort for Angele's sake. Three of them
gave little thought to that time when the Indian chief would come for
the girl--to them, it simply meant that their guard would be ended and
that they, too, might return--but Robert went about with a heavy heart,
for, as the days passed, it seemed to him more and more impossible to
give the girl into a life of bondage! Under the stars he vowed that
before he would do that he would run his knife deep into her heart, and
pay with his own life.
"Angele's contentment was terribly shattered one evening when, at
sundown, three Indians came to the fort. At the sight of them she
uttered a terrible scream and fled into hiding. They said they had been
wandering over the country and had come to the fort quite by chance and
only sought a friendly shelter for the night, but the sight of their
brown bodies and dark faces had shocked the girl's mind in such a way
as to bring back the memory of everything that had happened to her and
hers at the hands of these red men. Robert found her crouched in a
corner weeping in terror. To him she told her story; how the little
band of people, once happy families in the land of Acadia, roaming in
search of a home, had been surprised by an attack of Indians; how
before her very eyes every soul of them had been killed and she alone
had been spared because the chief wanted her for his squaw! They had
carried her away with them; for days they had travelled through strange
forests, for hours at a time she was scarcely conscious. Then,
attempting escape, she had received the blow from a tomahawk that had
hurt her so cruelly. It was a terrible story. Robert listened to the
end and then, taking her two hands and holding them close to his heart,
told her solemnly that never would she be given again to the Indians!
"But he did not tell her of his vow, for suddenly he knew that life
would be very, very happy if he could escape from the fort with her and
go back to the Colonies!
"The three Indians, before departing, had told of an entire tribe they
had overtaken only a little way off, decked out as if for a great
ceremony and led by a chieftain! Robert well knew who they were. If
they were to escape it must be before the dawn of another day!
"That night--quietly, that Angele might not be frightened--the men
talked together over the fire. Robert unfolded a plan. The others must
start eastward immediately along the river trail. Then as soon as the
moon had gone down, he and Angele would go in the bark canoe the men
had built--paddle as far eastward as they could, then make for the
shelter of the
forests.
"The others were eager to escape--for they knew now that the man Robert
would never give up the girl, and they loved their own scalps! They
hastily gathered together what they wanted to take with them and stole
from the fort. During their idle days they had dug an underground
passage from the fort to the river; through this they escaped quickly
to the trail.
"Robert wakened Angele and told her of his plan. She said not a word,
but by the fire in her eyes Robert knew what escape meant to her. Then,
gently, he asked her if--when they had found safety in the Colonies--
she would go with him to a priest to be married, and for answer she
turned and kissed him upon his hand.
"While Robert loaded the canoe which he found at the river bank near
the opening of the rough tunnel, Angele joyfully made her few
preparations for the long journey.
"Before leaving the fort Robert gave to Angele a small knife, telling
her that if they were captured she must use it quickly to end her own
life! He then carefully barred every possible entrance, knowing that
though the Indians could beat these down or fire the entire place, it
would mean some delay in their pursuit and give them a little start
toward safety.
"Just as the moon disappeared and a heavy darkness enveloped them they
pushed away from shore. But as they started down the river a horrible
whoop split the air! Angele pressed her hands tight to her mouth to
still her scream of terror. With a mighty stroke Robert paddled for
midstream. But just as he did so an arrow shot past Angele and buried
itself in the soft part of his leg!