CHAPTER XIII
THE WIGWAM
"How much farther must we walk, Naki?" asked Mollie, after an hour's hardtramping. "Surely Eunice and her grandmother must live somewhere near.Eunice could not have traveled such a distance to our hut every day."
"An Indian girl flies like the wind," Naki answered. "But another halfhour will find us at the wigwam. The Indian woman lives in her tent. Shewill have nothing like the white race, neither house, nor friendships.She is the last of a lost race. She and the child live alone on the hill.Sometimes other Indians visit them, those of the race who have studiedand become as white men. They have taught the child what she knows. ButMother Eunice, as the grandmother is known, still smokes her pipe by anopen fireside."
"Is the old woman also named Eunice?" Ruth inquired curiously. "I do notunderstand. Eunice is not an Indian name."
Reginald Latham, who was walking next Ruth, panted with the exertion ofclimbing the hill; his breath came quick and fast. He seemed intent onNaki's answer to Ruth's simple question.
"Eunice is a family name in these parts among a certain tribe of Indians.But you are right; it is not properly speaking an Indian name. Many yearsago a little girl named Eunice, the daughter of a white man, was stolenby the Indians. She grew up by their firesides and married an Indianchief. In after years, she would never return to her own people. And soher children and her children's children have from that day borne thename of Eunice. The Mohawk Indians have the white man's blood as well asthe red man's in their veins."
Mollie was walking near Eunice, whom Naki still carried in his arms, andthen Mollie would lean over every now and then and gently touch thechild. Once or twice, during their long walk, she thought the littleIndian girl lost consciousness. But never once did Eunice moan or give acry of pain.
"Over there," said Naki finally, "lies the Indian wigwam." He pointed infront of him, where a solitary hill rose before them, shaded by densewoods.
"But I can't see an opening there," Ruth cried; "neither smoke, noranything to suggest that people are living on that hill."
Naki smiled wisely. "The Indians have forgotten much of their father'swisdom," he declared. "But not yet have they forgotten how to hide intheir own forests."
"Do you think I had better go ahead, Naki?" Bab queried. "Some one oughtto tell the grandmother that Eunice is hurt. Since I am responsible forthe accident, it is my place to break the news to her. I will run onahead."
"Not alone, Bab!" protested loyal Ruth. "You are no more responsible forEunice's injury than the rest of us. It just happened to be your shotthat wounded her. It might just as easily have been mine. How could wehave dreamed the child was hiding in the underbrush? I shall go aheadwith you."
"Better keep with me," enjoined Naki. "You could not find your way to thewigwam. We have followed the 'Lost Man's Trail.' When we get up to thetent, keep a little in the background. The Indian woman is very old. Shecannot forgive easily. It is best that I explain to her as well as I can.I will go first, alone, with the child."
Eunice stirred a little on Naki's shoulder. "The little one," shedeclared feebly. "She of the pale face and the hair like the sun. I wishher to go with me to the tent of my grandmother." And Eunice pointed withher uninjured arm toward Mollie.
Under a canopy formed of the interlaced branches of great hemlock treesstood an Indian wigwam. It looked as much a part of the landscape as thetrees themselves. The rains and the sun had bleached it to an ashen gray.Outside the tent hung a bunch of arrows. Against the side leaned a longbow. A fire near by had been hastily covered over. But nowhere about wasthere a sign of human life.
"Your grandmother has heard the footsteps of strangers approaching," Nakisaid to Eunice. "Let her know that you are here."
Naki set the little girl down on her feet. Mollie stood by her; but Bab,Ruth, Grace and Reginald Latham were concealed by some thick bushes a fewyards away.
Eunice spoke a few words in the Indian tongue. Suddenly the flap of thewigwam opened, revealing an aged Indian woman. She looked older thananyone that the girls had ever seen before. Her brown face was a networkof fine wrinkles; but her black eyes blazed with youthful fire. She wastall and straight like the pine trees in her own forest. The old womanwore an ordinary woolen dress. Over her shoulders she had thrown anIndian blanket, striped in orange, black and red. She knew that strangerswere near. But her grandchild called her!
At the sight of Eunice the Indian woman gave a curious cry, which shequickly stifled. In a voice that only Mollie, who stood near, could hearshe asked: "My little wood pigeon is wounded? I have long feared it."
Mollie marveled that the old Indian squaw spoke English.
Mother Eunice gathered her child in her arms and carried her within thewigwam, laying her on a bed of cedar boughs covered with a heavy blanket.Naki explained that Eunice had been accidentally shot by a rifle. The oldwoman grunted. Without a word she tore down a bunch of herbs that hung atthe side of a wall. Placing them in an iron pot she went out of her tentand stirred her fire into a quick blaze.
All this time the Indian woman had not spoken to Mollie, nor had sheappeared to know that anyone else was near.
Mollie had followed Eunice into the wigwam and knelt by her side. Thechild moved restlessly. Mollie leaned over her and unfastened her dress.Around Eunice's neck was an amulet of gold, each link in the chain carvedwith curious Indian characters. At the end of the amulet, on a square ofbeaten gold about an inch in size, was a monogram in English lettering.Mollie had only time to see that the letters, looked like E. L. or E. S.She could not tell which, for the Indian squaw was back in the room,scowling at her.
As the grandmother tore the bandage from the little Indian girl's arm andwashed the wound with her healing herbs, Mollie saw that under theclothing, the child's skin was several shades fairer.
At last the Indian woman rose up from her knees. "Let them come," sherequested of Naki. "Let those who linger in the bushes outside my wigwamdraw near to it. But beware how they cross the threshold of my tent!"
The squaw stood at her own door, waiting to speak to the girls andReginald Latham, as they drew near. "You have injured my child!" she saidbitterly. "Even in times of peace no Indian seems safe before the bulletsof the white man."
Bab colored deeply. "I am dreadfully sorry!" she declared. "It was I whohurt your grandchild. Naki has told you what happened. How could we knowshe was hiding near us? But, now that I have hurt her, you must at leastlet us do what we can for her. Naki shall go down the hill and send adoctor up here to look at Eunice's arm."
"Ugh!" grunted the squaw. "An Indian has no need of the white man'sdoctor. I shall tend my child. Begone, all of you!"
Reginald Latham moved back a few paces; but Bab, Grace and Ruth did notstir.
"Naki," Ruth gave her order quietly, "go down the hill at once and seethat a doctor comes up to look at this child's arm. An Indian's treatmentfor a bullet wound may be a good one. I do not know. But I do know I amnot willing that this child should not see a doctor. Bab and I would feelresponsible all our lives if anything serious resulted from thisaccident. Go immediately, Naki," Ruth ended. She was her father'sdaughter. Though she seldom asserted her authority, there were times whenshe insisted on obedience.
"We want no doctor here," the Indian woman repeated, rocking back andforth. "No good comes to the Indian from his white neighbors. Therefore,have I tried to keep my child away from them."
But Eunice's voice was heard calling inside the tent.
"Let the ladies come in, grandmother. I wish to have a talk with them."
Sullenly the old woman moved aside and let the girls and Reginald Lathamenter the wigwam.
"Little brown one," Eunice cried, smiling at Bab, "you would be almost asbrown as I am, if you lived always in the woods. Do not be so sorry thatyou hurt my arm. It was my fault, not yours. I should not have been inhiding. I disobeyed the commands of my grandmother. See, I am better. Shewill not let a white doctor look at me, perhaps, because my skin is too
fair for an Indian."
"Mr. Latham," Bab turned to Reginald, who had not spoken. He was lookingcuriously at the furnishings of the wigwam, at the Indian squaw and atEunice. He did not hear Bab.
"Mr. Latham!" Bab called more distinctly, "can't you persuade----"
A curious guttural noise interrupted her. The old Indian woman's eyeswere blazing. She had seized a pine stick in her hand and held it overReginald Latham's head. "Out of my wigwam! Shall your name forever soundin my ears? Am I not safe in my own house? Out with you!"
Reginald Latham had not waited before the old woman's wrath. He wasalready several yards down the hill.
The girls were thunderstruck. Why had the name of Latham fired this oldsquaw to such a burst of fury?
"Come on, Ruth," said Grace, finally. "Let us go back home. We shall dono good by staying here. I suppose we can find our way home! The oldIndian woman seems dreadfully upset, and our staying can only makematters worse. Naki will bring the doctor and attend to everything. Thenhe will let you know about Eunice."
"I think we had better go," Mollie agreed. "I know it will be best forEunice." She kissed the little Indian girl good-bye. "Tell yourgrandmother," Mollie explained, "that Mr. Latham had nothing to do withthe injury to you. She may have thought he was responsible."
"I told you," whispered Eunice in Mollie's ear, "the name of Latham mustnot be mentioned in my house. When I first learned to read I found itwritten in an old book that told only the story of the Indian races. Mygrandmother tore it from my hand and threw it into the fire, and said Imust never hear that English name again."
"Oh!" Mollie faltered. "I remember you did say something about this tome, the first time I saw you, but I did not think about it. I do notunderstand it now. But never mind. Good-bye."
"The Automobile Girls" joined Reginald Latham farther down the hill.
"What a crazy old thing that Indian woman is!" he muttered, laughingnervously. "She was only making a scene. She never heard the name ofLatham before in her life."
"I wonder if that is true?" pondered Mollie to herself all the way backto their cabin.