Part 8 (1/2)
While the hunters were questioning whether or no they should carry it home, the wee Indian baby kept up his little howl.
”His voice is strong!” said one.
”At times it sounds like an old man's voice!” whispered a superst.i.tious fellow, who feared some bad spirit hid in the small child to cheat them by and by.
”Let us take it to our wise chieftain,” at length they said; and the moment they started toward the camp ground the strange wood-child ceased to cry.
Beside the chieftain's teepee waited the hunters while the tall man entered with the child.
”How! how!” nodded the kind-faced chieftain, listening to the queer story. Then rising, he took the infant in his strong arms; gently he laid the black-eyed babe in his daughter's lap. ”This is to be your little son!” said he, smiling.
”Yes, father,” she replied. Pleased with the child, she smoothed the long black hair fringing his round brown face.
”Tell the people that I give a feast and dance this day for the naming of my daughter's little son,” bade the chieftain.
In the meanwhile among the men waiting by the entrance way, one said in a low voice: ”I have heard that bad spirits come as little children into a camp which they mean to destroy.”
”No! no! Let us not be overcautious. It would be cowardly to leave a baby in the wild wood where prowl the hungry wolves!” answered an elderly man.
The tall man now came out of the chieftain's teepee. With a word he sent them to their dwellings half running with joy.
”A feast! a dance for the naming of the chieftain's grandchild!” cried he in a loud voice to the village people.
”What? what?” asked they in great surprise, holding a hand to the ear to catch the words of the crier.
There was a momentary silence among the people while they listened to the ringing voice of the man walking in the center ground. Then broke forth a rippling, laughing babble among the cone-shaped teepees. All were glad to hear of the chieftain's grandson. They were happy to attend the feast and dance for its naming. With excited fingers they twisted their hair into glossy braids and painted their cheeks with bright red paint. To and fro hurried the women, handsome in their gala-day dress.
Men in loose deerskins, with long tinkling metal fringes, strode in small numbers toward the center of the round camp ground.
Here underneath a temporary shade-house of green leaves they were to dance and feast. The children in deerskins and paints, just like their elders, were jolly little men and women. Beside their eager parents they skipped along toward the green dance house.
Here seated in a large circle, the people were a.s.sembled, the proud chieftain rose with the little baby in his arms. The noisy hum of voices was hushed. Not a tinkling of a metal fringe broke the silence. The crier came forward to greet the chieftain, then bent attentively over the small babe, listening to the words of the chieftain. When he paused the crier spoke aloud to the people:
”This woodland child is adopted by the chieftain's eldest daughter. His name is Chaske. He wears the t.i.tle of the eldest son. In honor of Chaske the chieftain gives this feast and dance! These are the words of him you see holding a baby in his arms.”
”Yes! Yes! Hinnu! How!” came from the circle. At once the drummers beat softly and slowly their drum while the chosen singers hummed together to find the common pitch. The beat of the drum grew louder and faster. The singers burst forth in a lively tune. Then the drumbeats subsided and faintly marked the rhythm of the singing. Here and there bounced up men and women, both young and old. They danced and sang with merry light hearts. Then came the hour of feasting.
Late into the night the air of the camp ground was alive with the laughing voices of women and the singing in unison of young men. Within her father's teepee sat the chieftain's daughter. Proud of her little one, she watched over him asleep in her lap.
Gradually a deep quiet stole over the camp ground, as one by one the people fell into pleasant dreams. Now all the village was still. Alone sat the beautiful young mother watching the babe in her lap, asleep with a gaping little mouth. Amid the quiet of the night, her ear heard the far-off hum of many voices. The faint sound of murmuring people was in the air. Upward she glanced at the smoke hole of the wigwam and saw a bright star peeping down upon her. ”Spirits in the air above?” she wondered. Yet there was no sign to tell her of their nearness. The fine small sound of voices grew larger and nearer.
”Father! rise! I hear the coming of some tribe. Hostile or friendly--I cannot tell. Rise and see!” whispered the young woman.
”Yes, my daughter!” answered the chieftain, springing to his feet.
Though asleep, his ear was ever alert. Thus rus.h.i.+ng out into the open, he listened for strange sounds. With an eagle eye he scanned the camp ground for some sign.
Returning he said: ”My daughter, I hear nothing and see no sign of evil nigh.”
”Oh! the sound of many voices comes up from the earth about me!”