Part 18 (1/2)
”No, Ja.n.u.s is not,” answered the guide. ”There isn't enough of that frying-pan left to make grit for chickens. Two hundred feet and then the rocks. Well, I swum! You'll go without eating to-morrow, so far as the frying-pan is concerned.”
”We ought to do something to Tommy for that,” declared Harriet. ”What shall it be, girls?”
”Oh, let her alone. Tommy will punish herself if you give her time,”
averred Margery.
Tommy nodded. ”Yeth, leave it to me,” she urged. ”I can take care of mythelf. Buthter ith right, for once in her life. Leave it to me.”
They agreed to do so. Harriet turned to Miss Elting.
”You promised to tell us the legend that belongs to this shelf of rock on which we are encamped. If not too long a story, will you relate it now?”
The girls crept to the fire, about which they sat in a circle with their feet tucked under them in true council-fire style.
”You probably have read,” began Miss Elting, ”that the Sokokis, a powerful Indian tribe, once held possession of these hills. Chocorua, for whom this mountain is named, was chief of a mighty tribe. The chief, in revenge for the loss of his son, who had been slain by the whites in battle, killed a white settler's wife and child. This white man swore to have the life of the powerful Chocorua. Shouldering his gun, he followed the mountain trails for many days and nights. The chief knew that an avenger was on his trail; his braves knew it. They made every effort to catch the avenging white man, but he was too clever for them. Yet not an Indian was molested. The white man wanted only Chocorua, and Chocorua knew it. The chief fled from place to place, ever pursued by the persistent avenger. Then, at last, the white man found the trail when it was hot. He followed the trail, and one day, when the morning was young, came face to face with the savage chief.”
”Do you know where they met, young ladies?” interrupted Ja.n.u.s, who was familiar with the legend.
The girls shook their heads.
”Right here where we are sitting now.”
”Grathiouth!” muttered Tommy, glancing about her apprehensively.
”They aren't here now, my dear Tommy,” observed Miss Elting smilingly.
”The white man pointed his gun at the Indian,” she continued, ”but the old chieftain never flinched. He sent back a look so full of hatred that the white man almost feared him. The chief, with upraised hands, called down the curses of the Great Spirit on the head of the white man and all his kind. Then Chocorua turned and sped swiftly to the far end of the shelf, near where we got the water for our supper, and, without an instant's hesitation, leaped far out into s.p.a.ce.”
”Oh!” exclaimed the girls shudderingly.
”The body of the chief dashed from rock to rock, finally dropping into the lake which you saw as we came up. Then a strange thing occurred.
The white settlers finally conquered the Indians; then they brought in their stock and began to graze them. But after that every animal that drank from the lake died. It came to be known as the 'Lake of the Poisoned Waters.' The Indians declared this to be the revenge of the Great Spirit.”
”How strange!” pondered Harriet.
”A number of scientific men, pa.s.sing through this section years afterward, unraveled the mystery. They say that the lime formation of the rocks, through which the water seeps into the lake, has poisoned the water. But you cannot make an Indian believe that.”
”Ith thith a fairy thtory, or a really-truly thtory?” demanded Tommy.
”It is only a legend, Tommy,” was Miss Elting's smiling reply.
”It has been a most interesting story,” nodded Harriet. ”I love Indian folklore.”
”Girls, it is time for you to turn in,” reminded Miss Elting.
”I don't like such stories before going to bed,” objected Margery. ”I know I shall have the nightmare. Oh!”
”We will roll you over if you do,” answered Jane. ”There's n.o.body but ourselves to hear you, either, so you may yell all you please, and----”