Part 13 (1/2)
”Not until the fire is burning, and the meat is cooking, and the horses are eating!” the girl said with a roguish smile.
Soon the log fire blazed brightly, and the horses were tied to ropes, enjoying the rest and the grazing abundantly.
”Where did you get that meat from?” Fred asked; ”why, you have stacks of it.”
”All Indian meat,” the girl laughed; ”spoils of war.”
”Oh, tell us the story,” Matthew asked again.
”Wait, until we are eating.”
Afterwards, while they were sitting around the fire with the juicy meat stuck on bits of wood, and eating as if they had fasted for a week, Agnes told her story.
”You see,” she began, ”I ventured out very bravely, but I made the mistake which others made, and did not look out for the Indians.”
”Your brother is guilty,” Fred smiled; ”the same fool head rests on us both. We are flesh of one flesh.”
”Well,” the girl went on; ”the first thing I felt, were two arms around me, and then a band which pinned my hands together. A rude hand was thrust before my mouth, so that I could not cry out. The Indians then carried me up the bank, and brought me to the camp, where they quartered me with the women, quite comfortably, but nevertheless a prisoner.”
”Just my story,” Fred interposed, ”only they did not trust me with the women.”
”You don't belong there either,” Agnes said; ”they might have made you marry one of their number.”
They all laughed while Fred shook his head.
”Never in my life,” he affirmed.
”But where did the women come from?” Matthew queried. ”I thought it was a scouting party, consisting only of men.”
”That is true,” Agnes explained; ”but the scouting party was supplemented by other Indians from across the river. That is the reason why I urged you to cross the stream. The Indians are all over the other side, headed for the south where they are going to unite and attack the white men conjointly. I heard it all, for the women spoke about it, not knowing that I understood the Pequot language. It is always good to know many languages.”
”That is true,” Matthew agreed; ”and if we get out of this, I am going to study all kinds of languages, until I am a regular Babel. That's the way.”
”Go on with your story, Agnes,” Fred urged her; ”you just finished chapter one, and I am anxious to hear the rest. The reader is always looking for the climax.”
”There is no climax to my story,” Agnes smiled; ”it is all the wonderful grace of G.o.d which freed me. You know, the women were very impolite. After I had been lying in the tent for some time, trying in vain to sleep, for the bands were cutting into my flesh and causing me much discomfiture, the women all left the tent and went out where a huge fire was burning and the men were eating. In fact, the men had eaten, for they were as impolite to their women, as these were to me.
Well, the women went out to eat, and I thought that I ought to have some meat, too.”
”So you stole away and got some,” Fred interrupted. ”That is just the way I acted.”
”No, I did not,” Agnes replied; ”I was too firmly bound for getting away. But while I was thus lying in the tent, feeling miserable, suddenly a young Indian girl came in, who addressed me in the Pequot language. Talk about Indian ingrat.i.tude! When the war is over; I am going to locate right here, and start a huge Indian school, and invite them all to Sunday school every Sunday. Why, it pays wonderfully to teach the Indians religion!”
”That is what I believe,” Matthew joined in; ”I am going to be an Indian missionary like the good Pastor John Eliot. We must not destroy the Indians, but save them.”
”That is true,” Fred joined in; ”and in order that you two missionaries may continue your work and not starve, I am going to build up the trading post again, and you shall be my guests as long as you live, and whatever expenses you have, I will repay.”
”We shall hold you to your promise,” Agnes replied, ”shall we not, Matthew?”
”Not one word shall he have spoken in vain,” Matthew said. ”He must pay every cent. But now continue with your story.”