CHAPTER VI
CAPTURED BY INDIANS
The more Anne thought about Brownie the more fearful she became that someharm had befallen the pretty brown cow.
"Her foot may have caught in those twisted roots on the hill," thought thelittle girl, "or perhaps the Indians have fastened her in the woods. I dobelieve I could find her, and save Uncle Enos the trouble," and the moreAnne thought of it the more eager she became to search for Brownie; and,on the day that the scarlet stockings were begun, Anne resolved to walk upthe hill and look about for the missing cow.
As she trudged along she thought of many things, of the gray wolf, whichhad disappeared completely, having probably made its way up the cape tobetter hunting grounds; and she thought a great deal about her father, andof the day he had come to tell her of his safety. But Anne did not thinkmuch about the Indians. The cape settlements had been on friendly termswith the Chatham Indians for some time, and the people of Province Townwere more in peril from the freebooters of the sea than from Indians.
Anne had climbed the hill, passed the grove of scrubby pines, and stoodlooking across the sand-dunes toward the open sea. She had lookedcarefully for Brownie, but there was no trace of her. But Anne was surethat, at the edge of the pine woods, some creature had been near her. Shehad lived out-of-doors so much that her ears were quick to distinguish anysound. At first she had wondered if it might not be the wolf, and, as shestood looking across the sand, she almost hoped that it might be. "PerhapsI could tame it and have it live at our house," she thought, and thenremembered what Aunt Martha had said: that it would be a hard winter, "andwolves eat a good deal, I suppose," decided Anne, "so 'twill not be wiseto tame it."
Had she looked behind her she would not have felt so secure. An Indianwoman had been following Anne, and was now within arm's reach of her. AndAnne had just come to her decision in regard to the wolf, when a blanketfell over her head, was quickly twisted about her, and she felt herselflifted from the ground. Then she heard a chatter of voices in a strangetongue, and realized that she was being carried away from the pine woods.She tried to free herself from the blanket, and tried to call out; but shecould not move, and her voice made only a muffled sound. She heard a laughfrom the squaw who was carrying her so easily, and in a moment feltherself dropped on the soft sand, and held down firmly for a moment. Thenshe lay quietly. She knew, though she could not see, that a canoe wasbeing launched. There was talk among a number of people near her, and thenshe was lifted and put into the canoe, and again firmly held by a strongarm. Then came the smooth dip of paddles, and Anne knew that she was beingtaken away from home, and she felt the tears on her cheeks. She did nottry to scream again, for there had been a rough twist of the blanket abouther head when she cried out before, and she was held too firmly tostruggle. She could hear the guttural voices of the Indians, and, afterwhat seemed a long time, she realized that her captors were making alanding. She was again dropped on sand, and now the blanket was unwoundand Anne stood up. She found herself facing three Indian women. Two ofthem frowned at her, but the younger smiled and nodded, and patted Anne'sshoulder.
A BLANKET FELL OVER HER HEAD]
The two elder squaws began to talk rapidly, but the one who stood besideAnne remained silent. The canoe was lifted from the beach by the two, asthey talked, and carried up toward the rough pasture-land. Anne'scompanion took her by the hand and led her after the others.
"I want to go right home," Anne announced. "You must take me right back toCaptain Stoddard's." The young squaw shook her head, still smiling, andAnne realized that her companion could not understand what she said. Thelittle girl stopped short, and then the smile faded from the squaw's face;she gave her an ugly twitch forward, and when Anne still refused to move astinging blow on the cheek followed. Anne began to cry bitterly. She wasnow thoroughly frightened, and began to wonder what would become of her.
The squaws hid the canoe carefully, covering it up with vines and brush,and then started along the shore. Anne and her companion now kept close tothe other two. And the three squaws talked together. Now and then theywould stop, and shading their eyes with one hand, look seaward as ifwatching for some expected boat, but none appeared. Anne's bare feet beganto ache. She believed they would be blistered, but the women paid noattention to her. Anne knew that they were very near the Truro beach. Shecould see the big waves dashing up in a long curving line, and as theycame round a high cliff of sand they came suddenly upon a big fishing-boatdrawn up on the beach. Two sailors stood by it. In an instant the squawshad turned to flee, dragging Anne with them. But she screamed, and threwherself down on the sand. The sailors came running toward them, and theIndian women fled.
"It's a white child," exclaimed one of the men, picking Anne up, andwiping her face with a big soft handkerchief. "What were they doing withyou, child?" And leaning against his friendly arm, Anne told her story,and showed her bruised feet.
"'Tis lucky for you we put ashore," said the man. "We'll take you home,little maid, safe and sound."
"You are not from Province Town?" Anne ventured to ask, looking up intothe kind blue eyes.
"We are good English sailors, my girl," the other man answered herquestion, "and we borrowed this boat from a settler up shore to get fishfor His Majesty's ship 'Somerset'; but we'll take you safe home, neverfear."
The blue-eyed man lifted Anne into the boat, and the two men were soonpulling strongly at the oars.
"'Tis a stiff pull to Province Town, but the tide's with us, William,"said the last speaker.
Anne sat very quiet. She was wondering if Aunt Martha had missed her, andif Uncle Enos would blame her for having wandered to the outer beach. Shelooked up to see the sailor whom his companion called "William" smiling ather.
"Do not be afraid," he said kindly; "the folks at home will be glad to seeyou, and you'll not be scolded."
Anne tried to smile back. She wanted to ask him if he had any little girlsof his own; but she remembered that he was an Englishman, and decided thatit was best not to say anything.
"Can you walk across the pasture if we set you ashore near here?" askedthe sailor, when they had reached the smooth beach near where Anne hadbeen seized by the Indians. "You'll not be troubled again, and we cannotwell round the point to-night."
"I can get home from here. I see the pine woods," Anne agreed, and the menran the boat well up on the beach, and William lifted her out.
"'Tis hard for those tender feet," he said, "but be quick as you can. Myname is William Trull, if your folks ask who 'twas that fetched you home,and my mate's name here is Richard Jones."
"Thank you; my name is Anne Nelson," Anne replied.
She turned back and waved her hand to them when she had reached the landabove the shore, and saw them push off their boat and row away. It wasvery hard now to walk over the rough ground, and Anne felt very tired andunhappy. She kept steadily on, and was soon in sight of home. MistressStoddard and Captain Enos were both standing in the doorway lookinganxiously toward her.
"Well, well, Anne, and do you think you should stay away like this? Andwhat has become of your sunbonnet?" questioned Mrs. Stoddard.
"Indians!" wailed Anne. "Indian women, Aunt Martha! They carried me off,"and, with Mrs. Stoddard's arm about her, and Captain Enos listening inangry amazement, Anne told the story of her adventure.
"'twas an evil thing!" declared the captain. "I'm thankful the Englishsailors were on shore. I'll remember their names."
Mrs. Stoddard bathed the tired feet, and Anne was quite hungry enough torelish the hot corn bread, even though she had no milk to drink with it.
"We must be careful about letting the child wander about alone," CaptainEnos said, after Anne was safe in bed that night. "'Twould be ill-fortuneindeed if harm befell her."
"I'll keep her more at home," replied Mrs. Stoddard. "She is to beginknitting now, and that will give her amusement indoors."
"'Tis said that English soldiers are coming into Boston by land and sea,"said Captain Enos. "W
e Province Town people are exempt from militaryservice, but we are loyal to the American forces, and some of us think thetime is near when we must let you women stay here by yourselves," andCaptain Enos looked at his wife questioningly.
"We'd do our best, Enos, be sure of that," she answered bravely, "and I'dhave Anne for company, if you're needed in Boston."
"If we stood any chance of getting there," complained Captain Enos,"without the Britishers making us prisoners. No boat gets by them, I'mtold."
"Talk no more of it to-night, Enos. Mayhap things may be settled soon, andthese unhappy days well over," and Mistress Stoddard stepped to the doorand looked out on the peaceful little settlement. "We have great cause torejoice this night that our little maid is safe at home," she said.
"I'll make a good search for Brownie to-morrow," declared Captain Enos,"but I fear now that the Indians have her."
The good couple decided that it would be best to say as little of Anne'sadventure as possible, and to tell her not to talk of it to herplaymates.
"I'll caution the mothers," said Mrs. Stoddard, "but 'Tis no use for ourlittle people to frighten themselves by wondering about Indians. Maybethey will not come near us again, and they'll not dare to make anothermistake." So but little was made of Anne's escape from the squaws,although the children now stayed at home more closely, and Anne did notoften stray far from Aunt Martha.