CHAPTER THREE.
A GRATEFUL INDIAN, BY HELEN MARION BURNSIDE.
Jem could not walk any farther; his ankle was badly hurt, there was nodoubt of that, and, brave little lad though he was, his heart sankwithin him, for he knew all the consequences which might ensue from sucha disaster. It was not the pain that daunted him--Jem would havescorned the imputation; neither did he fear to spend a night in theforest--he could sleep under a tree as soundly as in his own bed underthe rafters of his Father's cabin. It was warm dry weather, and he hada hunch of bread in his pocket; there was nothing therefore to be afraidof except Indians, and his Father said there were none in theneighbourhood at present.
Jem's mind would have been quite easy on his own account, but he was onhis way through the forest to a village on the farther boundary toobtain some medicine for his sick Mother, which the doctor had desiredshe might have without fail that very night. Our hero, though buteleven years old, had just finished a long day's work, and it wasalready dusk, but he loved his Mother dearly, and gladly volunteered forthe ten-mile walk to fetch the medicine; he did not even wait to eat hissupper, but, putting it in his pocket to munch on the way, trotted offon his errand.
Jem's Father was a small farmer, who had built his own log cabin andcleared his own fields, with no other assistance than that of his littleson; this was, however, by no means small, for frontier boys are, ofnecessity, brought up to be helpful, hardy, and self-denying. Jemtherefore felt his life of incessant labour and deprivation no hardship:he was as happy and merry as the day was long. But the misfortune thathad now fallen upon the brave little man was so severe and unexpected,he did not know how to bear it. The thought of the dear, sufferingMother waiting patiently for the medicine which would relieve her, andof the anxious, careworn Father, who would look so vainly along theforest track for his return, was too much for his affectionate littleheart; so, leaning his arms against a tree, he dropped his head uponthem and sobbed bitterly. Then, struggling up, he made another attemptto walk, for he knew he had accomplished more than half the journey, butthe injured foot would not support him, and the attempt to stand causedhim the sharpest agony.
"It is of no use--I _cannot_ stand," groaned Jem half-aloud, as,resolving to make the best of circumstances, he sat down, settled hisback against a tree, and munched up his hunch of bread. Then he saidhis prayers, with the addition of a special one that God would make hisdear Mother better without the medicine, and prepared to wait with whatpatience he might till morning, when he knew that some fur traders orhunters would surely be passing along the track, who would give him theassistance he needed. One thing Jem was determined about: he would notgo to sleep. He set himself to count the stars which peeped through theleaves above his head, and listened to the occasional stir of birds andsquirrels in their nests.
He knew and loved them all, and they on their parts knew that Jem neverstole birds' eggs or merry baby squirrels, as the other boys did.
"It is only Jem," they would say when they saw him coming, and theynever thought of hiding from him.
But somehow Jem did not get very far in his counting of the stars--theydanced about too much, his head _would_ drop down, and his eyes would_not_ keep open. It is not easy for a tired little boy of eleven yearsold to keep awake at night, and so in a very few minutes Jem was fastasleep.
It seemed to him that he had scarcely closed his eyes when a slightnoise caused him to open them, and then he was wide awake in a moment,for, with a thrill of horror, he became aware of two Indians standingclose beside him in the strange pale-green light of early dawn. As theysilently gazed down upon him his heart seemed to stand still, and hisnext impulse was to cry out, but he had learned to keep his wits abouthim, and remember that even an Indian has a certain respect for a manlyspirit. So he sat up and boldly returned the gaze of the fierce blackeyes--but at the same time he had heard too many tales of the crueltiespractised by Indians on their captives not to realise the danger he wasin.
The younger of the red men was already fingering his hatchet, whilst hemuttered some hostile words which boded no good to our hero, but theelder, who appeared to be a man of some importance, silenced hiscompanion with a gesture, and then, crossing his arms, said, in musical,broken English: "My young brother is abroad early."
"I was going across the forest to get medicine for my Mother," repliedJem.
"But the medicine-man of the palefaces does not live in the forest,"returned the Indian. "Where does the Mother of my brother live?"
"In the clearing of the entrance to the west track. It was nearly darkwhen I started and I fell and hurt my leg, so that I can go no farther."
"Hu," exclaimed the Indian, kneeling down, and taking Jem's injured footgently in his hand. "Then my brother is the son of the good palefacewoman who tended Woodpecker when he was sick, and made him well again?"
"Are you Woodpecker?" exclaimed Jem gladly. "My Mother has told meabout you."
The Indian nodded, and, tearing a strip from his blanket, he dipped itin a spring of water which was near at hand, and bound it firmly roundthe boy's swollen ankle. "The Mother of my young brother is very sick?"he inquired.
"Yes," replied Jem, "and she is waiting for the medicine, and I cannotfetch it." He winked bravely to keep back the tears which filled hiseyes at the thought.
"Woodpecker will fetch the medicine. Woodpecker owes a big debt to hispaleface sister, and Indians have grateful hearts," said the red mangravely.
Jem eagerly held out to him a piece of paper, but Woodpecker shook hishead.
"My brother shall speak himself to the medicine-man," he said, and,raising the boy on his broad shoulders, he strode away quickly towardsthe village. It was scarcely daylight and no one was yet stirring, orthe sight of an Indian carrying a white boy would have excited somecuriosity.
The doctor's sleepy assistant, who hastily answered Woodpecker's loudrap on the door, rubbed his eyes and stared, but he had a wholesome aweof such a visitor, and, making up the medicine, delivered it to Jem withunusual speed.
The second Indian had disappeared on the way to the doctor's, and thetwo strangely-matched companions immediately set out on their returnjourney through the forest, which was rapidly traversed by Woodpecker,and by four o'clock in the morning he set Jem down on the threshold ofhis Father's door.
"Will you not stay and see how Mother is? Father would like to thankyou," said Jem.
"Not now," replied Woodpecker, taking with a grave and courteous smilethe small hand extended to him, "but say to my good white sister thather Indian brother does not forget kindness and that Woodpecker willreturn."
And as the farmer, roused by the sound of voices, opened the door, thetall figure of the red man disappeared into the forest. Jem was madehappy by finding his Mother better when, after having explained mattersto his Father, he was carried in and placed on the bed beside her. Andafter they were both recovered he had many a grand day's hunting withthe friendly and grateful Indian, who had taken a great liking for thebrave little lad, whom he ever afterwards caused his tribe to respect ashis English brother Jem.