CHAPTER XIII
A FRIEND IN STRANGE GUISE
When the succeeding day had passed without sign from Metipom, David came to the conclusion that the Indians from whom he had escaped had refrained from reporting the incident to the sachem for fear of his wrath, which was, indeed, the true explanation. Relieved of the apprehension of punishment, David’s spirits returned and he gave thought to practical matters. Next to his imprisonment the thing that troubled him most just now was the state of his breeches! None too new when he had been captured, the flight through the forest had left them in tatters. Indeed, they momentarily threatened to part from him altogether! His shirt and doublet were likewise in sorry case, but troubled him less. It seemed to him that those breeches were past all human aid, even had he possessed thread and needle wherewith to mend them. He was still ruefully deliberating when Sequanawah came to him bearing the bow that he had promised and five arrows. Admiration of these put the other matter from his mind for the time, yet, when he had heartily thanked the Indian and had examined the weapon from tip to tip, twanging the cord and experimentally fitting the notch of a stone-tipped arrow to it, he recalled his quandary and drew Sequanawah’s attention to them.
The Indian viewed the dilapidated garments gravely, finally grunting: “No good. Take um off.”
“Aye, but what shall I put on instead?” asked David.
Sequanawah suggested a costume like his own, a loin-cloth wound about his middle, one end falling in front and one behind. But David shook his head dubiously, and after a moment of thought the Indian grunted again and made off. When he returned he brought a pair of deer-hide breeches such as were worn in winter. Where he had obtained them David did not know, for they were far too short for Sequanawah, but fitted the boy well enough. In exchange the Indian took the discarded breeches, from which he gleefully cut the two buckles. These, a few days later, David discovered dangling from a string of wampum about Sequanawah’s neck.
Each day thereafter David practiced with the new bow, Sequanawah teaching. There was much to learn. First, the cord must be of the right tension, and, since it was of rawhide, it seemed never twice the same. Then the arrow must be chosen with a view to both distance and conditions of air. With a hard wind blowing across the course of the flight, a heavy arrow was needed, and so when the distance was great; and to that end the missiles that Sequanawah had provided varied both in length, thickness, and head. There was, it appeared, both a right way and a wrong way to draw the bow; or, rather, there was one right way and several wrong ways; and for a time David found only the latter. At first the boy felt embarrassment because of the audience that gathered, for all the old men of the village as well as many of the younger stood by and discussed each shot. But before long he became accustomed to them and minded not their grunts of disapproval or their guttural words of approbation. It was soon evidenced to him that his tutor was one of the tribe’s most skillful handlers of the bow. This he could tell both from the marvelous shots that Sequanawah made and from the evident respect paid him by the others. He was a stern yet patient teacher, and it was not long ere his pupil began to comport himself creditably and to earn praise from even his tutor.
Meanwhile David had not ceased wondering what had taken place during his absence from the village, and one day, when he had shot better than ever, he took courage in hand and put the question to Sequanawah. Being a counselor, the Indian might well resent being questioned, as David knew, and it was not without misgiving that the boy asked.
Sequanawah was silent a moment, and David feared that he was offended. But presently he answered:
“One time come English, make talk with Great Sachem, have food, have sleep, go away in morning.”
“Saw you them, Sequanawah?”
“Aye, me see um.”
“Was one a tall man, wide of shoulder, with a long beard? ”
“Maybe so. One was Indian.”
“A Pegan?” asked the boy, thinking of Monapikot. “A young Indian?”
Sequanawah shook his head. “Old man, him. Maybe Pegan, maybe Nipmuck.”
“And how many were there who came?”
“Four white men, one Indian.”
“Were they—were they seeking me, Sequanawah?”
The Indian’s countenance became blank and he shook his head. “Me not know. Maybe so. Maybe hunt.”
No more than that would he tell, but David had learned enough to know that his father had sought him, as he had believed. For the rest of the day he sat beside his wigwam and conjectured on what lie Woosonametipom had told the searching party, who, besides his father, had made the journey, what conclusion they had come to, and what further steps they would take. Already a week had passed and nothing further had transpired looking to his rescue. He wondered how fared the war with King Philip and what things had happened to the southward. Doubtless by now the chief of the Wampanoags had been properly subdued. As to the latter he questioned both John and Sequanawah, but each professed ignorance. Twice he held converse with the sachem, once when Metipom paused where David was shooting at a mark set against the palisade wall and once when the chief summoned him to his lodge and, through an interpreter, inquired as to his health and contentment. On the latter occasion David had begged to be given his liberty and the powwow had answered:
“Great Sachem say by and by he give you guide and send you back safe.”
“And why not now?” David had asked boldly.
The medicine man shook his head. “Bad Indians catch um now. Kilbum. Not safe you go now. By and by you go.”
And with that promise he had perforce to content himself.
Truth it is that David had by now come to accept his lot with fair grace. Indeed, had it not been for the thought of the sorrow which his father was put to and for the uncertainty as to his ultimate fate, David might have found real enjoyment with his captors. There was much to interest him. He was fast learning their language and fast coming to a better and more sympathetic understanding of their ways of life and of thought. Woosonametipom he could never like, but there were others for whom he had a friendly feeling: Sequanawah and John and a certain gray-locked old man named Quinnapasso and others. And, he believed, these returned his liking. Quinnapasso was very ancient. Sequanawah said that he was the oldest Indian in the world. He had been a famous warrior and hunter and was still greatly respected for his wisdom and still held his place in Metipom’s council. In spite of his age and feebleness of body, his eyes were still bright and clear and his trembling hands had not lost their cunning. All day long he sat at the entrance of his wigwam and fashioned pipes of black and red and gray stone, and thither David frequently went and, sitting beside him, talked a little with him in Nipmuck and watched the skillful way in which he chiseled and drilled the blocks of porphyry and sandstone brought to him by his grand-daughter. Quinnapasso’s pipes were much sought and brought him many skins and much wampum and food. David became the recipient of one, which he was loath to take until he saw that his hesitation was wounding the old man. Whereupon he thanked Quinnapasso in halting Nipmuck and the pipe-maker nodded and grinned and mumbled through toothless gums.
As August approached, the village became more busy. The women set out in parties of ten or a dozen in the morning and returned at night well laden with fish which the next day was dried and cured on platforms of boughs beneath which fires of green wood burned. The squaws also gathered flags for the later weaving of mats and baskets. The mats were used more often than skins for the walls of their houses. Many other uses were found for them, and they were dyed by the women in several colors. Corn was beginning to tassel and the squashes—planted wherever a pocket of soil allowed the dropping of the queer flat seeds—showed great yellow blossoms. There was much work for the women, to whom fell what cultivation was done in the straggling garden patches. Also, it became their duty to see that pits were dug for the autumn storing of the corn, and to line them well with bark. The men, it seemed to David, worked not at all, unless hunting and trapping might be called labor. Even fishing they left to the squaws. Occasionally one could be found hammering an ornament from a piece of metal, or, maybe, fashioning arrows or bows or spears. As for wampumpeag, or wampum as the English called it, it seemed that the Wachoosetts made none themselves, but bartered for it with other tribes. As this money was made from seashells—the word wampumpeag signifying a mussel in the Iroquois language—it was doubtlessly difficult for tribes living inland to secure material to work with. Nevertheless David saw much of it and many marvelous examples of the curious and even beautiful shapes into which it was wrought: those of birds and animals and flowers. In color it was usually black or white, the black being of slightly more value, but there were also many shades between; purple, blue, brown, yellow, and pink. By combining the various colors and shades the beads were often made into wonderful patterns on belts, necklaces, bracelets, ear-links, and other ornaments. Woosonametipom when royally bedecked wore a head-dress of wampum as well as a broad and long girdle which went twice about his body and ended in a fringe of deer-hair dyed red.
When the second week of David’s captivity had merged into a third, the village was one morning aroused from its placidness by the appearance of three strange Indians. Their approach had been signalled from afar, and by the time they were crossing the open space between forest and village many of the male inhabitants had gathered to greet them. The sun was yet but a scant five hours above the horizon, but the heat was already intolerable and the rocky slope shimmered and glared as the naked strangers drew near. All were young men and all were armed and painted most hideously. One, of the three the more heavy of build, carried upon his back a bundle wrapped in rush matting. His companions, taller and slimmer, bore only their weapons and food pouches. Woosonametipom, attended by several of his counselors, and himself decked in his “royalty” of embroidered blanket and wampum head-dress and girdle, awaited the visitors at the gate. When the strangers were a dozen paces distant they paused and gave salutation. The Wachoosetts returned it, whereupon one of the strangers stepped forward and spoke at length, addressing his remarks to the sachem, but seeming to include all his hearers. He was listened to in absolute silence. David, pressing toward the gate behind the throng of young men and old, women and children, who had gathered just inside it, understood enough of the brave’s talk to know that he was but declaiming the usual message of greeting from one chief to another, a message filled with compliments to the hearer’s wisdom and courage and nobility. Yet one word that was twice spoken produced each time a ripple of movement from the throng and, or so David felt, a current of excitement. That word was Pometacom.
From where he stood, well within the palisade, David caught but uncertain glimpses of the visitors between the heads of the group about him, for the gateway was narrow and the strangers stood a little to one side. Yet at times a painted visage moved into his sight for a fleeting instant and aroused a sense of familiarity. The countenance seemed strange and yet dimly known. Above it a glistening scalp-lock, reeking with oil, was wound with crimson cloth and adorned with yellow and blue feathers. A rude painting of a duck was done in white on the man’s forehead and each cheek held a crude and uncertain design in the same pigment, while across the bridge of the nose and beneath the eyes ran two stripes. In his ears were bone pendants, carved to strange shapes. He was tall and straight and well-muscled, and bore himself with an air of authority that well fitted him. All this David could not see at the moment. Had he done so doubtless the stirrings of memory would have been stronger.
Presently the spokesman, an Indian of no less stature than he who had caused David’s perplexity, but with flatter features and less grace of carriage, ended his discourse. A moment of silence followed. Then Metipom began to speak. The sachem had a deep and resonant voice and used it eloquently. Also he used it at much length, and David felt that his body was shriveling in the heat ere the sachem ended and the throng within the gate fell back. David found himself in the front of the throng when Metipom and his counselors stalked back through the entrance, followed by the visitors, and hence was within arm’s reach of the latter as they passed him. First came he who had spoken, the perspiration standing in beads upon the oiled surface of his body, his eyes straight ahead, a sort of contemptuous dignity upon him. The shorter and heavier Indian followed upon his heels, a sly-eyed, long-headed youth who saw much without seeming to turn his gaze. Behind him, lithe with the easy grace of a panther, came the third messenger. He, too, following the custom of his people, forbore to glance to left or right, since all semblance of curiosity was considered discourteous, until, being close upon David, he for an instant only shot a look straight into the boy’s eyes. As brief as it was, it said much, for eyes and nostrils dilated warningly, and David, with a gasp he could not smother, recognized beneath the painted lines and symbols the countenance of Monapikot!