Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 11 Read Free Page A

squaw. A strong
hand cut the skin beside their bed of fir-boughs, and two trembling creatures
crept out to follow the tall shadow that flitted noiselessly before them into
the darkness of the wood. Not a broken twig, a careless step, or a whispered
word betrayed them, and they vanished as swiftly and silently as hunted deer
flying for their lives.
                            
Till dawn they hurried on, Onawandah carrying Eunice, whose strength soon
failed, and Reuben manfully shouldering the hatchet and the pouch of food. At
sunrise they hid in a thicket by a spring and rested, while waiting for the
friendly night to come again. Then they pushed on, and fear gave wings to their
feet, so that by another morning they were far enough away to venture to travel
more slowly and sleep at night.
                            
If the children had learned to love and trust the Indian boy in happier times,
they adored him now, and came to regard him as an earthly Providence; so
faithful, brave, and tender was he,—so forgetful of himself, so bent on saving
them. He never seemed to sleep, ate the poorest morsels, or went without any
food when provision failed; let no danger daunt him, no hardship wring
complaint from him, but went on through the wild forest, led by guides
invisible to them, till they began to hope that home was near.
                            
Twice he saved their lives. Once, when he went in search of food, leaving
Reuben to guard his sister, the children, being very hungry, ignorantly ate
some poisonous berries which looked like wild cherries, and were deliciously
sweet. The boy generously gave most of them to Eunice, and soon was
terror-stricken to see her grow pale, and cold, and deathly ill. Not knowing
what to do, he could only rub her hands and call wildly for Onawandah.
                            
The name echoed through the silent wood, and, though far away, the keen ear of
the Indian heard it, his fleet feet brought him back in time, and his knowledge
of wild roots and herbs made it possible to save the child when no other help
was at hand.
                            
"Make fire. Keep warm. I soon come," he said, after hearing the story
and examining Eunice, who could only lift her eyes to him, full of childish
confidence and patience.
                            
Then he was off again, scouring the woods like a hound on the scent, searching
everywhere for the precious little herb that would counteract the poison. Any
one watching him would have thought him crazy, as he rushed hither and thither,
tearing up the leaves, creeping on his hands and knees that it might not escape
him, and when he found it, springing up with a cry that startled the birds, and
carried hope to poor Reuben, who was trying to forget his own pain in his
anxiety for Eunice, whom he thought dying.
                            
"Eat, eat, while I make drink. All safe now," cried Onawandah, as he
came leaping toward them with his hands full of green leaves, and his dark face
shining with joy.
                            
The boy was soon relieved, but for hours they hung over the girl, who suffered
sadly, till she grew unconscious and lay as if dead. Reuben's courage failed
then, and he cried bitterly, thinking how hard it would be to leave the dear
little creature under the pines and go home alone to father. Even Onawandah
lost hope for a while, and sat like a bronze statue of despair, with his eyes
fixed on his Wild Rose, who seemed fading away too soon.
                            
Suddenly he rose, stretched his arms to the west, where the sun was setting
splendidly, and in his own musical language prayed to the Great Spirit. The
Christian boy fell upon his knees, feeling that the only help was in the Father
who saw and heard them even in the wilderness. Both were