The Farmer Boy, and How He Became Commander-In-ChiefHeady, Morrison
History
The Farmer Boy, and How He Became Commander-In-Chief
Heady, Morrison
Washington, George, 1732-1799
Now and then, in the course of this rambling life in the wilderness,
they met with roving bands of skin-clad Indians, either as warriors
out upon the war-path against some distant tribe, or as hunters
roaming the forest in quest of game. One evening, late, as our little
party of surveyors were about to encamp for the night, they spied
through the trees the glimmering light of a large fire on the top of a
far-off hill. Curious to know who, besides themselves, could be in
that lonely place, they determined to go thither before stopping; and,
guided by the light, reached ere long the spot, where they found a
small squad of Indian hunters, resting themselves after the fatigues
of the day's chase. They seemed to be in high good humor, as if the
hunt had gone well with them that day; and, being in this mood,
extended a true Indian welcome to the new-comers; setting before them,
with open-handed hospitality, heaps of parched corn, and their
choicest bits of venison, wild turkey, bear's meat, and fish. Supper
ended, the pipe of peace and good-will passed from mouth to mouth, as
a pledge that all should go on well between them; after which the
Indians, for the further entertainment of their white guests, and as a
more marked manner of showing their respect, set about preparing
themselves for a war-dance.
In the first place, they cleared the ground around the fire of chunks
and brushwood, and other obstructions that might hinder the free play
of their feet and legs in the performance. Then the two musicians
began to put in order and tune their instruments: that is to say, one
of them filled a camp-kettle half full of water, over which he tightly
stretched a raw-hide, and, tapping it twice or thrice with a stick,
drew forth a hollow, smothered sound therefrom, by way of giving to
those not in the secret a hint that this was to be their drum; while
the other made a rattle by putting a few bullets or pebbles into a
hard, dry gourd of monstrous size, to the handle of which he fastened
a horse's tail, not so much to improve its tone perhaps, as to give it
a more finished appearance.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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