Historical fiction; King Philip's War, 1675-1676 -- Fiction; War stories
The other looked up into his countenance, for a moment, with a reviving
recollection; but shaking his head, he drew back in marked displeasure,
muttering loud enough to be heard--
"What a false liar is a Pale-face! Here is one of the tall rogues, wishing
to pass for a loping boy!"
What more he uttered his auditors never knew, for he instantly changed his
language to some dialect of an Indian tribe.
"The mind of the unhappy youth hath even been more blunted, by exposure
and the usages of a savage life, than by Nature," said Content, who with
most of the others had been recalled, by his interest in the examination,
to the scene they had momentarily quitted. "Let the sister deal tenderly
with the lad, and, in Heaven's time, shall we learn the truth."
The deep feeling of the father clothed his words with authority. The
eager group gave place, and something like the solemnity of an official
examination succeeded to the irregular and hurried interrogatories, which
had first broken on the dull intellect of the recovered wanderer.
The dependants took their stations, in a circle around the chair of the
Puritan, by whose side was placed Content, while Faith induced her brother
to be seated on the step of the piazza, in a manner that all might hear.
The attention of the brother, himself, was drawn from the formality of the
arrangement, by placing food in his hands.
"And now, Whittal, I would know," commenced the ready woman, when a
deep silence denoted the attention of the auditors, "I would know, if
thou rememberest the day I clad thee in garments of boughten cloth,
from over sea; and how fond thou wast of being seen among the kine in
colors so gay?"
The young man looked up in her face, as if the tones of her voice gave him
pleasure; but, instead of making any reply, he preferred to munch the
bread with which she had endeavored to lure him back to their ancient
confidence.
"Surely, boy, thou canst not so soon have forgotten the gift I bought,
with the hard earnings of a wheel that turned at night. The tail of
yon peacock is not finer than thou then wast--But I will make thee
such another garment, that thou mayst go with the trainers to their
weekly muster."
The youth dropped the robe of skin that covered the upper part of his
body, and making a forward gesture, with the gravity of an Indian, he
answered--
"Whittal is a warrior on his path; he has no time for the talk of
the women!"
"Now, brother, thou forgettest the manner in which I was wont to feed thy
hunger, as the frost pinched thee, in the cold mornings, and at the hour
when the kine needed thy care; else thou wouldst not call me woman."
"Hast ever been on the trail of a Pequot? Know'st how to whoop
among the men?"
"What is an Indian whoop, to the bleating of thy flocks, or the bellowing
of cattle in the bushes? Thou rememberest the sound of the bells, as they
tinkled among the second growth of an evening?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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