New England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Short stories
The woman who heard repeated the remark as a sample of aunt Lucindy's
desire to have everything "all of a whew;" but when it came to the ears
of a certain young man who had sat brooding, in silent emulation, over
the birth of the elephant, he rose, with fire in his eye, and went to
seek his mates. Indians there should be, and he, by right of first
desire, should become their leader. Thereupon, turkey feathers came into
great demand, and wattled fowl, once glorious, went drooping dejectedly
about, while maidens sat in doorways sewing wampum and leggings for
their favored swains. The first rehearsal of this aboriginal drama was
not an entire success, because the leader, being unimaginative though
faithful, decreed that faces should be blackened with burnt cork; and
the result was a tribe of the African race, greatly astonished at their
own appearance in the family mirror. Then the doctor suggested walnut
juice, and all went conformably again. But each man wanted to be an
Indian, and no one professed himself willing to suffer the attack.
"I'll stay in the cabin, if I can shoot, an' drop a redskin every time,"
said Dana Marden stubbornly; but no redskin would consent to be dropped,
and naturally no settler could yield. It would ill befit that glorious
day to see the log cabin taken; but, on the other hand, what loyal
citizen could allow himself to be defeated, even as a skulking redman,
at the very hour of Tiverton's triumph? For a time a peaceful solution
was promised by the doctor, who proposed that a party of settlers on
horseback should come to the rescue, just when a settler's wife, within
the cabin, was in danger of immolation. That seemed logical and right,
and for days thereafter young men on astonished farm horses went
sweeping down Tiverton Street, alternately pursuing and pursued, while
Isabel North, as Priscilla, the Puritan maiden, trembled realistically
at the cabin door. Just why she was to be Priscilla, a daughter of
Massachusetts, Isabel never knew; the name had struck the popular fancy,
and she made her costume accordingly. But one day, when young Tiverton
was galloping about the town, to the sound of ecstatic yells, a farmer
drew up his horse to inquire:--
"Now see here! there's one thing that's got to be settled. When the day
comes, who's goin' to beat?"
An Indian, his face scarlet with much sound, and his later state not yet
apparent, in that his wampum, blanket, and horsehair wig lay at home, on
the best-room bed, made answer hoarsely, "We be!"
"Not by a long chalk!" returned the other, and the settlers growled in
unison. They had all a patriot's pride in upholding white blood against
red.
"Well, by gum! then you can look out for your own Injuns!" returned
their chief. "_My_ last gun's fired."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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