“It’s old Nakanit and her daughter,” she said. “My mother taught her a good deal, and she often comes to see me. Those are surely white children. I wonder what the trouble is. Old Nakanit knows that the Sabbath is not a day for idle visits, and indeed, Rose, it does not become us to be stretching our heads out of the window. There, they are on the porch now. Why, Rose!” For with a quick exclamation the girl had run from the room and when Mrs. Freeman followed she found her with an arm about a little moccasined dark-eyed girl, saying: “Why, it is Anne; it is dear little Anne Nelson.”
“I declare!” exclaimed Mrs. Freeman. “And did you fetch the child, Nakanit? Sit down and I will have Hepsibah bring you some cool milk and cake.”
Nakanit grunted appreciatively, and while the Indians were eating Anne told Rose all the story of her journey.
“I do not know why Aunt Martha shut me up and said that I could not visit you, Rose,” said Anne; “if I had been disobedient or careless I do not know it.”
Amos listened, looking very flushed and unhappy, for he knew that it was Amanda’s story that had caused Anne’s punishment and made her a runaway. But he had promised his sister that he would not betray her, and now that Anne had reached Brewster in safety he resolved to keep silent. “But Amanda shall tell Mrs. Stoddard; indeed she shall,” the boy said to himself.
The Indians soon rose from the porch steps to depart, and as Anne said good-bye to them she felt that she was parting from friends, and tried to tell them so.
“And you are going home to Province Town, and will tell Aunt Martha that I am safe,” she said to Amos. “You were real good to come after me, Amos, and you tell Amanda not to be sorry she slapped me; that it’s all right.”
Amos wriggled about uneasily at Anne’s message. He was almost resolved not to go home at all.
“I reckon I’ll stay with the Mashpees a while,” he answered. “There’s an Indian boy who talks English and he’s told me lots of things: how to set traps for foxes and woodchucks, and how to make fish-spears, and he can stay under water longer than I can. He’s fine. You ought to hear him tell stories. Last night he told me of a tribe of Indians who sent six of their bravest warriors out to sea in a canoe, without food or paddles, so as to prove to other tribes that their braves could not be harmed anywhere. And they were carried by the winds and waves to a wonderful island where there were friendly Indians; and they hunted wild deer, and made bows and arrows, and paddles, and caught wild birds, and when another summer came back they came to Cape Cod with many canoes, and skins, and much deer-meat, so that their tribe made them all great chiefs. And this boy who told me is one of the descendants of the very bravest chief, and he wants me to stay and be his brother,” and Amos looked as if he would like nothing better than to be adopted into the Mashpee tribe.
“What’s the Indian boy’s name?” questioned Anne.