“’Tis not enough. That hated race
“Should hunt us out from grove and place,
“And consecrated shore,—where long
“Our fathers raised the lance and song.”
The inevitable had come to Kaubequa, and she sought her white friends, whose religion abhorred war. She set up her lodge on the estate of Dr. Greydon,—not even asking leave to do so.
The first evidence that the master of Dorminghurst had of the newly arrived family, was the presentation of a mokuk of maple sugar to the household by a comely young squaw. She carried an infant daughter on her back, bound up in an Indian’s cradle.
She desired to obtain some meat, and her way was to exchange with the white people.
Her son was a dextrous lad of nine years, who had learned to fish and trap small animals for food and fur.
The infant daughter of Kaubequa grew like a young fawn around her mother’s lodge. When the child had reached the age verging upon womanhood, she possessed a tall, slender form, a beautiful olive complexion and large expressive eyes, much like the wild doe,—in that the haughty restlessness of the wilderness child could be discerned in her glance.