Soldier Rigdale: How He Sailed in the Mayflower and How He Served Miles Standish

by Beulah Marie Dix

But Miles, in his new independence, laughed at the idea of return, and assured Dolly that he knew how to make her a snug enough house for all weathers. He would drive four forked stakes into the ground; and then, from fork to fork, he would lay four sticks; and across those, other great sticks; and thatch all over with moss. He would drive stakes into the ground to form the sides of the cabin, and wattle them with elder twigs; and it would be just the trimmest little house she ever saw. Yes, he could drive stakes inside and divide the space into rooms, and he would cut windows; the only thing that troubled him was how to build the fireplace, but he guessed he would think that out presently.

About the time that the red rays of the sun slipped under the lower branches of the trees, Miles laid off his doublet and rolled up his shirt-sleeves, ready for work. First, with his heel, he scored in the dirt the lines of his house; they might as well have a big one, he replied to Dolly's delighted exclamations.

The little girl ran about within the four lines and scored for herself the rooms which they would make. "'Twill be such sport, Miles," she chattered. "A keeping room we'll have, and a parlor, and a great hall." Down she set herself on the grass, between the wavering lines that marked the hall, and waited for her brother to build the house over her.

But, though Miles strode jauntily down into the bushes and stayed a great time, when he came back, he bore, not an armful of stakes, but two forked sticks, very gnarled and crooked, and another stick, some five feet long, without a fork. "What have you been doing, Miles?" Dolly greeted him, in a disappointed tone.

"Why, the wood is hard, and my knife is not very big," the boy answered sheepishly, "so perhaps to-night, as 'tis drawing late, I'd best put up just a little shelter. But I'll build the house to-morrow, Dolly."

Then, because the little girl's face fell so grievously, he made haste to amuse her by turning to such work as he could do that evening. With a stone for a hammer, he drove his forked sticks into the ground, and laid the other stick across them; that was the ridgepole, he told Dolly, and now, leaning other boughs against it, he would make a shelter that would be quite sufficient on so hot a night.

But it was wearisome work, haggling off tough boughs with his small whittle, and he was tired with walking, and perhaps, he reasoned, as it was drawing on to sunset, he were best not leave Dolly alone by herself and go down into the dim thickets. So, after he had cut enough branches to go a third along one side of his ridgepole, he said vaguely that maybe he would get some more before dark, and so sat down close by Dolly.

In the west the sun had already sunk, and little pink clouds were drifting through the sky; the afterglow still lingered on the open land of the valley along the stream; but in the woods, as Miles glanced over his shoulder, the grim shadows lurked. It was awesomely silent too, till, on a sudden, a bird began warbling, and presently, fluttering near, perched on a branch above the children, where he trilled lustily.

Miles had some pebbles in his pocket, and, slipping off his garter, he improvised a sling; he would kill the bird for their supper, he told his sister, but Dolly protested; she would rather the pretty bird lived and sang than that she should eat him. So the songster finished his tune and flashed away into the darkening sky, and Miles felt as warm a glow of self-gratulation at giving in to his sister as if he had been quite certain of fetching down the bird with his sling.

"But we've naught for our supper now, Dolly," he sighed presently. "To-morrow, though, I'll find my way to the shore and take us some clams, and, in any case, we'll gather plenty of berries when it's daylight. And you do not mind going supperless now?"