“I would.”
“Then you shall go. And now let us off to bed, for it is growing late.”
A few minutes later the occupants of the cabin retired, leaving White Buffalo to make himself comfortable, as suited him, on the kitchen floor in front of the dying fire.
CHAPTER III
IN THE FOREST
Dave and his cousin Henry occupied a small bedroom at the north end of the cabin. Like the other apartments, this was unplastered excepting for some clay stuck in the chinks to keep out the wind. The room boasted of one window, a foot and a half square, and fitted with a heavy wooden shutter, to be closed in winter, or when there was danger of an attack.
Three-quarters of the floor space was taken up by the heavy four-posted bedstead, built of black walnut and hickory and almost as hard and as heavy as iron. The bed was corded with rawhide, on which rested a mattress of straw and a long pillow filled with chicken feathers. In front of the bed, and directly under the window, ran a bench the length of the room, and above was a row of pegs upon which the boys could hang their clothing. The ceiling was so low that the boys could jump up and touch it with ease.
By the time the boys had said their prayers and retired, a deep silence had fallen on the cabin and its surroundings, broken only by the faint gurgling of the brook as it tumbled along over the rocks and the soft fall breeze as it swept through the forest beyond the clearing, sending the golden leaves down in showers. Presently the moon shone over the top of the distant mountains, tipping the brook here and there with silver. The shining of the orb of night seemed to displease the wolves, and soon one and another let up a lonely howl, ending in a chorus which was truly dismal. But those in the cabin were used to such sounds and were not disturbed. White Buffalo uttered a long sigh and then began to snore, as if in answer to the beasts outside.
The moon still hung low in the heavens, as if loath to give place to the rising sun, when Joseph Morris arose, followed by his wife, and set about preparing the morning meal. White Buffalo was already up and sat on the doorstep, cutting out a wooden trinket with his knife. With this trinket he intended to make friends with little Nell, who so far, had proved rather afraid of him.
“White Buffalo make little Nell a wooden pappoose,” he said, when the six-year-old came from her bedroom and shyly approached to see what he was doing. “Little Nell can dress the pappoose and make much play.”
“Oh, a doll!” cried the girl, and much of her shyness vanished. She looked it over. “Why, it hasn’t any arms!”