“White Buffalo make arms by-me-by, and feet, too. Make arms and feet fast with sticks, so little Nell can move them and make head fast with stick, too, so pappoose can look over shoulder and all around. Heap big pappoose then, much proud!”
“That will be nice,” answered Nell and smiled frankly into the Indian’s face. Then the two consulted about the length of the legs and arms to be put on the doll, and before breakfast was ready they were firm friends. When finished the doll was decidedly crude and had a strong Indian expression on its straight-nosed face, but this Nell did not seem to mind. She possessed but few toys and this was her first doll, and she cherished it accordingly.
Joseph Morris felt that he would have to go direct to Annapolis for the majority of the things his brother wished, so preparations for such a journey were made. Such a trip was quite an event, and Henry Morris was sent around to several of the neighbors, who might desire some commission executed in town. Annapolis was rapidly becoming a place of considerable importance, with a growing trade in tobacco, hemp, and other commodities.
It was a cool, crisp day when Joseph Morris and Dave set out on their journey. They were on horseback, and several neighbors came to see them off and incidentally to load them with further commissions, which had been forgotten until the last moment.
“Take care of yourself, Joseph,” said Mrs. Morris, on parting. “And you be careful, too, Dave,” and then she kissed both her husband and her nephew affectionately. Little Nell also came in for a hug and a kiss, and the others for a handshake.
The distance to the trading-post at Will’s Creek was three miles, and the distance from the post to Winchester, then nothing but another frontier post, was about forty-five miles. But the wagon road from one place to the other had not yet been cut through, and the trail ran in and out along the river and through the forest, making the distance to be traversed at least sixty miles. The mountain pass was a difficult one and at one point ran around the edge of a cliff forty to fifty feet high. Here a tumble for man or beast to the jagged rocks below would have meant instant death.
But Dave thought of none of these perils as he rode beside his uncle or directly behind him. He had a good mount and a good rifle, and his aunt had fairly stuffed their saddle bags with good things to be eaten on the way. The lad saw nothing but a grand outing ahead and whistled cheerily in consequence.
Mr. Morris was more thoughtful and so pre-occupied that he scarcely noticed Dave’s rendering of “The Pirate’s Lady, Oh!” and of “Lucy Locket Lost Her Pocket,” afterward known universally as “Yankee Doodle.” The tunes were whistled half a dozen times, and then of a sudden the lad turned to his relative.
“Uncle Joe, what are you so silent about? You haven’t spoken since we passed the old fish hole.”
“Is that so, Dave?” was the answer. “Well, to tell the truth I was thinking of many things—of the articles we are to buy and where I could probably get them cheapest, and of the talk we had with White Buffalo about the trouble with the French.”