“Why, Dave, what brings you back so soon?” cried Mrs. Morris, somewhat startled at his unexpected appearance. “I didn’t blow the horn for supper.”
“White Buffalo is coming, and Uncle Joe told me to tell you that he would probably be hungry, and for you to get those new dress goods out of the way before the redskin saw ’em. If you don’t he’ll most likely tell you he dreamed you gave them to him for his squaw, or something like that.”
“Mercy on us, White Buffalo! Yes, I will get them out of sight, every one! He is a good-enough Indian, but, oh, every one of ’em is such a beggar! What did he say of your father, Dave?”
“I didn’t see him to talk to, Aunt Lucy—I came away before he came up. But Uncle Joe said he would bring him right up to the cabin. Shall I help clear the kitchen floor?”
“Yes, we are about done for to-day, and Rodney is more than tired, I can see that plainly. Rodney, you just go and rest yourself on the bed, Dave and I can get this mess out of the way in a jiffy.”
“I’m willing enough,” answered Rodney, with a deep drawn sigh, and rising from his rush-seated chair he hobbled out of the kitchen to the next room.
“Do you want me to kill anything for supper—a couple of chickens or ducks?” queried Dave, as he began gathering up the still warm candle moulds.
“No; Henry shot a deer right after dinner—down by the old salt lick—dropped him, so he said, without the least bit of trouble. He’s down at the shed now dressing it. We can have that,—and I’ll make some corn cakes—the kind those Indians like. You had better bring me in some more wood. I’ll take care of the rest of the candles. And tell Henry to fetch along a nice piece of that deer meat, and a jug of that yellow apple cider.” And so speaking Mrs. Morris bustled around at a lively rate, that she might have the kitchen in order when her husband appeared with their Indian guest.
At the cattle shed, a rude affair of rough logs and tree branches, Dave found his cousin Henry tacking up the deer-skin to dry and tan in the sun. Henry was a short, stout youth and a good deal of the same turn of mind as his mother.
“I’ll bring up a good-enough piece of meat for any redskin,” he said, after listening to Dave. “I’m glad White Buffalo has come, although I didn’t expect to see him for a fortnight, or until the next new moon. Everything must have gone along swimmingly with your father.”