“The white men are welcome to Nancoke.”—Page [169].
“Nancoke ain’t far away—we might as well make for it,” said Barringford, and they did. Soon the Indian wigwams came into sight, stretched along the river bank, and a pack of lean and hungry looking Indian dogs came out to greet them, barking furiously. Several children and squaws followed, and then an old chief, Eagle Plume by name, came after.
“The white men are welcome to Nancoke,” said Eagle Plume, after listening to what they had to say. “Eagle Plume knows the white trader of the Kinotah well and is his friend. Remain with us over night and be at rest.”
They entered the Indian village and Eagle Plume ordered some of the boys to drive off the dogs. Dave and Barringford were led to the old chief’s wigwam, the largest in the village, made of poles twenty to twenty-five feet long and covered with the skins of wild animals, all curiously decorated with Indian symbols. Within some fancy mats lay upon the ground, and a small fire was burning to drive away the chill. Eagle Plume’s squaw was present and also his two daughters, Indian maidens who were by no means bad looking. All of the women folks had been making fish baskets, but the work was now laid aside in order that they might prepare the evening meal.
“I declare, it’s quite home-like after all,” was Dave’s comment, when he got the chance to speak to Barringford privately. “I had no idea the Indians lived so comfortably.”
“There are some lodges a heap finer nor this,” answered the old hunter. “Why, thet of Tanacharisson the Seneca half-king is a reg’lar palace under animal skins. His beds are made of the finest furs ye ever sot eyes on, and his cloak has got feathers on it wuth a fortune.”
The warriors of the tribe were all off on a hunt and Eagle Plume said he did not expect them back for several sleeps, meaning, of course, so many days, for the Indians reckoned their time largely by sleeps, moons, and winters.
With the warriors gone the boys and girls had matters very much their own way, for Eagle Plume was too old to remonstrate with them, and the squaws rarely interfered. This was the first time Dave had seen Indian children at play and he was much interested.
One crowd was playing ring toss, very much as it is played to-day. A stake was driven in the ground and several circles were marked around it. The hoops, to be thrown over the stake or within one or another of the circles, were made of willow withes, tightly interwoven. When a hoop went over the stake the thrower would give a yell of delight, and would make a mark for himself or herself in a square on the ground.
But the main game was one of war, because the Indian’s real life was made up largely of strife with the white man and with other Indians. To-day when small boys see a big parade they soon after form a soldier company of their own, and when they go to a circus they end up by giving a show in the back yard. So these Indian boys and girls separated into two parties, one to hide in the brush and behind the trees and the other to go on the warpath and surprise them. As Dave witnessed it, the surprise was really a thrilling one, and the fighting and shrieking more than half real. Yet despite the roughness of this sport nobody complained, although before the battle was over some of the smaller warriors withdrew to play another game, which consisted of leaping over a number of sticks laid down like the rungs of a ladder, and which was called “Let the Snakes Alone.” First the crowd would leap over the sticks, then hop over them with one foot, next the other foot, and then backward. If a player kicked a stick out of position he or she was out of the game, and the last person left in the game was the winner.