“Why, the inside bark of an elm; it’s real strong. I get it every year to string corn with, to keep the crows away.”
“O, Fred, look! what are these?” and Charlie picked out from among the bones a double handful of little round things, about the size of a modern lozenge, with a hole in the centre. They had been strung on a piece of deer sinew, which was still in some places quite strong, and had evidently hung about the neck of the skeleton. There were also in the grave arrow-heads, and under the neck a piece of the skin of some animal, with the hair still on it. Searching farther, they found a most singular-shaped stone, with an edge like an axe, and near the top a groove nearly half an inch in depth all around it; also, a pipe, a piece of bone pointed at one end, and in the other a hole, and a tooth pointed, exceedingly hard and white. Charlie appealed in vain to his companions to tell him what these things were for. Fred’s knowledge was very limited; he guessed they were what the Indian babies had to play with.
“This tooth,” said Charlie, “belonged to some wild animal—perhaps a wolf; I mean to ask Uncle Isaac. Fred, you know these things belong to both of us; what shall I give you for your share?”
“Nothing, Charlie; you are welcome to my part; I don’t care for keeping such things. I like the fun of finding them, and to look at them once; after that I don’t care anything about them.”
John, who was less interested in arrow-heads, had gone among the birches in quest of partridges, and returned, having killed six. After they had cooked and eaten two of them, they went in pursuit of the yellow paint, the great object of the expedition. Following the course of the brook for some distance, they came to where the soil changed to a stiff clay, and the brook was obstructed by an old beaver-dam, causing the water in many places to stand in little pools, in the bottom of which, and in the shelves of the rock which formed the bed of the brook, was a sediment of yellow mud, devoid of grit, and fine as flour. It was an ochre formed by the decomposition of iron pyrites, which had impregnated the clay, and stained the water of the brook.
“Here it is!” cried John, who was the first to perceive it; “here is the yellow stuff; only see how it stains my hands.”
The others gathered round him, and, with curious eyes, examined the treasure.
“Won’t we paint things!” cried Charlie. “I’ll paint everything in the house,—my sink, the baby’s cradle, my canoe, mother’s churn, the closet under the dressers, and my bedstead.”
“O, Charlie!” said John; “and your house under the maple.”
“Yes,” said Fred; “and all the drawers and shelves, too.”