Ma shook her head. “I’ll stay up with you. Jim, I’ll make a pallet for you.” She got up and fixed a comfortable bed on the floor for Jim. Then she sat down in the cabin doorway beside her husband.
Jim glanced at the Indian boy lying so quietly in his bed, dropped down on the pallet and went to sleep.
Ma and Pa Hudson continued to sit in the doorway, rifles by their side, and to stare out into the silent black night.
When Jim awakened the next morning, Ma had breakfast ready and the Indian boy was looking solemnly at him from his bed.
Jim jumped up. “Good morning, boy,” he said with a smile. “What’s your name?”
The Indian boy did not reply but kept his brown eyes fixed on Jim.
Ma put a pewter bowl containing steaming hot grits at Jim’s place on the table. “Wash your hands and face, son.”
“Yes’m.” Jim poured some water into the washbasin and began splashing water on his face and hands. As soon as he had finished he carried a pan of water to their strange guest, so he could wash his face.
But the Indian boy just stared at him and did not move.
Ma came over and stood beside the boy. “Come now, boy,” she said briskly, “I’ll wash your hands and face. Then you must have some breakfast.” As she turned one hand over and began to wash it, he tried to sit up, but fell back on the bed with a groan.