“He was a creature of the forests and streams. When he went away in the fall, after the wild pigeons had left, he always said that he wintered south, on the Casselman River, where the weather was not so severe, in that wonderful realm of the Pawpaw, the Persimmon and the Red Bud.
“Often when he took the young folks of the neighborhood on fishing trips, and his skill with the angle and fly were unerring, the pretty Indian maiden, ‘Pale Eyes,’ would turn up, and be with the party all day. When asked who she was, he would sometimes say that she was his daughter, other times his niece[niece], or grand-daughter, but when anyone asked of ‘Pale Eyes,’ she would shake her pretty head, indicating that she only spoke the Indian language. Poplar George could speak Dutch and a little English.
“No one knew where Poplar George slept, if it wasn’t in the open, under the cottonwood tree. If he slept in barns, or under haystacks, no one had ever seen him coming or going, but a detail like that, mattered nothing as long as he was kindly and harmless, and took good care of the children.
“He was a master of woodcraft, much like that old Narragansett Indian ‘Nessmuk,’ who furnished the late George W. Sears with his inspiration as well as ‘nom de plume.’ Poplar George could call the wild birds off the trees, so that they would feed on the ground before him, the squirrels and even the shy chipmunks climbed all over him, and extracted nuts from his pockets.
"The old Indian was an odd person to look at, so my mother said; of medium height, meagre, wrinkled and weazened, tobacco colored, with little black shoe-button eyes, and a sparse mustache and beard. He dressed in rags, and was often bare-footed, yet he never complained of the cold. He was always jolly and cheerful, had always been the same; he had been coming to the Pucketa Valley for several generations before my mother’s day; in fact, no one could remember when he hadn’t been there, but that wasn’t saying much, as it was a new country, dating only from the time when Pucketa and his tribesmen had enjoyed it as a hunting ground for big game.
"Once when some hunters killed a bear, they were going to nail the paws on the end of a log barn, but Poplar George begged for them, and invited the children to a feast of ‘bear paw cutlets’ under the cottonwood tree. My mother sat beside ‘Pale Eyes,’ and took a great fancy to her; she was able to talk with her in sign language, and Poplar George, seeing how well they got on together, occasionally interpreted for them.
"Mother managed to learn that ‘Pale Eyes’’ abode was in a huge hollow tulip tree, but that she, too, wintered in the south, but beyond the Maryland line. Those were all gloriously care-free, happy days, and my mother, in later life, never tired talking about them.
"Once in the fall when the buckwheat harvest was in progress, millions of wild pigeons came in, and mother could never forget the sight of old Poplar George sitting on a ‘stake and rider’ fence, with a handsome cock pigeon resplendent with its ruddy breast, pearched[pearched] on one of his wrists, while it pecked at some buckwheat seeds in his other hand. Beside him sat the demure ‘Pale Eyes,’ a speckled squab of the year in her lap, stroking it, while other pigeons, usually so wild, were feeding in the stubble about them, or perched on the stakes of the fence.
"Some of the boys of sixteen years or thereabouts, grown lads they seemed to my mother, wanted to be attentive to ‘Pale Eyes,’ but she was so shy that she never let them get close to her. As it was a respectable backwoods community, and all minded their own business, no further efforts were made to have her mingle in society.
"There was a rich boy, Herbert Hiltzheimer from Philadelphia, whose father was a great land owner, and who sometimes came with his parents to stay with their Agent while inspecting their possessions, who, at first sight of ‘Pale Eyes,’ fell violently in love with her. On rainy days he was not allowed out of doors, and sent word to Poplar George that ‘Pale Eyes’ should go to the Agent’s house, and play with him. Old Poplar George replied that he was willing if his niece would consent, but she always ran away into the depths of the forest, and was never once induced to play with him indoors. She did not dislike the city boy, only was very timid, and was afraid to go inside of a house.