The Pioneer Boys of the Missouri; or, In the Country of the Sioux

by St. George Rathborne

“We stay night with paleface boys. Much good. Karmeet remember. Ugh!”

And so the two young pioneers went about the duties of the hour as though they were alone. They carefully selected the place where the fire was to be made; and the keen eyes of the squaw followed all their movements with considerable curiosity. Roger, looking up later, saw her nodding her head, and from this he understood that she approved of their cunning in thus providing against discovery of the small blaze by hostile eyes.

The horses were provided with a feeding place, because there was grass in the forest glade where the wandering Indian squaw and her charge, in escaping from one peril, had almost met their fate in another way.

Then supper was started. When Roger prepared to cook the meat, to his amusement it was taken from his hands by the old squaw, who insisted on carrying out the rest of that labor—though possibly the lads might have preferred to do it their own way. But evidently Karmeet had all her life been accustomed to never seeing a warrior bending over the fire whenever there was a squaw in the camp; they might do the drudgery when out hunting, or on the warpath, but never at home. That was a woman’s duty.

There was plenty for all. Little Dove Eyes had been visibly frightened at first sight of the white boys, for doubtless they were the only palefaces upon whom her eyes had ever rested. But by degrees the smiles and nods of Roger assured the child that he was a friend. Besides, had not it been his “speaking-stick” that had sent the terrible woods-cat to its death, just when it seemed that nothing could prevent it from springing on her guardian?

And so by slow degrees she even tried to talk with Roger, repeating after him the words he uttered. He would pick up his weapon, and say “gun” very distinctly; so in a little while, when he asked her what it was, she would say the word plainly, showing that the lesson had been learned.

And so it was with other things, even to his name, which proved pretty much of a stumbling-block; for words of two syllables were hard for the child to pronounce.

Meanwhile, as the evening passed, Dick from time to time tried to engage the squaw in conversation; but she was most uncommunicative, for some reason or other, and answered his questions either by shrugs that gave him to believe she did not understand, or else by single words.