Friend Seeker (Perry County, Pennsylvania Frontier Series) Page 4

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  Chapter 3

  No buffalo were left along the creek of that name, as none grunted along the Little Buffalo or on Buffalo Mountain across the Juniata, The buffalo had moved deeper into lesser valleys where they lingered in smaller bands, but their marks remained even beyond the naming of places they had used.

  Nearby, uncounted generations of the shaggy creatures had chosen a small hollow in which to stomp, roll, and paw. They had ground the earth into powder and flattened the depression into a level-bottomed bowl with sure footing and soft beds. The bowl was now Three Feathers' training ground. Open to the sky but protected from winds, his students could pursue their lessons with little distraction.

  To these students and their teacher, Friend Seeker had in great detail described his trailing of the Piscataway. Formerly he would have muttered and twisted his explanation, just getting it over with. Now, he could appreciate the value of recounting each move in detail, examining how he had proceeded, and discovering how he might have done it better.

  In general, Three Feathers approved. He observed that it was wrong to harshly criticize a plan that had succeeded, but he noted points forgotten or techniques neglected.

  Had Friend Seeker watched the flight of birds? They could tell of others' presence or betray his own. Had the sun silhouetted him for an enemy arrow or had it blinded his vision at other times? Did he work into the wind? Had he always a route of escape clearly planned? Friend Seeker learned during his own telling.

  In the evening, Corn Row invited Three Feathers and other men to hear his son speak of tracking the Piscataway. Women were banished and even though the lodge was warm, sides were closed. The talk was serious and interruptions were unwelcome.

  Friend Seeker sat within the circle, letting the pipe pass unsmoked but relishing acceptance among the men. The air was close within the lodge and only Three Feathers appeared comfortable. The rest showed sweat sheen, and despite the solemnity of the council Friend Seeker wished the lodge sides were rolled.

  Corn Row mentioned his son's dissatisfaction with their tactics and his unannounced decision to trail the enemy party. He did not mention his son's new name, for, as he had chosen it alone, so must he justify its acceptance.

  The father of Late Star grunted agreement with Friend Seeker's discontent and vowed that his son deserved better. If his weak leg had allowed it, he too would have taken the Piscataway track. The others smoked in silence, recognizing a father's frustration, but not accepting his reasoning as their own.

  Friend Seeker then spoke.

  "The need to search for my friend, Late Star, devoured my thoughts. The hunger chewed my spirit as a wolf gnaws a bone. What others chose I could not change, but my heart wept to avenge a companion's death and rescue my friend.

  "I followed the trail of four Piscataway and Late Star across the valleys and to the mountain Kittatinny. Where they walked, I walked. Where they slept, I too rested. At a spring, I found Late Star's mark left to guide those who would come." A few men stirred uncomfortably.

  "Beyond the mountains, I could not pursue. I lack the knowledge and the strength. Yet Late Star has gone that way and in his heart lives the trust that his people will not desert him." Again some shifted about.

  "I cannot speak for others, but upon the mountain Kittatinny, I raised my vow to the Great Spirit. There I chose a new name to nourish my vow and so that I cannot weaken or turn aside.

  "I have taken the name Friend Seeker. I shall earn my name by doing all things necessary to return Late Star to his lodge, and if Late Star has fallen, Friend Seeker will avenge his death until the Piscataway know their error.

  "Friend Seeker asks that his father and his teacher honor his vow and become his guides. Friend Seeker asks that the lodges of his people respect his task and add their counsel that he may prepare swiftly and thoroughly."

  Corn Row's eyes glistened unusually bright and he reached to touch his son's shoulder. Three Feathers pursed his lips and grunted noncommittally, but a certain glitter of spirit sharpened his glance as well. A vow of honor demanding sacrifice and danger drew strongly on the Delaware spirit. Although the act might cost more than it was worth, the vow was one of courage and demanded respect.

  The men saw a youth, still bruised and torn from captivity, still undeveloped in body and mind, choosing a task that would give the most experienced warrior pause. Yet his eye was true and his heart spoke in his voice. The youth believed his words and his spirit was strong. What one of them would seek to turn him aside?

  The father of Late Star nodded acceptance and broke the silence. "Your heart is brave, Friend Seeker, and my son would do the same if the choice had been his.

  Three Feathers was not so sure of that, but he remained silent. An older man spoke for the rest. "You are young, Friend Seeker, and your chosen task may prove too great. We will watch as you learn, and our hearts will be one with yours. If you take the war trail, our spirits will go with you. For myself, I will begin seasoning wood for a proper war bow, and I will prepare two hands of the finest arrows. All will be ready when you need them.

  "Yet if your task remains beyond your abilities, fear not to stand before our circle and speak of it. It is not our wish that our nephew forfeit his life without reason."

  Three Feathers then spoke. "Friend Seeker speaks of mighty journeys through strange lands and clever rescues from enemy villages. He imagines daring escapes and expects deadly combats with Piscataway warriors. Brave are the thoughts of Friend Seeker.

  "I, who must prepare this youth for such mighty deeds, need also speak words of great weight. Hear them now.

  "To become a man is the natural way of things. A youth learns what he can and goes forth to discover the rest. His failures may be many and frequent, but there is little loss in missing a deer or a few meals.

  "The way of the warrior is more demanding. The lessons are hard, the strains are many, and the skills are endless. It must be so, for mistakes in war are paid for in blood. For the warrior there is rarely another chance. The first mistake is often the only mistake and his next journey is along the spirit trail.

  "Among the Iroquois, a warrior joins a society of other warriors. From many, he learns the hard lessons. By many, he is taught skilled maneuvers and masterful planning. The system is good and has brought fame to the Iroquois warrior.

  "Once, the Delaware also boasted proud warrior societies, but they are now a memory. So Friend Seeker must learn all that is needed without the meeting of many minds. Instead, I alone must seek to fill this empty vessel. I alone must chip until a cutting edge is formed and who can tell—the flint may be flawed."

  Three Feathers pulled at his lower lip and scowled across the circle at Friend Seeker. "I say now that if Friend Seeker falters, I will walk away. My remaining seasons are few and I will not waste them." Friend Seeker flushed as his teacher continued, "But if our vow-taker seizes the challenges with a heart of fire, and if he labors until his body is one with the panther's, and his mind becomes as quick as the strike of the rattling snake, I will provide him with the skills of a true warrior.

  "One final warning I give to the youth, Friend Seeker, and to those who care for him. The way of the warrior is dangerous and it is unending. We speak now of a lonely trail shared only by a few and understood only by other warriors. Though a warrior earns coup and boasts many feathers, he will also suffer painful wounds and dreadful dreams. His enemies will rise often to haunt his sleep and destroy his rest.

  "The warrior stands outside the lives of other men. His spirit is set apart by his training and the acts he must perform. The longer the warrior strides the war trail, the less like other he can be.

  "I speak now of these things for it is with open eyes that Friend Seeker should choose the warrior's path.

  "I will return to my lodge to plan the teaching of a warrior. It has been long since I have taken this trail and I must consider each turn with care. Henceforth, Friend Seeker will be seldom at his father's f
ire. Each day, his tasks will grow longer and more difficult, so we will test and strengthen the heart of our new warrior."

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  THE TRAINING

  "The world has always leaped forward when a dreamer was at the helm."

  The Color of Life is Red

  Edward Lee Holman

  Chapter 4

  The day had begun as most others. He had risen, eaten well of his mother's cooking, and gone to Three Feathers' class of boys. The schooling too had been little different. He waited impatiently for his special training to begin, but Three Feathers exposed him to nothing new or unusual. Any differences lay in mutual awareness that Squash had gone and Friend Seeker was not one with the rest. His presence seemed to squelch most of the inattention, much as an adult's would have. His glance was rarely met and never challenged, as Squash's would have been a few days earlier. Friend Seeker was treated with guarded respect.

  Dismissing the youths in late morning, Three Feathers' curtly directed the Seeker to remain. When they were alone the lessons finally began. The teacher pointed to low brush near his lodge. "Beneath those bushes you will sleep and there you will eat.

  You will now go to the stream and catch three frogs. Remove their legs, build your fire, and cook the legs. When they are ready call me from my lodge."

  Friend Seeker gathered his kindling and borrowed coals from another fire. He easily caught his frogs in a swampy area and cooked them on green twig spits. When they were crisped and turning brown he called Three Feathers, who quickly appeared.

  The teacher sat cross-legged, close to the fire. He took the spitted legs from the Seeker and examined them critically, "They are good." Friend Seeker glowed. "As your body is already soft with fat, I will eat them." Three Feathers chewed contentedly on a leg, and only half-believing. Friend Seeker found his belly rumbling and his mouth salivating.

  "My instructions were to secure the legs before you built your fire. If you had done so, your fire could have been small instead of this burning forest you have used."

  Pointing to a nearby log, half the Seeker's weight, Three Feathers said, "Carry this stick to the pool where the older boys swim. Leave it and return before I finish my frog legs."

  Stunned, the Seeker wasted valuable time appreciating that Three Feathers meant what he had said. Belatedly leaping to his feet, he upended the clumsy log and with a grunt hoisted it to his shoulder. Three Feathers chose a second leg without wasting a glance upon his charge.

  Angered, Friend Seeker ran for the creek trail. The log spun him around and bit cruelly into his flesh. He struggled up the path, shifting his awkward burden when it ground too heavily into his shoulder bones. The pool seemed a terrible distance and he visualized Three Feathers munching on his second frog leg while he sweat at a fool's exercise.

  He reached the bluff with shaking legs and flung the log away ignoring the astonished looks of former companions. His legs flew as he tore back down the trail and into the village. Lungs heaving, he saw Three Feathers toss a final bone into the fire when he was still yards away. He fell into his seat across the fire, sucking air and trying to appear still fresh.

  Three Feathers' eyes met his without commendation. "You were so long returning I feared you had become lost." The Seeker was stung and again angered before Three Feathers' words sobered him.

  "Is it not likely that Late Star will be weakened, perhaps wounded or near death? One who cannot carry a small log a short distance without feeling abused is not likely to carry his companion much further." Three Feathers' headshake was condemnation. He rose wiping the grease from his hands into the skin of his forearms. "Go and return with the log. Pretend your burden is Late Star and that the Piscataway are close behind you. This time do not linger. We have much to do."

  Angered almost to tears, Friend Seeker sprinted away. If this was the way one became a warrior it was foolish and pointless, but he would outlast Three Feathers' nastiness even if it took all the strength in his body.

  He knew it took him longer to return the log, but his legs had become weaker than a child's and his chest pumped air in rapid sucks that were not enough. With blurry vision he saw that Three Feathers was not at the fire, but the old warrior's sharp whistle located him beneath the teaching tree. He trotted there, beyond trying to appear strong, and Three Feathers berated him for leaving his fire burning. Again angered he covered the fire with dirt and rejoined the teacher beneath the tree. The rest had allowed him to regain his wind and he supposed Three Feathers had planned it that way.

  He tried to evaluate the unsuspected viciousness displayed by Three Feathers, but his thoughts were too quickly interrupted. Someone had hung a thick strand of grapevine from one of the oak's spreading branches. The Seeker judged it four or five times his own height. Three Feathers wanted him to climb it.

  Despite his weariness he seized the vine with confidence. A good climber, he had conquered far more difficult climbs than this one. He caught the vine in his feet and went up in swift, convulsive thrusts of legs and arm pulls. He touched the thick oak limb smartly and descended almost arrogantly.

  Three Feathers' scorn could have lighted a campfire. "Men do not climb like bugs hunching upward. This is a test of arm and shoulder. Sit!"

  Friend Seeker sat and Three Feathers placed the vine in his hand. "Climb now, oh Bug, and let your legs stay unmoving. The Seeker's muscles strained and cords stood like taut bowstrings across his neck. He muscled himself upward, knees held forward, breath again sawing in his lungs, and his exhausted fingers becoming nerveless clubs.

  Again he reached the limb, touched it, and wrapped quivering legs around the vine to ease his downward slide.

  He settled to a seat on the ground, shaking in every limb, to hear Three Feathers mutter, "Only a squaw would descend clutching like a worm! Follow, Vine Clutcher." He stalked away leaving Friend Seeker to wheeze to his feet and shamble after.

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  If he had believed it could be no worse. Friend Seeker had deluded himself. Three Feathers was a torturer of unsuspected viciousness. His callousness was exceeded by both his enjoyment of inflicting exhaustion and his unlimited schemes for doing so.

  Together they surveyed the Juniata. The river ran deep on the near side but across, a sticky bog lay between water and firm embankment.

  "Do you see the small stone atop the large stone on the far bank?"

  "Yes, Three Feathers."

  "Good! Swim across, touch the stone and return. Swim as the otter, as I do not wish to wait too long."

  A strong swimmer, Friend Seeker kicked free of moccasins and clout and struck the river swimming powerfully. In his haste he did not aim high enough and the current swept him below his target. He reached the far side and scrambled through the muck, bruising a foot on a hidden rock. He touched the stone and slogged back into the river seeing Three Feathers watching something downstream and apparently oblivious to his effort.

  Planning better, he pointed more upstream and panted ashore close by his abandoned clothing.

  Three Feathers waved him to the ground where he collapsed, breathing heavily. The teacher walked a few paces down the bank before turning to face him with features so pained that Friend Seeker groaned within.

  Three Feathers' voice was choked with disdain. His words leaked venom and tormented the few remaining shreds of the boy's self-respect. "A warrior does not abandon his clothing at first opportunity. Any child knows it is easier to swim naked, but even a child should know that a naked warrior will not run far or fight well. Do I see a bruised foot, oh Dull One? Are there not always rocks beneath river mud? Try to think ahead.

  "If, oh Thoughtless One, you would look a few steps upstream you would see rock ledges running far into the river. A few considered paces would have saved much swimming and mud wallowing." He silenced Friend Seeker's attempted protest. "But since you have chosen to swim here, here you shall swim, Don your garments and return the small stone to me. Swiftly, boy. I grow impatient!"

 
; Again wildly angry, the Seeker swam powerfully. He aimed well and plowed ashore snatching up the stone and charging back into the river. Unfortunately, a moccasin succumbed to the sucking mud and he lost time finding it and forcing it back on. The stone was clumsy and destroyed his swimming rhythm. He finally held it between his knees but still drifted far downstream. Eventually he dropped the stone at Three Feathers' feet and when permitted, dropped beside it. His lungs sawed all too familiarly and he wondered if he would ever again be allowed to do anything at a reasonable pace.

  As usual, the voice of Three Feathers disrupted his thoughts. "The most innocent of warriors knows enough to wear long thongs in his moccasins. In camp these thongs are merely doubled and not used. Beyond the village, especially in water, the thongs are tied about the ankles to prevent a moccasin being lost at a poor time. Did no one ever tell you this, oh Delaware Child?

  A clear picture of Hawk Foot's moccasins with thongs about the ankles formed in Friend Seeker's sickened thoughts. Three Feathers was not finished.

  "You may return the stone to its place and go to your mother's lodge to obtain proper moccasin thongs. You will then find me at my fire. Kindly do not delay, Slow One. I find myself continually waiting your arrival."

  The Seeker again swam the river, landing far downstream. He resolved to take his own good time at his mother's lodge and let Three Feathers stew, but he fought the river as hard as he could and raced the distance to the lodge. He snarled at his own stupidity in hurrying even as he strode impatiently about, annoyed at his mother's slowness in threading new lacings.

  Three Feathers' fondness for frog legs prompted one of Friend Seeker's many miscalculations. Each day, with his stomach rumbling hollowly, the Seeker strained at logs and rocks while Three Feathers dined contentedly on fat legs that Friend Seeker provided. Sometimes the teacher demanded two or more hands of legs that his student dutifully crisped. Much later, Three Feathers flung a hank of dried venison or a scrap of smoked fish in Friend Seeker's general direction, providing his student's only late day repast.