Friend Seeker (Perry County, Pennsylvania Frontier Series) Page 8

  He made camp beside the downed log. He dug a fire pit with room for him to lie between the fire and the log. There he would be warm and dry. He gathered a vast pile of dead limbs since they burned almost as fast as he could add them to the fire.

  From where they were drying, he brought his clay bowls and stoppers and placed them where fire warmth would continue the drying, but not so close that they would shrink and crack. Then he went for frog legs.

  In dusk he broiled fat legs on a green spit, congratulating himself on his progress. With time to think, he considered how he would manage in Piscataway country. There he could not wander about setting snares and building fires. It would be harder; he could see that.

  Before full dark he visited his snares. A number were sprung without success, but he also had two rabbits. He killed the one still living with a sharp blow behind the neck and reset the snares. Outside his camp, he stripped the skins away using only the strength of his hands. He cleaned the carcasses and suspended them at his fire to begin slow cooking. The skins he scraped with a sharp edged stone until all fat was gone. He washed them in the stream and stretched them out to dry.

  He then stretched himself out comfortably on a bed of moss with his firewood handy. The day had gone well and he had progressed. He could think of nothing neglected and slept while planning the day ahead.

  The night's sleep was not as sound as he had expected. He missed even the old deer skins he had for covering and insects that swarmed in the meadow were attracted to his fire, He roused often to add wood and to rotate his drying rabbits, and to adjust his hardening pots. He was up with the first hint of light, anxious to attack the day.

  He began by wearing down a small sassafras tree and hacking it to bow length. He skinned the tree of bark and began shaping it into a useful bow. By scraping against a limestone outcropping he gained an acceptable taper and suspended the bow over his fire on two forked sticks with a stone hanging at the middle to induce a permanent bend to the bow. The bow would harden at least a little and gain more spring.

  When the sun was up he visited his snares. He had collected only a single rabbit for his efforts, but that provided a breakfast which he could supplement later with assorted wild berries.

  He assumed Three Feathers would count this as his second day, and after some consideration, he decided to remain where he was, improving his situation and covering longer distances later. Other schemes came quickly to his mind and he sorted out ways to accomplish them.

  His clay bowls were hardening well, and though he would have liked to have waited longer, he judged his limited time and gently placed them in the hot fire ashes. He covered them with glowing embers while offering prayers that they would not split as moisture cooked away. If they could endure the day they would harden further and be useful.

  He cut three hickory arrow shafts and scrubbed them true on limestone. When he had time, he would find points and fletch them with feathers.

  Rabbit skins made poor leather at best, and uncured, they lacked strength and would soon smell bad. As they were all he had, he made them work. Sewed together with green vine, the skins provided an adequate pouch for his increasing possessions.

  A spear was simple. A straight stick hardened and sharpened in his fire would do until he could find or shape a stone head. He supposed a spear was not really necessary. It was a weapon of war and rarely used in the hunt, but he resolved to do all that he could to return to the village equipped and ready.

  He caught a fish and tromped on an eel in river mud until he could get a good hold on it. He killed the eel by biting it behind the head. A large snapping turtle dozing on a log fell to his swift attack and he faced the evening with heightened satisfaction. At his fire he cooked fish eyes into thick glue and stuck turkey feathers to his arrows. Feathers were everywhere but he could think of no further use for them.

  His clay pots had baked long, and raking them from the coals he found that two had survived without cracking. He scraped stoppers until they fit and set them aside. When he moved on, he would carry hot coals in them and have fire at each camping.

  He ate turtle and fish before dark and gathered his new pouch full of berries. By firelight, he pounded the thoroughly-cooked rabbit meat into small fibers and mixed it with berries. The result was acceptable pemmican that he rolled in large leaves to carry along.

  From the fish, he took small bones to make into needles and awls. The turtle shell would provide a pot if he needed one. He removed another rabbit from his snares and prepared it as he had the others.

  The weather stayed warm with stars close above. In the morning he would travel down the Juniata. Where it joined the Susquehanna lay an island on which there had been much fighting. If fishermen were not there he could hunt until he found good flint arrowheads. Then he would feel ready to travel the distances Three Feathers demanded.

  On the morning of the sixth day, Three Feathers began looking for his student. Not that he actually searched, his routines were as usual, but his eyes wandered often to the forest trails and he dismissed his charges early.

  He had expected Friend Seeker to arrive as early as pride allowed, ready to consume a vast meal at his mother's fire and seek his sleeping robes. Small chance of that! With the activities his training would require, it seemed a good opportunity for the student to learn that he could endure more than he believed as well as being reminded that things did not often go as expected.

  Yet the afternoon passed without the student's return and Three Feathers admitted to a small anxiety. Many things could go wrong in the forest. A serious fall or a sudden fever could incapacitate. There could be no hint of where to search, for Friend Seeker could have chosen any mountain or valley to explore. Three Feathers doubted he would have crossed the Susquehanna, but he could have turned north to try Tuscarora Mountain. Three Feathers did not enjoy his afternoon nap.

  An hour before dusk children darted from the creek trail screeching to the entire village that Friend Seeker was returning. Three Feathers moved quickly to sit beneath his teaching tree, composing himself to receive his student, and enjoying the attention as the community gathered to see how Friend Seeker had fared.

  Despite his preparation, the eyes of Three Feathers widened as Friend Seeker entered the clearing and his pipe paused halfway to his lips. Friend Seeker was almost difficult to recognize.

  The Seeker walked with a firm but burdened stride. The carcass of a deer weighted a shoulder while a brace of freshly taken turkeys, feet entwined, hung across the other. Two heavy-appearing rabbit-skin pouches lay along the student's hips and a basket pack of woven marsh rushes rode his back. The pack too appeared full. A heavy club was thrust inside a rawhide belt, fletched arrows protruded from a skin quiver, and the youth's hands held bow and spear. Friend Seeker appeared well fed and freshly bathed, and to Three Feathers' disgust, wore a mixed batch of feathers in his hair. Friend Seeker's entrance was masterful and the gathering muttered its appreciation.

  The Seeker greeted his teacher with his usual courteous deference. No hint of arrogance or exultation appeared. His outward humility was all that could be expected and Three Feathers could only guess at the glee that was surely wriggling in his student's belly.

  Before his teacher, Friend Seeker unloaded his acquisitions. He laid them in neat rows until he again stood naked except for clout and moccasins. He seated himself and with deliberation unstrung his moccasins from his ankles. Three Feathers did not miss the implications.

  At Three Feathers' gesture, Friend Seeker began his story. He told of his thoughts as Three Feathers had paddled away. He described the organizing of his plan and the priorities of food and fire. As each was discussed he displayed his snares and his fire pots with coals aglow. He drew his sassafras bow and, still sitting, he drove a flint tipped arrow into a sitting log.

  He spoke of the island where he had found arrow points and the good flintstone head now on his lance. He offered pemmican of deer, turkey, rabbit, and squirrel, modestly ment
ioning that his time for hunting had been limited due to his need to travel far.

  He had trotted the length of Kittatinny Mountain and had explored the head waters of Sherman's Creek. He had gained the summit of Round Top and run the crest of Conecocheague Mountain. He had spied on lodges at the Deer Spring and along Cisna Run. He had circled E'shan, the Little Buffalo arrowmaker, and camped the final night on Hominy Ridge.

  Each night at his fire he had worked at important tasks. He had shaped his hickory war club with fire, and he had cooked and mixed his pemmican in the late dusk.

  From a pouch he withdrew his gift to his teacher. He had shaped a pipe of fine gray clay with an eagle's head bowl and three hawk feathers raised along its short stem. Each day he had packed the pipe in dry moss and each night he had baked it in his fire so that it would be ready on his return. He handed the pipe to Three Feathers who rubbed its bowl and nodded acceptance before laying it aside.

  On the final day Friend Seeker had hunted and prepared himself and his report. From a tree before light, he had taken the deer as a gift for his village. From another tree, he had fired his arrows down into a flock of turkeys. These were gifts for the lodge of his parents.

  Then he told what he had learned. He spoke of the need to be always busy and of how difficult it would be to live without notice in an enemy land. He mentioned the loneliness without others and how the stars had at times seemed colder and more distant, while on other nights they warmed him with their presence.

  Old hunters nodded at these things and nodded again when he told of falling on a steep slope and missing a too-easy shot. There were smiles at mention of being startled by a bear that rose almost under his feet in a berry patch. It was plain that Friend Seeker had experienced good things and had learned many truths. Of course, deeper thoughts would be shared only by teacher and pupil and probably the deepest of all would remain unspoken in the mind of Friend Seeker.

  Outwardly Three Feathers remained unimpressed by Friend Seeker's accomplishments. He grunted a few approvals and issued occasional nods of understanding. It would not do for the student to know how well he had done or how thoroughly his teacher was pleased. He expected the youth believed he had done well, but for the sake of his humility, that expectation would have to remain unconfirmed. A bloated self-confidence could spoil it all. Three Feathers resolved to allow his pupil a few days to discover how quickly accomplishments were forgotten. Then he would increase the student's tribulations.

  He watched Friend Seeker distribute his articles among the younger boys. He was gracious doing it, treating each gift of bow, arrows, club, or spear as important and special for the small receiver. Truly the student had a sense of rightness and respect for those below as well as for those above him. He supposed his own ingrained kindness and sensitivity was being absorbed by his student.

  Three Feathers fingered his new pipe and wondered how Friend Seeker would adjust to Snake's Tongue.

  — — —

  Chapter 8

  The village on Cisna Run was small and motley. The residents were a mixed band who came and went, although a few lodges were in residence year round. The Shawnee, Snake's Tongue, was among those who lodged permanently in the village. The Delaware, Comoy, Conestogas, Juniatas, and some unnamables who were his neighbors were, as was he, outcasts who for various reasons did not live among their kind. The Cisna Run village satisfied their need for community and granted a sense of belonging. Few outsiders went regularly to the village and residents of Cisna Run were greeted coolly in other camps.

  The village lacked a name and boasted no councils or leaders. Someone had described their polyglot speech as sounding like the chattering of squirrels, and in time the village became known as Chit-chit.

  Three Feathers claimed it had not always been so and could recall when Chit-chit had been a fishing village like many others. Some wanderers had settled on Cisna Run and Chit-chit had grown. Lodges expelled for bad deeds began seeking permanency in Chit-chit, giving the village an unsavory reputation.

  Snake's Tongue, according to Three Feathers, was slightly misunderstood. Once a warrior of respect, Snake's Tongue had fallen a victim of his acquisitive eye. Snake's Tongue, it seemed, stole anything unwatched. He stole anything valuable or anything worthless. Each item he took directly to his lodge where he piled it among other stolen things. When a pot, arrow, old hide, or one moccasin disappeared, the owner marched to the lodge of Snake's Tongue where, despite that worthy's protestations of innocence, the missing goods were usually discovered.

  The people of is tribe tired of Snake's Tongue's continual thievery and ostracized him. Eventually he became a Chit-chit. There his eccentricity was tolerated—perhaps because his failing was small when compared with some others.

  Three Feathers equipped Friend Seeker with both information and accouterments for his stay with Snake's Tongue. "For a moon you will sit as the pupil of Snake's Tongue. His words will be as my words. When it is time to return, you will be sent for.

  "Take with you these bowls, baskets, and scrapers. Snake's Tongue will steal them. Each time, go to his lodge and take them back. Snake's Tongue will steal them again for that is his way. You may try to prevent their theft, if it amuses you, but Snake's Tongue will steal them anyway.

  "In all other things obey Snake's Tongue and learn from him. This will not be easy. If it were, I would not send you."

  The lodge of Snake's Tongue was a dugout worried into a hill above the run. Within, it was dank and gloomy. Friend Seeker did not care, for he entered only to recover the things Snake's Tongue stole. There was, in fact, a continual stream of amused or exasperated squaws entering and leaving Snake's Tongue's lodge. Usually they found what they sought. Snake's Tongue invariably claimed no knowledge of how the stolen items came to his place.

  Although he watched, Friend Seeker did not see Snake's Tongue steal. Day and night, the Tongue wore a robe of sewed doe hides that covered his chubby body from shoulder to moccasins and who could know what he concealed beneath it.

  Once, Snake's Tongue passed as Friend Seeker cooked a fat duck before his fire. Though he looked away only for an instant, the duck had disappeared. So had Snake's Tongue. That theft Friend Seeker did not recover and he could understand why the Shawnee had banished Snake's Tongue from their communities.

  Snake's Tongue had only two things to teach Friend Seeker—quickness and agility. His teaching methods were exhausting and brutal. He taught only when he so chose, and despite his student's condition, he continued as long as he wished. By the end of the first day, Friend Seeker began devising ways to kill Snake's Tongue. Each death was made more horrible than the one before. Within a few days, he began including Three Feathers in his lethal plans and finally considered hating Late Star for being captured and forcing him to submit to torture by such a vicious animal.

  Snake's Tongue used only a few lessons. He continued each one as long as the student did not master it. Then he chose another.

  When Snake's Tongue removed his robe for their first lesson, Friend Seeker almost smiled. Snake's Tongue had little hair on his round head but his body was covered by a furry pelt. The Seeker too would have worn a robe to cover the unsightly hair. Snake's Tongue was also fat, with folds hanging over smooth layers that jiggled with every movement, but within a few moments Friend Seeker had forgotten his early amusement.

  Snake's Tongue's first lesson was a simple game. He drew a small circle in the dirt. Neither could step beyond the circle. Each would try to slap only the other's head. With the Tongue's smooth round dome in easy reach, Friend Seeker expected to enjoy the lessons. The Snake's hand splatting solidly along his skull started him quickly to work. He lashed out, but the Snake's head moved a little and he missed. Snake's Tongue did not. Irritated, Friend Seeker slashed with both hands meeting nothing but air. Snake's Tongue landed twice. The Seeker leaned away to think a moment and was slapped more times.

  Grimly, he tucked his head between his shoulders and went at the elusive Snak
e's Tongue. Occasionally he struck a shoulder or an arm raised in protection, but Snake's Tongue's head was as out of reach as if it had been hidden in the dugout.

  Snake's Tongue was unbelievably quick. He appeared to sense Friend Seeker's next move and by only small dips and weaves he evaded the Seeker's blows. His own slaps rarely missed. His hands moved in a blur of speed. Occasionally he struck three or four times with one hand before Friend Seeker could realize what was happening and try to defend.

  The Seeker's head rang from the dozens of vigorous slaps, and sweat popped from every pore. He worked valiantly, but to no avail. Snake's Tongue had been rightly named. His speed was beyond belief—except that the sharp splat of his hands on Friend Seeker's skull proved it real.

  Suddenly the Tongue stepped from the circle. The Seeker rested his hands on sweating hips feeling the sting of many blows on his ears and head. Snake's Tongue appeared unruffled. He promised to return later and donning his robe, strolled away.

  Friend Seeker stood for a moment shaking sweat from his body and swiping it from his eyes. Confidence in any abilities he thought he had was sadly eroded. He had been handled as easily as he would master a child. Shaken, he turned to don his shirt but it was gone. He stood for a moment bewildered, wondering if his memory had been slapped away. Then he remembered. He stalked to Snake's Tongue's dugout and entered. The Snake had gone from a second entrance. The shirt lay among other things. He shrugged into it and returned to his camp under long needled pines. He started to sit, but noticed a bowl missing. Amused he turned again toward Snake's Tongue's lodge, but then hesitated. The Tongue had taken his shirt and stolen the bowl while he recovered the shirt. If he went to find the bowl might not the Snake steal another, or more?