heavilyburdened with loot on the trip down the river, obviously would be loaded to its capacity from here on, and Mary could foresee that she and her fellow prisoners might have to walk the rest of the way.
However far that might be, she thought.
The long halt at the salt spring had been good for Mary and Bettie and the children, despite the fatiguing work. Being off the horse had given Mary’s tortured abdomen and loins a reprieve, and she was no longer bleeding or feeling torn inside. The flesh of Bettie’s arm was healing well, because she had been able to do her work at the salt kettles with her left hand and protect the splinted one. Bettie had said nothing more about Mary’s accord with the savages. But Mary remembered her accusations and was careful not to displease her in that way again. So now she had to conduct herself with especial care, to keep from annoying not only the Indians but Bettie as well.
Tommy and Georgie had been almost no trouble on the trail, and were even less here. They seemed to find the hunting and butchering activities of the Indians supremely interesting, and in the last two days had drifted from their mother’s side to spend more and more time helping the warriors with the game meat and hides. Tommy, whose chief entertainment at the settlement had been listening to his father’s and grandmother’s stories about distances and long-ago adventures, seemed now to be caught up in the doings of the moment. He’s havin’ adventure enough of his own now, Mary thought. As for Georgie, his activities always had been simply whatever Tommy was doing, and seemed to be so even now. Often during the evenings at the salt spring, Mary yearned to gather them close to her and tell them stories, and otherwise to keep them from drifting from her influence into that of the Indians, but it was not possible. She had no leisure. Besides, the boys found the boiling of brine much less interesting to watch than the preparation of game and the maintenance of weapons.
In a way, that was just as well, as the infant girl needed most of the energy Mary had left from the salt-making. Sometimesshe would detain the boys and make them watch over the baby while she worked, but they chafed under this.
At the day’s end, the warriors had been teaching Tommy and Georgie one of their own childhood games. From a strip of split green hickory and rawhide thongs they had made a perfectly round hoop, which could be rolled along the ground as a moving target for the throwing of small crude spears made of cane. The Indians encouraged them to play this by the hour, sometimes stopping work to watch and cheer their best throws. At home in the settlement, the boys had been assigned certain chores as early as they had been able to understand and do them. But Mary soon came to understand here at the salt camp that the Shawnees considered play a more appropriate pastime for boys than work.
They will make proper little savages out of them all too soon, I fear, Mary thought. And I doubt there’s much I can do to prevent it.
Every day the Indians brought in more game, which they killed easily in the vicinity of the salt lick, and every meal was a feast of roasted meat, made more savory with salt. Mary ate it and loved it, and felt her strength returning. But eventually so much of even this succulent flesh grew monotonous, and she began to have yearnings for bread. One evening she obtained a bag of flour and some cornmeal from the booty the Indians had taken at Draper’s Meadows, and made a dough with salt and water. She shaped thin wafers from the unleavened mass and baked them on stones. The Indians welcomed this food, whose preparation obviously was the province of their women and thus rare on the trail. Bettie nearly foundered herself on it, muttering around mouthfuls something about “the staff of life,” and apparently did not mind this time that Mary had done something that pleased the savages.
They left the salt spring on
However far that might be, she thought.
The long halt at the salt spring had been good for Mary and Bettie and the children, despite the fatiguing work. Being off the horse had given Mary’s tortured abdomen and loins a reprieve, and she was no longer bleeding or feeling torn inside. The flesh of Bettie’s arm was healing well, because she had been able to do her work at the salt kettles with her left hand and protect the splinted one. Bettie had said nothing more about Mary’s accord with the savages. But Mary remembered her accusations and was careful not to displease her in that way again. So now she had to conduct herself with especial care, to keep from annoying not only the Indians but Bettie as well.
Tommy and Georgie had been almost no trouble on the trail, and were even less here. They seemed to find the hunting and butchering activities of the Indians supremely interesting, and in the last two days had drifted from their mother’s side to spend more and more time helping the warriors with the game meat and hides. Tommy, whose chief entertainment at the settlement had been listening to his father’s and grandmother’s stories about distances and long-ago adventures, seemed now to be caught up in the doings of the moment. He’s havin’ adventure enough of his own now, Mary thought. As for Georgie, his activities always had been simply whatever Tommy was doing, and seemed to be so even now. Often during the evenings at the salt spring, Mary yearned to gather them close to her and tell them stories, and otherwise to keep them from drifting from her influence into that of the Indians, but it was not possible. She had no leisure. Besides, the boys found the boiling of brine much less interesting to watch than the preparation of game and the maintenance of weapons.
In a way, that was just as well, as the infant girl needed most of the energy Mary had left from the salt-making. Sometimesshe would detain the boys and make them watch over the baby while she worked, but they chafed under this.
At the day’s end, the warriors had been teaching Tommy and Georgie one of their own childhood games. From a strip of split green hickory and rawhide thongs they had made a perfectly round hoop, which could be rolled along the ground as a moving target for the throwing of small crude spears made of cane. The Indians encouraged them to play this by the hour, sometimes stopping work to watch and cheer their best throws. At home in the settlement, the boys had been assigned certain chores as early as they had been able to understand and do them. But Mary soon came to understand here at the salt camp that the Shawnees considered play a more appropriate pastime for boys than work.
They will make proper little savages out of them all too soon, I fear, Mary thought. And I doubt there’s much I can do to prevent it.
Every day the Indians brought in more game, which they killed easily in the vicinity of the salt lick, and every meal was a feast of roasted meat, made more savory with salt. Mary ate it and loved it, and felt her strength returning. But eventually so much of even this succulent flesh grew monotonous, and she began to have yearnings for bread. One evening she obtained a bag of flour and some cornmeal from the booty the Indians had taken at Draper’s Meadows, and made a dough with salt and water. She shaped thin wafers from the unleavened mass and baked them on stones. The Indians welcomed this food, whose preparation obviously was the province of their women and thus rare on the trail. Bettie nearly foundered herself on it, muttering around mouthfuls something about “the staff of life,” and apparently did not mind this time that Mary had done something that pleased the savages.
They left the salt spring on
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