Indian Captive by Lois Lenski

remembered. Her unwillingness, her disobedience, her running off to the woods—all these came back to her. What would they do to her now that she had been away all day? She looked down at the ladle in her hand and the feel of the soft wood gave her courage, as she thought of the old Indian who had made it.
    She hurried into the lodge, suddenly hungry. She had not eaten since morning. They were all gathered about the fire. The baby hung from the bunk pole as usual. The family was larger tonight. The husbands of the two sisters, now returned from the hunting trip, were there. Red Bird, the mother, and Swift Water, the father—they were all there.
    Molly stood in the doorway and watched. She saw Red Bird dip the ladle into the big clay pot, fill a bowl and hand it to one of the men.
    “The succotash is good tonight,” the woman said. “When one has worked hard and is hungry, the succotash lies well on the tongue.”
    The words fell on Molly’s ear as clearly as if they had been spoken in English. Words that had before been only a jumble of queer sounds suddenly took on meaning: “The succotash is good tonight… when one has worked hard and is hungry…”
    Molly stepped forward, picked up a wooden bowl and walked over to Red Bird. She reached out her hand, displaying the new ladle proudly. All eyes round the circle turned to look, not at the ladle but at Molly.
    “Grandfather Shagbark made it for me,” she said in the Seneca language. “A singing bird to keep Corn Tassel happy.”
    It was the first time she had spoken to them in Seneca. But no one appeared to notice. In silence, Molly handed out her bowl to be filled with succotash—hot, steaming succotash, made of corn and beans cooked together.
    But Red Bird did not lift her hand. She did not look at the bird on the handle of the new-carved ladle. She pointed to the door where, stood the baskets that in the morning had held seed-corn. She pointed to Corn Tassel’s bed, then she looked at the girl.
    “When one has worked hard and is hungry,” she repeated in a quiet voice, “the succotash lies well on the tongue.”

    Molly climbed into her bed, tearless. Well had she learned her lesson, a lesson she would not forget. She climbed into her bed without her supper. She had learned that from now on she must work if she would eat.

7
Slow Weaving
    “A BASKET FOR ME?” A SKED Molly in surprise.
    “When the corn is ripened for picking,” said Shining Star quietly, “you will see there are not baskets enough. It is always good to have one more. A basket is useful for many things—for gathering the fruits of the earth, for carrying loads, for storing supplies.”
    Shining Star looked very beautiful this morning. Her blue skirt and bright red leggings were made of broadcloth and were richly embroidered with bead designs. Her figured calico over-dress was fastened down the front with a row of shining silver brooches. Above the colorful costume, silver earrings dangled from her ears and her face beamed with honest kindliness.
    Putting her baby in Molly’s arms, she sat down under a shady tree beside the lodge. From the top of a pile of splints cut from the black ash tree, she picked up an unfinished basket and began to weave. The dry splints rattled pleasantly to the touch of her deft fingers.
    “Today it will be finished,” said Shining Star, in her low, soft voice, “the basket for Corn Tassel.”
    Molly’s eyes glowed with pleasure. “A basket of your making, my sister,” she answered shyly, “will please me very much.”
    Molly made a new nest of fresh, dried moss in the baby frame. Then she wrapped the strong, kicking baby in a blanket and lashed him fast with two broad beaded belts, one red, the other blue. The baby-frame was the finest in the village. Its foot-board was carved as well as the hoop or bow which was placed arching over the child’s head to protect it in case of a fall. Molly folded and placed at one side the cloth which was sometimes drawn