over the bow for shade.
Then she, too, sat down upon the ground. As the wind began to blow, the play trinkets hanging from the arched hoop set up a merry tinkle. The pretty shells knocked gently against the tiny wooden hoops filled with knitted webs of nettle-stalk twine.
“What are the spider webs for?” asked Molly, pointing with her finger.
“To keep away evil,” answered Shining Star. “As a spider web catches each thing that touches it, so the knitted webs will catch flying evil before it can harm little Blue Jay. Grandmother Red Bird made them. She is well versed in wisdom.”
“But how can he play,” asked Molly, “with his hands tied tight? How can he learn “to use his hands if they are always tied tight in blankets?”
Shining Star raised her head and smiled. “It is the Indian way,” she said simply. “The Senecas have always done so.”
Molly was fast learning how different Indian ways were from white people’s. It seemed strange there could be such different ways to do the same things. At home her baby brother was left free to wave his arms, crawl or kick at will.
“The Indian child grows strong and straight,” Shining Star went on, “with his back to the hickory board. The Indian child, with his hands tied close, learns patience. Before he can walk alone he has learned a hard lesson.”
“All he can do is open his mouth and cry,” said Molly, looking down at him thoughtfully, “but he doesn’t do that very often. Tied up in a tree and left swinging, no wonder he imitates the call of the blue jay! “
“His first words were spoken to the birds in the tree,” said Shining Star softly. “That is good. His life will be spent in the forest. The birds and the beasts will be his friends. He will learn many lessons from his brothers of the forest. He will follow the trail with the scent of the bear or the wolf. He will build more wisely than the beaver, climb with more daring than the raccoon. He will work more faithfully than the dog; crouch more closely and spring more surely than the panther. He will learn cunning from the fox, the power of swift feet from the deer.
“He will learn to be as brave, as uncomplaining as his brothers of the forest. The hurt dog, the wounded wolf or bear, the dying deer never cries out in pain. The beasts bear their pain in silence, giving no outward sign. They go forward bravely to meet danger. They shrink not from pain or suffering, sickness or death. When little Blue Jay learns to be as brave and uncomplaining as his brothers, he will be a brave man indeed.”
Shining Star looked at Corn Tassel thoughtfully. Was she thinking, not of a wounded animal, not of Blue Jay, but of a white girl captive who was in need of courage? Shining Star had chosen her words with care. She seemed to know that a conflict was going on in the white captive’s mind.
As Molly listened, she looked away from the Indian woman. She wanted to close her ears to the words and yet she wanted to hear them. They gave her a sense of peace she had not felt before and at the same time she feared them. One part of her mind wanted to listen. The other part steeled itself hard against the woman and all that she stood for.
A voice in Molly’s heart kept crying out to make her hear: “You must not love Shining Star. There is a purpose behind her kindness. If you listen to her words and love her, she will turn you into an Indian.” An answering voice cried out: “How can a girl torn away from her people live without affection? How can I live without someone to love?”
“But I don’t want to turn into an Indian!” The words leaped out of her mouth before she knew it, tell-tale words that gave Shining Star a glimpse deep down into her aching heart. The tears came and Molly could not hold them back.
“An Indian child never cries,” said Shining Star, calmly. “Loud sounds of grief might attract a wolf or panther or some enemy of the Senecas. Like his brother in the forest, the
Then she, too, sat down upon the ground. As the wind began to blow, the play trinkets hanging from the arched hoop set up a merry tinkle. The pretty shells knocked gently against the tiny wooden hoops filled with knitted webs of nettle-stalk twine.
“What are the spider webs for?” asked Molly, pointing with her finger.
“To keep away evil,” answered Shining Star. “As a spider web catches each thing that touches it, so the knitted webs will catch flying evil before it can harm little Blue Jay. Grandmother Red Bird made them. She is well versed in wisdom.”
“But how can he play,” asked Molly, “with his hands tied tight? How can he learn “to use his hands if they are always tied tight in blankets?”
Shining Star raised her head and smiled. “It is the Indian way,” she said simply. “The Senecas have always done so.”
Molly was fast learning how different Indian ways were from white people’s. It seemed strange there could be such different ways to do the same things. At home her baby brother was left free to wave his arms, crawl or kick at will.
“The Indian child grows strong and straight,” Shining Star went on, “with his back to the hickory board. The Indian child, with his hands tied close, learns patience. Before he can walk alone he has learned a hard lesson.”
“All he can do is open his mouth and cry,” said Molly, looking down at him thoughtfully, “but he doesn’t do that very often. Tied up in a tree and left swinging, no wonder he imitates the call of the blue jay! “
“His first words were spoken to the birds in the tree,” said Shining Star softly. “That is good. His life will be spent in the forest. The birds and the beasts will be his friends. He will learn many lessons from his brothers of the forest. He will follow the trail with the scent of the bear or the wolf. He will build more wisely than the beaver, climb with more daring than the raccoon. He will work more faithfully than the dog; crouch more closely and spring more surely than the panther. He will learn cunning from the fox, the power of swift feet from the deer.
“He will learn to be as brave, as uncomplaining as his brothers of the forest. The hurt dog, the wounded wolf or bear, the dying deer never cries out in pain. The beasts bear their pain in silence, giving no outward sign. They go forward bravely to meet danger. They shrink not from pain or suffering, sickness or death. When little Blue Jay learns to be as brave and uncomplaining as his brothers, he will be a brave man indeed.”
Shining Star looked at Corn Tassel thoughtfully. Was she thinking, not of a wounded animal, not of Blue Jay, but of a white girl captive who was in need of courage? Shining Star had chosen her words with care. She seemed to know that a conflict was going on in the white captive’s mind.
As Molly listened, she looked away from the Indian woman. She wanted to close her ears to the words and yet she wanted to hear them. They gave her a sense of peace she had not felt before and at the same time she feared them. One part of her mind wanted to listen. The other part steeled itself hard against the woman and all that she stood for.
A voice in Molly’s heart kept crying out to make her hear: “You must not love Shining Star. There is a purpose behind her kindness. If you listen to her words and love her, she will turn you into an Indian.” An answering voice cried out: “How can a girl torn away from her people live without affection? How can I live without someone to love?”
“But I don’t want to turn into an Indian!” The words leaped out of her mouth before she knew it, tell-tale words that gave Shining Star a glimpse deep down into her aching heart. The tears came and Molly could not hold them back.
“An Indian child never cries,” said Shining Star, calmly. “Loud sounds of grief might attract a wolf or panther or some enemy of the Senecas. Like his brother in the forest, the
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