Indian Captive by Lois Lenski Page B

child must learn to bear his pain and give no sign. He must have courage to suffer bravely. Can you be as brave as a wounded deer?”
    Shining Star knew the white captive carried sadness in her heart. Shining Star was trying to help her. Molly dried her tears quickly. Surely a white girl could show courage like an Indian…
    “Come, we must go to the corn-field,” said Shining Star, laying aside her work. She always knew when they had talked enough.
    “After all—I shall not finish the basket today. Better to weave more slowly…but more surely… Then there will be no need to unravel what has been woven before.”
    Molly looked into her face, surprised. Was there some hidden meaning behind the words?
    She picked up the heavy baby frame and with the woman’s help, loaded it onto her back. She was accustomed to the burden now and took it up without thinking. As day by day it grew heavier, she knew she was growing stronger, too, to bear it. As she was used to the burden, so was she growing used to all the Indian ways.
    Already in four moons she had learned so much. She had learned that by prompt obedience she avoided punishments, even Squirrel Woman’s ever-ready kicks. She had learned that Indian words spoken instead of English brought forth pleased smiles. She had learned that when she worked hard, she was given good food to eat. She had learned that an Indian baby can be as lovable as a white one. Now she had learned one thing more—that the cold look on the face of an Indian was not indifference. She knew now that he suffered as much as others, but he bore his pain without a sign, because he had great courage.
    When they reached the corn-field, they met a group of women and children carrying water vessels, hurrying toward the creek. Behind them walked Bear Woman, slow and majestic. Her face was wrinkled and stern. With many winters upon her head, her back was bent with age.
    “The corn stands still,” she said with sorrow in her voice. “It does not grow for want of water. We must quench its thirst.” After a moment she added, “There has been no rain for twenty suns.”
    “This field was planted later than the others,” said Shining Star, “after my sister and I returned from Fort Duquesne. The right time to plant corn is when the first oak leaves are as big as a red squirrels foot. Well do I remember, the oak-leaves were half-grown when these seeds were sown. Grandfather Hé-no is not pleased to have us plant corn so late.”
    “Grandfather Hé-no has forgotten us,” said Bear Woman, sadly. “Now we must suffer his punishment.” She walked away, following after the women and children.
    “Grandfather Hé-no?” asked Molly. “Is he a Chief whose name I have not heard?”
    “Grandfather Hé-no is the Thunder God,” explained Shining Star. “He brings rain to make the corn, beans and squashes grow. Today Shining Star will make a song, asking Hé-no for rain.”
    Shining Star took Blue Jay from Molly’s back and hung him up on a limb. Then she and Molly joined the water-carriers. They brought many vessels of water which they poured at the feet of the corn-stalks, soaking the ground thoroughly.
    Then the women and children stood by and listened while Shining Star talked to the Thunder God:
“Oh Hé-no, our Grandfather,
    Come to us and speak kindly,
    Come to us and wash the earth again.
    When the soil is too dry
    The corn cannot grow.
    The beans and the squashes are dry and withered
    Because they are thirsty.
    Hé-no, our Grandfather
    Does harm to no man;
    He protects his grandchildren
    From witches and reptiles;
    He washes the earth,
    Gives new life to the growing corn.
    For all thy gifts
    We thank thee, oh Hé-no!
    Come to thy grandchildren—
    Bring rain! Bring rain!”
    That evening, after Shining Star and Molly had eaten, they heard the noise of a soft rumble, like thunder far away. They hurried out to look, followed by the rest of the family. The sky that had all day been cloudless, began to