country and settled on a reserve set apart for them. Some wondered how they ever managed to survive there, but most contented themselves with the fact that an Indian was an Indian, and meant to survive on very little. In general the feeling of the settlers was "live and let live." As long as the Indian was no threat to their well-being, they were content to let him ride the hills hunting for his meat and tanning necessary hides. On the other hand, they felt no responsibility for, or obligation to, the welfare of the Indian.
As for the bear--Marty was glad that she had never had reason to concern herself with one of those either. Like the Indian, they were content to remain in their native hills, away from the smell and the guns of the settlers. Occasionally a
89
neighbor lad felt that he must venture into the hills and return with a bearskin to place on the cabin floor or hang above the fireplace. This was a prestige symbol rather than a necessity.
Still, even when gazing at the huge fur hide with the head still carrying the fierce beady eyes and the long yellow teeth, Marty felt that either the bear or the Indian must be preferable to Mrs. McDonald, so Marty avoided town, somewhat ashamed of herself for doing so, yet content in her weakness.
The day passed quickly. Marty always looked forward to Saturdays. It gave her a chance to catch up on many odd jobs because the girls kept the little boys out from under her feet.
Tomorrow would be a special Sunday. The new schoolteacher would be coming to share the Sunday dinner with them. Marty both anticipated and dreaded it. What was this odd-looking man really like? Missie brought home both good and evil reports--one moment praising him, the next condemning his strange conduct, and the next breaking into uncontrollable giggles over his silly deportment.
Marty had set aside her freshly baked pies and was carefully cleaning two young roosters when Clark arrived.
As usual, his return brought the children running to meet him. Marty, watching from the window, saw Clark climb slowly and carefully down from the wagon. At first Marty felt a concern pass swiftly through her, wondering if Clark had somehow been injured, but he walked spryly as he headed for the house, the youngsters in tow. Marty noticed then that he carried something inside his jacket--there was a bulge there and he seemed to be carefully guarding it as he walked. The children had spied the bump, too, and their curiosity was as intense as Marty's, but Clark just grinned and motioned them on to the house.
"Now, what he be up to?" mused Marty, as she watched the little cavalcade draw nearer. Soon they were all inside, the children clamoring:
"What is it, Pa?"
"Whatcha got, huh?"
"Show us, Pa!"
Clark pulled back his jacket and a tawny, curly head
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poked out. Sharp little eyes blinked at the sudden light, and the commotion about him brought a glad wiggle to the little body. Shrieks filled the air and each of the children pleaded to be the first to hold him.
"We start with the littlest first," said Clark, handing the squirming bundle to Arnie. Arnie giggled as he held the puppy close. It was the first time that Arnie had ever had a face-wash from a puppy's warm tongue. His eyes sparkled.
"Little boys and puppies belong together," thought Marty. Arnie must have thought so, too, for he was most reluctant to pass the puppy on to Clare.
As the children enthused over the new pup, Marty found opportunity to speak to Clark.
"Where'd ya git 'im?"
"The smithie's dog had a litter. Jest big enough now to wean. This one lopks like the pick o' the pack to me." "Sure a cutie."
"Yeah, an' look at the eyes--the head--looks like a smart 'un."
The children had finally agreed to put the puppy down so that they could watch it waddle and prance across the kitchen floor.
"Look at 'im! Look at 'im!" they cried, giggling and clapping at his silly antics.
"Well," said Clark, "let's take 'im out an' see what Ole Bob thinks of
As for the bear--Marty was glad that she had never had reason to concern herself with one of those either. Like the Indian, they were content to remain in their native hills, away from the smell and the guns of the settlers. Occasionally a
89
neighbor lad felt that he must venture into the hills and return with a bearskin to place on the cabin floor or hang above the fireplace. This was a prestige symbol rather than a necessity.
Still, even when gazing at the huge fur hide with the head still carrying the fierce beady eyes and the long yellow teeth, Marty felt that either the bear or the Indian must be preferable to Mrs. McDonald, so Marty avoided town, somewhat ashamed of herself for doing so, yet content in her weakness.
The day passed quickly. Marty always looked forward to Saturdays. It gave her a chance to catch up on many odd jobs because the girls kept the little boys out from under her feet.
Tomorrow would be a special Sunday. The new schoolteacher would be coming to share the Sunday dinner with them. Marty both anticipated and dreaded it. What was this odd-looking man really like? Missie brought home both good and evil reports--one moment praising him, the next condemning his strange conduct, and the next breaking into uncontrollable giggles over his silly deportment.
Marty had set aside her freshly baked pies and was carefully cleaning two young roosters when Clark arrived.
As usual, his return brought the children running to meet him. Marty, watching from the window, saw Clark climb slowly and carefully down from the wagon. At first Marty felt a concern pass swiftly through her, wondering if Clark had somehow been injured, but he walked spryly as he headed for the house, the youngsters in tow. Marty noticed then that he carried something inside his jacket--there was a bulge there and he seemed to be carefully guarding it as he walked. The children had spied the bump, too, and their curiosity was as intense as Marty's, but Clark just grinned and motioned them on to the house.
"Now, what he be up to?" mused Marty, as she watched the little cavalcade draw nearer. Soon they were all inside, the children clamoring:
"What is it, Pa?"
"Whatcha got, huh?"
"Show us, Pa!"
Clark pulled back his jacket and a tawny, curly head
90
poked out. Sharp little eyes blinked at the sudden light, and the commotion about him brought a glad wiggle to the little body. Shrieks filled the air and each of the children pleaded to be the first to hold him.
"We start with the littlest first," said Clark, handing the squirming bundle to Arnie. Arnie giggled as he held the puppy close. It was the first time that Arnie had ever had a face-wash from a puppy's warm tongue. His eyes sparkled.
"Little boys and puppies belong together," thought Marty. Arnie must have thought so, too, for he was most reluctant to pass the puppy on to Clare.
As the children enthused over the new pup, Marty found opportunity to speak to Clark.
"Where'd ya git 'im?"
"The smithie's dog had a litter. Jest big enough now to wean. This one lopks like the pick o' the pack to me." "Sure a cutie."
"Yeah, an' look at the eyes--the head--looks like a smart 'un."
The children had finally agreed to put the puppy down so that they could watch it waddle and prance across the kitchen floor.
"Look at 'im! Look at 'im!" they cried, giggling and clapping at his silly antics.
"Well," said Clark, "let's take 'im out an' see what Ole Bob thinks of
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