Read Ebook: The Little Indian Weaver by Brandeis Madeline

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Ebook has 318 lines and 12238 words, and 7 pages

"Fifty what?" asked Billy, dazed.

"Fifty dollars, Son," repeated the man, "and that's one of the cheapest."

"Gee whiz," sighed Billy. "I'm out with my two an' a quarter!"

"Yes," smiled the man. "No one knows how much work the Injuns put into that stuff. It's all handmade, and their tools ain't so good either, so it takes 'em a long time. But they sure know how to make 'em."

"You bet they do," said Billy--and just then his eye fell on a doll, a papoose it was, with a blanket and a string of beads. He thought of Cornelia and smiled to himself. How Bah would open her eyes if she could see this one!

As he was thinking about her, he suddenly decided to try once more to find her. Maybe this storekeeper knew where the village was. He asked--the storekeeper knew of several not far away.

"The Indians come in every day with things to trade. It's funny how they like plain stuff like beans and salt and will trade beautiful jewelry and blankets for just plain sacks of food. But we try and treat 'em fair. It would be easy though to cheat 'em. They don't know how valuable their stuff is."

"But you don't!" said Billy.

"No, we don't. Indians are honest, and white men should treat 'em honestly!"

"That's right," said Billy, thinking of the only Indian he ever knew, and deciding to be off in search of her home.

As he stepped out of the door he saw a small figure trudging along towards the Trading Post with what looked like a small blanket thrown over her arm. As she came closer he recognized Bah and ran to meet her.

"Gee, I'm glad to see you, Bah," he cried. "Do you know I've been looking for you ever since the day we made Cornelia. Do you remember?"

Bah was smiling happily, but upon mention of that name her face fell.

"Why, what's the matter, Bah? Wasn't she a good doll?"

"Cornelia ate up!" said Bah, slowly.

"Ate up what?" asked Billy.

"Sheep--big one--"

"Gee, what an appetite she must have had!" laughed Billy. But seeing that his friend was taking the conversation seriously he stopped laughing and asked: "What do you mean?"

"Big sheep come--very hungry. Eat up Cornelia!"

"Aw, that is too bad!" said Billy.

But now it was Bah's turn to smile. She held out her blanket and said: "You see Bah's blanket. Bah come to trade blanket for doll in Trading Post. So pretty doll, Ma Shima said!"

Billy remembered the papoose doll and was delighted to think that it would really belong to his friend.

"That's great," he said. "May I go along with you while you trade? I never saw anyone trade and I'd like to watch you."

"Me never trade before," said the Indian girl softly, and it seemed to Billy that her voice trembled.

"Poor little kid," he said to himself. "She's scared stiff!"

He went into the store with Bah and watched her as she walked up to the man in the corner and handed him the blanket. Then she pointed to the doll--but she said nothing. The man took the blanket and examined it. He knew immediately what she wanted.

He understood Indians. And as he looked at the blanket a smile passed over his face, and Billy noticed for the first time that the blanket was far from perfect.

There was a hole in it, and some of the threads were sticking out. Oh, it was not a very well made blanket when one compared it with the works of art hanging on the wall.

As the man smiled to himself Billy's anger rose. Wasn't she only a little girl? How could they expect her to weave as well as the women did? It was wonderful that she could do that well! Why, he didn't know a girl at home who could even start to weave a blanket like that. He felt his fists clenching together as he watched the man's face. At last the man spoke. He spoke only two words as he handed Bah her blanket.

"No trade."

The Indian girl looked at him for a moment, and Billy saw two small lakes in her eyes. She did not wait for them to overflow, but ran out of the store, holding her little blanket tight.

Billy came to himself after she had flown through the door, and made a start as though to follow her. But he stopped and turned.

"How much is that doll, mister?" he asked abruptly.

"That doll's two an' a half, Son."

"Well, I'll give you two twenty-five for her, an' that's all," said a voice that Billy could hardly believe was his own, so big and manly did it sound.

The man looked at him for a moment and then evidently seeing something he liked in the boy's eyes, said:

"All right, sonny. It's yours. And you can bet that Indian kid will never forget you!"

Without another word the boy paid his money, took the doll which the man wrapped for him, and departed.

Outside the Post, when Billy mounted his pony, his thought was, naturally, to go to Bah and deliver the doll. The distress which he had seen in the eyes of his little friend made him realize just what a disappointment she had had.

But, alas, Billy knew no more of Bah's whereabouts than he had known before seeing her at the Trading Post. The man had said that there were three or four small Indian villages nearby, but the question was in which one did Bah live? He jumped down again from his pony and ran into the store: "Say, Mister, do you know where that little girl lives?" he asked.

"No," came the answer. "I never saw her before. The old folks seldom bring their kids when they come to trade. Anyway not into the Post. They leave 'em outside most times to watch the burro."

So a period of searching began for Billy. That day he visited one of the villages. He looked at each hogan for Bah, and asked the Indians he met, but she did not live there. They all shook their heads and grunted when he asked:

"Bah, little girl, live here?"

It was very discouraging because he couldn't tell whether they had even understood him. It grew late and he had to hurry home for fear of worrying his parents.

The next day he started out early, determined to try the other villages, and he left a puzzled father, who remarked to his wife as the boy disappeared on a fast gallop:

"Bill isn't taking the interest in the Indians I had hoped he would."

But Mother smiled wisely.

"He's getting brown and strong, though," she answered, "and that's better."

THE PRAYER STICK

Bah was making a prayer stick. The prayer stick is an old custom among the Indians, and every Indian child knows about it. But Bah had never wanted anything badly enough to try the charm. Now, it was the only thing left for her to do.

She took the branch of a tree, a straight branch which she cleaned, and then she took the feather of an eagle. She tied the feather to the end of the stick with a bit of wool from her loom. She wrapped the wool around and around, and when the feather was secure in place she made a hole in the ground and put the other end of the stick into the hole. The stick stood up straight and the feather on top of it waved slightly in the breeze.

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