She wore a brown homespun dress--that is to say, the materials
had been woven by the deft fingers of her mother, with the aid of
the old spinning wheel, which in those days formed a part of every
household. The dark stockings were knitted by the same busy fingers,
with the help of the flashing needles; and the shoes, put together
by Peleg Quintin, the humpbacked shoemaker, were heavy and coarse,
and did not fit any too well.
The few simple articles of underwear were all homemade, clean,
and comfortable, and the same could be said of the clothing of the
brother and of the mother herself.
Alice came running out of the open front door, bounding off the big
flat stone which served as a step with a single leap, and, running
to a spot of green grass a few yards away, where there was not a
bit of dirt or a speck of dust, she sat down and began the game of
which I told you at the opening of this story.
Alice was left handed. So when she took position, she leaned over
to the right, supporting her body with that arm, while with the
other hand she tossed the little jagged pieces of stone aloft,
snatching up the others, and letting the one that was going up and
down in the air drop into her chubby palm.
She had been playing perhaps ten minutes, when she found someone
was watching her.
She did not see him at first, but heard a low, deep "Huh!" partly
at one side and partly behind her.
Instead of glancing around, she finished the turn of the game on
which she was engaged just then. That done, she clasped all the
Jack Stones in her hand, assumed the upright posture, and looked
behind her.
"I thought it was you, Omas," she said with a merry laugh; "do you
want to play Jack Stones with me?"
If you could have seen the person whom she thus addressed, you
would have thought it a strange way of speaking.
He was an Indian warrior, belonging to the tribe of Delawares.
Those who knew about him said he was one of the fiercest red men
that ever went on the warpath. A few years before, there had been
a massacre of the settlers, and Omas was foremost among the Indians
who swung the tomahawk and fired his rifle at the white people.
He was tall, sinewy, active, and powerful. Three stained eagle
feathers were fastened on his crown in the long black hair, and his
hunting shirt, leggings, and moccasins were bright with different
colored beads and fringes. In the red sash which passed around
his waist were thrust a hunting knife and tomahawk, while one hand
clasped a cumbersome rifle, which, like all firearms of those times,
was used with ramrod and flintlock.