Girl in a Buckskin

arrows and save the powder.”
    She nodded, and between them for a moment they shared the same thought: that so long as they made no more noise than the beasts of the wood they were accepted and safe. Safe from what, Becky did not put into words, but some of Eseck’s uneasiness had shifted to her, kindling a fear not easily smothered.
     
    * * *
     
    In the morning Becky’s housewifery asserted itself. She might later envy Eseck his woods-roaming, but when he left at dawn to scout a permanent campsite she looked about her at their belongings and shook her head as she had often seen Mrs. Leggett shake hers. She carried the copper pot to the shore and scoured it with sand and water. She clumsily pegged the skin of the deer in the shallows of the lake to soak before tanning. She washed out her clothes and put them on wet to dry against her skin. Renewing the fire she filled the kettle with water and placed it over the fire to boil. When it began to bubble she dropped chunks of venison into it. Then she went into the lake and washed the last of the bear fat from her hair, tying it high in the back like a beaver’s tail as she had seen Dawn-of-the-sky do.
    When she had done all this the sun was high in the sky and there was nothing left to do but stare at the ruins of the deer Eseck had shot yesterday. She would have buried the rest of it without a thought but Eseck said that nothing must be wasted. From the antlers he would make points for his arrows and handles for his tools; from the sinews would come his bowstring and thread for their new buckskins. The paunch would fashion marvelous containers for them, and bones made good handles for anything you could name. As for the tail, its hair would become fine ormanentation for their clothes if Becky showed a hand for embroidery.
    Becky sniffed. Indian work, most of it. Yet she could admit they had nothing, and without Eseck’s knowledge they would live very poorly, indeed.
    This time she heard Eseck coming, and was relieved that he was trying no Indian tricks, sneaking up to frighten her. She saw from his face that he was content and so she smiled at him, a wide gay smile that came from her new freedom and the feeling that they had reached their destination.
    “And did you find a place?” she asked.
    He nodded. “Over there,” he said, pointing to the north shore and squinting in the sun. “Do you see the clearing? Some time ago a fire burnt itself down to the water’s edge and now the grass is growing back, but thinly, not waist-high yet. T’would make a fine camp at the base of the hill near the shore. From the top of the hill one can see northward; from the bottom one can see south, west and east. And there is water.”
    At his word, waist-high, Becky’s glance veered from the north shore to Eseck’s face. Waist-high. The word had slipped out to betray his fears or else, Indian-fashion, he must always seek a place for hiding where no one could approach without being seen. It made her think of painted savages sliding through the woods to spy upon them and she shivered. “Very well,” she agreed shortly, and knelt to tie up the huckaback tablecloth again.
    A few minutes later, with the fire stamped out and buried, Becky was carrying the kettle of hotchpot along the slender beach while Eseck shouldered knapsack, bundle and musket. An inlet broke the shoreline halfway to the campsite. Here they had to step through marshland, pushing aside cattails and swamp grass, then wade through icy water that reached almost to their waists. But once they regained solid land the shore was rocky underfoot and they walked easily along the north beach to the great hill Eseck had pointed out.
    “Here,” Eseck said, lowering his burden.
    The lake looked broader from this shore, and the island father away. But already Becky was thinking of the cabin Eseck would build, with perhaps the luxury of a puncheon floor if there were time for it. Two windows and a door she would insist upon, she thought, for here at least she would be a queen.
    “This will make a fine cave,” Eseck was saying, pointing to a deep hole gouged into the side of the hill by a tree uprooted by lightning and burned by the fire. “With only a bit of digging we’ll be snug as squirrels.”
    “Cave!” echoed Becky.
    “Aye,” said Eseck, giving her a long look. “T’will be better than sleeping in the rain.”
    “I thought—surely a cabin—”
    Eseck shook his head. “There’ll be enough to do