Girl in a Buckskin

Twenty-two days it had been since they left down country, and fourteen days since they had arrived at the lake and seen the sun going down behind the hills. That made it the third of July, and laboriously Becky scratched this date: July 3, 1703.
     

Chapter Nine
     
     
     
    WAKING FROM HER SLEEP BECKY OPENED HER EYES AND looked around her. Light filtered in around the rawhide flap they had pinned to the door of the cave and with it came a drowsy warmth that was already dispelling the dampness of the night and promising a rare hot day. She knew dawn had broken from the sound of the birds chattering in the forest, and springing to her feet, Becky pulled away the flap from the door.
    There she stood entranced, for on every blade of grass, on every bush and tree there were cobwebs shining at her like white lace: huge, tattered webs; neat, small, gossamer ones. Becky had never seen such a sight before. Wherever she looked, for as far as her eye could see, the cobwebs gleamed like silver thread. “Eseck!” she cried, “come and see!” And like a child she ran from one to the other looking at the exquisite convolutions of their patterns.
    Eseck came to the door rubbing his eyes and yawning. “What is it?” he asked.
    “See the cobwebs.”
    He opened his eyes and nodded. “Means a hot clear day.”
    “Is that all?”
    He looked at her with amusement. “They are there all the time. T’is a trick of light and dew that you see them now.”
    “Oh.” Feeling rather foolish she bent to the pail beside him and walked down to the shore taking care not to break the slender webs that turned the grass almost white. As she dipped the pail in the water a sandpiper walked sedately along the shore and with a glance at her stepped into the water. Out by the island the mist was being drawn from the lake by the warmth of the sun and Becky stood a moment watching it roll away toward the shore. When she returned to the cave Eseck was eating cold corn bread and venison and she guiltily poured water into the kettle and blew up the fire. “Each thing astonishes me,” she explained. “I cannot help it, Eseck, but t’is a wondrous place on a day like this. I’m thinking towns are very ugly.”
    “You’re not sorry you came, then?”
    “Sorry!” She glanced at him with shining eyes. “I shall work on the beach all day.”
    He nodded. “I’ll make another drying frame for you.” The cobwebs had vanished from sight when Becky took their trenchers to the water to be scoured. The mist was gone, too, and the pinkness had left the lake and the sandpiper had disappeared. Becky built a fire on the shore, and bringing out her kettle, prepared to make buckskin out of the rawhide that was stretched on Eseck’s drying frame. She had carefully saved the brains of the deer he had brought home. Laying them in the kettle with water covering them she let them simmer for a few minutes and then mashed out the lumps with her fingers. Taking the mixture to the drying frame she began to mb it thoroughly into the wet hide.
    While she worked Eseck was making a second drying frame, suspending it between two poplars on the hill behind the cave. He was whistling cheerfully as he worked and Becky thought how good it was to have him home instead of roaming the hills for game. Hearing his whistling abruptly cease she glanced to see him staring over her head at the opposite shore. “Someone is coming,” he said, his eyes narrowed against the sun.
    Becky whirled. Two small black shapes with packs on their backs were trudging along the west shore. For a moment Becky knew the taste of fear in her throat, and she bent to pick up the knife at her feet “They come without stealth,” remarked Eseck, his hand on the musket, “and there are but two of them. We will wait and meet them.”
    The two figures grew m size as they rounded the cove and as they emerged from the shadows Becky saw the brown of their bodies and the red paint on their faces. It was Blue Feather and Dawn-of-the-sky. Dropping his musket Eseck went to meet them and Becky slowly followed.
    “Welcome,” Eseck said as they met, and over his shoulder Becky smiled at Dawn-of-the-sky whose eyes were fixed demurely on the ground.
    Eseck turned to Becky with a smile. “Blue Feather says we have chosen a good camp. Much a-mis-que —beaver— here. The lake is called Shoonkeekmoonkeek by his tribe.”
    “Shoonkeekmoonkeek,” Becky repeated. “That is a lovely name.”
    “He says that he and