Hugh Pendexter

“ Bund whistled softly and continued gazing at the somber sky. Flat Belly's face became convulsed with rage at the command. The warriors moved about uneasily. The white man was Flat Belly's prisoner, and although all envied him, yet there was the law of the tribe.
"Michikinikwa is a mighty war chief and his brothers are proud to follow him," rumbled Flat Belly. "But the white man is my prisoner. If he makes corn grow, Michikinikwa shall have the first ears—a gift from Papakeecha. The white man is my prisoner according to the law of the Miami." ”

“ Corn meant a cabin, and a cabin with the Miami already upon it.
"I'll be cussed if they don't have their chance, such as it is," he grunted, dropping to his knees to locate the squat outlines against the skyline.
There it stood, black and silent, an outpost of the white man's hunger for home and land, symbolic of the whole bloody business of remaking a continent. Hordes of adventurers had come and gone up and down the Ohio and Mississippi without leaving a trace, except as rusty bits of war-harness and broken bones were sometimes found in the forest mold. ”

“ And Bund knew he must win out or suffer as no prisoner of the Miami had yet suffered.
"Can Kendawa make corn grow?" Little Turtle taunted.
"His manito can make corn grow now," readily answered Bund.
The circle of warriors moved uneasily. A climax dearly to the liking of the red man was at hand. In dramatic values it surpassed the stake. Nor was there lacking frank admiration for the bold demeanor of the scout. Even Little Turtle was impelled to approve of a man who composedly claimed so much.
"Will the Eagle's manito make corn grow now?" ”

“ The boldness of this speech and its insolence, in view of the unburied dead along the Wabash, wrung little exclamations of anger from the assembly.
"When I talk with the Thirteen Fires they will accept my terms or die out," hissed Little Turtle, trembling with rage. "It will take many snows to bury the dead the white men have left along the Wabash." ”

“ The savage caught his right hand and closed his teeth on a finger, intending to bite off a nail, but Flat Belly took umbrage and pulled him back, reminding:
"He is my prisoner. Mine was the first hand to touch him."
By this time warriors were pouring in from the forest, the word having been passed that a mighty white magician had been captured; a man who held the seasons in his mouth and could spit ripe fruit whenever he would, although it be the moon of honking geese. Flat Belly quickly observed he was an object of unusual importance among his brothers. ”

“ Now he is a magician, he shall show his magic to Michikinikwa."
The scout grew cold. He had no desire to face Little Turtle, who had won highest place among the Miami despite the fact his father's rank had helped him none. For, by the Indian rule of the Miami of tracing ancestry through the mother, he was a Mohican. He had gained place and fame while young because of his unusual merits. To impose on such would require the utmost nerve and finesse.
"He shall escape the torture so long as he spits ripe cherries," declared Flat Belly.
Bund winced. ”

“ His knowledge of the Indian character had warned him he must assert the dignity and independence of his manito before performing any works. And insofar as Little Turtle ignored the tribal law concerning the fate of prisoners, by so much would he weaken himself to the corresponding advantage of the captive.
"This man is a liar. Put him to the torture at once, Papacheeka," passionately repeated the chief. ”

“ Flat Belly proudly led forth his captive, after removing the ropes from his neck and hand. Bund stood composed of bearing in the middle of the wide circle of interested warriors, his wounded arm hanging at his side, two fingers of the right hand being hooked in the pocket of his hunting shirt. Little Turtle was disappointed and harshly demanded:
"What is he called? He is not even a chief. I saw him fighting among the soldiers."
"Kendawa," spoke up Bund.
"So Michikinikwa has caught an Eagle," sneered the chief. "The others were clumsy game." ”

“ But no flattery could cause him to overlook the scout's evasion, and bis eyes lighted in triumph.
Throwing off his air of restraint he sternly commanded—
"Come, if you are a magician, make corn grow."
The encircling warriors hunched forward, their eyes glistening. The fate of the white man was ensconced within the next few seconds.
"The corn is scarcely harvested. If the Eagle showed green corn in his talons Michikinikwa would say it was some trick. ”

“ He could not compel the service of any warriors.
The Indian fought when he chose and under whom he chose, and did he tire of a project he could abandon it at any time. A warrior's dream could disrupt an extensive organization for offensive war. And a war-chief without a following had no prestige. Little Turtle always spoke of the Miami people as "I," but there were lengths to which he could not go.
He inclined his head gravely as Flat Belly finished, and then addressed Bund, saying:
"Your manito has a message for me—the Miami. After it is spoken perhaps he will grow corn for me." ”

“ If your chief's mother hadn't been a Mohican you'd be running toward the setting sun today. Miami men are old women. You are fleet of foot as the antelope because you've been chased from your hunting grounds by Potawatomi, Kickapoo, Shawnee, and every other tribe that's wanted your land. ”

“ Snow is on the way. Do flowers grow in Winter? Do birds mate after the leaves fall? There are no ripe cherries."
Bund broke in:
"Flat Belly has heard no evil spirit. He has seen the magic of Kendawa, whose manito is mighty."
"The Eagle flies over the ground, but is he a magician?" demanded the skeptic.
"The white man's manito works when he is needed. Kendawa is a magician," replied Bund ”

“ I HAVE shown that Bund was ransomed without narrating in detail the fact. The Indian and historical dope is O.K. Papakeecha, alias Flat Belly, lived and had his being. I have tried within the limited scope of the short story to sketch the horror caused by St. Clair's defeat, and the terrible possibilities for lonely cabin or settlement anywhere north of the Ohio. The Indians' turning back with their white prisoner instead of pressing on to the Ohio is true to life, as their service was purely voluntary and they could quit at any time without losing caste or inviting punishment.—Hugh Pendexter. ”

“ The skeptic caught the fruit and held it close to the flaming bark to study it. He found it a bright red reminder of early Summer. There was no questioning its appearance. To make certain the savage delicately split it with his knife and disclosed the pit. ”