Read Online Caddie Woodlawn's Family by Carol Ryrie Brink - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Carol Ryrie Brink
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there?” Caddie asked.
“Yes. there were, Caroline Augusta,” said Mr. Tanner.“If you’ll just be patient, I’ll come to the Indians as soon as possible.”
The children breathed a sigh of contentment, and Warren hitched his stool a trifle closer until his chin almost rested on Mr. Tanner’s knee.
“My father had a little homestead in the woods with a Jog cabin on it where we children lived with our mother the year round while Father was away riding his circuit and bringing the word of God to distant settlements. I could tell you more than one story about our struggles there: how we boys did man’s work before we were in our ‘teens; how hostile Indians came, threatening to burn us out; and how my mother kept them at bay with Father’s old blunderbuss, although she hadn’t an ounce of ammunition for it. She deceived those savages, but it was a deception which I have always felt the Lord forgave her. Yes, I could tell you of a dozen instances when we were on the point of starvation; but I’ll tell you just one, to answer Warren’s question about how the Lord provides.”
Mr. Tanner paused and cleared his throat, and Father took that opportunity to put another chunk of wood upon the fire; for it looked as if the story might outlast the sticks which were already blazing.
“But why should you be near starvation, Mr. Tanner?” Tom asked. “Didn’t you have good crops? Didn’t they pay your father anything?”
“Maybe you don’t know what a circuit rider’s life is like, Tom. He has no fixed salary. People give him what they think he’s worth, and if the folks in one settlement feel poor, that year, they say, ‘Oh, well, the folks at the next settlementup the river will pay him. It’s no concern of ours.’ And maybe the folks up the river say, ‘He probably got paid at the last place down-river. It’s not
our
responsibility.’ No, a circuit rider’s life is not all as pleasant as a Saturday evening at the Woodlawns’. As to our crops, it was my mother and us six little children who had to hew a farm out of the wilderness while my father was away preaching God’s word. Maybe you see now why the Lord himself sometimes had to look after us.”
“I guess I do,” said Tom.
“Tell about the Indians,” urged Hetty, a little tired already of all this talk about a preacher’s livelihood.
“Well, we had more trouble with our Indians than you have had here. Even your massacre scare was nothing to some of the things we went through. But the trouble lay not so much with the Indians themselves as with a few of the white men who had brought Satan with them into the wilderness instead of the Lord God.”
Warren was opening his mouth to ask if Mr. Tanner had seen Satan, but the circuit rider went right on speaking without giving him an opportunity.
“Most of these renegade whites were fur traders; and instead of giving the Indians honest goods in exchange for their furs, they gave them liquor—’firewater,’ the Indians called it. It was a shameful but a not uncommon sight to see a drunken Indian staggering along a forest trail or through the streets of one of the settlements. Fired by strong drink, the savage nature of the Indian broke forth and he was likely to commit any crime or folly. For that reason we very greatly feared the Indians in our region.
“Now one cold winter evening, with snow lying white on the icy ground, it happened that my father was riding home through the forest after an absence of several months. On the way he fell in with a settler of the neighborhood, and they were both glad of the company; for men did not ride abroad much after dark. Ordinarily my father would have stopped before dark at a settler’s cabin, but, being so near his own home, he continued on. The two men had to pass near an Indian encampment on the way, and the settler was afraid and wished to go the long way round.
“‘No,’ my father said. ‘If you are afraid, pray. When you have cast your
“Yes. there were, Caroline Augusta,” said Mr. Tanner.“If you’ll just be patient, I’ll come to the Indians as soon as possible.”
The children breathed a sigh of contentment, and Warren hitched his stool a trifle closer until his chin almost rested on Mr. Tanner’s knee.
“My father had a little homestead in the woods with a Jog cabin on it where we children lived with our mother the year round while Father was away riding his circuit and bringing the word of God to distant settlements. I could tell you more than one story about our struggles there: how we boys did man’s work before we were in our ‘teens; how hostile Indians came, threatening to burn us out; and how my mother kept them at bay with Father’s old blunderbuss, although she hadn’t an ounce of ammunition for it. She deceived those savages, but it was a deception which I have always felt the Lord forgave her. Yes, I could tell you of a dozen instances when we were on the point of starvation; but I’ll tell you just one, to answer Warren’s question about how the Lord provides.”
Mr. Tanner paused and cleared his throat, and Father took that opportunity to put another chunk of wood upon the fire; for it looked as if the story might outlast the sticks which were already blazing.
“But why should you be near starvation, Mr. Tanner?” Tom asked. “Didn’t you have good crops? Didn’t they pay your father anything?”
“Maybe you don’t know what a circuit rider’s life is like, Tom. He has no fixed salary. People give him what they think he’s worth, and if the folks in one settlement feel poor, that year, they say, ‘Oh, well, the folks at the next settlementup the river will pay him. It’s no concern of ours.’ And maybe the folks up the river say, ‘He probably got paid at the last place down-river. It’s not
our
responsibility.’ No, a circuit rider’s life is not all as pleasant as a Saturday evening at the Woodlawns’. As to our crops, it was my mother and us six little children who had to hew a farm out of the wilderness while my father was away preaching God’s word. Maybe you see now why the Lord himself sometimes had to look after us.”
“I guess I do,” said Tom.
“Tell about the Indians,” urged Hetty, a little tired already of all this talk about a preacher’s livelihood.
“Well, we had more trouble with our Indians than you have had here. Even your massacre scare was nothing to some of the things we went through. But the trouble lay not so much with the Indians themselves as with a few of the white men who had brought Satan with them into the wilderness instead of the Lord God.”
Warren was opening his mouth to ask if Mr. Tanner had seen Satan, but the circuit rider went right on speaking without giving him an opportunity.
“Most of these renegade whites were fur traders; and instead of giving the Indians honest goods in exchange for their furs, they gave them liquor—’firewater,’ the Indians called it. It was a shameful but a not uncommon sight to see a drunken Indian staggering along a forest trail or through the streets of one of the settlements. Fired by strong drink, the savage nature of the Indian broke forth and he was likely to commit any crime or folly. For that reason we very greatly feared the Indians in our region.
“Now one cold winter evening, with snow lying white on the icy ground, it happened that my father was riding home through the forest after an absence of several months. On the way he fell in with a settler of the neighborhood, and they were both glad of the company; for men did not ride abroad much after dark. Ordinarily my father would have stopped before dark at a settler’s cabin, but, being so near his own home, he continued on. The two men had to pass near an Indian encampment on the way, and the settler was afraid and wished to go the long way round.
“‘No,’ my father said. ‘If you are afraid, pray. When you have cast your
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