Read Online Then There Were Five by Elizabeth Enright - Free Book Online Page A

returned to their poking and prodding, but not Randy. She did not wish to cloud the moment by further searching. Two arrowheads would have been less perfect than one. She sat on a patch of ground that was free from sandburs and looked at her treasure. She gazed at it glittering on the palm of her hand. She tried it against the blue denim of her overalled leg; it looked fine there, too. Then she placed it on the ground, glanced away, turned back again casually, pretending to see it for the first time. The shock of delight was nearly as good as the first.
    She tried to imagine the Indian who had carved this pointed stone to tip his arrow. She pictured him first as an old chief, with a face like a dried apricot, a full war bonnet, a feather cloak, and a name like Great Laughing Paw. She could see him, too, as a redskin boy of about Rush’s age, with dark, long hair and white teeth. A future chief. The Hiawatha type. But the picture she preferred was that of a maiden, a beautiful creature of about twelve, dressed entirely in white doeskin, with a single white feather in her hair. Little Birch Bark, or Lone Swan, something like that: an adventurous spirit who refused to sit at home weaving and cooking with the other squaws; who wandered, instead, white as a wraith by the edge of the lake at night, carrying her bow and arrow and singing a strange, haunting melody— At this point Randy sighed. It would be a poor huntress, for heaven’s sake, who stalked her prey singing at the top of her lungs; besides, there wasn’t any lake for miles around. Randy was shamefacedly aware that Little Birch Bark’s place was on the cover of sheet music, or on a drugstore calendar, and not in the history of this valley.
    â€œWhat kind of Indians lived around here, Mark?” she called.
    â€œThe tough ones. The Iroquois. They’re s’posed to have had a battle here in this valley a long time ago. That’s how come all the arrowheads.”
    Great Laughing Paw, Hiawatha, and Little Birch Bark all melted away forever. Instead, a newcomer emerged in Randy’s mind: a stranger with a savage, hawk-nosed face and paint-striped cheeks. Someone who wore only a loin-cloth and moccasins, and whose hair stood up in a narrow crescent over his cropped skull. She could imagine him moving through the woods, all in one piece like an animal, noiseless, intent, never aimless. She could not imagine him smiling. Randy looked at the arrowhead with new respect. She was glad that this was all she need ever know of its creator.
    â€œI’m hot,” said Rush, hurling himself down on the ground, and at once hurling himself upright again with a bellow that would have done credit to the bloodiest Iroquois. “Jeepers! Sandburs!” He came limping over to Randy and stood pathetically while she picked them out of his trouser legs and sneakers.
    â€œBurs I could do without,” said he. “Also gravel roads when I’m barefoot. Also thistles (except that they look okay); also stinging jellyfish, beetles, splinters, and all hot-tasting things like horseradish. Quick, Ran, you name some things you could do without. No deep thoughts, you know, just troublesome everyday things you don’t like.”
    â€œArithmetic,” said Randy, like a shot. “And cucumbers, and taking ticks off dogs, and washing dishes, and having snarls combed out of my hair, and being sick at my stomach, and starch in the collars of my dresses, and—shall I go on?”
    â€œNo, it’s Mark’s turn. Quick, Mark, don’t think first, just say ’em.”
    â€œWell—uh. Weeds like quack grass and pussley. Spreading manure. Getting up before it’s light on winter mornings. Hens. Mosquitoes. Oren.”
    There was a little silence. Mark looked embarrassed. “Well, I just did like you said: said ’em without thinking.”
    â€œIs he so awful to you?” asked Randy at last.
    â€œMeaner’n a