EXCERPT FROM CATALOG:
In the fading lavender twilight at the edge of the clearing stood half a dozen Shawnee warriors. They looked to the small cabin with the sagging front porch, the bushel of earth-encrusted turnips to one side, the vacant rocking chair still astir from the hurried vacancy of a moment before. Six brown bodies gleamed with bear grease, each perfectly still, their only movement that of sharp dark eyes and feathered heads.
Inside the cabin, Ezekial Click handed a rifle to a grim-faced boy before opening the door and setting foot on the porch. His wife, Sara, took up a second gun just inside. A sudden breath of wind sent the spent blossoms of a lone dogwood tree scurrying across the clearing like frightened mice. From the porch, he began speaking in the Shawnee tongue. Slowly. Respectfully. A smattering of Shawnee followed, at first forceful, then amused.
The woman and boy darted a glance out the door, grieved by every baffling word.... At last, silence came. And then, in plain King's English, one brave shouted, "Click! Show us your pretty daughter!"
Within the cabin, all eyes fastened on the girl hovering on the loft steps....
She put one cautious foot to the floor and then tread the worn pine boards till she stood in her father's shadow. She dared not look at her mother. It was easier to look across the sweep of grass to the waiting redmen. Without further prompting she stepped forward into a dying shaft of sunlight. A sudden breeze caught the hem of her thin indigo shift and it ballooned, exposing two bare brown feet.
Boldly, the same brave shouted, "Let down your hair!"
In the fading lavender twilight at the edge of the clearing stood half a dozen Shawnee warriors. They looked to the small cabin with the sagging front porch, the bushel of earth-encrusted turnips to one side, the vacant rocking chair still astir from the hurried vacancy of a moment before. Six brown bodies gleamed with bear grease, each perfectly still, their only movement that of sharp dark eyes and feathered heads.
Inside the cabin, Ezekial Click handed a rifle to a grim-faced boy before opening the door and setting foot on the porch. His wife, Sara, took up a second gun just inside. A sudden breath of wind sent the spent blossoms of a lone dogwood tree scurrying across the clearing like frightened mice. From the porch, he began speaking in the Shawnee tongue. Slowly. Respectfully. A smattering of Shawnee followed, at first forceful, then amused.
The woman and boy darted a glance out the door, grieved by every baffling word.... At last, silence came. And then, in plain King's English, one brave shouted, "Click! Show us your pretty daughter!"
Within the cabin, all eyes fastened on the girl hovering on the loft steps....
She put one cautious foot to the floor and then tread the worn pine boards till she stood in her father's shadow. She dared not look at her mother. It was easier to look across the sweep of grass to the waiting redmen. Without further prompting she stepped forward into a dying shaft of sunlight. A sudden breeze caught the hem of her thin indigo shift and it ballooned, exposing two bare brown feet.
Boldly, the same brave shouted, "Let down your hair!"
