A Little Maid of Ticonderoga

								

settled there. When Faith was a tiny baby she had come, bringing a
fine beaver skin as a gift for the little girl. She always came alone,
and the family looked upon her as a friend, and always made a little
feast for her, and sent her on her way laden with gifts. Not all the
Indians of the Wilderness were friendly to settlers; and the Carews
were glad to feel that Kashaqua was well disposed toward them. She
often brought gifts of baskets, or of bright feathers or fine
moccasins for Faith.
"I hope she will come before I go to Aunt Prissy's," said Faith. "I
like Kashaqua."
"Kashaqua likes little girl."
Even Mr. Carew jumped at these words and the sudden appearance of the
Indian woman standing just inside the kitchen door. She seemed pleased
by their warm welcome, and sat down before the fire, while Faith
hastened to bring her a good share of their simple dinner. Faith sat
down on the floor beside her, greatly to Kashaqua's satisfaction, and
told her about Esther Eldridge's visit, about the bear coming into the
kitchen, and of how she had jumped from the window and run to the mill
to tell her father. Kashaqua grunted her approval now and then.
"And what do you think, Kashaqua! I am to go to my Aunt Priscilla
Scott, to Ticonderoga, and stay all winter," she concluded.
"Ticonderoga? When?" questioned Kashaqua, dipping a piece of corn
bread in the dish of maple syrup.
"I am to go just as soon as some one goes over the trail who will take
me," answered Faith.
"I take you. I go to Ticonderoga to-morrow. I take you," said
Kashaqua.

CHAPTER VI
THE JOURNEY

"Mother dear, mother dear! Did you hear what Kashaqua says: that she
will take me to Aunt Prissy's to-morrow?" said Faith.
The Indian woman had turned quickly, and her sharp little eyes were
fixed on Mrs. Carew's face.
"You 'fraid let little girl go with Kashaqua?" she said, a little
accusing note in her voice.
"No, indeed. Kashaqua would take good care of Faith. I know that. But
to-morrow----" Mrs. Carew spoke bravely, but both Faith's father and
mother were sadly troubled. To offend the Indian woman would mean to
make enemies of the tribe to which she belonged; and then neither
their lives nor their property would be safe; and she would never
forgive them if they doubted her by refusing to let Faith make the
journey to Ticonderoga in her care.
It was Faith who came to the rescue by declaring: "Oh, I'd rather go
with Kashaqua than anybody. Mother dear, you said Aunt Prissy would
see about my shoes and dresses. I don't have to wait to get ready,"
and Faith ran to her mother eager for her consent, thinking it would
be a fine thing to go on a day's journey through the woods with the
Indian woman, and quite forgetting for the moment that it meant a long
absence from home.
Nothing could have pleased Kashaqua more than Faith's pleading. The
half-angry expression faded from her face, and she nodded and smiled,