# Nattie Nesmith/Chapter 6

HEN Nattie fled out of the kitchen, she had no definite aim beyond secluding herself for a time, so as to stir up anxiety at home, and give those against whom her anger was hot, the trouble of searching for her.
Her chief desire was to inflict pain on her sister, for having reproved her for the disobedient conduct which brought renewed illness to her mother. Her sister's husband also was an object of dislike, because he always frowned on and corrected her outbursts of temper and selfish propensities. She ​did not like the prospect of spending several days under the same roof with him; and she learned that her father would not be at home for a week.
Thus, all things considered, Nattie concluded that the only way for her to create a sensation was to leave; and, on the spur of the moment, the little girl started. She threw a shawl over her head as she ran through the back entry, burst open the shed dvor, and, bounding fleetly over the melting snow, soon reached the old apple-tree, and, by its aid, gained her summer resort on the shelving roof. Here she looked around and above her. Clouds were lowering over the sky, and the wind soughed dismally through the leafless branches of the tall, spreading tree. She crept under the hanging caves, and thought at first that she would spend the night there, but the searching wind soon caused her flesh to creep with cold. As Mr. Stone had said, Nattie was inclined to be very tender of herself; so she soon came to the conclusion that she must ​seek a shelter; and where should she go? She felt no inclination to return to the warm room which she had just left. Her passions were yet fiercely stirred by the reprimands and slights which, as she considered, had been heaped upon her. Jealousy still raged within her breast, as she thought of the attention which her sister and Biddy had lavished upon her mother all the afternoon, while her scalded face and hands received scarcely any notice.
Darkness at length began to settle around her, and then, without having fully determined whither to direct her steps, she descended from the roof, and turned toward the street. Here she paused, and looked first up, then down the street. It was the hour when the village people took their evening meal, and there were no foot passengers abroad. Nattie was at a loss which way to go. At length she saw a great, uncouth-looking figure coming toward her at a striding pace. She was afraid to go and meet it, so she thought that she ​would see if she couldn't run away from it; but the faster she ran, the mightier strides the monster made; und soon she felt herself swooped up from the earth by a powerful arm, and borne away under the folds of a heavy hanging blanket. She tried to scream, but fright had rendered her voiceless. Then she tried to kick and twist, and wriggle herself away. All in vain. She was held as in an iron clutch, while the huge man who thus held her, pressed on with such heavy strides that the earth seemed almost to jar beneath his feet. All was darkness, and poor Nattie, held tight in an uncomfortable position, began to fear that,—as Biddy had often said might happen unless she was a better girl,—the evil one was really carrying her off. As this terror grew upon her, her senses swam, and she lapsed into partial insensibility. She was at last released from the rough clutch, and laid upon a pile of mats in an Indian wigwam, where a number of dusky faces soon gathered around and gazed on the apparent​ly sleeping girl with much eagerness and curiosity.
The man who had carried Nattie off was a strolling Indian, and this was the temporary abode of his family. They had been several days camping below the village; and on this afternoon the man had been around town selling moccasins, baskets, and other articles, intending to strike tent on the morrow and start for their far-off haunts in the wilderness of the frontier. They had been hovering around towns and villages all winter, and, by their little sales, had collected a sum of money sufficient to supply their simple wants till cold weather should again return, and were now ready to rejoin their Indian friends, and lead the wild life of the woods again.
The old squaw got close to Nattie, who was still unconscious, and remained in the same position in which the man had placed her on the pile of skins. The little papooses, also, gathered near to look with wondering eyes on the pale-​face thus suddenly introduced to their wigwam.
"What for you bring her here?" the womin asked of the great man in the swinging blanket, who was her husband.
"Me got her to be wife to my son, Torch Eye. He had white mother. Great Spirit send white wife to him. Pale-face girl make smart young squaw."
"Where you find her?" asked the woman.
"Me catch her in street," he answered, looking at the insensible girl in haughty triumph.
"Pale-faces be after Indian and catch him," said the old squaw.
"Before Great Spirit smile on the east to-morrow morning, Indian be far on his way toward his father's camping grounds, carrying with him the white bride of his son, Torch Eye.
All the Indians looked up at him as he thus spoke, and made answer by throwing their brawny arms aloft and giving a low, peculiar cry.
​Nattie now moved uneasily and partially opened her eyes.
"See, she awakes!" said one of the little papooses. "Will her eyes be the color of the sky when she opens them?"
"The color of her eyes you must not know till this moon has grown round; nor must the white maiden look on the faces of her Indian friends till we have reached our forest camping grounds."
Thus saying, the man took a bottle from his pocket, and placed it to the mouth of the half-conscious girl, nor did he take it away till it was drained.
"Pale-face never wake again," said the old squaw.
"Wake in three days," said the man; "then me give her another dose, perhaps. When that is gone, me not want her to sleep so much no more. Then Torch Eye will come to look upon the white bride sent him by the Great Spirit. Now we all lie down a short time, and then we rise to make ​ready for our march. We have a long journey before us."
"Papooses get cold marching in this foul, east storm," said the squaw.
"Indian has looked at the North, and the Great Spirit tells him the storm will be over by the dawning," was the answer.
The huge man wrapped his blanket closer about him and lay down on a mat in the center of the wigwam. The squaw placed the children near him, and then, with a last look toward Nattie, left quite alone on the pile of skins, dropped down beside her youngest papoose, and sleep soon held all the strange, wild group in its embrace.
Such was Nattie's shelter the first night after her flight, while Mr. and Mrs. Stone watched over the sick mother's couch, wondering where the little girl could be, and fearing that harm might befall her. All their conjectures and imaginings were far from the truth. It never once entered their minds that Nattie had been stolen by ​an Indian, was now an unconscious prisoner in his rude wigwam, and soon to be borne away toward the wilderness. How could they think of anything so dreadful as this?
They knew that there were a few strolling Indians about town. It was no unusual thing. They were remnants of a once large tribe, and had never been known to do anything worse than petty thieving. Even this offense was rather unusual; and the village people were more pleased than otherwise at the yearly visits of these denizens of the forest. Their variegated bead-work and tasteful baskets found a ready sale at the stores, and adorned the center tables of many of the first families.
There was no cause for suspecting the Indians of any grave offenses. Their manners had always been simple and conciliatory. They in no way meddled with the white people, but peaceably sold their wares, and, after a few weeks tarrying, struck their cone-like tent and moved on.
​Thus, this first crime was the more easily perpetrated and better escaped detection. Nor did a thought of doing such a deed enter the head of the old Indian, till he saw this girl fleeing wildly before him in the gathering darkness. The sight of her flight roused the wild love of pursuit in his savage nature, and almost before he was aware, he had swooped her up, and was bearing her rapidly away to his wigwam. Possessing the prize, he was determined to retain it, at all hazards; and he soon formed the resolution to make the pale-face girl the wife of his eldest and favorite son, Torch Eye, a brave young warrior, whose mother had been a white, and from the section of country in which the strolling Indians were now camping.
Thus poor, little, bad, foolish Nattie, running away from home to cause pain and trouble to her best friends, at once involved herself in trouble much greater than that which now pierced the hearts of those who were seeking her, sorrowing. ​What she did in a foolish freak of temper was likely to bring her years, perhaps a life-time, of sorrow.
After the Indians had slept about two hours, they rose and made their preparations for departure. The youngest papoose was slung over the mother's back. The skins and mats were put on a rough sledge, and drawn by two boys of eight and ten years. The few cooking utensils were packed in a bag and given to a girl somewhat older than Nattie. The tent was struck, made into a bundle with divers bows and arrows peeping from its folds, and hung to the arm of the great man. Over his other shoulder he soon slung the sleeping Nattie, and thus she was traveling wilderness-ward, in her unconscious state, all the long day during which her friends were seeking for her, in her native village.