Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1891-06-25
The proW of boat had tnrnad tho Lo,,,

OF the river. On nearer view is proved to
be skitf some Is feet long and wide in
proportion, having a cabin and lower
deck. The afternoon sun falling In lone
lines of light through the tail trees and
across the muddy waters did not add grace
or beauty to It's rough, implanted boards
nor to the solitary man, who with long
pole was idly guiding it; a rude, strange
man, yet with the freshness of the forest
ABOUT nlm, strong gray beard descended
TO his chest; his eyes cleaned keen as a fox
hunters, from beneath his SLOUGH hat:
every line and muscle of his face showed
termination. He wore a rough skin
Jacket, bulging at the pockets, INFO which
he occasionally thrust his hands. and
smiled. But for the most part he leaned
forward, grasping his paddle with that
life IN inaction which Indians have.
When the boat and man came near he
gave long hello as greeting from the
captain of one craft to that of another.
then slowly padded by my side without
remark. There was a child with me in
the boat-a sweet-faced child. with large
wondering eyes. She regarded the old
man silently, then, 'What 90 dot in 90
potets?' she asked. The old man looked
at the child curiously, and answered:
'Purtles, my dear, purties, and sun
ray seemed to have left the trees and the
river and to have settled in his ewes, 50
kindly did they beam.
Lady" he asked, turning to me sud
denly, would you mind hitching yo' dug
out to mine for while?" On my com
plying he padded to small cove where
both boats rested quietly; then he entered
the skltf' cabin, and brought out chair.
Il We got some nice things here, - he said,
pointing to his pockets, as he seated him
self, and I'm goin' to show them to you,
but | alIus has to light my pipe fust
Smokln and thinkin' goes together with
me-"
Thereupon he produced long clay pipe
and lit it. He pulled for some time in
silence, but when the white smoke began
to curl away overhead commenced: "Yo'
would We now? Wull, yo' don't know the
comforts co of log cabin any more, reckon.
This here's my house and that cabin yam
else. | calls this my garden, cause | ken
see all the flowers of heaven out here O.
nights. When one amt partic' Ter bout
style an loves travelin', skiff's palace
to live in. But hate folks that brags on
their homes an | amt goin' to begin. |
fetched you here to show the little un' my
pots an arrow heads. These" taking
some specimens from his pockets, ''is the
plain black Chickasaw' BOWLS reckon
there hahn no use to show 'em to you.
m clean out'n stock now, as the sto'men
says. You see, digs these here mp for
the Smithsonian ms tuition, and made a
haul IN Arkansas last week, but SEN 'em
all away yesterday 'ceppin' these" He
had round black basin in his hand and
was stroking it gently. "Now if | was tc
tell you that yo' could rub this, an make
gray clouds come, | s'pose you wouldn't
believe it. But it's so, and that's the
way the Gray Cloud nation used to mark
It's kittles and gridirons. Plucky little
tribe, but her'r some arrow heads. Take
this here, little 'un, to keep off bad luck
with. My little girl has hair like yo's''
and the old mans eye looked beyond the
river and came back slowly to his pipe
I'm my days, he went on, folks was
more crazed on account n the Red Skins
themselves than their POETRY. | lived in
the far west then. they've put my old
home in the state of Iowy now. When |
was boy | went bout 'mong the Indians,
learned their ways and could talk to nigh
about Is Indian tribes. They let men in
to fndin' out Indian mounds and tellin'
EN- from any common hills, and | can
spot 'em every time in hundred. Some
times | goes to a country house and asks
the folks to let me dig in the bill that
their chicken house sits on. They laugh
an say won find nothin' in theirs But
| kno VS. what I'm bout, an purity soon
their eyes stands open when | comes back
with pile of pots and heads. All this
valleys full of relics; in some places
there's cities laid out as good as the white
man can do it. The child had stretched
out his arms and been lifted on the old
mans knee, where she sat listning and
watching the clouds of smoke float upward.
| At last she asked: "Where 90 little
grip"
He had began to refill his pipe, but he
laid it on the floor, and putting one arm
around the child, and holding her close,
said as if he were telling the story for her
alone: 81 have lost my little girl, an m
all alone. We had a big overflow one
year, and it washed the country clean bare.
| was down on the levee keepin' watch for
three days an nights; when | came back
my house an child was gone. hahn
ever seen her to this day, bat know she's
waitin' for me some hers and her pa
hahn t ever given her up. I've been dig
gin for pots since then, and goin up and
down the river. | looks at every face,
and never lets one pass me by. Ny lit
tie child's been lost a long time, but IL
find her yet"
The sunlight lay like a golden spell on
the river when we babe the Old Man of
the Skiff good, bye. We saw him padding
his rude dwelling down the stream; the
ckild waved at him from the boat; from
the forest the turtledove moaned, and the
dip of his oar was the only sound that
bespoke human presence On the still river
When the man and the boat were become
picture in the blackness cleft from the
surrounding color, he waved a farewell. |
have never seen him since, nor do | know
whether in any trip he found the little
child which the overflow had borne away.
MO. M.