Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1902-10-23
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w.
/ Dawn found me lying wide awake with
my head on a saddle. l slipped out into
the dewey half light.
That was the first time / ever thought
| about the mountains They seemed to be
I newly created standing up with stream
/ ers of mist torn and floating across their
I breasts. The winding cliff-bound lake
was like a gorge OF smoke. felt as II
/ had reared upon my hind feet, lifting my
/ face from the ground to discover there
was a God Some of the prayers our
| priest had industriously beaten into my
! head, began to repeat themselves. In
| lwinkling I was a child. lonely In the uni
| verse. separated from my dim old life, IN
stinct with growth yet ignorant of my
| own deeds.
What Madame de Terrier and Madame
| Tank had said influenced me less than
| the intense life OF my reused activities.
1t was mid forenoon by the sun when
I reached our lodges. and sat down fag-
ged outside my fathers door, to think
| longer before entered. Hunger was
, the principal sensation, though we had
eaten in the cabin the night before, and
the Indian life inures man to fasting
when he cannot come by food. l heard
Shenedonk talking to my father and
mother in our cabin. The village was
empty; children and women, hunters and
fishermen having scattered to woods and
/ waters.
HE ought to learn books" said Skene-
donk Money is sent you every year to
be spent upon him; yet you spend moth
ing upon him."
'sWhat has he needed?" said my father.
HE needs much now. He needs Amer
ican clothes. He wept at the sight of
/ book God has removed the touch since
he plunged in the water"
You would make a fool OF him" said
my father. He was gone from the lodge
this morning. You taught him an evil
/ path when you carried him off,"
| 1T is a natural path for him; he will go
to his own. / stayed and talked with De
Chaumont, and 1 bring you an offer. De
I Chauu1ont will take Lazarre into his
/ house, and have him taught all that
/ white boy should know. You will pay
the cost II you don't, De Chaumont will
/ look into this annuity Of which you give
no account"
Il have never been asked to give ac-
count. Could Lazarre learn anything?
\ The priest has sat over him. He had
| food and clothing like my own"
THAT is true. But he is changed. Ma
| rianne will let him 60"
THE strange boy may CO." said my
mother But none of my own children
shall leave us to be educated
| got up and went into the cabin. All
/
! in silence while l approached my mother
and put my hands on her shoulders. There
was no tenderness between us, but she
/ had fostered me. The small dark eyes
/ in her copper face, and her shapeless
l body, were associated with winters and
summers stretching to a vanishing point.
Mother" l said, lis it true that am
/ not your son?'
She made no answer.
us it true that the chief is not my
| father?" ...
She made no answer.
''Who sends money to be spent on me
every Year,
stiH she made no answer.
"If am not your son, whose son am
In the silence I turned to skenedonk.
Isn't my name Lazarre Williams,
! Skenedonk?"
you are called Lazarre Williams"
"a woman told me last night that 1t
was not my name. Everyone denies me.
No one owns me and tells whose child /
| am. Wasn't born at st. Regis?'
"If you were, there is no record OF
your birth on the register. The chiefs
other children have their births record
ed"
turned to my father. The desolation
| of being cut of and left with nothing but
the guesses OF strangers overcame me.
I sobbed so the hoarse choke echoed IN
the cabin. Skenedonk opened his arms,
/ and my father and mother let me lean
| on the Oneida's shoulder.
1 have thought since that they resented
with stoical pain his taking their white
/ son from them. They both stood severely
reserved, passively loosening the flial
| bond.
All the business of life was suspended,
as when there is death in the lodge.
Skenedonk and sat down together on
bunk.
"Lazarre," my father spoke. do you
want to be educated?"
The things we pine for in this world
J are often thrust upon US in a way to
| choke us. had tramped miles. storming
for the privileges that had made George
Croghan what he was. Fate instantly
picked me up from uncomfortable condi-
| tons to set me down where could grow,
and I squirmed with recoil from the
shock.
felt crowded over the edge of a cliff
and about to drop into valley of rain
bows.
do you want to live in De Chaumont's
house and learn his ways?"
My father and mother had been silent
when 1 questioned TEN. 1t was my
| turn to be silent.
''Or' would you rather stay as you are?"
mo, father" 1 answered, II want to
CO."
The camp had never been dearer.
| walked among the Indian children when
the evening fires were lighted, and the
children looked a me curiously as at an
alien. Already my people had cut me of
! from them.
What I learn I will come back and
teach you" 1 told the young men and
! women OF my own age They laughed.
You are a fool, Lazarre. There is
good home for you at St. Regis. If you
| fall sick at De Chaumont's house who
will carer"
"skenedonk is my friend" answered.
| ''Skenedonk would not stay where he
is tying you. When the lake freezes you
will be mad for snowshoes and sight
of the st. Lawrence"
Perhaps so. But we are not made
alike. Do not forget me-"
They gave me belts and garters, and /
distributed among them all my Indian
! property. Then, as IL to work a charm
which should keep me from breaking
through the circle they Joined hands and
| danced around me. 1 went to every cabin,
half ashamed of my desertion, yet I'M
| speakably craving a blessing. The old
people variously commented on the meas
ure their wise eyes seeing the change
I'm one who had been child rather than
a young man among them.
If the wrench from the village was hard.
the induction into the manor was harder.