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outside the fort-about two miles north. The thought of going beyond the wall filled me with wicked excitement. "Look, son," said Uncle Reuben, "I'm going to see your pop as soon as I finish my lunch. I'll take his vittals to him." Oh, no! Here was my chance to go beyond the wall, and I was going to take it. I had never ever ever been on the other side. Uncle Reuben was tough, but he grinned when I told him I was going. "Yeah, sure-come along. It's time that you see what them Indians really do. Besides, it's quiet and you'll be with me," Uncle Reuben said. Uncle Reuben was tough. I was tough. We marched right out the gate. I gave Papa the bag when we met him and some other 'brethern' about two miles north of the fort. Papa took the bag, set it off a pace, then shooed me off. He turned me back toward him, then went off with Uncle Reuben. I didn't care-I wanted some venison and potatoes by now any-way. Besides, the outside was just like the inside, except for the houses and the wall. There were more trees and bushes outside, too. In my excitement to be out, I hadn't even tasted my bun. It sure takes a powerful lot of something to make me forget my Mama's honey-buns. I was just about to bite into it when I saw a face behind a bush. I said hello; it didn't even move-just kept looking at me. It was a face about my own size. I stopped and stared back. I said hello; it didn't say a thing. I didn't recognize him, and I knew most everv- one in the fort. He was darker then I was. His hair was as long as some of the girls in my Sunday Meeting class. He was dumb-he just stared at me. I didn't know if he was hungry, but I thought I ought to offer him my bun. I took a great big bite of it, then offered it to him. Mama would be mad if she knew I bit it first. "My name's Peter. Do you want . . . this?" He stood up and kept staring. He was shorter than I was-about Andy's size. I talked to hom about the fort and the Indians. I told him about Andy. I took another big bite of my sweet bun-- half was gone. Then he took it, leaving me a sticky hand. I licked my fingers while he gobbled the bun. He eats like Andy. Course, everyone eats my Mama's honey-buns that way. Then he smiled at me. He motioned for me to sit by him. We sat down in the weeds. I talked and he just smiled - 18 - |
