The Light in the Forest Read Online Free Page A

white man. His arms had been freed to let him carry his pack above the water. Now he dropped his belongings and made a lunge at the guard. He knocked him down, tried to pull out first the guard’s knife and then his hatchet. Over the ground they rolled, while a second soldier drew a bead on Half Arrow and others came running to pull True Son off.
    “You Injun-crazy young fool!” the red-haired guard panted as he got up. “I wasn’t trying to shoot him—just to save his hair.”
    As they tied his arms again True Son still struggled. Half Arrow stood by, grave and impassive.
    “Once long ago my cousin had white blood,” he apologized to the guard. “Now you can rest your mind. I will stay on this side like you say. But firstI would like to give True Son a message from his father before we are separated by the waters.”
    “You can give him a message,” the guard said sharply. “But don’t try to give him a knife. If you do, you’ll get a bullet between your ribs.”
    At the order to march Half Arrow moved beside True Son. Through the trees ahead they could see the river.
    “I talk now for your father, True Son,” he began. “He said I should tell you this. On no account must I forget. These are his words: ‘True Son. Remember what happens to the white prisoner the Indian takes. If the white prisoner bears his hardship with patience and cheerfulness, his Indian master likes him. He knows he will make a good Indian. So he treats him well and adopts him. True Son. If the white prisoner fights him or hangs back or tries to escape or if he complains all the time, the Indian knows he will never make one like himself. Then there is nothing to do but scalp him. True Son. If you fight and hang back, maybe the white man will scalp you. True Son. It is better to wait for your cause to be ripe like a persimmon on the snow before you fight back. True Son. It is wiser to be willing and be alive than be defiantand be dead so your father and mother and sisters have to mourn you.’ ”
    True Son bowed his head. The words were so like his father’s, he could hear the sound of his father’s voice in his mind. Half Arrow went on.
    “Your father said more. He said, True Son. Remember the time we hunted on the White Woman’s River. We came on a bear and the shot broke its backbone. The bear fell down and started to cry like Long Tail, the panther. Your father went up and struck it with his ramrod across the nose. He said, ‘Listen, bear. You are a coward and not the warrior you pretend to be. You know our tribes are at war. Had you conquered me, I would have borne it with courage and died like a warrior. But you, bear, sit and whimper like an old woman. You disgrace your tribe with your behavior.’ True Son. Do you remember?”
    “I remember,” the boy groaned. “Tell my father so. Tell him I will bear my disgrace like an Indian and will wait to strike till the time is in my favor.”
    The two marched on in silence. When they came to the river’s edge, Half Arrow stepped aside and True Son waded in alone. The water grew steadily higher till it reached above his waist. He shivered,but he did not turn around. Not till he was out and dripping on the other side and following the trail on the bank with the column did he look back. Far across the water he could make out two figures. They were Half Arrow and Little Crane, standing at the water’s edge. Their eyes, he knew, strained after him. He wished he could hold up his hand in farewell but his arms were tied. Then he passed with his companions into the forest.

F ROM now forward he was on his own, the boy told himself. He would have to think his own Indian thoughts and follow his own Indian counsel. He gave no sign of the constriction in his throat or the loathing in his breast when they entered the white man’s stronghold of Fort Pitt; the gloomy stone, the dark passageways, the drunken soldiers, all the swaggering of the white-skinned legion andamong them a few turncoat