All-Story Weekly, Vol. 112, No. 1 — page 35: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE ONE. GIFT. bath—had a bottom of sand as clean, and almost as white, as marble. So close is the inherited knowledge of the wild to the surface of brains, even the most degenerate and civilized, that all this struck Muriel Sangree as strangely familiar. She went about her bath as placidly as if she had been in her suite at the Royal Magnolia. She carpeted her bare feet on the dry, gray moss. She plaited her hair. She was ravenously hungry when she came back to the fire. Her weakness con- tinued; but, possibly for the first or second time in her life, she took cognizance of the fact that food was for strength. Blue Otter was at the fire grilling meat. The fire flamed clean and bright. Over this flame several strips of meat hung from pointed palmetto-stems planted in the ground. To the hungry girl,. the perfume of that cooking meat was sweeter than the smell of orange-blossoms; the sight of it more lovely than orchids. “ Humpit-tsa!” said Blue Otter, over his shoulder; and he passed her a brown ten- derloin wrapped in a bay-leaf. ‘‘ Come and eat.” From this time on, and increasingly so, it was.as if they spoke a common language. It would be impossible to give the nature of all their words—a futile and silly waste of effort to try. Words, both Seminole and English, now halting, now running free; gestures and looks, mute understandings, like the language of other creatures of the woods. To represent all this, a plain tran- scription into simple English will have to suffice: “‘ How long have I been here?” “Two days and two nights.” ‘“‘ And you cared for me all this time?” cc Yes.”’ “ My father will pay you well.” No answer to that, but a look almost like a look of pain in Blue Otter’s wolf- hound eyes. ‘“‘ Fat,” he said. o And this time he had split open a small roasted pumpkin. There were many of these about the old camp. The vines of them clambered high over the trees like gourds. But when Muriel Sangree tasted this odd fruit she gave a little cry of delight. 25 Sweet and hot and exotically flavored, not the chef of the Royal Magnolia could have produced a pastry like that. ‘You said that my father was coming.” ‘’ He will come when he knows where you are. He looks everywhere: Your friends look.”’ “But why haven’t they found me?” “They are far away.” “We shall: go to them.” “When you are strong.” “In the mean time, you can send word by your people.” ‘““T am shut off from my people.” c¢ Why?” “I do wrong. Blind Heron told me to do something. I no do it. Blind Heron is the medicine-man and the chief. He is the same as my father. But when he says do this and you do otherwise, then, maybe, you die.” Muriel Sangree was intuitional. Also, she had heard some true stories of the Seminoles since her first coming to Florida, a number of years ago. She thought. She asked: “This wrong that you did—it was on account of me?” Blue Otter had the precise honesty of his kind. He did not seek to evade an- swering the question, as a white man would have done. e Yes.”’ “ And they may kill you-on account of it?” ~ “JT don’t think so. But maybe.” ‘And knowing this, still you stood by me?” ce Yes.”’ cc Why?” For a moment he let his dark eyes dwell on hers, and she felt a slight creep of shame. But he had merely been trying to get his answer right. ‘“The Great Spirit,” he replied; “he told me what to do.” ““But why—why should your people want to treat you so harshly for merely doing what the Great Spirit told you to do?” ‘“ Because—you are white.” “But I’m only a girl.” “ Because you are a girl.” comiclboolk C©