This story is an artifact of its time, including its descriptions and treatment of its Indian characters, as well as its depictions of physically hazardous and ecologically unsound behavior). I trust that readers understand that I do not endorse these stereotypes or patronizing attitudes or other elements of racism or misbehavior, and that I post this story because it reflects what we read in this era, one of the many forces that shaped the world (including the Church) we were born into.

From the Children’s Friend, 1941 –

Summer Adventures

By Celia A. Van Cott

Chapter 1

Heigh Ho for Canada

Billy stirred restlessly in his cushioned chair for a moment. Then, rising, closed the book he had been reading and peered through the soft sheer curtains into the street below.

The long lean shadows of the swaying poplar trees lay across the road. In the fading twilight he could see three of his friends playing a game of marbles. He watched them until one by one they disappeared, swallowed up by the darkness of the night.

He turned from the window with a shrug and pushed his chair closer t his desk. He snapped on the light in the little sailboat lamp his Uncle Christopher had sent him from Canada last year for Christmas, then sprawled out in his chair. He flung one leg across the arm, then settled in a comfortable position and flicked the pages of his book to the picture of Red Eagle, Indian chief of the Pueblo tribe.

For weeks his class at the Emerson school had been studying about the Pueblo Indians. Tomorrow was the contest and today Miss Campbell had divided the class into two equal sections and he had been chosen by the one team for their captain. Jed Long had been chosen captain of the opposite team.

Billy didn’t like Jed. He had taken a keen dislike to him shortly after school had started in the early fall. He had tried to avoid him, thinking he was a quarrelsome fellow; one night Jed had accosted Billy on the way home from school and teased. “Come on and fight. I’ll bet I can lick you.”

Billy ignored him and walked silently on. Jed followed.

“You’re a sissy and yellow! You’re afraid to fight. You know I can lick you. Sissy! Sissy!” Jed taunted.

Billy saw red. He swung on his heel and hit Jed a hard blow on the chin. Jed swung back and, being much the larger of the two boys, soon blacked both of Billy’s eyes.

Billy had never forgiven Jed. Tonight as he recalled the incident, he remembered what his father had said that evening at the dinner table when he questioned him about his eyes.

“I guess most boys like to fight, my son, almost all of them, but if I were you I would fight with your brain instead of your brawn.”

“You mean by studying hard, father?” Billy questioned.

“I certainly do,” his father answered as he arose to leave the room. “I think you will find it much more satisfying to win your battles in the schoolroom instead of outside mauling someone with your fists like a little savage.”

The next morning at school dragged slowly for Billy. He was anxious for Miss Campbell to start the contest.

At noon the usually untidy Jed came back to school dressed in his best suit with his hair combed back off his forehead smooth and tidy.

Billy chuckled to himself. “Thinks he’ll win,” he thought. “Boy, I’ll show him!”

After recess, Miss Campbell assembled the children in front of the school room. She asked each child a question; if he could not answer it, he was sent to his seat and the next child in line was given the opportunity to test his ability.

Billy was surprised that Jed seemed to know all the answers Miss Campbell asked him.

One by one, the children went down until only Billy and Jed were left standing.

Miss Campbell turned to Billy. “Can you tell the class about the Spanish explorers, what year they came to America, and what influence they had over the American Indians?” she asked.

Billy felt his face growing red. He tried to remember but he couldn’t. He stammered and stuttered.

Miss Campbell turned to Jed and repeated the question.

Ashamed, with the blood pounding his ears. Billy stumbled to his seat. He did not hear Jed’s answer; he only knew that he wanted to cry. H realized he must not do that for he must never let Jed know that he cared.

After Jed had taken his seat, Miss Campbell said, “I’m extremely proud of each one of you children, and I am especially proud of the two fine boys you chose for your captains.”

Billy hurried from the classroom and along the lane that led to his home. He had been so sure that he would win. He couldn’t quite understand. Tears stung his eyes but he blinked them back. He started to run when he heard someone call his name. Turning he saw Jed quite out of breath.

“Can’t you wait a minute?” he yelled. “Oh, Billy,” he said when he drew near, “I’m awfully sorry our team beat yours today, really I am.”

Billy couldn’t believe his own ears. He looked at Jed and saw instead of a blustering bully, a shy bashful boy who stood fumbling with his cap while waiting for an answer.

All at once Billy was ashamed and sorry too. He knew then, buried away down deep in his own heart, he was glad that Jed had won.

“I’m not sorry, Jed,” he said in a sincere voice, “I am glad your side won the contest.”

“Oh, do you mean that?” Jed asked, his eyes sparkling.

“Yes,” Billy answered, “but I can’t quite understand.”

“Oh, that,” Jed flung out, feeling at ease once more, “my father used to be the Indian agent at Albuquerque, New Mexico. I was born there. I know the Indians better’n the white folks, I guess.” As he turned to go, he called back, “Say, if you like rabbits I’ve got a swell pair of pink eyes I’ve been saving for you if you want ’em.”

Billy watched him swing down the lane and around the corner, then turning he started to whistle a gay little tune. He wondered how he could have misjudged Jed. He felt a sudden glow of happiness for he knew that through losing the contest he had won a friend.

As their friendship grew, the warm days of late spring gradually ripened into a balmy glorious summer. Almost every day the two boys could be seen strolling away together toward some nearby mountain where they explored rugged canyons and blind trails to their heart’s content, while they always indulged in friendly discussions. Billy knew that Jed would bring choice bits of dried beef, a nut or two, or luscious mellow apples to munch while they tramped and talked.

One evening when Billy slid over the swing gate in the lane, he saw a shiny new car parked near his home. With his curiosity aroused, he rushed in breathless haste to the house and around the corner, almost upsetting his Uncle Christopher.

“Hey! Wait a minute, young fellow,” his uncle chuckled. “is that the way to greet a guest?”

Billy pounced on him with an affectionate hug. He adored his uncle and looked forward to each visit and the good times they always had together.

“I have come to take you back to Canada with me,” his uncle confided. “How about it, Billy, would you like to go?”

“Oh, boy! I’d love it, Uncle Christopher, only maybe mother won’t let me.”

“I have already won her consent, that is on one condition. You must invite your young friend, Jed, to come along so that you won’t be too lonely coming home on the train.”

“Goodie! Goodie!” Billy exclaimed, jumping up and down. Without another word he turned and ran down the lane to inform Jed of their good fortune.

What an exciting time the two boys had packing their bags and planning their vacation.

“We are going through the Yellowstone and Glacier National Parks, Uncle Christopher says, and we’ll pitch our tents under tall pine trees each night and cook our meals over real campfires just like the Indians used to do,” Billy informed Jed their last night at home.

The two boys were up and ready to leave the next morning long before the first pale pink streaks of early dawn appeared in the eastern sky.

Billy waved goodby to his mother as she stood in the open door and watched them while the car slid noiselessly along the lane and down the road carrying the two friends toward many exciting adventures.

They arrived at the camping grounds at Jenny’s Lake, in the Grand Teton National Forest of Wyoming, that night, just as the sinking sun was casting a crimson glow over the glacial peaks of the high rugged mountains. A shimmering lake nestled close to their base, reflecting like a mirror the glory of the blue sky above and the shadows of the tall towering pines in its clear crystal depths.

Blue jays scolded noisily as they flew about thought he branches of the evergreens. Far away through the distance, Billy heard a night owl screech.

Uncle Christopher assigned each boy a duty and the three were soon busy pitching camp.

Night crept slowly in from the purple shadows of the wooded forest, enveloping both mountains and valley. A huge fire crackled cheerfully and in the red glow, Billy and Jed talked with Uncle Christopher while they munched the tender juicy steaks that he taught them to broil over white heated rocks, and enjoyed soft mealy potatoes that were rolled in leaves and baked in hot ashes. How good the food tasted to the two hungry lads.

“I’ll bet the Indians never had a meal as good as this one,” Billy said, helping himself to another hot sizzling steak.

“I’ll just bet they did, didn’t they, Mr. Cavell?” Jed asked eager for a story.

“I’m sure they did,” Uncle Christopher said. “The Indians taught the white man many things, including the art of cooking in the wilds.”

“Were there Indians here in this very spot?” Billy inquired in an excited tone.

“Many tribes hunted, trapped, and fished along all of these lakes and streams including the Crows, who were greatly feared by the white man, and the warring Blackfeet Indians.”

“Did the Indians discover the Yellowstone Park, Uncle Christopher?” Billy questioned.

“A long time ago history tells us, long before the white man brought civilization westward, the Indians roamed all through this region. The few brave warriors that ventured into the Yellowstone came back to the tribes with such gruesome tales that all the other Indians were afraid to enter the region, believing the place was haunted and infested with dark evil spirits who were always hissing and groaning at the redman, trying to avenge themselves for their imprisonment.”

“Is it really haunted?” Jed asked, a wee bit frightened.

“Oh, no, of course not,” Uncle Christopher laughed and then continued. “Many years afterward, away back in eighteen hundred and seven, a brave soldier who had followed the Lewis and Clark expedition to the Pacific Ocean on that memorable journey which was led by the brave Indian woman, Sacagawea, that you Billy and you Jed have studied about in school, returned to Fort Mandon. There he asked to be given his release so that he might stay and trap in the wilds of this country for beaver.

“Colter was given his release and roamed all along the streams making friends with the Crows and other Indians. He established himself at a new fort that was built by white men called Fort Lisa.

“One day when he was hobnobbing with the Crows on the other side of these tall rugged mountains, the warring tribe of Blackfeet descended upon the Crows eager to fight. Colter fought on the side of the Crows and was severely wounded on his leg. After his convalescence he was eager to return to the fort and, taking a short cut, he stumbled onto the grandeur of Yellowstone Park.

“There alone he stood, the first white man to look upon the beauty of the canyon, awed by the unreality of the gushing geysers and the boiling, bubbling mudpots and glistening pools.

“Not long afterward he returned to St. Louis to report his geographical find but the people only laughed and ridiculed him, calling him the world’s best story teller.

“Sixty-three years after Colter’s death, a party of men from Helena, Montana, headed by General Washburn, Langford, and Doane, rode by horseback into the dreaded territory to find if all the stories told by Colter, the Indians, Jim Bridger, and other trappers were true. They were weary from the hardships of the long journey, always in danger of being scalped by the Crows, and almost ready to turn back defeated when they were at last rewarded. While they were standing on the crest of Mt. Washburn, they saw the sparkling water and steam of a geyser gush high into the blue canopy of heaven. Hardly daring to believe, yet jubilant over their discovery, they hastened into the park, naming the geyser they saw Old Faithful, and christening many other wonders before their return again to civilization.

“With generous hearts, they turned the whole area over to Uncle Sam so that boys and girls and everyone for all time could enjoy the beautiful playground of God.”

Uncle Christopher paused and poked the dying embers of the fire. Billy shivered and snuggled closer to Jed.

“Come on, fellows,” Uncle Christopher said, rising. “We had better be off to bed. Tomorrow will be a big day for us.”

The next morning Billy was awakened by a chattering squirrel scampering across the top of the tent. He was up in a flash when he smelled the tantalizing bacon. He peered through the flap and say his uncle busy over the campfire and Jed fully dressed standing near.

After their breakfast and when the camp was broken, Uncle Christopher suggested one hour of fishing in a motor boat before they left Jenny’s Lake for Yellowstone Park. They soon had a motor boat with a guide and were skimming over the clear icy waters of the lake.

Billy could see the fish swimming below the clear surface of the water and occasionally saw a silver splash as a fish jumped high above the water for a fly. He grasped his pole tightly letting the big hook and bait sink. He watched the pole for a moment, then fell to meditating on Uncle Christopher’s story of the night before. Soon something jerked on his line almost pulling him overboard.

His uncle yelled, “Hold on, Billy, hold her.” Jed squealed in excitement nearly letting his tackle go and the guide shouted above the din.

“Don’t get excited, boy. Hold your line and let the fellow play. Each time he tires, reel him in a bit.”

It seemed hours before the monster quit fighting. Billy’s muscles in his arms bulged and ached, the nape of his neck pained and his back felt like it was breaking. At last the huge fish quit jumping and splashing. Billy wound the reel like an experienced fisherman until he could see the white of its belly just below the surface of the green water.

Everyone was tense with excitement. He could hardly breathe as he reeled the fish close by the side of the boat. It lay still for a moment, then with one desperate plunge charged out into the water. Uncle Christopher leaned far over the side of the boat and jabbed a big hook just below the gills of the monster, pulling him up and over into the boat where he landed on the bottom with a dull thud.

Jed jumped up and down squealing with delight when suddenly he lost his balance and fell into the lake. Billy screamed, grabbed for Jed as he fell, and followed with a splash. They icy water closed about him taking his breath as he sank lower and lower into its clear crystal depths.

To be continued …