Enoch and Lot Breckenridge, with Robbie Baker, had completed all the plans for the stump burning that first training day at Bennington. Lot, who lived so far from the Harding cabin, agreed to come over the night before if his mother would let him, and Robbie was to remain with Enoch the night after. The stumps and rubbish would be pretty well piled up and fired by afternoon, and then the boys could run races, and play games, and perhaps shoot at a mark, until supper-time. Mrs. Harding had already promised if the boys worked well to make a nice supper for them.

“An’ we’ll have the girls,” said Lot.

“Oh, what good’ll they be at a stump burnin’?” demanded young Baker, ungallantly.

“Lots o’ good. They allus want good times, too,” said Lot, standing up for his sisters manfully. “You have no sisters, an’ that’s why you don’t want ’em.”

“They’ll be in the way. Their frocks’ll git torn if they help us, an’ they’ll git afire–or–or somethin’!”

“Nuck’s sisters will be there. They’ll want other girls,” said the wise Lot. “An’ b’sides, Mis’ Harding’ll be lots better to us if the girls is there. She allus is–my marm is. Mothers like girls, but boys is only a nuisance, they says.” Lot had drawn these conclusions from the remarks of his own mother, who was troubled by many children and lacked that “faculty,” as New England folk used to term it, for bringing them up cheerfully.

“I guess we’ll get a better supper if the girls are there,” admitted Nuck, quietly.

“But what’ll they do?” demanded Robbie, the embryo woman-hater.

“I’ll get mother ter be layin’ out a quilt, or something, an’ the girls can help about that.”

“Zuckers!” cried Lot. “We’ll have the finest time ever was. I’ll be sure an’ tell ev’rybody down my way. An’ we’ll all bring powder an’ shot; it won’t matter so much about guns, for them that don’t have ’em can borry of them that has, when it comes to shootin’.”

“And I’ll get Master Bolderwood to come an’ be empire,” declared Nuck, no farther out in his pronunciation of the word than some boys are nowadays.

So the girls were allowed to come, and an hour or two after sun-up on the day in question the Harding place was fairly overrun with young folk of both sexes. Those boys who came from a goodly distance brought their sisters with them; but the greater number of the girls, living within a radius of a few miles of the Harding cabin, did not come until after dinner, having to remain at home to help their own mothers before attending the merrymaking.

And what a merrymaking it was! Truly, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, and in a country and at a time when all young people had to work almost as hard as their parents, the pioneer fathers and mothers encouraged the young folk to mix pleasure well with their tasks. Indeed, it was a system followed by the older folks as well on many occasions. Corn-shuckings, apple-parings, log-rollings, sugaring-off–all these tasks even down to “hog-killings”–were made the excuse for social gatherings. The idea of helping one another in the heavier tasks of their existence on the frontier was likewise combined in this. Many hands make light work, and a cabin which would have kept one family busy for a fortnight was often put up and the roof of drawn shingles laid in a day’s time, by the neighbors of the proprietor of the new structure all taking hold of the work.

So in this stump burning, which usually followed upon the clearing of a new piece of ground. More than a year before Jonas Harding had begun on this lot, with the intention of clearing it entirely and in the end having a handsome piece of grass-land along the edge of the creek. In the fall a fire had run over the piece and now the stumps were mostly dead, although the fire-weed was waist high. Some of the stumps had already been pulled up, but many were too large for the muscles of the young Hardings and it was the help of their companions to pull these stumps to which they looked forward to-day.

With patience remarkable in such youngsters, Enoch and Bryce had dug around the base of all the big stumps, had cut off the long side roots, and when possible had dug beneath and cut the tap-root of the tree, thus making the final extraction of the big stumps all the easier of accomplishment. They were piled up and set burning, and round these bonfires the boys danced like wild Indians and kept the fires fed up to noon-time. Between the sunshine and the flames the youngsters were all pretty well scorched by then.

But before the horn was blown for dinner there were two arrivals on the scene, one joyfully welcomed by all and the other rather unexpected but not less welcome to many of the boys. ’Siah Bolderwood entered the clearing from a forest-path at almost the same instant that a lithe young figure appeared from the direction of the creek. Enoch ran to his old friend and hugged him in his delight. “Ain’t I glad you’ve come, ’Siah! We got most of the work done; we’re goin’ to get lots of nice ashes, too. We’re goin’ ter have races and a wrastling match after dinner.”

“Hullo! who’s this?” said ’Siah, pointing across the clearing.

Enoch turned to see the Indian youth, Crow Wing, striding up from the water’s edge. A good half of the boys had turned with shouts of welcome to meet him, for he was popular with them. Ordinarily Crow Wing was a very social fellow and taught the white boys to make arrows, string their bows, build canoes, and set ingenious snares. “I don’t want him here!” declared Enoch to the ranger.

“Tut, tut, what do you care? There’s no need in your making an enemy of that fellow, Nuck. Let him be.”

“But think how he used me the other night when I was trying to find out about that man in the woods! I don’t like him.”

“Well, we can’t like everybody in this world,” said Bolderwood, philosophically. “We gotter take folks as we find ’em–that’s my motter. You let the Injin stay. He’s come to help and to have the fun arterward; you sent ’round the invitation pretty promisc’us like, an’ I calkerlate you can’t ask him to leave ’thout makin’ yerself mighty onpop’lar. Take my advice an’ let him stay.”

So, much against his will, Enoch did so. But he and the Indian lad avoided each other and nothing Crow Wing did could gain any word of approbation from his young host. However, Crow Wing and Bolderwood were in time to help do the heaviest of the work and soon the last stump was out of the soil and piled upon a flaming pyre. The several bonfires could not spread to the underbrush, so the boys were able to leave them for the time and rush away to the creek for a swim before dinner. After they had washed off the smut and smoke, they engaged in races and in diving matches until the horn blew to recall them to the house. In all aquatic sports Lot Breckenridge was the master, for even Crow Wing could not perform the tricks that he could, nor could the Indian swim so far nor so fast.

Mistress Harding had arranged two long tables outside the cabin, making them of planks and “horses,” and spreading her unbleached sheets over them for table-cloths. The girls had picked flowers and decorated the tables very prettily. There were all kinds and conditions of dishes for use–earthen, tin, pewter, and even wooden bowls carved out of “whorls.” And as for spoons and knives and forks–well, they were very scarce indeed. But every boy carried a pocket or hunting knife, and some had even been thoughtful enough to bring a knife and fork from home. Nevertheless, despite the lack of articles which we now consider the commonest of possessions, the table manners of these pioneer boys and girls were very good. They were on their best behavior while visiting, and the presence of the girls had a good influence on the boys.

The dinner was not to be the great meal of the day, for the boys did not wish to eat too much before the activities of the afternoon. Mistress Harding and the big girls had promised several dainties for supper, among which was a berry pudding, the girls having picked the berries that morning while their brothers were clearing the stumpage. The day before Enoch had shot a quantity of wood-pigeons, too, and there was to be a huge pigeon pie baked in the Dutch oven. There could be no stuffed lamb on this occasion, however; sheep were too hard to raise and the pioneers tasted mutton but seldom, for the fleece was too valuable for them to kill the animal which supplied it. But Bolderwood had brought in a fawn which he had hung until it was of the right flavor, and this was dressed and roasted like a young kid. When the boys heard of these good things it almost took their appetites away at the dinner table, for they did not wish to eat more than was absolutely necessary before the holiday supper.

They were quickly back in the new lot, raked the fires together, flung the last root and chip on the blaze, and then repaired to the level meadow by the riverside where the games were to take place. The meadow had been mown some days before (they always got two mowings a season off the rich creek bottoms) and the new grass had sprung up just enough to be soft and velvety to the feet. Off came the shoes and stockings of those boys who had been trammeled by such articles of attire–all except Crow Wing. He still wore his moccasins. The foot-races were to come first, and Bolderwood and Lot carefully measured the distance along the bank where the land was almost level, setting stakes at either end of the course. It was not a long run and everybody lined up for the first trial and they charged down upon the further stake like a gang of wild colts. Crow Wing, Enoch, Lot, and Robbie Baker were easily ahead of the others, and they with two more who had shown promise, were lined up for a second trial. This was really to be the contest and the six prepared to do their best, while the onlookers, girls and all, cheered their favorites.

Bolderwood lined up the half dozen youths very carefully. The white boys had thrown aside their outer shirts so as to give the freer play to their muscles. Crow Wing wore but one upper garment anyway, and he made no change in his dress excepting to pull his belt a little tighter. When the ranger had them placed to his satisfaction and all had signified that they were ready, he started them off with a shout. This time the race was to be down to the further post and back again, each contestant being obliged to go around the post before turning back, and a watch was set there that no one should make a mistake in this. There was a swift patter of feet on the sod for a minute and then Crow Wing and Enoch forged ahead. They rounded the stake almost together and came down the home stretch far in the lead of the other contestants. First the white boy was ahead, then the Indian, and finally when the race ended they were elbow to elbow and one not an inch in advance of the other!

The spectators cheered lustily, but the race must be run over by these two to learn who really was the winner. Bolderwood allowed them a few minutes between the trials; but the Indian did not seem to need the rest. He still breathed easily, while Enoch lay panting on the sod. The white boy finally went to the line with the assurance in his own heart that he should be beaten; but he was too plucky to give up the fight without trying again. This race was even more hardly contested than the others had been and although it was apparent that Crow Wing ran more easily than did Enoch, the latter worked so hard that it was doubtful for a time whether the Indian could win after all. Enoch ran until his knees almost gave under him and his breath came in great gasps from his chest. Had he been a less healthy and active boy he might have permanently injured himself from the overstrain of the contest. As it was, Crow Wing managed to cross the line first and was pronounced champion.

Enoch had just strength enough to shake the winner’s hand before he fell upon the grass, and there he lay exhausted while the other boys held a “potato race” and jumped hurdles. It provoked young Harding terribly to see how seemingly fresh Crow Wing still was, while he was nearly dead with fatigue. He began to take interest in the proceedings, however, when his brother Bryce won the potato race after a close contest with Robbie Baker; and rejoiced when Lot beat Crow Wing in jumping. “That red rascal ain’t goin’ to beat everybody here,” thought Enoch, and he got up and ceased sulking.

The wrestling match was the last of the day’s sports. Bolderwood paired the boys off to the best of his judgment for the first bout; but the winners drew lots to see who they should wrestle with the second time. Lot had Crow Wing for an antagonist on this occasion, and Enoch was paired with Smith Hubbard, a hulking great fellow, bigger and taller than any other boy in the crowd. But he was also slower and more awkward than most, having won his first throw by sheer weight rather than skill. Enoch threw him fairly at the second trial, while the Indian lad quite as easily worsted young Breckenridge.

The winners drew again and Enoch had quite a tug with another contestant; but Crow Wing put his antagonist on the ground three times in succession, and with apparent ease. It was plain that the match was to end with another contest between the Indian and Enoch Harding and the interest waxed high. Enoch was determined to keep his head and control his temper this time. Crow Wing was nominally his guest and he played fair; there was no reason why he should not bear off all the honors if he could do so. But the white boy determined to give the red the fight of his life for the honor of champion wrestler.

Enoch had long been considered the best wrestler among the boys of his age. Although Lot was older and taller than him, he threw the bigger boy easily. Crow Wing had quite as easily worsted young Breckenridge; but when the Indian and Enoch finally faced each other in the ring the latter gritted his teeth and determined to put forth every ounce of strength, and use every legitimate trick he knew, to beat his antagonist.

He had recovered his wind now and felt fresh and strong. He measured the lithe form of Crow Wing before the word was given and saw that, although the Indian was doubtless stronger than he in the legs and through the loins, where much of the strain comes in a wrestling match, his own arms and shoulders were much better. Crow Wing ran a great deal, or walked. He was on the trail almost continually, and thus his leg muscles were splendidly developed. Whereas the white boy swung an axe or wielded a hoe almost every day and the upper part of his body was in excellent condition. He saw that if he could seize Crow Wing quickly and with a first effort overpower him, the victory would be his.

So he went into the wrestling match with the intention of getting a “down” at once, and the first round was over almost before Crow Wing knew what Enoch was about. “A fair fall! a fair fall!” cried the boys, and danced about the pair as it was seen that both Crow Wing’s hips and his shoulders were squarely on the turf. The Indian rose slowly, evidently much surprised by the white boy’s tactics. If he was angry he did not show it. His face was as passive as ever.

“Quick work that,” said Bolderwood. “You’ll have to wake up, Crow Wing, if you want to get the best of Nuck.”

“Hurrah for Nuck!” shouted the boys.

But the second trial was another matter. Crow Wing approached warily. He feinted several times and then leaped away when Enoch tried to seize him as he had before. He had felt the power of the white boy’s muscles, and he did not propose to allow a second quick stroke. Enoch followed him around the ring and finally clutched him, but at arms’ length. It was not a good hold; he knew it on the instant. But he had as good a chance as Crow Wing and there they were, swaying to and fro, and panting for several minutes, before either obtained the advantage.

Finally the Indian lad forced Enoch over his leg and slowly, yet determinedly, pushed him backward to the ground. When they fell Crow Wing was on top, but it was several moments ere he managed to force Enoch’s shoulders and hips to the earth together. The second round was declared won by Crow Wing and the boys took a rest before the third and final one. Enoch was glad to see that his antagonist suffered as much as he did this time, laboring for breath and with his face and arms covered with perspiration. When Bolderwood called them for the third round the Indian flung off his hunting shirt, thus showing that he considered the white boy a worthy antagonist indeed.

Enoch was more confident than before. He saw that he could not repeat his first quick throw; but he would not be deceived again into getting any uncertain hold. Crow Wing continued his former tactics, but Enoch simply followed him about, feinting as well as the Indian, and at last, when Crow Wing ran in, thinking he had a chance for an under hold, he caught him like a young bear and hugged him to his chest until the breath was fairly forced from the other’s lungs. Although taller than the white boy the Indian was not so heavy and this display of muscle startled him. With one arm caught between his own body and Enoch’s he could do little to help himself and Enoch squeezed hard before he let him go. Then, with a quick toss, stooping as he made it, Enoch flung him, long legs and all, over his shoulder, and before Crow Wing could rise he was upon him and held him down. The Indian was so breathless that it was a small matter for Enoch to get the “four points” necessary to win the fall and he rose at last triumphant.

The boys and girls cheered him and Bolderwood said he was a good wrestler, and then Crow Wing, who had slipped into his shirt again, came to him and said, with a still impassive face: “Umph! white boy big wrestler–beat Crow Wing fair!” He held out his hand gravely and, after shaking Enoch’s, stalked away while the others were busy, his absence being unnoticed until it came time to go up to the house for supper. “Guess he didn’t like being licked,” said Robbie Baker to Enoch. “You better look out for him, Nuck. My pa says them Injins is as treacherous as wolves.”

But somehow Enoch felt that Crow Wing was a better friend to him than he had been before. Something in the Indian’s handshake seemed to have told him this. The supper was quite as good as the boys had expected. After the meal they shot at a target under ’Siah Bolderwood’s direction and Robbie Baker, son of the greatest shot in the settlement, as was expected, bore off the honors. The company went home through the forest trails by moonlight and thus ended a long and happy day, in which much that was useful had been accomplished as well as a “good time” enjoyed.

As Enoch stood at the door of the cabin and watched the red glow from the fires in the newly cleared lot, he went over in his mind the incidents of the day. Such holidays were not plentiful in his life. It was mostly work and little play, and he would remember this occasion for many months. He did not suspect how many months would elapse, and how many momentous happenings would occur, before he saw all his young friends together once again.