27. THIRTY CABINS ON THE HILL-SIDE.

The village on the hill-side grew,

Thirty cabins on the hill-side,

And all worked hard to feed the crew,

Hunting, fishing, weaving baskets.

Dwelling here within the forest,

In the sunshine and the shadow,

While the years were rolling onward,

Other children came and other

Cabins rose beside the river

In the shadow of the forest,

Till the cabins made a village —

Thirty cabins on the hill-side.

Through this little Indian village,

Ran a wood-land stream a-winding

Down the side of Ragged Mountain,

Small and scarcely seen in summer,

“Mud-pie Place” for Indian children,

Playing on the mountain side —

Mighty in the early spring time,

When the winter snows were melting;

Mighty in the sultry summer

Midst the flashing of the lightning,

Midst the rolling of the thunder,

Midst the heavy driven showers

On the mountain and the valley.

Many children in the village,

Children playing on the island,

On the island in the river,

Playing‘ round their mimic wigwams,

Thinking they were mighty hunters

Seeking game among the bushes.

Children climbing to the tree-tops,

Children roosting on the branches,

Playing they were sleepy chickens,

Roosting out of reach of foxes.

Many little voices crying,

Many little feet to cover

When the winter snows were falling.

Many baskets to be woven

To exchange for food and clothing.

Many fishing in the river,

Seeking food for hungry children.

Many hunting in the forest,

Many making bows and arrows

For the hunting of the squirrel

And the lovely wood-land pussy.

Walking bravely through the forest,

That the village may not suffer,

That the food may be sufficient.