Right outside of Sutters Fort somewhere, probably sometime in late April or May of 1847; a zealous indian girl rescues one of the Donner kids from drowning. This was after they were rescued from the snow in the mountains, this was after they received the news of the terrible demise of their parents. Could the pond be the same one that is there today?--probably not. Often, we trudged to the Rancheria beyond the pond, made by the adobe-moulders who had built the houses and wall surrounding the fort. There the Indian mothers were good to us. They gave us shreds of smoked fish and dried acorns to eat; lowered from their backs the queer little baby-beds, called bickooses, and made me chubby faces in them laugh for our amusement. They also let us pet the dogs that perked up their ears and wagged their tails as our own Uno used to do what he wanted to frolic. Sometimes they strokeed our hair and rubbed the locks between their fingers, then felt their own as if to note the difference. They seemed sorry because we could not understand their speech. The pond also, with its banks of flowers, winding path, and dimpling waters, had charms for us until one days experience drove us from it forever. We three were playing near it when a joyous indian girl with a bundle of clothes on her head ran down the bank to the waters edge. We, following, watched her drop her bundle near a board that sloped from a rock into natures tub, then kneel upon the upper end and souse the clothes merrily up and down in the clear water. She lathered them with a freshly gathered soap-root and cleansed them according to the ways of the Spanish mission teachers. As she tied the wet garments in a bundle and turned to carry them to the drying ground, Francis espied some loose yellow poppies floating near the end of the board and lay down upon it for the purpose of catching them. Georgia and I saw her lean over and stretch out her hand as far as she could reach; saw the poppies drift just beyond her fingertips; saw her lean a little farther, then slip, head first, into the deep water. Such shrieks as terrified children give, brought the Indian girl quickly to our aid. Like a flash, she tossed the bundle from her head, sprang into the water, snatched Francis as she rose to the surface, and restored her to us without a word. Before we had recovered sufficiently to speak, she was gone.
Posted on: Mon, 26 May 2014 01:25:20 +0000
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