82 The Catskill Fairies.

 

shadowy forest, and glared with looks of hatred at him. Their
faces were dusky in hue—not at all like the baby’s fair race—
and they wore gay feathers nodding above their long, black
hair, while their step was as light and swift as that of the shy
wild animals they pursued in the chase. Yes, and these dark
people were not content with frightening the baby by scowling
at him; they gave shrill whoops and cries, and, twanging their
bows, shot arrows at him which pricked smartly. The West
Wind had a cure for these wounds, the balm of courage and
hope.

“T am speaking about the Indians. Perhaps the Summer