Alice was left handed. So when she took position, she leaned over
to the right, supporting her body with that arm, while with the
other hand she tossed the little jagged pieces of stone aloft,
snatching up the others, and letting the one that was going up and
down in the air drop into her chubby palm.
She had been playing perhaps ten minutes, when she found someone
was watching her.
She did not see him at first, but heard a low, deep "Huh!" partly
at one side and partly behind her.
Instead of glancing around, she finished the turn of the game on
which she was engaged just then. That done, she clasped all the
Jack Stones in her hand, assumed the upright posture, and looked
behind her.
"I thought it was you, Omas," she said with a merry laugh; "do you
want to play Jack Stones with me?"
If you could have seen the person whom she thus addressed, you
would have thought it a strange way of speaking.
He was an Indian warrior, belonging to the tribe of Delawares.
Those who knew about him said he was one of the fiercest red men
that ever went on the warpath. A few years before, there had been
a massacre of the settlers, and Omas was foremost among the Indians
who swung the tomahawk and fired his rifle at the white people.
He was tall, sinewy, active, and powerful.
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