"How come they don't get on back here?" Elaphelet Birdwell asked himself. "They been gone long enough to find forty-leven trails by now." It wasn't right for them to take off and leave an eleven-year-old boy all alone with the old man and the loaded pack horses while they tramped through the woods hunting a way down off this mountaintop. Somebody should have stayed to keep him company, one of the hunters with his rifle. This was Injun country, if it was anybody's. Whoever the redskins found here, they weren't going to feel kindly toward....
I recently won an auction of "vintage" children's books, none of which I remember reading. This one was published in 1965 and would have appealed mostly to boy readers back in the day, I imagine (politically correct or not!). The plot was simple: an 11-year-old boy is hired to accompany 4 adult men and do all the grunt work on a buffalo hunt on land belonging at the time to native Americans. There was a lot of action and suspense, but no real heroes. In fact, most of the adults believed the "Indians" were spawn of the devil and felt perfectly entitled to all the skins they could take back with them on their pack horses. If you believe in karma, you'd enjoy what became of the hunting party's spoils. There was no bloodshed to speak of in this story, and the young hero (though not recognized as such) performed some daring deeds. The dialog, which may be fairly realistic for the time and region (lots of talk about "Virginny" and "Caroliny") but there were certain phrases used that did not ring true to me; they simply didn't make any sense. Believe me, having been born and raised in the South, I have read a wealth of southern historical fiction and heard for myself the way my grandparents spoke. I will continue reading through my treasures but this book didn't impress me.