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When James Smith, or Scouwa, had been some years among the Indians, he was in a winter camp with two of his adopted brothers. The younger of these, with his family, went away to another place. Scouwa was left with the older brother and his little son. The older brother was a very wise Indian. He had thought much about many things.
From time to time Scouwa succeeded in killing a deer. But at last there came a crust of snow. Whenever the hunter tried to creep up to a deer, the crust would break under his feet with a little crash, and the noise would frighten the deer away. After a while there was no food in the cabin. Once Scouwa hunted two days without coming back to the cabin, and with nothing to eat.
Then he dropped the smoking bundles of rotten wood one after another down into the bear's den, and quickly slid to the ground again. The bear did not like smoke. After a while he crawled out of the hole to get breath. Scouwa shot him. He hung the bear meat out of the reach of wolves, and carried back to the hut all that he could take at one time.
He pushed on the block that he had used for a door, but three feet of snow had fallen during the night. All his strength would not move the block. He was a prisoner under the snow. Not one ray of light could get into this dark hole. Scouwa was now frightened. Not knowing what to do, he lay down again and wrapped his blanket round him, and tried to think of a way to get out.
The Indians were on the side of the French. Scouwa heard that there were prisoners from his country who were to be sent back in exchange for French prisoners. He slipped away from the Indians, and went to Montreal. Here he put himself among the other prisoners. After a while the prisoners were sent back to their own country. Scouwa came to his own family again. They did not know that he was alive.
When he had gone five miles, he saw a tree which a bear had taken for its winter home. The hole in the tree was far from the ground. Scouwa made some bundles of dry, half-rotten wood. These he put on his back, and then climbed a small tree that stood close to the one with a hole in it. The rotten wood he touched to a burning stick from a fire he had kindled.
He fixed a block for a kind of door, so as to close this hole by drawing the door shut when he was inside. When the hole was shut, it was dark in the tree. But James, or Scouwa as he was called, could stand up in the tree. He broke up rotten wood to make a bed like a large goose nest. He danced up and down on his bed till he was warm.
While he was resting here, they were building up a large fire in the open air. Scouwa's Indian brother asked him to come out to the fire. Then all the Indians young and old, gathered about him. His Indian brother now asked him to tell what had happened to him. Scouwa began at the beginning, and told all that had occurred. The Indians listened with much eagerness.
The old man and the boy were greatly pleased when they heard that there was bear meat as well as buffalo meat in plenty. After this they had food enough. The next year after this hard winter in the woods, the Indians that Scouwa lived with went down the River St. Lawrence to Canada. At this time Canada belonged to the French. The French were at war with the English, to whom Pennsylvania belonged.
The Indians gave James an Indian name. They called him Scouwa. The Indians gave him a gun. Once when they trusted him to go into the woods alone, he got lost, and staid out all night. Then they took away his gun, and gave him a bow and arrow, such as boys carried. For nearly two years he had to carry a bow and arrows like a boy. He was once left behind when there was a great snowstorm.
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