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Updated: May 3, 2025
The wind sighed. The steady drip of the rain, filtering through the vines twisted heavily about the oak trunks, was indescribably mournful. Suddenly the nameless terror that had crept into the girl's veins that first night in the Seminole camp came again. "When the Mulberry Moon is at its full," she said shuddering, "I will go back to the van with Keela.
There had been a girl who cried. And he had laughed and shrugged and voiced an ironical philosophy of sex for her consolation. There was no philosophy of sex, only a hideous injustice which Man, the Hunter, willfully ignored. There were faces in the fire faces like that of Keela, that had lured to sensual conquest and faded. Trembling violently, Carl stared long and steadily at the Indian girl.
Keela, with shy and delightful gravity, slipped wide-eyed into the niceties of civilization, coiled her heavy hair in the fashion of Diane and copied her dress naïvely.
It's the most interesting thing I've dared in ages and Dad's been very decent about it. Dad always did understand me. He has a sense of humor." Diane and Carl followed, laughing, at her heels. Ann presently found her mother and Keela and unaware of the astonished interest in Carl's eyes, presented him. "The Black Palmer!" said Keela naïvely.
And if Keela occasionally found a brace of ducks by the camp fire or a bass in a nest of green palmetto, she wisely said nothing, sensing the barrier between these two and wondering greatly.
After the birth of his daughter, a tiny little elf whom Nanca has named "Red-winged Blackbird," he tried to run away, and the Indians killed him. Red-winged Blackbird! Keela then was the child of the artist! The old Spaniard in his gruff and haughty way has been kind to Grant and me. He's not well some obscure cardiac trouble from which he suffers at times most horribly.
Now the firelit palmetto roof of the wigwam he knew to be Diane's seemed somehow, to his distorted fancy, redder than the others the color of blood. There, too, was the wigwam of Keela, bringing taunting desire. A crowd of Seminoles rode into camp and, dismounting, led their horses away. Carl watched them gather about the steaming sof-ka kettles on the fires, handing the spoon from mouth to mouth.
For an instant his face flamed scarlet, then it grew white and hard and very grim. "Go!" said Diane and buried her face in her hands. With no final word of extenuation Philip went. Diane stumbled hurriedly through the trees to Keela's camp and touched the Indian girl frantically upon the shoulder. "Keela," she cried desperately, "wake! wake! It's sunrise.
When he awoke after a brief interval of restless slumber, it was not yet daylight, though the sky in the east was softly streaked with color. The moon hung low. A fire crackled in the center of a clearing. The horses were tethered to a tree. Keela was off somewhere with bow and arrow to hunt their breakfast.
"That they did not take a child away from the Indian village as the paper in the candlestick declares " "And the daughter of Theodomir?" "Is Keela. They left her by the old chief's wigwam." Diane stared. Carl, traveling north after a day of earnest discussion in his cousin's camp, thought much of the second candlestick. Since that night in Philip's wigwam, it had haunted him persistently.
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