The Mexican Twins

One bright warm noonday in May of the year 1638, Goodwife Pepperellopened the door of her little log cabin, and, screening her eyes fromthe sun with a toilworn hand, looked about in every direction, asif searching for some one. She was a tall, spare woman, with a firmmouth, keen blue eyes, and a look of patient endurance in her face,bred by the stern life of pioneer New England. Far away across thepasture which sloped southward from the cabin she could see longmeadow grass waving in the breeze, and beyond a thread of blue waterwhere the Charles River flowed lazily to the sea. Westward there wasalso pasture land where sheep were grazing, and in the distance aglimpse of the thatched roofs of the little village of Cambridge.Goodwife Pepperell gazed long and earnestly in this direction, andthen, making a trumpet of her hands, sent a call ringing across thesilent fields. "Nancy! Daniel!" she shouted.She was answered only by the tinkle of sheep bells. A shade of anxietyclouded the blue eyes as she went round to the back of the cabin andlooked toward the dense forest which bounded her vision on the north.Stout-hearted though she was, Goodwife Pepperell could never forgetthe terrors which lay concealed behind that mysterious rampart ofgreen. Not only were there wolves and deer and many other wildcreatures hidden in its depths, but it sheltered also the perpetualmenace of the Indians. Toward the east, at some distance from thecabin, corn-fields stretched to salt meadows, and beyond, across thebay, she could see the three hills of Boston town.[1][Footnote 1: See map.]As no answering shout greeted her from this direction either, theGoodwife stepped quickly toward a hollow stump which stood a shortdistance from the cabin. Beside the stump a slender birch tree bentbeneath the weight of a large circular piece of wood hung to its topby a leather thong. This was the samp-mill, where their corn waspounded into meal. Seizing the birch tree with her hands, she broughtthe wooden pestle down into the hollow stump with a resounding thump.The birch tree sprang back lifting the block with it and again shepulled it down and struck the stump another blow, then paused tolisten. This time there was, beside the echo, an answering shout, andin a few moments two heads appeared above the rows of young corn justpeeping out of the ground, two pairs of lively bare feet came flyingacross the garden patch, and a breathless boy and girl stood besidetheir mother.