Indian Captive: The Story of Mary Jemison

by Lois Lenski

Molly was to remember those words of her mother’s and how she looked when she said them, to the very end of her life.

“No matter where you are, Mary, my child, have courage, be brave! It don’t matter what happens, if you’re only strong and have great courage. Don’t forget your own name or your father’s and mother’s. Don’t forget to speak in English. Say your prayers and catechism to yourself each day the way I learned you—God will be listening. Say them again and again…don’t forget, oh, don’t forget! You’re a-goin’ now…God bless you, Mary, my child, God…go…with…you…”

Courage was better than fear, Molly said to herself. Courage helped not only yourself but others. She must have courage, not only for herself but for Davy.

With Straight Arrow leading the way,

Behind the children Bow-Legs walked, whip in hand.

and a string of wampum—a belt of beads with design of sacred meaning—

The old Indian, Shagbark,

Certain things, certain little things she saw and always remembered long afterward when Fort Duquesne had faded to a dim and uncertain memory. An outdoor bake-oven and several well-sweeps stood before the row of doorways. A boy carried a pailful of water across the yard. Near a corner, from a log building, two cows put out their heads, mooing contentedly. A Frenchman went whistling past the door, carrying hay on a wooden pitchfork. Beside the barn was a tiny garden where plants and fruit trees grew in rows. One of the trees was a peach tree and because it was April, the tree was in blossom.

The loss of her companions seemed unbearable and yet she knew that she must bear it.

She prayed to God for strength and guidance on the long, dark path that lay before her.

“My son,” said the old man, solemnly, “I am proud of you. When a man has killed a deer, he is a great hunter.” Then he turned to Running Deer. “My son,” he said, “of you, too, I am proud and that justly.”