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WADING<br />

Saved<br />

through icy water,<br />

carrying their children and<br />

household goods through the<br />

crashing surf, the Pilgrims faced death<br />

and starvation on the bleak, wintry<br />

coast of Plymouth.<br />

They stood on a bare rock, but their<br />

eyes were fixed on the stars. They had<br />

come to tear a new nation from a wild,<br />

unchartered wilderness. Little did they<br />

know half their number would perish<br />

in the attempt.<br />

They hLiilt a log fort at the foot of<br />

the hill, staked otT plots for spring gar-<br />

dens, cut logs and stalked game in a<br />

fearless way that interested the SLilking<br />

Indians.<br />

But the Pilgrims were losing their battle<br />

with starvation. They sat huddled<br />

around their small fires. Their faces<br />

were pinched and white, eyes deepsunken.<br />

Those claimed by death were<br />

42<br />

.-_L<br />

'^ V. ->, (.-^ )^ ^-<br />

This story is about the huinble<br />

beginning of agriculture in our<br />

country. As you read compare<br />

it with our land of plenty as we know it.<br />

Corn links fhe past to the present.<br />

It saved the Pilgrims from starvation<br />

that first dreary winter at Plymouth.<br />

buried in the dead of night so the Indians<br />

wouldn't guess their weakness.<br />

The savages became bolder and<br />

bolder, creeping stealthily through the<br />

wintry woods to peer in through the<br />

w indow of the log building. They were<br />

amazed to see the pale, conquered faces.<br />

And why not? The savages had prepared<br />

themselves for the winter. Their<br />

lodges were hung with dried venison<br />

and fish, and stored with grain and dried<br />

berries. They faced no famine.<br />

Indian runners ran like red leaves<br />

before a howling gale to bring news<br />

of the starving Pilgrims to their great<br />

chief, Massasoit. Faces were painted<br />

and war axes were sharpened to a keen<br />

edge. They could wipe out these<br />

strangers with one bold stroke.<br />

It v\as Massasoit who puzzled over<br />

the question. Should they kill or make<br />

friends w ith these people who had come<br />

The Indians— unofficially—were our<br />

first farm specialists. This statue<br />

of Chief Massasoit Is at Plymouth.<br />

A reproduction of the first fort and<br />

meeting house at Plymouth. It was used<br />

for protection and church services.<br />

The <strong>National</strong> FUTURE F.\RMER<br />

By Kelvin Wallace Coventry<br />

out of the sea? His word was law!<br />

His decision would mean life or death<br />

for the struggling colonists.<br />

At last he went to a mound of earth<br />

—an Indian treasure mound. His face<br />

was as expressionless as a rock. He<br />

opened the mound and brought forth<br />

heavy baskets filled with small kernels<br />

of grain, yellow, red and black— Indian<br />

corn that was more precious than golden<br />

coins. Massasoit made his decision.<br />

It was .Squanto, the Indian farmer,<br />

who later that spring made friends with<br />

the Pilgrims and taught them how to<br />

plant a corn crop. The corn was<br />

planted in hills with three herring used<br />

in each hill as fertilizer.<br />

How did the Indians know when to<br />

(Continued on Page 44)

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