Ten brave little Indians were once camped in a dangerous wood, way far back where ancient white oaks stood. The trees were large, knobby and bald, for the leaves had fallen. The season was Fall. The night was young. The campfire flickered and chased the shadows, while overhead the branches whispered. The moon had pulled the clouds up over it's head and was sleeping with a sleep much like the sleep of the dead. Oh, by the way, did I tell you that the woods were dark?
Out in the forest beyond the fire's warm glow the creatures of the night were on the go. Both the fierce and the timid were out in the wood. There was the roar of the beast and the squeal of it's prey, the rustle of leaves, the snapping of twigs, the shattering of silence, the howling of winds, the singing of crickets, and the croaking of frogs. But the scariest sound of them all, to each of those brave little Indians camped in the wood, was the pounding of his heart like the Rhomp- A-Pom-Pom of a drum.
Ten little Indians alone in the wood. Each one equally as brave as the one beside whom he stood. As is often the case, more like always no doubt, there is one in each group who wishes to stand out. "I am the stoutest by far," said He. "And to prove it I will venture out and slay a creature more fierce than even me. For I am cunning like the red-footed thief, swift like the hunter that swoops from the sky, and mighty like the great beast with silver in its mane. Count your fingers and toes times nine and I will return with whatever I've slain."
Nine little Indians stayed glued by the fire as the first little Indian notched his arrow and stole out of there. Into the darkness he leapt with a bound, so light on his feet he made not a sound. There was the roar of the beast and the squeal of it's prey, the rustle of leaves, the snapping of twigs, the shattering of silence, the howling of winds, the singing of crickets, and the croaking of frogs. But the scariest sound of them all were nine little hearts, each one pounding like the Rhomp-A-Pom-Pom of a drum.
Nine little Indians stood with heads bowed low for their friend had not returned like he had said he would. Some beast had devoured him no doubt. Yet, from out of the darkness he came with a bound. "At arms! At arms!" He shouted. "Slay the beast. It's right on my heels." Nine little arrows were notched in their bows, searching the darkness for signs of the brute. But no beast could be seen.
The flames reached out and tickled the shadows that cavorted about while overhead, the branches hushed their whispering that they might better hear. But the beast came not near. He was lurking without. The first little Indian confronted his friends. "I am brave like the Badger," said he. "I fight like the Beaver gnaws at a tree. My arrows can fly like a Bat through a cave. But I cannot slay what I cannot see."
The nine little Indians could only agree. But the first spoke on. "You do not see. The darkness is not why I could not see. I could not see because this beast was forever back of me. No matter which way I turned, it shifted as well, just as quickly as me. First it was at one side of the wood, then the other. I would turn to the west, it was back to the east. I would turn to the south, it was back to the north. The more I ventured the closer it came. It was a tricky beast. But I guessed at it's game.
It was mimicking the sound of the Owl: ["WHO! WHO!"] The more I stalked it, the more it gained in it's stalking of me. I ask you, how does one confront a Beast that only sneaks up from behind? My friends, I am not scared in the least. But let us stay by the fire and not venture without. Else we might get eaten by the Hide-behind Beast."
The tenth little Indian spoke aloud to his friends. "The fire, I fear, is burning low. See how the shadows are dancing near. Soon we will be at the mercy of that beast who lurks in the dark. Someone must go forth and get wood for the fire. I shall volunteer. For I can move like smoke through the folds of a buffalo robe. I will go unseen and return with wood for the fire." The tenth little Indian merged into the dancing shadows to gather the fallen wood. He moved with the ease of smoke as it finds its way through the folds of a Buffalo robe. He had not ventured very far when there was a rustle close behind, and he quite plainly heard a "WHO," and then there were NINE.
The ninth little Indian spoke aloud to his friends. "I fear our comrade has been eaten. The fire is burning lower still and we yet have any wood to feed her. Perhaps if two of us should venture forth on opposite sides of the fire, one of us might be able to sneak up behind the Beast while it is sneaking up behind the other. I will go. For I move with less sound than the shadow that follows close at my heel."
"And I shall go," spoke up the eighth little Indian, "for I am quick like the bite of a snake. It is a very good plan. I will enter the woods from the left of the fire. You enter the woods from the opposite side. The beast will sneak up behind one of us and the other of us shall sneak up behind the beast and slay it with his arrow."
The two brave little Indians moved silently into the night. One worked around the fire from the left, the other from the right. The ninth little Indian could truly move as quietly as his very own shadow. He stole from tree to tree. Often he would pause to listen for sounds of the frightful beast. Many moments passed before he heard a gentle rustling of the leaves just ahead. "Perhaps it is the Hide- behind," he thought. He notched his arrow and stole forward. "What moves there?" he asked with a whisper.
"It is I," answered Little Indian number eight.
"Who?" asked Little Indian number nine. Alas! He heard the sudden "SWOOSH!" of an arrow, the "TWANG!" of a bow, something struck him a blow, and then there were EIGHT.
Little Indian number eight sprang forward. "Oh happy day!" He shouted. "I have slain the Hide-behind." But, sad day, his joy was short lived. His arrow had felled little Indian number nine. The little warrior was beside himself with grief. "Whom? Whom? You should have asked, Whom? Now I have gone and injured you." He stooped over his fallen friend.
"WHO?" spoke a voice behind him and quite close to his ear.
"Why, I have shot my frien ...." answered Little Indian number Eight. And suddenly there were only SEVEN.
The seventh little Indian spoke aloud to his friends. "I fear our comrades have been eaten. The fire is burning lower still and we yet have any fuel to feed her. If we remain here we will soon be at the mercy of the beast that stalks us. Let us place our backs together and venture forth as a group and as one we may escape the forest."
Seven little Indians put their shoulders together and edged away from the fire. Seven little arrows were notched into seven little bows. The terrain was harsh, however the group managed to keep their backs together, even while inching their way between and around the large trees. It looked like the plan might succeed and yet .... Indian number seven tripped. Yes, his moccasin caught on a root and he fell. This caused an opening within the walls of the group. There was an immediate "WHO!" that sounded from behind them, directly in the middle of the group, and yet close to each ear. Seven little Indians panicked and scattered like bees flushed from a hive. However, now there were only SIX.
Six little Indians fleeing through the woods, running as fast as only little Indians could. The night was dark. The trees were large. One little Indian slammed into a tree and suddenly there were only FIVE.
Way far behind there sounded a "WHO!" as five little Indians ran as fast as they could. Dodging and ducking, (there sounded another "WHO!"), tripping and crawling, (there sounded another "WHO!" much closer this time), clawing through vines and wading through streams. The fifth little Indian stepped on an Alligator and then there were FOUR.
Four little Indians came to a halt. "Let us lie on the ground," spoke Indian number four. With our backs to the Earth he can't sneak up behind." Four little Indians lay on the ground. "It is a good plan," said the little Indian. "We will lie here until morning." The wind blowed gently, the frogs croaked, the crickets sang, and something went, "SCRITCH! ... SCRITCH!" beneath little Indian number four. Beneath him, and close to his ear, there sounded a "WHO!" and then there were only THREE.
Three little Indians sprang to their feet. "The beast is cunning. It has burrowed beneath our comrade and gobbled him up. Let us find a large stone to lie atop. Surely It cannot dig through rock." They ran on and on for quite some time. The beast followed behind them, gaining as only a Hide-behind can.
"WHO!" ....................... "WHO!" .............. "WHO!" ..... "WHO!"
Soon the little Indians felt the earth change to stone beneath their moccasins. The three little Indians lay down with their backs to the rock. "It is a good plan," said little Indian number three. "No Creature can scratch through solid rock. We will lie here until morning." The wind blowed gently, the frogs croaked, the crickets sang, and something went "SNIFF! ... SNIFF!" up close, near the face of Indian number three. A Grizzly Bear had found him, and then there were TWO.
Two little Indians jumped to their feet. "This is not a good plan," said little Indian number two. "Not good at all. Let us run back to the fire and fight him off there. I am brave. I can stand my ground like a deep rooted tree. But I need the fire so that I can see." They turned around and raced back to the camp. The Hide- behind chased close at their heels.
"WHO! ................. WHO! ......... WHO!"
Gaining. So fast was the Beast that it gained with each step. The two little warriors raced on and on. They could not see, so they followed their nose. The wood smoke was floating on the breeze. Behind them there sounded a "WHO!"
Soon the campfire appeared through the trees, twinkling like a far off star. With a triumphant shout, the first little Indian leapt out of the darkness into the circle of light. Behind him there sounded a "WHO!" He spun about to face the darkness. The fire was weak. The shadows were dancing on the toes of his moccasins. The winds blowed gently, the frogs croaked, the crickets sang and he was all alone. There was only ONE.
The one little Indian backed up to the fire. The flames singed his heels and his backside got exceedingly warm. The arrow was notched in his bow. His head was held high. His jaw was firm. His eyes were sharp. His chest was filled with pride. And his heart was surprisingly calm. He stood his ground like the deep rooted tree. He leaned into the darkness. The flames died out. The darkness closed about him and still he did not move. His hands gripped his weapon. His chin was held high. He was coiled like a spring. Awaiting only one thing. It came!
Suddenly! It snuck up behind him! Without a hint of warning. There was not even a whisper. It was quite close to his ear .... and directly behind him.
"WHO! ... WHO!"
Only. It did not end there. The Hide Behind Beast continued to cry:
"WHOOO!"................. "WOOO!"............... "WOOOOOO .... OOOOOO .... OOOOoooooooooooo!"
"YIP!" ..... "YIP!" ...... "YIP!" .... "YEEEOWWWW! ...."
The Hide-behind was standing in a bed of hot coals. The little Indian sprang about and let loose with his bow. The Hide-behind heard the "SWOOSH!" of an arrow, he heard the "TWANG!" of the bow, he felt a thump on his brisket, and he flipped onto his head in the hot coals. The flames sprang to life and devoured the Beast. There was soon nothing left of the Hide-behind but a pile of smoldering ashes.
Ten little Indians once camped overnight in a dangerous forest. The following day, the first little Indian returned to his tribe. His body was bruised but his spirit was sound. He carried an arrow notched in his bow and he kept glancing behind himself as if fearful he was being followed. His buckskins were muddy and torn. His moccasins were singed and worn. Though he held his chin high, an aching sadness weighed on his heart. He had conquered over a demon but he was returning to his tribe alone.
His sadness soon turned to joy. For nine little Indians were waiting for him at the edge of their camp. They had returned home in the dark of the night. One at a time they had fled through the woods, much too frightened to face the Hide- behind Beast. One carried a scar where an arrow had grazed, another had a bump on his noggin, but the others were fine. "We thought you were eaten," they joyfully greeted. "Not I," said he. "There has never been a Warrior as dauntless as me. I slew the Hide-behind like the axe fells a tree."
"HOORAY!" They shouted. Nine little Indians lifted the returning one high. Laughing and cheering they paraded him into camp. That night there was feasting and dancing. The ten little Indians stood up, one at a time, to tell of their encounter with the Hide-behind. The tribe was greatly relieved to hear that the fearful beast had been slain. They were quite eager to know the name of the Great Warrior who performed the brave deed, but none were willing to ask ..... "WHO?"
THE END