On March 16th, during a military training exercise led by Capt. Standish, everyone stopped when they noticed a solitary Indian again standing atop the hill that was a quarter mile away.
“I’m not going this time,” said Stephen Hopkins. The blood-curdling yelps he heard the last time he went out to the hill were still ringing in his ears.
He wouldn’t have to go. After a short wait, the Indian began making his way towards the village. We all crowded around on top of Fort Hill so we could watch his every step. The alarm bell was rung and the women and children slowly made their way into the rendezvous. Since it was just a single Indian there wasn’t as much immediacy this time around. Soon the Indian crossed the larger hill on the other side of the brook before wading chest-deep through the water. This was no simple task because the water was quite cold and this Indian wore almost no clothing. After crossing the brook, the Indian, a healthy, strong looking man nearly six feet tall, entered into the village. Still walking in long, confident strides, he made his way towards the rendezvous. He appeared to be heading straight for the entrance.
“What are we gonna do?” asked John Billington.
“Are we going to stop him?” asked Edward Winslow.
Capt. Standish walked down from the hill and approached the Indian. Edward Winslow followed close behind him in support.
“Halt!” said Capt. Standish. He held up his hand like a traffic cop and the Indian stopped walking. He had a pleasant smile on his face that no one quite knew how to interpret. “Kyla! Please speak with this man.”
“Yes, sir,” I ran down the hill and looked up at the Indian. He was several inches taller than the Pilgrim men, and he looked to be in very good shape. The only clothing he wore was a soaked breechclout around his waist. He had straight black hair like mine except it was short in the front and on the right side and long in the back. A couple thin strands of his hair were neatly braided. He carried a bow in one hand that reminded me of the Arjuna statue. There were two arrows in his other hand. I noticed that one arrow had a head on it and the other did not. I was about to ask him what his name and purpose was when he raised his arms in a manner of greeting and said something that shocked everyone.
“Welcome, Englishmen!”
--from Time Trip #3:
Witness to the First Thanksgiving
TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 4
KILLING FOR COUNTRY
TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 2
A RIDE ON THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD
TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 3
WITNESS TO THE FIRST THANKSGIVING
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