THE GRASS-SEED BASKET
ONE morning in spring, Ama said to Docas, “Stir up the fire. I must get breakfast.”
“I shall have to get some sticks,” answered Docas, running off to the woods.
Baby Umwa was playing near. “Baby will make a big fire for mother,” she thought.
She began picking up dry leaves and throwing them on the fire. “Here are some good sticks,” she said to herself.
Docas had dropped his bow and arrows on the ground. She picked them up and threw them on the blazing leaves; then she picked up a basket and threw it on also.
“Hurry, Docas! See baby’s big fire!”
Docas rushed forward and seized the blazing basket, but it was so badly burned that it could not be used.
“Umwa! Umwa!” he cried. “You silly little baby! Mother will have to work for weeks to make her basket for grass-seed again.”
Ama felt very sorry when she saw the burnt basket.
“You must go to-day and get some more roots with which to make some new baskets,” she said.
After breakfast Docas and Heema went down to the edge of the bay.
“How are you going to dig up the roots?” asked Heema.
“With my toes,” answered Docas.
The long round roots ran along just under the ground in the mud. Docas stuck his bare toes into the mud, wriggling them along under a root. He loosened it a little at each wriggle, and by and by he pulled up a long straight root.
Heema helped also, and that evening they carried home a big bundle of roots.
The next day they went up in the hills and gathered a large number of maidenhair ferns. They came back by the San Francisquito creek and broke off a great many willow branches.
As they trudged home, Heema asked, “Do you think mother will put feathers or shells on these new baskets?”
“I don’t know,” answered Docas, “but she will make a pretty pattern with the dark fern stems or the willow bark.”
Next morning Ama began making the new basket. She made this basket flat.
By the time the basket was finished, the grass-seed was ripe in the fields around them.
One morning Ama got up very early. Docas saw her pick up the new flat basket and a deep basket with a handle.
“I’m going to see what she does with the new basket,” thought Docas, creeping out very softly.
“I can carry the new basket,” said Docas“I can carry the new basket,” said Docas.
“I can carry the new basket,” said Docas.
“I can carry the new basket,” said Docas.
He trotted along behind Ama as she walked out to the field of grass. The grass was so tall that Docas was almost hidden, and his mother did not see him.
Docas watched Ama brush the tops of the grass with the flat basket. Every few minutes there would come a little rattle as Ama knocked the seeds down into the deep basket. “Just hear the grass-seed rattle down into the deep basket,” said Docas to himself.
The poppies were still asleep. Docas tried to poke some of them open, but they closed tightly again. He pulled some of the little green caps off the buds, but the little golden buds refused to open.
“They want the sun to drive away the mist before they wake up. Everything is sleepy this morning except mother. I think I’m sleepy myself.” With that he fell asleep among the poppies, with the tall grasses nodding over him. After a little Ama came over that way, brushing the grass tops as she came. Suddenly she stumbled and looked down.
“Why! There’s a child! It’s my own little Docas!” she exclaimed.
Docas rubbed his eyes and looked at her. Then he rolled out of her way and jumped up.
By that time the basket was full of seeds, so they started back to the rancheria. Ama slungthe deep basket on her back, carrying it by a strap across her forehead.
“I can carry the new basket,” said Docas.
After they came to the rancheria, Ama made the grass-seed into bread for breakfast.