Pioneer history of Ingham County, compiled and arranged by Mrs. Franc L. Adams, secretary of the Ingham County pioneer and historical society.

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PIONEER HISTORY OF INGITAM COUNTY

figure but agreed that each resident could give labor toward the
erection of the building at fifty cents a day, no charge to be made
for team work.
Logs were cut and hauled by some, scored and hewed by others.
One man got out material and built a stick chimney for his share,
while another got out shakes for the roof, and so on. The labor
amounted in all to $67, leaving $33 to be raised by tax, which was
quite sufficient for sash doors, glass, nails, lumber and the inside
mechanic work which was hired done. This house stood directly
across the road from where I now live, and here at the age of six
years I first attended school.
The building stood for many years a monument to the enlightenment and intelligence of the neighborhood. My mother had
taught me my letters, so I was quite a scholar at the start. I had
my first primer full of pictures with words underneath descriptive
of the same. These I must spell and pronounce. I went at it
with a will. There was the word "gate" beneath the picture and I
spelled g-a-t-e-bars, the word "spade" s-p-a-d-e-shovel. I
had seen bars and shovel, but never a gate nor a spade, yet to me
they were the same. So I surprised the teacher by my ability to
pronounce such words so readily, and the rest of her life she
laughed as she recalled that incident.
The summer I was seven years old a band of Indians encamped
across the road from my father's for a short time. I remember a
little red who was doing some quite fine target practice with bows
and arrows. I had a penny, no inconsiderable sum for a small
boy at that time. In some way it was arranged by our elders
that I should put up my penny as a target for the little redskin
to shoot at, and if he hit it the first trial he won it. The distance
as arranged was so great that my father thought my money was
safe. It was put in a slit in the top of a stake and the stake set
in the ground. The little Indian won with the first shot hitting
the target square. I was sad for many a day from the loss of my
fortune, but in time it became a golden memory.
I remember Chief Okemos well. He visited my father's home a
number of times during my boyhood. One time he offered to exchange a pony for me, telling father he would teach me to fish and
hunt like an Indian. I was in my teens when the last Indian located in the forest close by us. Game was still plenty. His was