Young John Billington padded silently through the Massachusetts woods. His leather moccasins did not make a sound. John was finally old enough to hunt alone.

Suddenly he spotted movement. A deer sniffed the air. Just as John took aim, the deer darted away. John ran after the deer until it disappeared.

There he stood. Alone. Silent. Nothing looked familiar. His heart pounded quickly. “Hello?” he called.

A chipmunk scampered from its hole. Just then a group of tall Indian hunters appeared from behind the trees. They talked to John, but nothing made sense. They did not speak English. How John wished Squanto were here!

One year before, John had watched the dark- skinned man in buckskin clothing speak with Governor Carver. The year was 1620, and the Mayflower had just come to shore at Plymouth.

“Squanto, I know you were kidnapped by Englishmen before,” Governor Carver said, “but we will not hurt you. We need someone to interpret for us.”

We need someone to feed us, John thought, his stomach rumbling. Back home in England I'd be eating a roll and coffee for breakfast. “I will stay,” Squanto said in perfect English. Then he disappeared into the woods.

That evening he returned, his arms full of snakes!

“What will we do with them?” John asked.

Squanto's eyes twinkled. “Eat them.”

“You eat snakes?” John cried.

“Eels,” Squanto replied. “I will cook them over the fire.”

Squanto gave everyone a slice of the new meat. John licked his fingers. Eels are good!

“How did you catch them?” John's father asked.

“I will show you tomorrow,” Squanto said.

“May I go, Father?” John asked.

John's father looked at Squanto.

“Yes,” Squanto said, getting up to leave. “And bring your friends. I will teach all of you.”

The March day dawned bright and clear. The Pilgrim boys followed the tall Indian to the river. Squanto ran his toe across the shallow water. “This is a good place,” he said. “Take off your shoes.”

Squanto stepped into the river and squashed the mud between his feet until an eel poked up its head. Squanto plunged his hands into the water and pulled up the squirming eel.

“Hooray!” the boys shouted.

“My turn!” John yelled.

John brought home two eels.

Governor Carver was impressed. “What other food can we find here?” he asked.

“April is corn-planting month,” Squanto said. “Wait until the bud of the white oak has reached the size of a mouse's ear before you plant. Then you will have enough corn next fall to last you through winter.”

Governor Carver leaned forward. “You know how to plant enough food to last a whole winter?”

Squanto smiled. “My people survived on this land many years before you came.”

When tiny fish called alewives made their spring run in the streams, Squanto showed John and the others how to catch the fish and put them in the ground to help the corn grow.

For two years, Squanto showed John how to look for the heart-shaped hoofprints of deer. He showed John the difference between good berries and poisonous ones, and taught him which forest herbs were safe to eat.

How John wished Squanto were with him as the Indian hunters brought John to their village. The people lived in strange tents and ate strange food. When the sun went down, the men tied John's hands and feet so he could not go anywhere. John didn't know what to do. Many days passed, and the Indians did not let John go home. During the day he made arrows for the younger boys and hauled water for the women; at night when everyone was sleeping, he cried. John missed his family.

One morning, as John was eating corn bread, a group of men came into the village. Squanto led them! John ran toward his friend, but the chief's men stopped him.

Squanto and his friend, Tokamahamon, persuaded the chief to let John return to his village. The chief's men let go of John. He ran to Squanto and grabbed his arm. “Thank you!” he cried.

Squanto looked at John. “I know what it is like to be kidnapped.”

“It's terrible,” John said.

Squanto looked into John's eyes. “Yes, it is terrible. But have you learned from the people in this village?”

John nodded. Squanto put his hand on John's shoulder. “Then it is time to go home. Perhaps one day, like me, you will help the people who kidnapped you.”