Explore "The White Indian Boy" by Elijah Nicholas Wilson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
My Indian mother was as good and kind to me as any one could be, but she did not seem to realize that there was another loving mother miles and miles away whose heart was sorrowing because of my absence. To her mind must have come many times these words of the old song: "Oh, where is my wandering boy tonight?"
My Indian mother would often ask me a good many questions about my white mother. She asked me if I did not want to go home. I told her that I should like to see my folks very much, but if I went home they would keep me there, and I did not want to herd sheep. I told her that I would rather play with white boys than with Indian boys, but that I liked my bow and arrows, and father would not let me have these at home because I would be shooting at the cats and chickens all the time. "I like my pony too, and I could not take him home," I said, "and I love you too. If I went away you could not go with me; so taking it all around I should rather stay with you."