Explore "The White Indian Boy" by Elijah Nicholas Wilson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
After the trading party had been gone two days, the rest of our band moved down the creek to where it sank in the sand hills. Here three of the wounded Indians got so bad that we had to stop for some time; but we had the finest of grass for our horses, and the sage hens were as thick as could be.
One day I was out shooting chickens. I had killed four with arrows and was coming home, when, as I was passing a tepee, a dog jumped out and got me by the leg. He tore off quite a piece of my flesh and I shot him through with an arrow, leaving the feathers on one side of him and the spike sticking out of the other. As I was trying to catch the dog to get my arrow back, the old squaw that owned him ran up with a rope. She threw it over my head and jerked me along to her tepee. And there she held me while her girl tied my feet and hands. Then the angry old squaw grabbed a butcher knife and was going to cut my head off.