“I knew it was you, you little scamp!” she said, taking hold of me and shaking me and patting me on the back.
“I’ve a good notion to flog you,” she went on. “Your poor mother has worried herself nearly to death about you.”
Morning came at last, and I packed up in a hurry to get home. I did not stop this time until I reached it.
As I rode up, two of my little sisters, who were playing by the side of the house, ran in and told mother that an Indian was out there. She came to the door, and she knew me the moment she saw me. I cannot tell you just what passed the next hour, but they were all happy to have me back safe at home again.
I had forgotten all about my horses in the joy of the meeting. When I finally went out to unpack them, the folks all followed me and mother asked, “Where did you get all of those horses? Did you take them from the Indians and run away?”
I told her that they were mine, that I had not run away from the Indians as I had from her. After that I put my ponies in the field, and answering their eager questions, I told them all about my two years among the Indians.
“Away she went, through the bars and down the street.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN THE YEAR OF THE MOVE
Soon after I reached home, another call was made for men to go out and stop the soldiers from entering the territory. I wanted to go, but my father would not let me. I said that I could shoot as well with my bow and arrows as they could with their old flintlock guns, but they said I was too young, so my older brother went, and I let him have one of my buffalo robes and my roan pony.