Gretchen told her foster-mother the story of the Indian pony.
"Where is he now?" asked Mrs. Woods.
"I left him in the clearing. I will go and find him."
"I will go with you," said Mrs. Woods.
The two went out together. They came to the clearing—a place of waving grass, surrounded with gigantic trees, in whose tops were great nests of birds. The pony was not there.
"He has gone to the next clearing," said Gretchen.
They passed through a strip of wood to another clearing. But the pony was not there.
As they were returning, a little black animal crossed their path.
Mrs. Woods said, "Hold!" then called out in a kindly voice, "Roll over." The little animal rolled head over heels in a very comical way, then ran quickly into the thick bushes. It was the last time that Mrs. Woods ever saw little Roll Over, and Gretchen never saw the pony again. The latter probably found a herd of horses and wandered away with them. It was a time of such confusion and distress that the matter did not awaken the interest of the Indians at that time.
That evening they talked of plans for the future.