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Turtle and her old-fashioned digging stick

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Turtle and her old-fashioned digging stick.jpg The smaller ears we bore to the village in our basketsThumbnailsWhen my sack was filled, I tied it shut and slung it on my back by my packing strapThe smaller ears we bore to the village in our basketsThumbnailsWhen my sack was filled, I tied it shut and slung it on my back by my packing strapThe smaller ears we bore to the village in our basketsThumbnailsWhen my sack was filled, I tied it shut and slung it on my back by my packing strapThe smaller ears we bore to the village in our basketsThumbnailsWhen my sack was filled, I tied it shut and slung it on my back by my packing strapThe smaller ears we bore to the village in our basketsThumbnailsWhen my sack was filled, I tied it shut and slung it on my back by my packing strap
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I was too little to note very much of what was done. I remember that my father set up boundary marks—little piles of earth or stones, I think they were—to mark the corners of the field we claimed. My mothers and Turtle began at one end of the field and worked forward. My mothers had their heavy iron hoes; and Turtle, her old-fashioned digging stick.

Author
Waheenee--An Indian Girl's Story
By Waheenee
as told to Gilbert Livingstone Wilson
Illustrator: Frederick N. Wilson
Published in 1921
Available from gutenberg.org
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545*706
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1816
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54