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Picking June berries

Picking June berries.jpg I was too well-bred to look up at him, but I did not always hurry to finish my sweepingThumbnailsOn his back I saw a handsome otter-skin quiver, full of arrowsI was too well-bred to look up at him, but I did not always hurry to finish my sweepingThumbnailsOn his back I saw a handsome otter-skin quiver, full of arrowsI was too well-bred to look up at him, but I did not always hurry to finish my sweepingThumbnailsOn his back I saw a handsome otter-skin quiver, full of arrows

June berry time had come. I was now fourteen years, old and had begun to think myself almost a young woman. Some of the young men even smiled at me as I came up from the watering place. I never smiled back, for I thought: “My father is a chief, and I belong to one of the best families in my tribe. I will be careful whom I choose to be my friends.”

There had been plenty of rain, and the June berry trees were now loaded with ripe fruit. We Indians set great store by these berries, and almost every family dried one or more sackfuls for winter. June berries are sweet, and, as we had no sugar, we were fond of them.

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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