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My father stabled his horses at night in our lodge, in a little corral fenced off against the wall

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My father stabled his horses at night in our lodge, in a little corral fenced off against the wall.jpg I was too well-bred to look up at him, but I did not always hurry to finish my sweepingThumbnailsHe was crying lustily when my husband drew him outI was too well-bred to look up at him, but I did not always hurry to finish my sweepingThumbnailsHe was crying lustily when my husband drew him outI was too well-bred to look up at him, but I did not always hurry to finish my sweepingThumbnailsHe was crying lustily when my husband drew him outI was too well-bred to look up at him, but I did not always hurry to finish my sweepingThumbnailsHe was crying lustily when my husband drew him outI was too well-bred to look up at him, but I did not always hurry to finish my sweepingThumbnailsHe was crying lustily when my husband drew him out
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My father stabled his horses at night in our lodge, in a little corral fenced off against the wall. “I do not want the Sioux to steal them,” he used to say. In the morning, after breakfast, he drove them out upon the prairie, to pasture, but brought them in again before sunset. In very cold weather my mothers cut down young cottonwoods and let our horses browse on the tender branches.

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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