"Once upon a time," said Baldy, "a lot of Indians lived not far from
the house where I lived."
"Weren't you afraid?" asked Janet.
"Please don't ask questions till he tells the story," begged Teddy.
"All right," agreed his sister, and Baldy went on:
"No, I wasn't much afraid, or if I was I've forgotten it now, as it
was quite a while ago. Anyhow, one day I was out on the prairie,
picking flowers, I think, for I know I used to like flowers, and, all
of a sudden, along came a lot of Indians on horses, and one of them
picked me up and took me right away with him, on the horse in front
of him.
"The horse was a strong one, and could easily carry both of us, and
though I wiggled around a good bit and yelled, the Indian didn't let
go of me. On and on he rode, carrying me off, and the other Indians
rode ahead of us, and on either side. I couldn't get away, no matter
how I tried.
"After a while the Indians, who had been out hunting, came to where
their tents were. This was their camp, and then I was lifted down off
the horse and given to a squaw."
Teddy simply had to ask some questions now.
"A squaw is a Indian lady, isn't she?"
"Yes," answered Baldy, "that's what she is."
"Well, I shouldn't think she'd want to take you," went on the little
boy. "I thought the Indian men always kept the prisoners, and you
were a prisoner, weren't you?"
"Yes," answered Baldy, and there was a queer smile on his face, "but
I guess I forgot to tell you that the time I was captured by the
Indians I was a little boy, not as big as you, Curlytop.
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