The superintendent of the school,
who had persuaded old Beaver-Tail to let the boy come, brought him out
from the Crooked Lakes with several other boys. Most of them could speak
a few words of English, but not so Little Wolf-Willow, who arrived from
his prairie tepee dressed in buckskin and moccasins, a pretty string of
white elks' teeth about his throat, and his long, straight, black hair
braided in two plaits, interwoven with bits of rabbit skin. A dull green
blanket served as an overcoat, and he wore no hat at all. His face was
small, and beautifully tinted a rich, reddish copper color, and his eyes
were black, alert, and very shining.
The teachers greeted him very kindly, and he shook hands with them
gravely, like a very old man. And from that day onward Little
Wolf-Willow shut his heart within himself, and suffered.
In the first place, the white people all looked sick to him--unhealthy,
bleached. Then, try as he would, he could not accustom his feet to the
stiff leather shoes he was induced to wear. One morning his buckskin
coat was missing, and in its place was a nice blue cloth one with
gleaming golden buttons.
Pages:
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388