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 for it. He is to come back in three days; then if you want to go with him you can.”

Brother said, “Will mother and sisters go too?”

“No, they will stay with me.” My brothers were so happy over their horses.

Now, my dear reader, there is no word so endearing as the word father, and that is why we call all good people father or mother; no matter who it is,—negro, white man, or Indian, and the same with the women. Grandpa talked to my mother a long time, but I did not hear what he said to her, as I went off to play with the other children. But the first thing I knew the white man came and staid four days. Then all the horses were got up, and he saw them all, and the cattle also. I could see my poor mother and sister crying now and then, but I did not know what for. So one morning the man was going away, and I saw mother getting my brothers’ horses ready too. I ran to my mother, and said, “Mother, what makes you cry so?” Grandpa was talking to her. He said, “They will not be hurt; they will have quite a number of horses by the time we are ready to go back to our home again.”

I knew then that my brothers were going back with this man. Oh, then I began to cry, and said everything that was bad to them. I threw myself down upon the ground.

“Oh, brothers, I will never see them any more. They will kill them, I know. Oh, you naughty, naughty grandpa, you want my poor brothers to be killed by the bad men. You don’t know what they do to us. Oh, mother, run,—bring them back again!”

Oh, how we missed our brothers for a long time. We did not see them for a long time, but the men came now and then. They never brought my brothers with them. After they went away, grandpa would come in with his rag