. . .A large Indian with a fine head-dress came to look at her, and then cut the bonds holding her to the tree. Taking her by one arm he started to lead her towards a large tepee. This was Becky's opportunity; wriggling from his grasp, she ran towards the woods beside the village, expecting to be shot and killed any second. As she ran frantically, a hand grasped her hair and jerked her painfully to a halt. It was the Chief again; he had caught her with little effort and to dissuade her from running again he cuffed her round each ear, making her head ring. Then he took her to his tepee and threw her on the floor, shouting something in his own language. A squaw came in and threw some clothes beside her, so Becky scrambled to her feet and started to put them on. This earned her another ringing box on the ear. "Wash clothes," said the Chief, "Not wear them." "You speak English?" asked Becky, amazed. "Speak white tongue to trade," he explained, "You mine. You wash, cook, mend. I sa. . . Read More