I
Many years ago there lived in the Pawnee tribe an old woman and her
grandson a boy about sixteen years old. These people had no relations
and were very poor. They were so poor that they were despised by the
rest of the tribe. They had nothing of their own; and always, after the
village started to move the camp from one place to another, these two
would stay behind the rest, to look over the old camp and pick up
anything that the other Indians had thrown away as worn out or useless.
In this way they would sometimes get pieces of robes, wornout moccasins
with holes in them, and bits of meat.
Now, it happened one day, after the tribe had moved away from the camp,
that this old woman and her boy were following along the trail behind
the rest, when they came to a miserable old wornout dun horse, which
they supposed had been abandoned by some Indians. He was thin and
exhausted, was blind of one eye, had a bad sore back, and one of his
forelegs was very much swollen. In fact, he was so worthless that none
of the Pawnees had been willing to take the trouble to try to drive him
along with them. But when the old woman and her boy came along, the boy
said, "Come now, we will take this old horse, for we can make him carry
our pack." So the old woman put her pack on the horse, and drove him
along, but he limped and could only go very slowly.