My brothers would go everywhere with grandpa. I would not have been so afraid of them if I had not been told by my own father and grandmamma that the white people would kill little children and eat them.
Everything was all right, and the next day we went on our journey, and after a whole day’s journey we came within a mile of the town. The sun was almost down when grandpa stopped and said,—
“Now, one and all, listen as you go on. You will hear the water-house bell ring.”
So we did, and pretty soon we heard the prettiest noise we had ever heard in all our life-time. It became dark before we got to the town, but we could see something like stars away ahead of us. Oh, how I wished I had staid with my father in our own country. I cried out, saying,
“Oh, mother, I am so afraid. I cannot go to the white people. They are so much like the owls with their big white eyes. I cannot make friends with them.”
I kept crying until we came nearer the town, and camped for the night. My grandpa said to his men,
“Unsaddle your horses while I go and see my friend.”
He came back in a few moments, and said:—
“Turn your horses into the corral, and now we will go to bed without making any fire.”
So we did, and I for one was glad. But although very tired I could not sleep, for grandpa kept telling us that at daybreak we would hear the water-house’s whistle. The next morning my mother waked me, and I got up and looked round me. I found no one but mother.
“Oh, where is sister, mother?”
“Oh, she has gone with the rest to see the waterhouse.”
“Mother, did you hear it whistle?”
“Yes, we all heard it, and it made such a fearful noise!
