lost. We hunted everywhere and could not at first imagine what had
become of her. We discovered her track where the fence was broken
down, and, following it for a few miles, made sure the track was
Nob's; and a neighbor told us he had seen an Indian riding fast
through the woods on a horse that looked like Nob. But we could find
no farther trace of her until a month or two after she was lost, and
we had given up hope of ever seeing her again. Then we learned that
she had been taken from an Indian by a farmer at Green Lake because he
saw that she had been shod and had worked in harness. So when the
Indian tried to sell her the farmer said: "You are a thief. That is a
white man's horse. You stole her."

"No," said the Indian, "I brought her from Prairie du Chien and she
has always been mine."

The man, pointing to her feet and the marks of the harness, said: "You
are lying. I will take that horse away from you and put her in my
pasture, and if you come near it I will set the dogs on you." Then he
advertised her. One of our neighbors happened to see the advertisement
and brought us the glad news, and great was our rejoicing when father
brought her home. That Indian must have treated her with terrible
cruelty, for when I was riding her through the pasture several years
afterward, looking for another horse that we wanted to catch, as we
approached the place where she had been captured she stood stock still
gazing through the bushes, fearing the Indian might still be hiding
there ready to spring; and she was so excited that she trembled, and
her heartbeats were so loud that I could hear them distinctly as I sat
on her back, _boomp_, _boomp_, _boomp_, like the drumming of a
partridge. So vividly had she remembered her terrible experiences.