"Well, nurse, one day he found a poor little Indian boy who had been lost
in the woods, and was half starved, sick, and weak; and the kind gentleman
took him home to his house, and fed and nursed him till he got quite
strong again. Was not that good, nurse?"
"It was quite right, my lady. People should always be kind to the sick and
weak, and especially to a poor Indian stranger. I like the story very
much, and shall be glad to hear more about the Indian boy."
"Nurse, there is not a great deal more about the Indian boy; for when the
Indian party to which he belonged returned from hunting, he went away to
his own home; but I forgot to tell you that the gentleman had often said
how much he should like to have a young beaver to make a pet of. He was
very fond of pets; he had a dear little squirrel, just like mine, nurse, a
flying squirrel, which he had made so tame that it slept in his bosom and
lived in his pocket, where he kept nuts and acorns and apples for it to
eat; and he had a racoon too, nurse--only think, a real racoon! and Major
Pickford told me something so droll about the racoon, only I want first to
go on with the story about the beaver."
"One day, as the gentleman was sitting by the fire reading, he heard a
slight noise, and when he looked up was quite surprised to see an Indian
boy in a blanket coat, with his dark eyes fixed upon his face, while
his long black hair hung down on his shoulders.
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