FRANCIS’S CAMP LIFE with the Pawnees began that very morning. The old woman—as it turned out—was the wife of the old man who had been with the hunting party. She tied a rope around his neck and dragged him around the camp like a new puppy. At each lodge she would stop and call the whole family out. Then she would point at Francis and gabble something he couldn’t understand. He guessed that she was bragging about her new “son.” But he didn’t much like what followed. The women would pinch his arms and push his lips back to look at his teeth, while the children—if there were any at the lodge—came out and kicked him.

Francis didn’t stand for it at first. When another boy his age kicked him, he kicked right back, and landed a fairly good blow. This made all the adults laugh, but his “mother” shook her head and pulled his neck rope so tight it nearly strangled him. He figured finally that it was easier to play along and let them kick him. For the present it was enough just to stay alive and learn as much as possible about the Pawnees. He might need the information later to escape. And he would escape; he was sure of it. Either alone, or with somebody from the train—probably Mr. Ballard—who would come to rescue him.

In the meantime, he might as well make it as easy as possible on himself. To this end, he smiled at his new “mother.”

That was his second mistake. Immediately she returned the smile and took the rope off his neck. That much he liked. But before he could get accustomed to the freedom of movement, three young Indian boys jumped him, and he had to fight like a demon just to stay on his feet. It would have been pretty fair if just one of the young Indians had tackled him. But with three of them climbing all over him Francis had no choice but to fight back any way he could—which meant hitting, biting, and kicking.