Man on Two Ponies Read Online Free

hair has been cut, we march like blue-coats, and now we dress like Wasicuns. The thought of being made over to look like a Wasicun filled Billy with resentment and worry. Like the others, he was painfully homesick, and it seemed that every day the world of the Tetons was farther away. After they learned to say a few simple sentences, Pratt announced that anyone heard speaking Sioux thereafter would be punished. That meant there was little talking if anyone was near, and they were more lonesome than ever. When no one was in sight, Billy spoke quietly to Julian in Lakota. “I don’t want to forget how to talk like a Brulé,” he said. “What will my father think if I can only talk like a Wasicun?” The round-faced, usually good natured Julian looked sad.
    â€œI wish none of us had come here. Our people will despise us when they see us.”
    Forty-seven forlorn Pawnee, Kiowa, and Cheyenne children arrived one day. Although the Brulés and Pawnees had been deadly enemies in the old days, Billy almost felt sorry for them.
    Eventually each boy had an army cot, a wooden box for clothes, and a chair. Then they were given strange-looking shirts. “These are nightshirts,” Long Chin told them. “At bedtime, take off your clothes and wear these to sleep in.”
    â€œWhy do they give us so many things to look after?” Paul Black Bear grumbled. He was always late getting ready for the inspections Captain Pratt held every Sunday morning. Billy was wondering what his father would say if he saw him dressed like a woman. He’d probably think the Wasicuns had turned his son into a girl.
    That night they put on their nightshirts just before lights out at nine o’clock then tiptoed outside to scamper around barefooted on the cold grass. In the loose-fitting garment and with no disciplinarian watching, for a few delightful moments Billy felt almost free. Then they heard Pratt’s office door open and dashed inside. Billy was sure Pratt saw them, but he never mentioned it.
    â€œYou’re all going to work in shops with white craftsmen,” Pratt told them one morning in the Moon of Hairless Calves. “This is Carlisle Indian Industrial School, and the main reason you’re here is to learn a trade. When you leave you’ll be able to work and support your families like white men do. The government is tired of feeding you Indians in idleness, so the sooner you learn to do something useful the better. It doesn’t matter how much English you know if you can work with your hands.”
    Told he would learn to make harness for work horses, William Spotted Tail exploded, and the scar across his nose became livid. When Campbell came for him he fought back. “Kill him! Kill him!” Billy shouted in Lakota as the two grappled, but Campbell was too strong. Sullenly Willian went to the harness shop, with Campbell following. Not wanting to taste the strap again, Billy hurried to the carpenter shop with Julian. Robert American Horse was in the smithy, and Luther Standing Bear was put in the tinshop. Others learned bricklaying or tailoring.
    Each new thing that happened to them made Billy more desperate. Losing their names and their hair, then having to dress like Wasicuns and march like the hated bluecoats was almost more than he could stand. Now they were being forced to work like Wasicun laborers, something no proud warrior would submit to even to save his life. The shame of it all could never be washed away. They’re trying to kill the Indian in us on purpose, but what will be left? I want to be a Brulé warrior like my father, not a Wasicun carpenter. Glumly he learned to measure and saw boards squarely, and to drive nails straight.
    School continued afternoons, and they learned new words, the numbers, and geography. One day the teacher showed them a round object painted in several colors. “This is a globe,” she told them. “It’s just like the earth,