is name was
Brickell, and he was carried off from the neighborhood of Pittsburg when
nine years old. He wrote a narrative of his life among the Indians, and
gave an account of his parting with them which is very touching. After
the first exchange of prisoners Brickell was left because there was
no Indian among the whites to exchange for him, but later his adoptive
father went with him to Fort Defiance, and gave him up. Brickell had
hunted with the rest of the children, and shared in all their sports and
pleasures, and they now clung about him crying, when their father told
them he must go with him to the fort. They asked him if he was going to
leave them, and he could only answer that he did not know. At the
fort, his Indian father, Whingy Pooshies, bade him stand up before the
officers, and then spoke to him.

"My son, these are men the same color as yourself, and some of your kin
may be here, or they may be a great way off. You have lived a long time
with us. I call on you to say if I have not been a father to you, if I
have not used you as a father would a son."

"You have used me as well as a father could use a son," said Brickell.

"I am glad you say so," Whingy Pooshies returned. "You have lived long
with me; you have hunted for me; but your treaty says you must be free.
If you choose to go with the people of your own color, I have no right
to say a word; if you choose to stay with me, your people have no right
to speak. Now reflect on it, and take your choice, and tell us as soon
as you make up your mind."

Brickell says that he thought of the children he had left crying, and of
all the Indians whom he loved; but he remembered his own people at last,
and he answered, "I will go with my kin."

Then Whingy Pooshies said, "I have reared you; I have taught you to
hunt; you are a good hunter; you are better to me than my own sons. I am
now getting old and I cannot hunt. I thought you would be a support to
my old age. I leaned on you as on a staff. Now it is broken; you are
going to leave me; and I have no right to say a word, but I am ruined."

[Illustration: Brickell leaves his Indian Father 133]

He sank into his seat, weeping, and Brickell wept too; then they parted
and never saw each other again.

One of the later captivities was that of Israel Donolson, who has told
the story himself. The night before he was captured, he says that he
dreamed of Indians, and took it as a sign of coming trouble; but in
the