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+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #67133 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67133)
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-The Project Gutenberg eBook of Waheenee--An Indian Girl's Story, by
-Waheenee
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
-most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
-of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
-will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
-using this eBook.
-
-Title: Waheenee--An Indian Girl's Story
-
-Authors: Waheenee
-         Gilbert Livingstone Wilson
-
-Illustrator: Frederick N. Wilson
-
-Release Date: January 9, 2022 [eBook #67133]
-
-Language: English
-
-Produced by: MFR, Robert Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading
-             Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from
-             images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
-
-*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WAHEENEE--AN INDIAN GIRL'S
-STORY ***
-
-
-
-[Illustration: WAHEENEE AND HER HUSBAND, SON-OF-A-STAR]
-
-
-
-
-                               WAHEENEE
-                        AN INDIAN GIRL’S STORY
-
-                            TOLD BY HERSELF
-                                ——TO——
-                       GILBERT L. WILSON, Ph.D.
-
-        Field collector for the American Museum of Natural
-        History of New York City. Professor of Anthropology,
-        Macalester College.
-
-        Author of “Myths of the Red Children,” “Goodbird,
-        the Indian,” “The Agriculture of the Hidatsa Indians,”
-        “Indian Hero Tales.”
-
-                              ILLUSTRATED
-                                  BY
-                          FREDERICK N. WILSON
-
-                        WEBB PUBLISHING COMPANY
-                          ST. PAUL, MINNESOTA
-                                 1921
-
-
-                            COPYRIGHT, 1921
-                                  BY
-                          WEBB PUBLISHING CO.
-                                  W¹
-
-
-
-
-                               FOREWORD
-
-
-The Hidatsas, called Minitaris by the Mandans, are a Siouan tribe and
-speak a language closely akin to that of the Crows. Wars with the
-Dakota Sioux forced them to ally themselves with the Mandans, whose
-culture they adopted. Lewis and Clark found the two tribes living in
-five villages at the mouth of the Knife river, in 1804.
-
-In 1832 the artist Catlin visited the Five Villages, as they were
-called. A year later Maximilian of Wiet visited them with the artist
-Bodmer. Several score canvasses, the work of the two artists, are
-preserved to us.
-
-Smallpox nearly exterminated the two tribes in 1837-8. The survivors,
-a mere remnant, removed to Fort Berthold reservation where they still
-dwell.
-
-In 1908, with my brother, an artist, I was sent by Dr. Clark Wissler,
-Curator of Anthropology, American Museum of Natural History, to begin
-cultural studies among the Hidatsas. This work, continued through
-successive summers for ten years, is but now drawing to a close.
-
-During these years my faithful interpreter and helper has been Edward
-Goodbird, grandson of Small Ankle, a chief of the Hidatsas in the
-trying years following the terrible smallpox winter; and my principal
-informants have been Goodbird’s mother, _Waheenee-wea_, or
-Buffalo-Bird Woman, and her brother, Wolf Chief.
-
-The stories in this book were told me by Buffalo-Bird Woman. A few told
-in mere outline, have been completed from information given by Wolf
-Chief and others.
-
-Illustrations are by my brother, from studies made by him on the
-reservation. They have been carefully compared with the Catlin and
-Bodmer sketches. Not a few are redrawn from cruder sketches by
-Goodbird, himself an artist of no mean ability.
-
-Acknowledgment is made of the courtesy of Curator Wissler, whose
-permission makes possible the publishing of this book.
-
-Indians have the gentle custom of adopting very dear friends by
-relationship terms. By such adoption Buffalo-Bird Woman is my mother.
-It is with real pleasure that I offer to young readers these stories
-from the life of my Indian mother.
-
-                                                           G. L. W.
-
-
-
-
-                               CONTENTS
-
-
-  Chapter                                                           Page
-
-      I  A Little Indian Girl                                          7
-
-     II  Winter Camp                                                  15
-
-    III  The Buffalo-skin Cap                                         21
-
-     IV  Story Telling                                                29
-
-      V  Life in an Earth Lodge                                       44
-
-     VI  Childhood Games                                              54
-
-    VII  Kinship, Clan Cousins                                        66
-
-   VIII  Indian Dogs                                                  73
-
-     IX  Training a Dog                                               81
-
-      X  Learning to Work                                             90
-
-     XI  Picking June Berries                                         99
-
-    XII  The Corn Husking                                            109
-
-   XIII  Marriage                                                    117
-
-    XIV  A Buffalo Hunt                                              127
-
-     XV  The Hunting Camp                                            138
-
-    XVI  Homeward Bound                                              149
-
-   XVII  An Indian Papoose                                           156
-
-  XVIII  The Voyage Home                                             165
-
-         Glossary of Indian Words                                    177
-
-         Explanatory Notes                                           178
-
-  SUPPLEMENT:—
-
-         How to Make an Indian Camp                                  183
-
-         Hints to Young Campers                                      187
-
-         Indian Cooking                                              188
-
-         Editor’s Note                                               189
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                               WAHEENEE
-
-                             FIRST CHAPTER
-
-                         A LITTLE INDIAN GIRL
-
-
-I was born in an earth lodge by the mouth of the Knife river, in what
-is now North Dakota, three years after the smallpox winter.
-
-The Mandans and my tribe, the Hidatsas, had come years before from the
-Heart river; and they had built the Five Villages, as we called them,
-on the banks of the Knife, near the place where it enters the Missouri.
-
-Here were bottom lands for our cornfields and cottonwood trees for the
-beams and posts of our lodges. The dead wood that floated down either
-river would help keep us in firewood, the old women thought. Getting
-fuel in a prairie country was not always easy work.
-
-When I was ten days old my mother made a feast and asked an old man
-named Nothing-but-Water to give me a name. He called me Good Way. “For
-I pray the gods,” he said, “that our little girl may go through life
-by a _good way_; that she may grow up a good woman, not quarreling nor
-stealing; and that she may have good luck all her days.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-I was a rather sickly child and my father wished after a time to give
-me a new name. We Indians thought that sickness was from the gods.
-A child’s name was given him as a kind of prayer. A new name, our
-medicine men thought, often moved the gods to help a sick or weakly
-child.
-
-So my father gave me another name, _Waheenee-wea_,[1] or Buffalo-Bird
-Woman. In our Hidatsa language, _waheenee_, means cowbird, or
-buffalo-bird, as this little brown bird is known in the buffalo
-country; _wea_, meaning girl or woman, is often added to a girl’s name
-that none mistake it for the name of a boy. I do not know why my father
-chose this name. His gods, I know, were birds; and these, we thought,
-had much holy power. Perhaps the buffalo-birds had spoken to him in a
-dream.
-
-  [1] Wä hēē´ nēē wē´ a
-
-I am still called by the name my father gave me; and, as I have lived
-to be a very old woman, I think it has brought me good luck from the
-gods.
-
-My mother’s name was _Weahtee_.[2] She was one of four sisters, wives
-of my father; her sisters’ names were Red Blossom, Stalk-of-Corn, and
-Strikes-Many Woman. I was taught to call all these my mothers. Such was
-our Indian custom. I do not think my mother’s sisters could have been
-kinder to me if I had been an own daughter.
-
-  [2] Wē´ äh tēē
-
-I remember nothing of our life at the Five Villages; but my
-great-grandmother, White Corn, told me something of it. I used to creep
-into her bed when the nights were cold and beg for stories.
-
-“The Mandans lived in two of the villages, the Hidatsas in three,” she
-said. “Around each village, excepting on the side that fronted the
-river, ran a fence of posts, with spaces between for shooting arrows.
-In front of the row of posts was a deep ditch.
-
-“We had corn aplenty and buffalo meat to eat in the Five Villages, and
-there were old people and little children in every lodge. Then smallpox
-came. More than half of my tribe died in the smallpox winter. Of the
-Mandans only a few families were left alive. All the old people and
-little children died.”
-
-I was sad when I heard this story. “Did any of your family die,
-grandmother?” I asked.
-
-“Yes, my husband, Yellow Elk, died. So many were the dead that there
-was no time to put up burial scaffolds; so his clan fathers bore Yellow
-Elk to the burying ground and laid him on the grass with logs over him
-to keep off the wolves.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-“That night the villagers heard a voice calling to them from the
-burying ground. ‘_A-ha-hey!_[3] I have waked up. Come for me.’
-
-  [3] Ä hä he̱y´
-
-“‘It is a ghost,’ the villagers cried; and they feared to go.
-
-“Some brave young men, listening, thought they knew Yellow Elk’s voice.
-They went to the burying ground and called, ‘Are you alive, Yellow Elk?’
-
-“‘Yes,’ he answered, ‘I have waked up!’
-
-“The young men rolled the logs from his body and bore Yellow Elk to the
-village; he was too weak to walk.”
-
-This story of Yellow Elk I thought wonderful; but it scared me to know
-that my great-grandfather had been to the ghost land and had come back
-again.
-
-Enemies gave our tribes much trouble after the smallpox year, my
-grandmother said. Bands of Sioux waylaid hunting parties or came
-prowling around our villages to steal horses. Our chiefs, Mandan and
-Hidatsa, held a council and decided to remove farther up the Missouri.
-“We will build a new village,” they agreed, “and dwell together as one
-tribe.”
-
-The site chosen for the new village was a place called Like-a-Fishhook
-Point, a bit of high bench land that jutted into a bend of the
-Missouri. We set out for our new home in the spring, when I was four
-years old. I remember nothing of our march thither. My mothers have
-told me that not many horses were then owned by the Hidatsas, and that
-robes, pots, axes, bags of corn and other stuff were packed on the
-backs of women or on travois dragged by dogs.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-The march was led by the older chiefs and medicine men. My grandfather
-was one of them. His name was Missouri River. On the pommel of his
-saddle hung his medicines, or sacred objects, two human skulls wrapped
-in a skin. They were believed to be the skulls of thunder birds, who,
-before they died, had changed themselves into Indians. After the
-chiefs, in a long line, came warriors, women, and children. Young men
-who owned ponies were sent ahead to hunt meat for the evening camp.
-Others rode up and down the line to speed the stragglers and to see
-that no child strayed off to fall into the hands of our enemies, the
-Sioux.
-
-The earth lodges that the Mandans and Hidatsas built, were dome-shaped
-houses of posts and beams, roofed over with willows-and-grass, and
-earth; but every family owned a tepee, or skin tent, for use when
-hunting or traveling. Our two tribes camped in these tents the first
-summer at Like-a-Fishhook Point, while they cleared ground for
-cornfields.
-
-The labor of clearing was done chiefly by the women, although the older
-men helped. Young men were expected to be off fighting our enemies or
-hunting buffaloes. There was need for hunting. Our small, first year’s
-fields could yield no large crops; and, to keep from going hungry
-in the winter months, we must lay in a good store of dried meat. We
-owned few guns in the tribe then; and hunting buffaloes with arrows
-was anything but sport. Only young men, strong and active, made good
-hunters.
-
-My mothers were hard-working women, and began their labor of clearing a
-field almost as soon as camp was pitched. My grandmother, Turtle, chose
-the ground for the field. It was in a piece of bottom land that lay
-along the river, a little east of the camp. My mothers had brought seed
-corn from the Five Villages; and squash, bean and sunflower seed.
-
-I am not sure that they were able to plant much corn the first season.
-I know they planted some beans and a few squashes. I am told that
-when the squash harvest came in, my grandmother picked out a long
-green-striped squash for me, for a doll baby. I carried this about on
-my back, snuggled under my buffalo-calf robe, as I had seen Indian
-mothers carry their babies. At evening I wrapped my dolly in a bit of
-skin and put her to bed.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Our camp on a summer’s evening was a cheerful scene. At this hour,
-fires burned before most of the tepees; and, as the women had ended
-their day’s labors, there was much visiting from tent to tent. Here
-a family sat eating their evening meal. Yonder, a circle of old men,
-cross-legged or squat-on-heels in the firelight, joked and told
-stories. From a big tent on one side of the camp came the _tum-tum
-tum-tum_ of a drum. We had dancing almost every evening in those
-good days.
-
-But for wee folks bedtime was rather early. In my father’s family, it
-was soon after sunset. My mothers had laid dry grass around the tent
-wall, and on this had spread buffalo skins for beds. Small logs, laid
-along the edge of the beds, caught any sparks from the fireplace; for,
-when the nights grew chill, my mothers made their fire in the tepee. My
-father often sat and sang me to sleep by the firelight.
-
-He had many songs. Some of them were for little boys: others were for
-little girls. Of the girls’ songs, there was one I liked very much; it
-was something like this:
-
-    My sister asks me to go out and stretch the smoke-flap.
-        My armlets and earrings shine!
-    I go through the woods where the elm trees grow.
-        Why do the berries not ripen?
-    What berries do you like best?—the red? the blue?
-
-This song I used to try to sing to my squash doll, but I found it hard
-to remember the words.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                            SECOND CHAPTER
-
-                              WINTER CAMP
-
-
-The medicine men of the two tribes had laid out the plan of our new
-village when they made camp in the spring. There was to be an open
-circle in the center, with the lodges of the chiefs and principal men
-opening upon it; and in the center of the circle was to stand the
-Mandans’ sacred corral. This corral was very holy. Around it were held
-solemn dances, when young men fasted and cut their flesh to win favor
-of the gods.
-
-The early planning of the village by our medicine men made it possible
-for a woman to choose a site and begin building her earth lodge. Few
-lodges, however, were built the first summer. My mothers did not even
-begin building theirs; but they got ready the timbers with which to
-frame it.
-
-Going often into the woods with their dogs to gather firewood, they
-kept a sharp lookout for trees that would make good beams or posts;
-these they felled later, and let lie to cure. For rafters, they cut
-long poles; and from cottonwood trunks they split puncheons for the
-sloping walls. In olden days puncheons were split with wedges of
-buffalo horn. A core of hard ash wood was driven into the hollow horn
-to straighten it and make it solid.
-
-Autumn came; my mothers harvested their rather scanty crops; and, with
-the moon of Yellow Leaves, we struck tents and went into winter camp.
-My tribe usually built their winter village down in the thick woods
-along the Missouri, out of reach of the cold prairie winds. It was
-of earth lodges, like those of our summer village, but smaller and
-more rudely put together. We made camp this winter not very far from
-Like-a-Fishhook Point.
-
-My father’s lodge, or, better, my mothers’ lodge,—for an earth lodge
-belonged to the women who built it—was more carefully constructed than
-most winter lodges were. Earth was heaped thick on the roof to keep in
-the warmth; and against the sloping walls without were leaned thorny
-rosebushes, to keep the dogs from climbing up and digging holes in the
-roof. The fireplace was a round, shallow pit, with edges plastered
-smooth with mud. Around the walls stood the family beds, six of them,
-covered each with an old tent skin on a frame of poles.
-
-A winter lodge was never very warm; and, if there were old people or
-children in the family, a second, or “twin lodge,” was often built.
-This was a small lodge with roof peaked like a tepee, but covered with
-bark and earth. A covered passage led from it to the main lodge.
-
-The twin lodge had two uses. In it the grandparents or other feeble or
-sickly members of the family could sit, snug and warm, on the coldest
-day; and the children of the household used it as a playhouse.
-
-I can just remember playing in our twin lodge, and making little feasts
-with bits of boiled tongue or dried berries that my mothers gave me.
-I did not often get to go out of doors; for I was not a strong little
-girl, and, as the winter was a hard one, my mothers were at pains to
-see that I was kept warm. I had a tiny robe, made of a buffalo-calf
-skin, that I drew over my little buckskin dress; and short girls’
-leggings over my ankles. In the twin lodge, as in the larger earth
-lodge, the smoke hole let in plenty of fresh air.
-
-My mothers had a scant store of corn and beans, and some strings of
-dried squashes; and they had put by two or three sacks of dried prairie
-turnips. A mess of these turnips was boiled now and then and was very
-good. Once, I remember, we had a pudding, dried prairie turnips pounded
-to a meal and boiled with dried June berries. Such a pudding was sweet,
-and we children were fond of it.
-
-To eke out our store of corn and keep the pot boiling, my father hunted
-much of the time. To hunt deer he left the lodge before daybreak, on
-snowshoes, if the snow was deep. He had a flintlock gun, a smoothbore
-with a short barrel. The wooden stock was studded with brass nails. For
-shot he used slugs, bits of lead which he cut from a bar, and chewed to
-make round like bullets. Powder and shot were hard to get in those days.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Buffaloes were not much hunted in winter, when they were likely to
-be poor in flesh; but my father and his friends made one hunt before
-midwinter set in. Buffaloes were hunted with bow and arrows, from
-horseback. Only a fleet pony could overtake a buffalo, and there were
-not many such owned in the tribe. We thought a man rich who had a good
-buffalo horse.
-
-My father stabled his horses at night in our lodge, in a little corral
-fenced off against the wall. “I do not want the Sioux to steal them,”
-he used to say. In the morning, after breakfast, he drove them out upon
-the prairie, to pasture, but brought them in again before sunset. In
-very cold weather my mothers cut down young cottonwoods and let our
-horses browse on the tender branches.
-
-Early in the spring our people returned to Like-a-Fishhook Point and
-took up again the labor of clearing and planting fields. Each family
-had its own field, laid out in the timbered bottom lands along the
-Missouri, if possible, in a rather open place where there were no large
-trees to fell.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Felling trees and grubbing out bushes were done with iron tools, axes
-and heavy hoes, gotten of the traders. I have heard that in old times
-my tribe used stone axes, but I never saw them myself. Our family field
-was larger than any owned by our neighbors; and my mothers were at
-pains to add to it, for they had many mouths to feed. My grandmother,
-Turtle, helped them, rising at the first sound of the birds to follow
-my mothers to the field.
-
-Turtle was old-fashioned in her ways and did not take kindly to iron
-tools. “I am an Indian,” she would say, “I use the ways my fathers
-used.” Instead of grubbing out weeds and bushes, she pried them from
-the ground with a wooden digging stick. I think she was as skillful
-with this as were my mothers with their hoes of iron.
-
-Digging sticks are even yet used by old Hidatsa women for digging wild
-turnips. The best kind is made of a stout ash sapling, slightly bent
-and trimmed at the root end to a three-cornered point. To harden the
-point, it is oiled with marrow fat, and a bunch of dry grass is tied
-around it and fired. The charring makes the point almost as hard as
-iron.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Turtle, I think, was the last woman in the tribe to use an
-old-fashioned, bone-bladed hoe. Two other old women owned such hoes,
-but no longer used them in the fields. Turtle’s hoe was made of the
-shoulder bone of a buffalo set in a light-wood handle, the blade firmly
-bound in place with thongs. The handle was rather short, and so my
-grandmother stooped as she worked among her corn hills.
-
-She used to keep the hoe under her bed. As I grew a bit older my
-playmates and I thought it a curious old tool, and sometimes we
-tried to take it out and look at it, when Turtle would cry, “_Nah,
-nah!_[4] Go away! Let that hoe alone; you will break it!”
-
-  [4] Näh
-
-We children were a little afraid of Turtle.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                             THIRD CHAPTER
-
-                         THE BUFFALO-SKIN CAP
-
-
-The winter I was six years old my mother, _Weahtee_, died.
-
-The Black Mouths, a men’s society, had brought gifts to One Buffalo and
-asked him to be winter chief. “We know you own sacred objects, and have
-power with the gods,” they said. “We want you to pray for us and choose
-the place for our camp.”
-
-One Buffalo chose a place in the woods at the mouth of Many-Frogs
-Brook, three miles from Like-a-Fishhook village. I remember our journey
-thither. There was a round, open place in the trees by Many-Frogs
-Brook, where young men fasted and made offerings to the gods. It was
-a holy place; and One Buffalo thought, if we pitched our winter camp
-near-by, the gods would remember us and give us a good winter.
-
-But it was a hard winter from its start. Cold weather set in before we
-had our lodges well under cover; and, with the first snow, smallpox
-broke out in camp. Had it been in summer, my tribe could have broken up
-into small bands and scattered; and the smallpox would have died out.
-This they could not do in winter, and many died. My brother, my mother
-_Weahtee_, and her sister Stalk-of-Corn, died, of my father’s family.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Although my old grandmother was good to me, I often wept for my mother.
-I was lonesome in our winter lodge, and we Indian children did not
-have many playthings. Old Turtle made me a dolly of deer skin stuffed
-with antelope hair. She sewed on two white bone beads for eyes. I bit
-off one of these bone beads, to see if it was good to eat, I suppose.
-For some days my dolly was one-eyed, until my grandmother sewed on a
-beautiful new eye, a blue glass bead she had gotten of a trader. I
-thought this much better, for now my dolly had one blue eye and one
-white one.
-
-I liked to play with my father’s big hunting cap. It was made of
-buffalo skin, from the part near the tail where the hair is short. He
-wore it with the fur side in. Two ears of buffalo skin, stuffed with
-antelope hair to make them stand upright, were sewed one on each side.
-They were long, to look like a jack rabbit’s ears; but they looked
-more like the thumbs of two huge mittens. My father, I think, had had
-a dream from the jack-rabbit spirits, and wore the cap as a kind of
-prayer to them. Jack rabbits are hardy animals and fleet of foot. They
-live on the open prairies through the hardest winters; and a full grown
-rabbit can outrun a wolf. An Indian hunter had need to be nimble-footed
-and hardy, like a jack rabbit.
-
-Small Ankle thought his cap a protection in other ways. It kept his
-head warm. Then, if he feared enemies were about, he could draw his cap
-down to hide his dark hair, creep up a hill and spy over the top. Being
-of dull color, like dead grass, the cap was not easily seen on the sky
-line. A Sioux, spying it, would likely think it a coyote, or wolf, with
-erect, pointed ears, peering over the hill, as these animals often did.
-There were many such caps worn by our hunters; but most of them had
-short pointed ears, like a coyote’s.
-
-My father sometimes hung his cap, wet with snow, on the drying poles
-over the fire to dry. I would watch it with longing eyes; and, when
-I thought it well warmed, I would hold up my small hands and say,
-“Father, let me play with the cap.” I liked to sit in it, my small
-ankles turned to the right, like an Indian woman’s; for I liked the
-feel of the warm fur against my bare knees. At other times I marched
-about the lodge, the big cap set loosely on my head, and my dolly
-thrust under my robe on my back. In doing this I always made my
-grandmother laugh. “Hey, hey,” she would cry, “that is a warrior’s cap.
-A little girl can not be a warrior.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-The winter, if hard, was followed by an early spring. Snow was thawing
-and flocks of wild geese were flying north a month before their wonted
-time. The women of the Goose Society called the people for their spring
-dance, and prayed the gods for good weather for the corn planting. One
-Buffalo sent a crier through the lodges, warning us to make ready to
-break camp. On the day set, we all returned to Like-a-Fishhook village,
-glad to leave our stuffy little winter lodges for our roomy summer
-homes.
-
-One morning, shortly after our return, my father came into the lodge
-with two brave men, Flying Eagle and Stuck-by-Fish. My grandfather,
-Big Cloud, joined them. Big Cloud lighted a pipe, offered smoke to the
-gods, and passed the pipe to the others. It was a long pipe with black
-stone bowl. The four men talked together. I heard my father speak of a
-war party and that he was sure his gods were strong.
-
-Toward evening, Red Blossom boiled meat and set it before the men. When
-they had eaten, Small Ankle rose and went to his medicine bag, that
-hung in the rear of the lodge. He held out his hands and I saw his lips
-move; and I knew he was praying. He opened the medicine bag and took
-out a bundle which he unrolled. It was a black bear’s skin, painted
-red. He bore the skin reverently out of the lodge, and came back
-empty-handed. Flying Eagle and Stuck-by-Fish rose and left the lodge.
-
-My father sat by the fire awhile, silent. Then from a post of his bed
-he fetched his hunting cap. “I shall need this cap,” he said to Red
-Blossom. “See if it must be sewed or mended in any place.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-The next morning when I went out of the lodge, I saw that the
-black-bear skin was bound to one of the posts at the entrance. This was
-a sign that my father was going to lead out a war party. I was almost
-afraid to pass the bear skin, for I knew it was very holy.
-
-For days after, young men came to our lodge to talk with my father and
-Big Cloud. My mothers—for so I called Red Blossom and Strikes-Many
-Woman—had the pot boiling all the time, to give food to the young
-warriors.
-
-One night I was in bed and asleep, when I woke with a start, hearing
-low voices. Peeping out, I saw many young men sitting around the
-fireplace. The fire had died down, but the night was clear and a little
-light came through the smoke hole. Many of the young men had bows and
-well-filled quivers on their backs. A few had guns.
-
-Some one struck flint and steel, and I saw by the glow of the burning
-tobacco that a pipe was being passed. The men were talking low, almost
-in whispers. Then I heard Big Cloud’s voice, low and solemn, praying:
-“Oh gods, keep watch over these our young men. Let none of them be
-harmed. Help them strike many enemies and steal many horses.”
-
-The company now arose and filed out of the lodge. As the skin door fell
-shut after them, I heard the whinny of Small Ankle’s war pony without.
-Next morning, I learned that Small Ankle and Big Cloud had led out a
-war party, all mounted, to strike the northern Sioux.
-
-The ice on the Missouri river broke, and ran out with much crashing and
-roaring. Some dead buffaloes, frozen in the ice, came floating down
-the current. Our brave young men, leaping upon the ice cakes, poled
-the carcasses to shore. We were glad to get such carcasses. Buffaloes
-killed in the spring were lean and poor in flesh; but these, frozen in
-the ice, were fat and tender.
-
-A good many frozen carcasses were thus taken at the spring break-up.
-In the fall the rivers froze over, often with rather thin ice. A herd
-would come down to the river’s edge and stand lowing and grumbling,
-until some bold bull walked out upon the ice. The whole herd followed,
-often breaking through with their weight.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-The weather stayed warm. Bushes in the woods had begun to leaf, and old
-Turtle even raked part of our field and planted sunflower seed around
-the border. “We never saw such an early spring,” said some of the old
-men.
-
-Then, one night, a cold wind arose with rain turning to snow. I woke
-up, crying out that I was chilled. My grandmother, who slept with me,
-pulled over us an extra robe she had laid up on the top of the bed
-frame.
-
-The next morning a terrible blizzard broke over our village. The wind
-howled overhead, driving the falling snow in blinding clouds. Red
-Blossom drew her robe over her head and went to the entrance to run
-over to our next neighbor’s; but she came back. “I am afraid to go
-out,” she said. “The air is so full of snow that I can not see my
-hand when I hold it before my face. I fear I might lose my way, and
-wander out on the prairie and die.” There were stories in the tribe of
-villagers who had perished thus.
-
-Old Turtle and Strikes-Many Woman made ready our noon meal—no easy
-thing to do; for the cold wind, driving down the smoke hole, blew ashes
-into our faces and into our food. An old bull-boat frame was turned
-over the smoke hole. Against it, on the windward side, my mothers had
-laid a buffalo skin the night before, weighting it down with a stone.
-This was to keep the wind from blowing smoke down the smoke hole; but
-the wind had shifted in the night, blowing the buffalo skin off the
-boat frame. The weight of the stone had sunk one end of the skin into
-the earth roof, where it had frozen fast; and we could hear the loose
-end flapping and beating in the wind. Little snow came down the smoke
-hole. The wind was so strong that it carried the snow off the roof.
-
-Turtle and Strikes-Many Woman had gone with dogs for firewood only the
-day before; so there was plenty of fuel in the lodge. We could not go
-to get water at the river; but Red Blossom crept into the entrance way
-and filled a skin basket with snow. This she melted in a clay pot, for
-water. It was in this water that we boiled our meat for the midday
-meal. In spite of the calf skin that my grandmother belted about me,
-I shivered with the cold until my teeth chattered. Turtle poured some
-of the meat broth, steaming hot, into a wooden bowl, and fetched me
-a buffalo-horn spoon. With this spoon I scooped up the broth, glad to
-swallow something hot into my cold little stomach.
-
-After our meal, my two mothers and Turtle sat on my father’s couch,
-looking grave. “I hope Small Ankle and Big Cloud have reached shelter
-in the Missouri-river timber,” I heard Red Blossom say. “If they are on
-the prairie in this storm, they will die.”
-
-“Big Cloud’s prayers are strong,” answered Turtle, “and Small Ankle is
-a good plainsman. I am sure they and their party will find shelter.”
-
-“I knew a Mandan who was caught in a blizzard,” said Red Blossom. “He
-walked with the wind until he fell into a coulee, that was full of
-snow. He burrowed under the drifts and lay on his back, with his knees
-doubled against his chin and his robe tight about him. He lay there
-three days, until the storm blew over. He had a little parched corn for
-food; and, for drink, he ate snow. He came home safely; but his mouth
-was sore from the snow he had eaten.”
-
-Darkness came early, with the wind still screaming overhead. Turtle
-tried to parch some corn in a clay pot, but blasts from the smoke hole
-blew ashes into her eyes. She took out a handful of the half-parched
-corn, when it had cooled, and poured it into my two hands. This was my
-supper; but she also gave me a lump of dried chokecherries to eat. They
-were sweet and I was fond of them.
-
-I awoke the next morning to see my mothers cooking our breakfast,
-parched-corn meal stirred into a thick mush with beans and marrow fat.
-I sprang out of bed and glanced up at the smoke hole. The sky, I saw,
-was clear and the sun was shining.
-
-The second day after, about midafternoon, Small Ankle came home. I
-heard the tinkle of the hollow hoofs that hung on the skin door, and in
-a moment my father came around the fire screen leading his war pony, a
-bay with a white nose. He put his pony in the corral, replaced the bar,
-and came over to his couch by the fire. My mothers said nothing. Red
-Blossom put water and dried meat in a pot and set it on the fire, and
-Turtle fetched an armful of green cottonwood bark to feed the pony.
-
-My father took off his big cap and hung it on the drying pole, and
-wrung out his moccasins and hung them beside the cap. They were winter
-moccasins, and in each was a kind of stocking, of buffalo skin turned
-fur in, and cut and sewed to fit snugly over the foot. These stockings
-Small Ankle drew out and laid by the fire, to dry. He put on dry
-moccasins, threw off his robe, and took upon his knees the bowl of
-broth and meat that Red Blossom silently handed him.
-
-In the evening, some of his cronies came in to smoke and talk. Small
-Ankle told them of his war party.
-
-“We had a hard time,” he said. “Perhaps the gods, for some cause, were
-angry with us. We had gone five days; evening came and it began to
-rain. We were on the prairie, and our young men sat all night with
-their saddles and saddle skins over their heads to keep off the rain.
-
-“In the morning, the rain turned to snow. A heavy wind blew the snow in
-our faces, nearly blinding us.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-“‘We must make our way to the Missouri timber and find shelter,’ Big
-Cloud said.
-
-“Flying Eagle feared we could not find our way. ‘The air is so full of
-snow that we can not see the hills,’ he said.
-
-“‘The wind will guide us,’ said Stuck-by-Fish. ‘We know the Missouri
-river is in the south. The wind is from the west. If we travel with the
-wind on our right, we shall be headed south. We should reach the river
-before night.’
-
-“I thought this a good plan, and I cried, ‘My young men, saddle your
-horses.’ We had flat saddles, such as hunters use. We had a few bundles
-of dried meat left. These we bound firmly to our saddles, for we knew
-we could kill no game while the storm lasted.
-
-“Many of my young men had head cloths which they bound over their hair
-and under their chins; but the wind was so strong that it blew the wet
-snow through the cloths, freezing them to the men’s faces. I had on my
-fur cap, which kept my face warm. Also, I think the jack-rabbit spirits
-helped me.
-
-“We pushed on; but the snow got deeper and deeper until we could hardly
-force our ponies through it. We grew so chilled that Big Cloud ordered
-us to dismount and go afoot. ‘You go first,’ he said to Flying Eagle.
-‘You are a tall man and have long legs. You break the way through the
-snow. We will follow single-file.’
-
-“Flying Eagle did so, leading his pony. With Flying Eagle had come his
-brother, Short Buffalo, a lad of fourteen or fifteen years. He was not
-yet grown, and his legs were so short that he could not make his way
-through the deep snow. We let him ride.
-
-“But in a little while Short Buffalo cried out, ‘My brother, I freeze;
-I die!’
-
-“Flying Eagle called back, ‘Do not give up, little brother. Be strong!’
-And he came back and bound Short Buffalo’s robe snugly about his neck,
-and took the reins of his pony, so that Short Buffalo could draw his
-hands under his robe to warm them. Short Buffalo’s robe had frozen
-stiff in the cold wind.
-
-“We reached the Missouri before nightfall and went down into the thick
-timber. It was good to be out of the freezing wind, sheltered by the
-trees.
-
-“Flying Eagle led us to a point of land over which had swept a fire,
-killing the trees. Many dead cottonwoods stood there, with shaggy bark.
-We peeled off the thick outer bark, shredding the dry inner bark
-for tinder. I had flint and steel. We rolled over a fallen trunk and
-started a fire on the dry ground beneath. We broke off dead branches
-for fuel.
-
-“Flying Eagle helped me get wood and start the fire. He is a strong
-man and bore the cold better than the others. Many of the men were too
-benumbed to help any. My mittens and my cap had kept me warm.
-
-“The men’s leggings, wetted by rain and snow, were frozen stiff. We
-soon had a hot fire. When their leggings had thawed soft, the men took
-off these and their moccasins, and wrung them out; and when they had
-half dried them by the fire, put them on again. They also put shredded
-cottonwood bark in their moccasins, packing it about their feet and
-ankles to keep them warm and dry.
-
-“We toasted dried meat over the fire, and ate; for we were hungry, and
-weak from the cold. We fed our ponies green cottonwood branches that we
-cut with our knives.
-
-“The storm died down before morning; and early the next day we started
-down the river to our village. We were slow coming, for the snow
-thawed, growing soft and slushy under our ponies’ feet. Our ponies,
-too, were weak from the cold.”
-
-Many of the young men of my father’s party had their faces frozen on
-the right side. Short Buffalo had part of his right hand frozen, and
-his right foot. He was sick for a long time. Another war party that had
-been led out by Wooden House had also been caught in the storm and had
-fared even worse. They were afoot, and, not being able to reach the
-river timber, they lay down in a coulee and let the snow drift over
-them. Two were frozen to death.
-
-The leaders of a war party were held to blame for any harm that came
-to their men. The villagers, however, did not blame my father much.
-Some of the older men said, “Small Ankle and Big Cloud were foolish.
-The wild geese had come north, but this fact alone was not proof that
-winter had gone. We know that bad storms often blow up at this season
-of the year.”
-
-Of course, being but six years old, I could hardly remember all these
-things. But my father talked of his war party many times afterwards, at
-his evening fire, as he smoked with his cronies; and so I came to know
-the story.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                            FOURTH CHAPTER
-
-                             STORY TELLING
-
-
-My good old grandmother could be stern when I was naughty;
-nevertheless, I loved her dearly, and I know she was fond of me. After
-the death of my mother, it fell to Turtle to care for me much of the
-time. There were other children in the household, and, with so many
-mouths to feed, my two other mothers, as I called them, had plenty of
-work to do.
-
-Indians are great story tellers; especially are they fond of telling
-tales around the lodge fire in the long evenings of autumn and winter.
-My father and his cronies used sometimes to sit up all night, drumming
-and singing and telling stories. Young men often came with gift of robe
-or knife, to ask him to tell them tales of our tribe.
-
-I was too young yet to understand many of these tales. My father was
-hours telling some of them, and they had many strange words. But my
-grandmother used to tell me stories as she sat or worked by the lodge
-fire.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-One evening in the corn planting moon, she was making ready her seed
-for the morrow’s planting. She had a string of braided ears lying
-beside her. Of these ears she chose the best, broke off the tip and
-butt of each, and shelled the perfect grain of the mid-cob into a
-wooden bowl. Baby-like, I ran my fingers through the shiny grain,
-spilling a few kernels on the floor.
-
-“Do not do that,” cried my grandmother. “Corn is sacred; if you waste
-it, the gods will be angry.”
-
-I still drew my fingers through the smooth grain, and my grandmother
-continued: “Once a Ree woman went out to gather her corn. She tied her
-robe about her with a big fold in the front, like a pocket. Into this
-she dropped the ears that she plucked, and bore them off to the husking
-pile. All over the field she went, row by row, leaving not an ear.
-
-“She was starting off with her last load when she heard a weak voice,
-like a babe’s, calling, ‘Please, please do not go. Do not leave me.’
-
-“The woman stopped, astonished. She put down her load. ‘Can there be a
-babe hidden in the corn?’ she thought. She then carefully searched the
-field, hill by hill, but found nothing.
-
-“She was taking up her load, when again she heard the voice: ‘Oh,
-please do not go. Do not leave me!’ Again she searched, but found
-nothing.
-
-“She was lifting her load when the voice came the third time: ‘Please,
-please, do not go! Please, do not leave me!’
-
-“This time the woman searched every corn hill, lifting every leaf. And
-lo, in one corner of the field, hidden under a leaf, she found a tiny
-nubbin of yellow corn. It was the nubbin that had been calling to her.
-For so the gods would teach us not to be wasteful of their gifts.”
-
-Another evening I was trying to parch an ear of corn over the coals of
-our lodge fire. I had stuck the ear on the end of a squash spit, as I
-had seen my mothers do; but my baby fingers were not strong enough to
-fix the ear firmly, and it fell off into the coals and began to burn.
-My mouth puckered, and I was ready to cry.
-
-My grandmother laughed. “You should put only half the ear on the spit,”
-she said. “That is the way the Mandans did when they first gave us
-corn.”
-
-I dropped the spit and, forgetting the burning ear, asked eagerly, “How
-did the Mandans give us corn, grandmother? Tell me the story.”
-
-Turtle picked up the spit and raked the burning ear from the ashes.
-“I have told you that the gods gave us corn to eat, not to waste,”
-she said. “Some of the kernels on this cob are well parched.” And she
-shelled off a handful and put one of the hot kernels in her mouth.
-
-“I will tell you the story,” she continued. “I had it from my mother
-when I was a little girl like you.
-
-“In the beginning, our Hidatsa people lived under the waters of Devils
-Lake. They had earth lodges and lived much as we live now. One day
-some hunters found the root of a grapevine growing down from the lake
-overhead. They climbed the vine and found themselves on this earth.
-Others climbed the vine until half the tribe had escaped; but, when a
-fat woman tried to climb it, the vine broke, leaving the rest of the
-tribe under the lake.
-
-“Those who had safely climbed the vine, built villages of earth lodges.
-They lived by hunting; and some very old men say that they also planted
-small fields in ground beans and wild potatoes. As yet the Hidatsas
-knew nothing of corn or squashes.
-
-“One day, a war party that had wandered west to the Missouri river saw
-on the other side a village of earth lodges like their own. It was a
-village of the Mandans. Neither they nor the Hidatsas would cross over,
-each party fearing the other might be enemies.
-
-“It was in the fall of the year, and the Missouri was running low, so
-that an arrow could be shot from shore to shore. The Mandans parched
-some ears of ripe corn with the grain on the cob. These ears they
-broke in pieces, stuck the pieces on the points of arrows and shot them
-across the river. ‘Eat!’ they called. The word for ‘eat’ is the same in
-both the Hidatsa and the Mandan languages.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-“The Hidatsas ate of the parched corn. They returned to their village
-and said, ‘We have found a people on a great river, to the west. They
-have a strange kind of grain. We ate of it and found it good.’
-
-“After this, a party of Hidatsas went to visit the Mandans. The Mandan
-chief took an ear of corn, broke it in two, and gave half to the
-Hidatsas for seed. This half ear the Hidatsas took home, and soon every
-family in the village was planting corn.”
-
-My father had been listening, as he sat smoking on the other side of
-the fire. “I know that story,” he said. “The name of the Mandan chief
-was Good-Fur Robe.”
-
-My grandmother then put me to bed. I was so sleepy that I did not
-notice she had eaten up all the corn I had parched.
-
-Winter came again, and spring. As soon as the soil could be worked,
-my mothers and old Turtle began cleaning up our field, and breaking
-new ground to add to it. Our first year’s field had been small; but my
-mothers added to it each season, until the field was as large as our
-family needed.
-
-I was too little to note very much of what was done. I remember that my
-father set up boundary marks—little piles of earth or stones, I think
-they were—to mark the corners of the field we claimed. My mothers and
-Turtle began at one end of the field and worked forward. My mothers had
-their heavy iron hoes; and Turtle, her old-fashioned digging stick.
-
-On the new ground, my mothers first cut the long grass with their hoes,
-bearing it off the field to be burned. They next dug and loosened the
-soil in places for the corn hills, which they laid off in rows. These
-hills they planted. Then all summer in this and other parts of the
-field they worked with their hoes, breaking and loosening the soil
-between the corn hills and cutting weeds.
-
-Small trees and bushes, I know, were cut off with axes; but I remember
-little of this labor, most of it having been done the year before, when
-I was yet quite small. My father once told me that in very old times,
-when the women cleared a field, they first dug the corn hills with
-digging sticks, and afterwards worked between them with their bone hoes.
-
-I remember this season’s work the better for a dispute that my mothers
-had with two neighbors, Lone Woman and Goes-Back-to-Next-Timber. These
-two women were clearing lands that bordered our own. My father, I
-have said, to set up claim to our land, had placed boundary marks,
-one of them in the corner that touched the fields of Lone Woman and
-Goes-Back-to-Next-Timber. While my mothers were busy clearing and
-digging up the other end of their field, their two neighbors invaded
-this marked-off corner. Lone Woman had even dug up a small part before
-she was discovered.
-
-My mothers showed Lone Woman the mark my father had placed.
-“This land belongs to us,” they said; “but we will pay you and
-Goes-Back-to-Next-Timber for any rights you may think are yours. We do
-not want our neighbors to bear us any hard feelings.”
-
-We Indians thought our fields sacred, and we did not like to quarrel
-about them. A family’s right to a field once having been set up, no one
-thought of disputing it. If any one tried to seize land belonging to
-another, we thought some evil would come upon him; as that one of his
-family would die or have some bad sickness.
-
-There is a story of a hunter who had before been a black bear, and had
-been given great magic power. He dared try to catch eagles from another
-man’s pit, and had his mind taken from him for doing so. Thus the gods
-punished him for entering ground that was not his own.
-
-Lone Woman and Goes-Back-to-Next-Timber having withdrawn, my
-grandmother Turtle undertook to clear and break the ground that had
-been in dispute. She was a little woman but active, and she loved to
-work out-of-doors. Often, when my mothers were busy in the earth lodge,
-Turtle would go out to work in the field, and she would take me along
-for company. I was too little to help her any, but I liked to watch her
-work.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-With her digging stick Turtle dug up a little round place in the center
-of the corner, and around this she circled from day to day, enlarging
-the dug-up space. She had folded her robe over her middle, like a
-pad. Resting the handle of her digging stick against her folded robe,
-she would drive the point into the soft earth to a depth equal to the
-length of my hand and pry up the soil.
-
-She broke clods by striking them smartly with her digging stick. Roots
-of coarse grass, weeds, small brush and the like, she took in her hand
-and shook or struck them against the ground, to knock off the loose
-earth clinging to them. She then cast them into little piles to dry. In
-a few days she gathered these piles into a heap about four feet high
-and burned them.
-
-My grandmother worked in this way all summer, but not always in the
-corner that had been in dispute. Some days, I remember, she dug along
-the edges of the field, to add to it and make the edges even. Of
-course, not all the labor of enlarging the field was done by Turtle;
-but she liked to have me with her when she worked, and I remember best
-what I saw her do.
-
-It was my grandmother’s habit to rise early in the summer months.
-She often arrived at the field before sunrise; about ten o’clock she
-returned to the lodge to eat and rest.
-
-One morning, having come to the field quite early, I grew tired of my
-play before my grandmother had ended her work. “I want to go home,”
-I begged, and I began to cry. Just then a strange bird flew into the
-field. It had a long curved beak, and made a queer cry, _cur-lew,
-cur-lew_.
-
-I stopped weeping. My grandmother laughed.
-
-“That is a curlew,” she said. “Once at the mouth of the Knife river, a
-woman went out with her digging stick to dig wild turnips. The woman
-had a babe. Growing tired of carrying her babe on her back, she laid it
-on the ground.
-
-“The babe began to cry. The mother was busy digging turnips, and did
-not go to her babe as she should have done. By and by she looked up.
-Her babe was flying away as a bird!
-
-“The bird was a curlew, that cries like a babe. Now, if you cry,
-perhaps you, too, will turn into a curlew.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                             FIFTH CHAPTER
-
-                        LIFE IN AN EARTH LODGE
-
-
-The small lodges we built for winter did not stand long after we left
-them in the spring. Built on low ground by the Missouri, they were
-often swept away in the June rise; for in that month the river is
-flooded by snows melting in the Rocky Mountains.
-
-The loss of our winter lodges never troubled us, however; for we
-thought of them as but huts. Then, too, we seldom wintered twice in the
-same place. We burned much firewood in our winter lodges, and before
-spring came the women had to go far to find it. The next season we made
-camp in a new place, where was plenty of dead-and-down wood for fuel.
-
-We looked upon our summer lodges, to which we came every spring, as our
-real homes. There were about seventy of these, earth lodges well-built
-and roomy, in Like-a-Fishhook village. Most of them were built the
-second summer of our stay there.
-
-My mothers’ earth lodge—for the lodge belonged to the women of a
-household—was a large one, with floor measuring more than forty feet
-across. In the center was the fireplace. A screen of puncheons, set
-upright in a trench, stood between the fireplace and the door. This
-screen shut out draughts and kept out the dogs.
-
-The screen ran quite to the sloping wall, on the right; but, on
-the left, there was space for a passage from the door to the fire.
-Right and left in an Indian lodge are reckoned as one stands at the
-fireplace, looking toward the door. We thought an earth lodge was alive
-and had a spirit like a human body, and that its front was like a face,
-with the door for mouth.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Before the fireplace and against the puncheon screen was my father’s
-bed. Forked posts, eighteen inches high, stood in the earth floor. On
-poles laid in the forks rested cottonwood planks over which were thrown
-buffalo robes. A skin pillow, stuffed with antelope hair, lay at one
-end of the bed.
-
-The beds of the rest of the family stood in the back of the lodge,
-against the wall. They were less simply made than my father’s, being
-each covered with an old tent skin drawn over a frame of posts and
-poles. The bedding was of buffalo skins. As these could not be washed,
-my mothers used to take them out and hang them on the poles of the corn
-stage on sunny days, to air.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Most of the earth lodges—at least most of the larger ones—had each a
-bed like my father’s before the fireplace; for this was the warmest
-place in the lodge. Usually the eldest in the family, as the father or
-grandfather, slept in this bed.
-
-My father’s bed, not being enclosed, made a good lounging place by day,
-and here he sat to smoke or chat with his friends. My mothers, too,
-used to sit here to peel wild turnips or make ready the daily meals.
-
-Two or three sticks burned in the fireplace, not piled one upon the
-other as done by white men, but laid with ends meeting. As the ends
-burned away, the sticks were pushed in, keeping alive a small but hot
-fire. At night, the last thing my father did was to cover one of these
-burning sticks with ashes, that it might keep fire until morning.
-
-Unless he had spent the night with some of his cronies, my father was
-the first to rise in the morning. He would go to the fireplace, draw
-out a buried coal, lay some dry sticks upon it, and blow with his
-breath until the fire caught. Sometimes he fanned the coal with a goose
-wing.
-
-Soon a little column of smoke would rise toward the smoke hole, and my
-father would call, “Up, little daughter; up, sons! Get up, wives! The
-sun is up. To the river for your bath! Hasten!” And he would go up on
-the roof to look if enemies were about and if his horses were safe. My
-mothers were already up when I crept from my bed still sleepy, but glad
-that morning had come.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-But if the weather was cold, we did not go to the river to bathe. An
-earthen pot full of water stood by one of the posts near the fire. It
-rested in a ring of bark, to keep it from falling. My mothers dipped
-each a big horn spoon full of water, filled her mouth, and, blowing the
-water over her palms, gave her face a good rubbing. Red Blossom washed
-my face in the same way. I did not like it very much, and I would shut
-my eyes and pucker my face when I felt the cold water. Red Blossom
-would say, “Why do you pucker up your face? You make it look like a
-piece of old, dried, buffalo skin.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Her face washed, Red Blossom sat on the edge of her bed and finished
-her toilet. She had a little fawn-skin bag, worked with red porcupine
-quills. From this bag she took her hairbrush, a porcupine tail mounted
-on a stick, with the sharp points of the quills cut off. She brushed
-her hair smooth, parting it in two braids that fell over each shoulder
-nearly hiding her ears. Red Blossom was no longer young, but her black
-tresses had not a grey hair in them.
-
-She now opened her paint bag, put a little buffalo grease on her two
-fingers, pressed the tips lightly in the dry paint, and rubbed them
-over her cheeks and face. She also rubbed a little red into the part of
-her hair.
-
-Meanwhile, the pot had been put on the fire. We Indians did not eat
-many things at a meal as white men do. Usually, breakfast was of one
-thing, often buffalo meat dried, and boiled to soften it. When a
-buffalo was killed, the meat was cut into thin slices, and some parts,
-into strips. These were dried in the open air over the earth lodge fire
-or in the smoke of a small fire out-of-doors. For breakfast, a round
-earthen pot was filled with water, dried meat put in, and the water
-brought to a boil. Red Blossom used to lift out the hot meat slices on
-the point of a stick, laying them on a bit of clean rawhide.
-
-A rough bench stood back of the fireplace, a cottonwood plank, with
-ends resting on two blocks chopped from a tree trunk. My grandmother
-Turtle sat on this bench to eat her meals. My two mothers sat beside
-her, or on the floor near the meat they were serving. My father ate
-sitting on the edge of his couch. A wooden bowl, heaped with steaming
-meat, was set before each. Our fingers did for forks.
-
-Boiling the meat in water made a thin broth which we used for a hot
-drink. It was very good, tasting much like white man’s beef tea. We had
-no cups; but we had big spoons made of buffalo horn, and ladles, of
-mountain-sheep horn. Either of these did very well for drinking cups.
-Sometimes we used mussel shells.
-
-A common breakfast dish was _mapee[5] naka-pah_,[6] or pounded-meal
-mush. From her cache pit Red Blossom took a string of dried squash
-slices. She cut off a length and tied the ends together, making a
-ring four or five inches in width. This ring and a double handful of
-beans she dropped in a pot of water, and set on the fire. When boiled,
-she lifted the ring out with a stick, with her horn ladle mashed the
-softened squash slices in a wooden bowl and put them back in the pot.
-
-  [5] mä pēē´
-
-  [6] nä kä päh´
-
-Meanwhile Strikes-Many Woman or old Turtle had parched some corn in a
-clay pot, and toasted some buffalo fats on a stick, over the coals. Red
-Blossom now pounded the parched corn and toasted fats together in the
-corn mortar, and stirred the pounded mass into the pot with the squash
-and beans. The mess was soon done. Red Blossom dipped it into our bowls
-with a horn spoon.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-We ate such messes with horn spoons or with mussel shells; for we
-Hidatsas had few metal spoons in those days. There was a shelf, or
-bench, at one side of the room, under the sloping roof, where were
-stored wooden bowls, uneaten foods, horn spoons, and the mussel shells
-that we used for teaspoons. When I was a little girl, nearly every
-family owned such shells, worn smooth and shiny from use.
-
-After breakfast, unless it was in the corn season, when they went to
-the field, my mothers tidied up the lodge. They had short brooms of
-buckbrush. With these they swept the floor, stooping over and drawing
-the broom with a sidewise motion. As my father stabled his hunting
-ponies in the lodge at night, there was a good deal of litter to be
-taken out. Red Blossom used to scrape her sweepings into a skin basket,
-which she bore to the river bank and emptied.
-
-Other tasks were then taken up; and there were plenty of them.
-Moccasins had to be made or old ones mended. Shirts and other garments
-had to be made. Often there were skins to be dressed or scraped.
-Leggings and shirts were embroidered usually in winter, when the women
-had no corn to hoe.
-
-There was a good deal of visiting in our lodge; for my father was one
-of the chiefs of the village, and always kept open house. “If a man
-would be chief,” we said, “he should be ready to feed the poor and
-strangers.” A pot with buffalo meat or corn and beans cooking was
-always on the fire in my father’s lodge. His friends and the other
-chief men of the village often came in to talk over affairs. A visitor
-came in without knocking, but did not sit down until he was asked.
-
-Friends of my mothers also came in to sit and chat; and they often
-joined my mothers at whatever task they might be doing. Red Blossom
-would set a bowl of food before each. What she could not eat the guest
-took home with her. It was impolite to leave any uneaten food, as that
-would mean, “I do not like your cooking; it is unfit to eat.”
-
-My mothers were neat housekeepers and kept the ground about the lodge
-entrance swept as clean as the lodge floor; but many families were
-careless, and cast ashes, floor sweepings, scraps of broken bones and
-other litter on the ground about their lodges. In time this rubbish
-made little piles and became a nuisance, so that people could hardly
-walk in the paths between the lodges.
-
-The Black Mouths then went through the village and ordered the women to
-clean up. The Black Mouths were a society of men of about forty years
-of age. They acted as police and punished any one who broke the camp
-laws.
-
-These clean-ups were made rather often; in summer, perhaps twice a
-month. They were always ordered by the Black Mouths.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-I remember one morning, just after breakfast, I heard singing, as of a
-dozen or more men coming toward our lodge. I started to run out to see
-what it was, but my mothers cried, “Do not go. It is the Black Mouths.”
-My mothers, I thought, looked rather scared. We were still speaking,
-when I heard the tramp of feet. The door lifted, and the Black Mouths
-came in.
-
-They looked very terrible, all painted with the lower half of the face
-black. Many, but not all, had the upper half of the face red. Some had
-eagles’ feathers in their hair, and all wore robes or blankets. Some
-carried guns. Others had sticks about as long as my arm. With these
-sticks they beat any woman who would not help in the clean-up.
-
-I fled to my father, but I dared not cry out, for I, too, was scared.
-
-“One of you women go out and help clean up the village,” said the Black
-Mouths. They spoke sternly, and several of them at once.
-
-Like all the other women, my mothers were afraid of the Black Mouths
-“We will go,” said both, and Red Blossom caught up broom and skin
-basket and went out.
-
-The Black Mouths went also, and I followed to see what they did. They
-went into another lodge not far away. I heard voices, then the report
-of a gun, and a woman screamed. After a time, the Black Mouths came out
-driving before them a woman, very angry, but much frightened. She had
-not moved quickly enough to get her basket, and one of the Black Mouths
-had fired his gun at her feet to frighten her. The gun was loaded only
-with powder.
-
-After they had made the rounds of the village, the Black Mouths
-returned to the lodge of their “keeper,” a man named Crow Paunch. Soon
-we heard singing and drumming, and knew they were singing some of the
-society’s songs.
-
-When they had sung three or four times, there was silence for a while,
-as if a pipe were being passed. Then all came out and made the rounds
-a second time, to see if the work of cleaning was done and to hurry up
-the laggards. The village was all cleaned before noon; but some of the
-women got their work done sooner than others.
-
-After the clean-up the village children came out to play in the spaces
-between the lodges, now swept clean and smooth. It was in these smooth
-spaces that the boys liked to play at throw sticks, light willow rods
-which they darted against the ground, whence they bounded to a great
-distance.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                             SIXTH CHAPTER
-
-                      CHILDHOOD GAMES AND BELIEFS
-
-
-White people seem to think that Indian children never have any play
-and never laugh. Such ideas seem very funny to me. How can any child
-grow up without play? I have seen children at our reservation school
-playing white men’s games—baseball, prisoners’ base, marbles. We Indian
-children also had games. I think they were better than white children’s
-games.
-
-I look back upon my girlhood as the happiest time of my life. How I
-should like to see all my little girl playmates again! Some still live,
-and when we meet at feasts or at Fourth-of-July camp, we talk of the
-good times we had when we were children.
-
-My little half sister was my usual playmate. She was two years younger
-than I, and I loved her dearly. She had a pretty name, Cold Medicine.
-On our prairies grows a flower with long, yellow root. In old times, if
-a warrior was running from enemies and became wearied he chewed a bit
-of the root and rubbed it on his eyelids. It made his eyes and tongue
-feel cold and kept him awake. The flower for this reason was called
-cold medicine. When my father spoke my sister’s name, it made him think
-of this flower and of the many times he had bravely gone out with war
-parties.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-For playgrounds my little sister and I had the level spaces between
-the lodges or the ground under the corn stage, in sunny weather; and
-the big, roomy floor of the earth lodge, if it rained or the weather
-were chill. We liked, too, to play in the lodge in the hot days of the
-Cherry moon; for it was cool inside, never hot and stuffy like a white
-man’s house. In the fall, when the air was frosty, the sun often shone,
-and we could play in the big yellow sunspot that fell on the floor
-through the smoke hole.
-
-We liked to play at housekeeping, especially in the warm spring
-days, when we had returned from winter camp and could again play
-out-ofdoors. With the help of the neighbors’ children, we fetched long
-forked sticks. These we stacked like a tepee frame and covered with
-robes that we borrowed. To this play tent we brought foods and had a
-feast.
-
-Sometimes little boys joined in our play; and then it was like real
-housekeeping. We girls chose each a little boy for husband. To my
-little husband I said, “Old man, get your arrows, and go kill some
-buffaloes. We are hungry. Go at once!”
-
-My little husband hastened to his mother and told her our needs. She
-laughed and gave him a boiled buffalo tongue; or perhaps pemmican,
-dried meat pounded fine and mixed with marrow fat. This and the foods
-which the other little husbands fetched us, we girls laid on fresh,
-clean grass that we pulled. Then we sat down to feast, the little girls
-on one side of the fireplace, the little boys on the other, just as we
-had seen men and women sit when they feasted. Only there really was no
-fireplace. We just made believe there was.
-
-In summer, my little sister and I often went to the river for wet clay,
-which we modeled into figures. There is a smooth, blue clay found in
-places at the water’s edge, very good for modeling. We liked best to
-make human figures, man, woman, or little child. We dried them in the
-shade, else the sun cracked them. I fear they were not very beautiful.
-When we made a mud man, we had to give him three legs to make him stand
-up.
-
-I had a doll, woven of rushes, that Turtle made me. It really was not
-a doll, but a cradle, such as Indian women used for carrying a small
-child. In winter I had my deer-skin doll, with the beads for eyes.
-My grandmother had made me a little bed for my dolls. The frame was
-of willows, and it was covered with gopher skins, tanned and sewed
-together. In this little bed my sister and I used to put our dollies to
-sleep.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-We had a game of ball much like shinny. It was a woman’s game, but we
-little girls played it with hooked sticks. We also had a big, soft
-ball, stuffed with antelope hair, which we would bounce in the air with
-the foot. The game was to see how long a girl could bounce the ball
-without letting it touch the ground. Some girls could bounce it more
-than a hundred times. It was lots of fun.
-
-We coasted in winter, on small sleds made of buffalo ribs; but coasting
-on the snow was rather for boys and older girls. There was another
-kind of coaster that we girls liked. A buffalo skin has the hair lying
-backwards, towards the flanks. I would borrow a skin of my mothers and
-tie a thong through two of the stake holes at the head or neck, to
-draw it by. Such a skin made a good coaster even in summer on a steep
-hillside; for, laid head forward, it slid smoothly over the soft grass.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Girls of thirteen or fourteen were fond of playing at “tossing in a
-blanket,” or “foot-moving,” as we called it. There were fifteen or
-twenty players. A newly dried skin was borrowed, one that was scraped
-clean of hair. There were always holes cut in the edges of a hide, to
-stake it to the ground while drying. Into each hole a small hard wood
-stick was now thrust and twisted around, for a handle.
-
-Along the ditch at the edge of the village grew many tall weeds. The
-players pulled armfuls of these and made them into a pile. They laid
-the hide on this pile of weeds; and, with a player at every one of the
-stick handles, they stretched the hide taut.
-
-A girl now lay downward on the hide. With a quick pull, the others
-tossed her into the air, when she was expected to come down on her
-feet, to be instantly tossed again. The game was to see how many times
-she could be tossed without falling. A player was often tossed ten or
-more times before she lost her balance. Each time, as she came down,
-she kept turning in one direction, right or left. When at last she
-fell, the pile of weeds saved her from any hurt.
-
-We called the game _eetseepadahpakee_,[7] or foot-moving, from the
-player’s habit of wriggling her feet when in the air. We thought this
-wriggling, or foot moving, a mark of skill.
-
-  [7] ēēt sēē pä däh´ pä kēē
-
-But, if my mothers let me play much of the time, they did not forget to
-teach me good morals. “We are a family that has not a bad woman in it,”
-they used to say. “You must try hard not to be naughty.”
-
-My grandfather Big Cloud often talked to me. “My granddaughter,” he
-would say, “try to be good, so that you will grow up to be a good
-woman. Do not quarrel nor steal. Do not answer anyone with bad words.
-Obey your parents, and remember all that I say.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-When I was naughty my mothers usually scolded me; for they were kind
-women and did not like to have me punished. Sometimes they scared me
-into being good, by saying, “The owl will get you.” This saying had to
-do with an old custom that I will explain.
-
-Until I was about nine years old, my hair was cut short, with a tuft on
-either side of my head, like the horns of an owl. Turtle used to cut my
-hair. She used a big, steel knife. In old times, I have heard, a thin
-blade of flint was used. I did not like Turtle’s hair cutting a bit,
-because she _pulled_.
-
-“Why do you cut my hair, grandmother?” I asked.
-
-“It is our custom,” Turtle answered. “I will tell you the story.”
-
-“Thousands and thousands of years ago, there lived a great owl. He was
-strong and had magic power, but he was a bad bird. When the hunters
-killed buffaloes, the owl would turn all the meat bitter, so that the
-Indians could not eat it, and so they were always hungry.
-
-“On this earth then lived a young man called the Sun’s Child; for the
-sun was his father. He heard how the Indians were made hungry, and came
-to help them.
-
-“The owl lived in a hollow tree that had a hole high up in its trunk.
-The Sun’s Child climbed the tree, and when the owl put his head out of
-the hole, he caught the bird by the neck.
-
-“‘Do not let the Sun’s Child kill me!’ the owl cried to the Indians. ‘I
-have been a bad bird; now I will be good and I will help your children.
-
-“‘As soon as a child is old enough to understand you when you speak to
-him, cut his hair with two tufts like my own. Do this to make him look
-like an owl; and I will remember and make the child grow up strong and
-healthy. If a child weeps or will not obey, say to him, “The owl will
-get you!” This will frighten him, so that he will obey you.’”
-
-[Illustration: Plate I.—Offering food before the shrine of the Big
-Birds’ ceremony]
-
-It was thus my mothers frightened me when I was naughty. Red Blossom
-would call, “O owl, I have a bad daughter. Come.”
-
-“I will be good, I will be good!” I would cry, as I ran to my father. I
-knew he would not let the owl hurt me.
-
-My old grandfather, Missouri River, taught me of the gods. He was a
-medicine man and very holy, and I was rather afraid of him. He used
-to sit on the bench behind the fire, to smoke. He had a long pipe, of
-polished black stone. He liked best to smoke dried tobacco blossoms
-which he first oiled with buffalo fat.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-One day, as he sat smoking, I asked him, “Grandfather, who are the
-gods?”
-
-Missouri River took a long pull at his pipe, blew the smoke from his
-nostrils, and put the stem from his mouth. “Little granddaughter,” he
-answered, “this earth is alive and has a soul or spirit, just as you
-have a spirit. Other things also have spirits, the sun, clouds, trees,
-beasts, birds. These spirits are our gods. We pray to them and offer
-them food, that they may help us when we have need.”
-
-“Do the spirits eat the food?” I asked. I had seen my grandfather set
-food before the two skulls of the Big Birds’ ceremony.
-
-“No,” said my grandfather, “They eat the food’s spirit; for the food
-has a spirit as have all things. When the gods have eaten of its
-spirit, we often take back the food to eat ourselves.”
-
-“How do we know there are gods, grandfather?” I asked.
-
-“They appear to us in our dreams. That is why the medicine man fasts
-and cuts his flesh with knives. If he fasts long, he will fall in a
-vision. In this vision the gods will come and talk with him.”
-
-“What are the gods like?” I asked.
-
-“Like beings that live on this earth. Some are as men. Others are as
-birds, or beasts, or even plants and other things. Not all the gods are
-good. Some seek to harm us. The good gods send us buffaloes, and rain
-to make our corn grow.”
-
-“Do they send us thunder?” I asked. There had been a heavy storm the
-day before.
-
-“The thunder bird god sends us thunder,” said my grandfather. “He is
-like a great swallow, with wings that spread out like clouds. Lightning
-is the flash of his eyes. His scream makes the thunder.
-
-“Once in Five Villages,” my grandfather went on, “there lived a brave
-man who owned a gun. One day a storm blew up. As the man sat in his
-lodge, there came a clap of thunder and lightning struck his roof,
-tearing a great hole.
-
-“This did not frighten the man at all. Indeed, it angered him. He
-caught up his gun and fired it through the hole straight into the sky.
-‘You thunder bird,’ he shouted, ‘stay away from my lodge. See this gun.
-If you come, I will shoot at you again!’”
-
-My grandfather paused to fill his pipe. “That was a brave man,” he said
-as he reached for a coal. “Perhaps the thunder bird loves brave men,
-and did not harm him. But it is not well to provoke the gods. My little
-granddaughter should never laugh at them nor speak of them lightly.”
-
-My grandfather spoke very solemnly.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                            SEVENTH CHAPTER
-
-                         KINSHIP, CLAN COUSINS
-
-
-We Hidatsas do not reckon our kin as white men do. If a white man
-marries, his wife is called by his name; and his children also, as
-Tom Smith, Mary Smith. We Indians had no family names. Every Hidatsa
-belonged to a clan; but a child, when he was born, became a member of
-his mother’s, not his father’s clan.
-
-An Indian calls all members of his clan his brothers and sisters. The
-men of his father’s clan he calls his clan fathers; and the women, his
-clan aunts. Thus I was born a member of the _Tsistska_[8], or Prairie
-Chicken clan, because my mother was a _Tsistska_. My father was a
-member of the _Meedeepahdee_,[9] or Rising Water clan. Members of the
-_Tsistska_ clan are my brothers and sisters; but my father’s clan
-brothers, men of the _Meedeepahdee_, are my clan fathers, and his clan
-sisters are my clan aunts.
-
-  [8] Tsïst´ skä
-
-  [9] Mēē dēē päh´ dēē
-
-These relations meant much to us Indians. Members of a clan were bound
-to help one another in need, and thought the gods would punish them if
-they did not. Thus, if my mother was in need, members of the _Tsistska_
-clan helped her. If she was hungry, they gave her food. If her child
-was naughty, my mother called in a _Meedeepahdee_ to punish him, a clan
-father, if the child was a boy; if a girl, a clan aunt; for parents did
-not punish their own children. Again, when my father died, his clan
-fathers and clan aunts it was, who bore him to the burial scaffold and
-prayed his ghost not to come back to trouble the villagers.
-
-Another clan relative is _makutsatee_,[10] or clan cousin. I reckon
-as my clan cousins all members of my tribe whose fathers are my
-clan fathers. Thus, my mother, I have said, was a Prairie Chicken;
-my father, a member of the _Meedeepahdee_, or Rising Water, clan.
-Another woman, of what clan does not matter, is also married to a
-_Meedeepahdee_; her children will be my clan cousins, because their
-father, being a _Meedeepahdee_, is my clan father.
-
-  [10] mä kṳt´ sä tēē
-
-Clan cousins had a custom that will seem strange to white people. We
-Indians are proud, and it makes our hearts sore if others make mock
-of us. In olden times if a man said to his friend, even in jest, “You
-are like a dog,” his friend would draw his knife to fight. I think we
-Indians are more careful of our words than white men are.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-But it is never good for a man not to know his faults, and so we let
-one’s clan cousins tease him for any fault he had. Especially was
-this teasing common between young men and young women. Thus a young
-man might be unlucky in war. As he passed the fields where the village
-women hoed their corn, he would hear some mischievous girl, his clan
-cousin, singing a song taunting him for his ill success. Were any one
-else to do this, the young man would be ready to fight; but, seeing
-that the singer was his clan cousin, he would laugh and call out, “Sing
-louder cousin, sing louder, that I may hear you.”
-
-I can best explain this custom by telling you a story:
-
-
-                     Story of Snake Head-Ornament
-
-A long time ago, in one of our villages at Knife river, lived a man
-named _Mapuksaokihe_,[11] or Snake Head-Ornament. He was a great
-medicine man. In a hole in the floor of his earth lodge, there lived a
-bull snake. Snake Head-Ornament called the bull snake “father.”
-
-  [11] Mä pṳk´ sä ō kēē hĕ
-
-When Snake Head-Ornament was invited to a feast, he would paint his
-face, wrap himself in his best robe and say, “Come, father; let us go
-and get something to eat.”
-
-The bull snake would creep from his hole, crawl up the man’s body and
-coil about his neck, thrusting his head over the man’s forehead; or he
-would coil about the man’s head like the headcloth of a hunter, with
-his head thrust forward, as I have said.
-
-Bearing the snake thus on his head, Snake Head-Ornament would enter the
-lodge where the feast was held and sit down to eat. The snake, however,
-did not eat of the food that Snake Head-Ornament ate. The snake’s food
-was scrapings of buffalo hides that the women of the lodge fed him.
-
-When Snake Head-Ornament came home, he would say to the bull snake,
-“Father, get off.” And the snake would crawl down the man’s body and
-into his den again.
-
-Snake Head-Ornament fasted and had a vision. In the vision his gods, he
-thought, bade him go to war. He made up a war party and led it against
-enemies on the Yellowstone river. The party not only killed no enemies,
-but lost three of their own men; and they thought Snake Head-Ornament
-was to blame for it. “You said your prayers were strong,” they said;
-“and we have lost three men! Your gods have not helped us.”
-
-Snake Head-Ornament thought his gods were angry with him; and when he
-came home he went about crying and mourning and calling upon his gods
-to give him another vision. “Pity me, gods,” he cried, “make me strong
-that I may bring home scalps and horses.” He was a brave man, and his
-bad fortune made his heart sore.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-In those days, when a man mourned he cut off his hair, painted his body
-with white clay, and threw away his moccasins. He also cut his flesh
-with a knife or some sharp weapon. Now when a man sought a vision from
-the gods, he wept and mourned, that the gods might have pity on him;
-and for this he went away from the village, alone, into the hills. So
-it happened, that Snake Head-Ornament, on his way to the hills, went
-mourning and crying past a field where sat a woman, his clan cousin, on
-her watch-stage. Seeing him, she began a song to tease him:
-
-    He said, “I am a young bird!”
-    If a young bird, he should be in his nest;
-    But he comes here looking gray,
-    And wanders about outside the village!
-
-    He said, “I am a young snake!”
-    If a young snake, he should be in the hills among the red buttes;
-    But he comes here looking gray and crying,
-    And wanders aimlessly about!
-
-When the woman sang, “He comes here looking gray,” she meant that the
-man was gray from the white-clay paint on his body.
-
-Snake Head-Ornament heard her song; but, knowing she was his clan
-sister, he cried out to her: “Sing louder, cousin! You are right; let
-my ‘fathers’ hear what you say. I do not know if they will feel shame
-or not, but the bull snake and the bald eagle both called me ‘son’!”
-
-What he meant was that the bull snake and the bald eagle were his dream
-gods. That is, they had appeared to him in a dream, and promised to
-help him as they would a son, when he went to war. In her song, the
-woman taunted him with this. If she had not been his clan cousin, he
-would have been beside himself with anger. As it was, he but laughed
-and did not hurt her.
-
-But the woman had cause for singing her song. Years before, when Snake
-Head-Ornament was a very young man, he went out with a war party and
-killed a Sioux woman. When he came home the people called him brave,
-and made much of him; and he grew quite puffed up now that all looked
-up to him.
-
-Not long after, he was made a member of the Black Mouth society.
-It happened one day, that the women were building a fence of logs,
-set upright around the village, to defend it from enemies. Snake
-Head-Ornament, as a member of the Black Mouths, was one of the men
-overseeing the work. This woman, his clan cousin, was slow at her task;
-and, to make her move more briskly, Snake Head-Ornament came close to
-her and fired off his gun just past her knees. She screamed, but seeing
-it was Snake Head-Ornament who had shot, and knowing he was her clan
-cousin, she did not get angry. Nevertheless, she did not forget! And,
-years after, she had revenge in her taunting song.
-
-                   •       •       •       •       •
-
-Young men going out with a war party had to take much chaffing from
-older warriors who were clan cousins. My brother was once out with a
-party of fifty, many of them young men. They were fleeing from a big
-camp of Sioux and had ridden for two days. The second night one of the
-younger men, a mere lad, fell asleep as he rode his pony. An older
-warrior, his clan cousin, fired a gun past the lad’s ear. “Young man,”
-he cried, “you sleep so soundly that only thunder can waken you!” The
-rest of the party thought the warrior’s words a huge joke.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                            EIGHTH CHAPTER
-
-                              INDIAN DOGS
-
-
-In old times we Indian people had no horses, and not many families of
-my tribe owned them when I was a little girl. But I do not think there
-ever was a time when we Hidatsas did not own dogs. We trained them to
-draw our tent poles and our loaded travois. We never used dogs to chase
-deer, as white men do.
-
-Our Hidatsa dogs—the breed we owned when I was a little girl—had broad
-faces, with gentle, knowing eyes; erect, pointed ears; and tails
-curling, never trailing like a wolf’s tail. They had soft silky hair,
-gray, black, or spotted red or white. All had stout, heavy legs. I
-think this sturdiness was because we saved only dogs of stout build to
-drag our travois.
-
-The Teton Sioux, who lived south of us, owned dogs like ours, but of
-slenderer build and legs. They liked these dogs, I think, because they
-were speedier; for the Sioux were hunters, always moving from place to
-place.
-
-Almost every family in Like-a-Fishhook village owned two or more dogs;
-and, as there were about seventy lodges in the village, our dogs made
-a large pack. The dogs knew every man and child in the village, and
-being, besides, well trained, seldom bit anyone. But they were quick to
-wind a stranger. A visitor from another tribe was sure to be beset by a
-troop of dogs, growling and barking at his heels.
-
-The dogs had one habit I liked. Every evening about bedtime—and bedtime
-for a little Indian girl was early—some dog was sure to start up,
-_wu-wu-wu!_ And all the others would join in, even the little puppies.
-I used to lie in my bed and listen to them.
-
-About midnight, the barking would start up again, especially if there
-was a moon, and again a little before daylight; but I was usually
-asleep at these hours.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-In daytime lookouts were always on the roofs of some of the lodges
-watching if enemies or buffaloes were about. If they saw our hunters,
-with meat, coming home over the prairie, these lookouts would cry out,
-“_Hey-da-ey!_”[12] And the dogs, knowing what the cry meant, would
-join in with “_wu-u-u-u_.”[13] They liked fresh buffalo meat no less
-than the Indians.
-
-  [12] He̱y dä e̱y´
-
-  [13] Wṳ-ṳ-ṳ
-
-But the greatest excitement was when enemies were seen. The lookouts
-then cried, “_Ahahuts[14]—they come against us!_” Warriors, on hearing
-the cry, seized weapons and ran out of their lodges, yelling shrilly.
-The chiefs sprang for their ponies, twisting lariats into the ponies’
-mouths for bridles. Medicine men chanted holy songs, and women ran
-about calling to their children. But above all rose the barking of the
-dogs, every beast joining in the hubbub.
-
-  [14] A hä hṳts´
-
-One day, after the midday meal—I think I was then eight years old—old
-Turtle went down to the river and fetched an armful of dry willows.
-They were about four feet long and as thick as a child’s wrist; some
-were forked at the top. She set them in a circle, with tops together
-like a tepee, at one side of the lodge entrance near the place where
-the dogs slept.
-
-“What are you doing, grandmother?” I asked.
-
-Turtle did not answer my question. “I want to get some dry grass,” she
-said. “Come and help me.”
-
-We went out to a place in the hills where was some long, dead grass.
-Turtle pulled a big armful, piling it on her robe which she spread on
-the ground. She drew the corners of the robe together, slung the bundle
-over her shoulder and we came back to the village.
-
-She laid the grass thickly over the sides of the little tepee, leaning
-chunks of wood against it to keep the grass in place. She left a door,
-or opening, in front; and she even bound a stick over the door, like
-the pole over the door of a hunting lodge. Last, she put grass inside,
-as if for a bed.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-“Grandmother, what _are_ you doing?” I begged; but she led me into the
-lodge, telling me nothing.
-
-I was awakened early the next morning by dogs barking on the roof. As I
-lay listening, I thought I heard a faint whining outside. It seemed to
-come from the place where the little grass tepee stood.
-
-I fell asleep, and awoke a second time to see Red Blossom fanning the
-fire with a goose wing. Breakfast was soon ready, of fresh boiled
-buffalo meat. The hunters had come in only the night before, and they
-had brought a fresh side-and-ribs for a present to my father.
-
-After the meal I saw Turtle gather up the scraps of meat into a wooden
-bowl. “Come,” she said, leading me out of the lodge.
-
-She stopped before the tepee, and thrust the bowl of scraps within.
-Again I heard the faint whining. I dropped to my knees and looked in.
-There I saw our best dog, the pet of us all; and beside her lay four
-little puppies.
-
-“_Eh, sukkeets!_”[15] I cried, “Oh, good!” And I drew the puppies out
-one by one, to cuddle them. The mother dog whined, and raised her eyes
-to me. She was a gentle dog and did not snap at my hand.
-
-  [15] sŭk´ kēēts
-
-[Illustration]
-
-I do not know whether I or the puppies’ mother cuddled them more, the
-next few days. One puppy I came to love dearly. He was a wriggling
-little thing, with a bob tail for all the world like a rabbit’s,
-except that it hung down. There were ten or more bobtailed dogs in
-the village all of them born so. My puppy was black, so I named him
-_Sheepeesha_,[16] or Blackie.
-
-  [16] Shēē´ pēē shä
-
-It must have been a funny sight to see me take my puppy out for a walk.
-Stooping, I would lay the puppy between my shoulders and draw my tiny
-robe up over his back; and I would walk off proud as any Indian mother
-of her new babe. The old mother dog would creep half out of her kennel,
-following me with her gentle eyes. I was careful not to go out of her
-sight.
-
-When the puppies were ten days old my grandmother brought in some fresh
-sage, the kind we Indians use in a sweat lodge. She laid the sage by
-the fireplace and fetched in the puppies, barring the door so that
-the mother dog could not come in. I could hear the poor dog whining
-pitifully.
-
-“What are you going to do, grandmother?” I asked.
-
-“I am going to smoke the puppies.”
-
-“Why, grandmother?” I cried.
-
-“Because the puppies are old enough to eat cooked meat, for their
-teeth have come through. The sage is a sacred plant. Its smoke will
-make the puppies hungry, so that they will eat.”
-
-While she was speaking, she opened my little pet’s jaws. Sure enough,
-four white teeth were coming through the gums.
-
-Turtle raked some coals from the ashes, and laid on them a handful of
-the sage. A column of thick white smoke arose upward to the smoke hole.
-
-My grandmother took my puppy in her hands and held his head in the
-smoke. The poor puppy struggled and choked. Thick spittle, like suds,
-came out of his mouth. I was frightened, and thought he was going to
-die.
-
-“The smoke will make the puppy healthy,” said Turtle. “Now let us see
-if he will grow up strong, to carry my little granddaughter’s tent.”
-
-She lifted the puppy, still choking, from the floor, and let him fall
-so that he landed on his feet. The puppy was still young and weak, and
-he was strangling; but his little legs stiffened, and he stood without
-falling.
-
-“Hey, hey,” laughed my grandmother. “This is a strong dog! He will grow
-up to carry your tent.” For in old times, when traveling, we Hidatsas
-made our dogs drag our tents on poles, like travois.
-
-Turtle tried the other three puppies. One, not as strong as the
-rest, fell on his side. “This dog will not grow up strong,” said my
-grandmother. “I will give him to my neighbor, who asks for one.”
-
-She now lifted a clay pot out of the ashes, and from it poured
-something into a flat bowl; corn mush, I think it was, boiled with
-buffalo fats. She set the bowl before the puppies. They quickly lapped
-up the mush, with funny red tongues. My little black puppy even gulped
-down a lump of fat.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Turtle laughed. “I told you your puppy is strong,” she cried. “He will
-soon grow up to carry your tent. But to grow, our puppies must be fed.
-It will be your work to feed them. See they do not starve.”
-
-But, if I had to feed the puppies, my grandmother also helped. Indeed,
-the whole family watched to see that they had enough. If fresh meat
-was brought in, we always boiled some and gave to the puppies. We did
-not give them raw meat. “It is not good for puppies. It will make them
-sick,” said Turtle.
-
-But, as the puppies grew up, we began to feed them raw meat. My
-grandmother sometimes boiled corn for them, into a coarse mush. They
-were fond of this. As they grew older, any food that turned sour or was
-unfit for the family to eat was given me for my doggies. They ate it
-greedily. It did not seem to harm them.
-
-Sometimes a deer or elk was killed, that was poor in flesh. Such a
-carcass was cut up and given to the dogs of the village, and of course
-mine got their share.
-
-When several buffaloes were killed, the hunters often could not carry
-all the meat home, and took only the best cuts. The next day any one
-who wanted, could go out and take the cast-away pieces for her dogs.
-Then, there were parts that we always threw away or gave to the dogs.
-The tough, outside meat of a buffalo’s hams we cut off and saved for
-the dogs. The inside meat, next the bone, we thought our very best.
-Hunters were fond of roasting it before the fire, on two stones.
-
-Even in famine times we did not forget our dogs; but we sometimes had
-only soft bones to give them that had been broken for boiling. The dogs
-gnawed these, and so got a little food.
-
-We Hidatsas loved our good dogs, and were kind to them.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                             NINTH CHAPTER
-
-                            TRAINING A DOG
-
-
-Autumn twice came around, and my puppy had grown into a romping dog.
-In the moon of Yellow Leaves, my tribe went again into winter camp. We
-returned to Like-a-Fishhook village rather early in the spring. Patches
-of snow lay on the ground, and the ice was still firm on the Missouri
-when we crossed. We reached the village in midafternoon.
-
-My father had two pack horses loaded with our stuff and our dogs
-dragged well-laden travois. While my mothers were unpacking, my father
-made a fire. He drew his flint and steel, and with a bit of soft,
-rotten wood for tinder struck a spark. In olden times the Hidatsas made
-fire with two sticks. “I saw very old men make fire thus, when I was a
-lad,” my grandfather once told me. I never saw it done myself.
-
-Small Ankle wrapped the spark, caught in the tinder, in a little bunch
-of dry grass, and waved it in the air until the grass was ablaze. He
-had raked together some bits of charcoal in the fireplace and on them
-laid a few dry-wood splinters. To these he held the burning grass and
-soon had a fire.
-
-There was a little firewood in the lodge, left from the previous
-autumn, but not enough to keep the fire going long. As my mothers were
-still unpacking, my father offered to go out and get wood for the
-night. Getting wood, we thought, was woman’s work; but my father was a
-kind man, willing to help his wives.
-
-From the saddle of one of his horses Small Ankle took a rawhide lariat,
-and to one end fastened a short stick. There were some cottonwoods
-under the river bank, not far from the village. Into one of the largest
-trees Small Ankle threw his lariat until the stick caught in some dead
-branches overhead. A sharp pull broke off the branches. My father
-gathered them up and bore them to the lodge.
-
-There were logs and dead wood lying along the river, but they were wet
-with the snows. My father knew the dead branches in the trees would be
-dried by the winds. He wanted dry wood to kindle a quick fire.
-
-The next morning after we had eaten, Red Blossom took her ax, and,
-dragging a travois from its place against the fire screen, led the way
-out of the lodge. Strikes-Many Woman followed her. Our biggest dog,
-lying outside, saw them coming. He got up, shaking himself, wagging
-his tail, and barking _wu-wu-wu!_ Our dogs were always ready to be
-harnessed. They liked to go to the woods, knowing they would be fed
-well afterwards.
-
-This, our best dog, was named _Akeekahee_,[17] or Took-from-Him. He
-belonged to Red Blossom. A woman owning a dog would ask some brave
-man of her family to name him for her; and Red Blossom had asked my
-grandfather, Big Cloud, to name her dog. Once an enemy had stolen his
-horse, but Big Cloud gave chase and retook his horse from that bad
-enemy. For this, he named the dog Took-from-Him.
-
-  [17] Ȧ kēē´ kä hēē
-
-[Illustration]
-
-My mothers harnessed their dogs, four in number and started off. They
-returned a little after midday; first, Red Blossom, with a great pack
-of wood on her back; after her, Strikes-Many Woman; then the four dogs,
-marching one behind the other, Took-from-Him in the lead. Each dog
-dragged a travois loaded with wood.
-
-My mothers dropped their loads before the lodge entrance. The dogs
-were unhitched; and, while old Turtle fed them, Strikes-Many Woman
-carried the wood into the lodge and piled it by the corral, where it
-was handy to the fire.
-
-I was eager to have my dog broken to harness and begged my grandmother
-to make a travois for him. “I will,” she said, “but wait another moon.
-Your dog will then be fed fat, after the long winter. A dog should be
-two years old, and strong, when he is broken. To work a dog too young
-or when he is weak will hurt his back.”
-
-A month after this, my mothers came home one afternoon from
-woodgathering, dragging each a cottonwood pole about eight feet long.
-They peeled these poles bare of bark, and laid them up on the corn
-stage to dry.
-
-“What are the poles for?” I asked.
-
-“They are for your travois,” said my grandmother. “Your dog
-_Sheepeesha_ is now old enough to work; and my little granddaughter,
-too, must learn to be useful.”
-
-I was ready to cry out and dance, when I heard these words of my
-grandmother; and I thought I could never, never wait until those poles
-dried. The heavy ladder we used for mounting the stage lay on the
-ground when not in use. I was too little to lift it, to climb up to the
-poles; but I went every day to stand below and gaze at them longingly.
-
-One afternoon my grandmother fetched the poles into the lodge. “They
-are dry now,” she said. “I will make the travois frame.”
-
-With her big knife she hacked the greater ends of the poles flat, so
-that they would run smooth on the ground. The small ends she crossed
-for the joint, cutting a notch in each to make them fit. She bound the
-joint with strips of the big tendon in a buffalo’s neck that we Indians
-call the _eetsuta_[18]. These strips drew taut as they dried, making
-the joint firm.
-
-  [18] ēēt sṳ´ tä
-
-Turtle now drew a saddle, or cushion, over the poles just under the
-joint, sewing it down with buckskin thongs. This saddle was to keep the
-dog from fretting his shoulders against the poles.
-
-The hoop for the basket was of ash. My father webbed it. He cut a
-long, thin thong from the edges of a hide, and soaked it to make it
-soft. Taking some wet paint in his palm, he drew the thong through it,
-thus painting it a bright red. He laced the thong over the hoop and my
-grandmother bound the basket in place.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-The harness was of two pieces: a collar, to go around the dog’s
-neck; and a breast thong, that was drawn across his chest and through a
-loop in the saddle, was lapped once or twice around one of the travois
-poles, and was finally carried under the dog’s body to the other pole,
-where it was made fast.
-
-I could hardly wait to eat my breakfast the next morning, for my
-mothers had promised to take me with them to gather wood. “And we are
-going to begin training your dog to-day,” they told me.
-
-I knew a dog should be fed before he was harnessed, and I saved half my
-breakfast meat to give to mine. Owning a dog, and invited to go with
-my mothers to get wood, I felt that in spite of my girlish years I was
-almost a woman now.
-
-Breakfast ended, Red Blossom fetched the new travois and laid it on
-my dog’s back. He looked up, puzzled, then sank to the ground and lay
-wagging his tail from side to side, sweeping a clean place in the dust.
-Red Blossom bound the collar about his neck, and drew and fastened the
-breast thong. While she was doing this I gently patted my dog’s head.
-
-“_Nah!_” said Red Blossom, “Come!” But my doggie was a bit frightened.
-He twisted about, trying to rid himself of the travois, but only hurt
-himself. He looked up at me and whined. Red Blossom tied a thong to
-his collar and put the end in my hand. “Lead him,” she said. “He will
-follow the other dogs.” She led off, Strikes-Many Woman behind her, and
-the dogs followed after, in a line.
-
-I tugged at my dog’s thong, pursing my lips and making a whistling
-sound, as Indians do. My doggie understood. He rose to his feet, and,
-seeing the other dogs moving off, followed after the last one.
-
-We thus came to the woods, about a mile and a half from the village.
-The dogs sank in their tracks, to rest. My mothers searched about for
-dead-and-dry wood, which they cut into lengths of two feet or more, and
-piled them in the path near the dogs.
-
-When they had enough wood cut, my mothers lifted each travois by its
-basket, and turned it so that the dog’s nose was pointed toward the
-village; and they loaded each travois with a double armful of wood,
-bound to the basket with two thongs. My two mothers then lifted each a
-load to her own back, and started to the village.
-
-I did not carry any load myself, as my shoulders were not strong enough
-for such heavy work; but I led my dog. Not a very big load was put on
-him, as it was his first. I called to him, tugging gently at the thong.
-Seeing the other dogs ahead, he followed willingly.
-
-Old Turtle awaited us at the door. “Grandmother,” I cried joyfully,
-“my dog has brought home a load of wood. He did not try to run away.”
-Turtle laughed, and helped me unload.
-
-That evening I was sitting by the fire with my good dog, for Red
-Blossom had let me bring him into the lodge. Now and then I slipped him
-a bit of meat I had saved from my supper. My father had laid some dry
-sticks on the fire, and the blaze flickered and rose, flickered and
-rose, making post and rafter yellow with its light. Small Ankle sat on
-his couch smoking his pipe. Suddenly I heard the clitter of the hollow
-hoofs as the lodge door was raised and let fall again. I looked up.
-Coyote Eyes, a Ree Indian, was coming around the screen.
-
-“_Hau!_”[19] cried my father, making a place for him on the couch.
-Small Ankle was a polite man. He handed his pipe to the Ree, who took
-big pulls, blowing the smoke through his nostrils.
-
-  [19] Hau (How)
-
-Coyote Eyes gave the pipe back to my father. “That is a fine dog you
-have,” he said to me. “I know a story of my tribe about two dogs.”
-
-Being but a little girl, I did not think it proper for me to talk to a
-stranger, but my father answered for me, “What is the story?”
-
-“In the beginning, my tribe came out of a cave in the earth,” said
-Coyote Eyes. “They journeyed until they came to the Missouri river.
-‘Let us go up this river,’ they said, ‘and find a place to build our
-villages.’ They were weary of journeying.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-“They had two dogs in the camp. One was black; his name was Death. The
-other was white, and her name was Sickness. These dogs were asleep when
-the tribe broke camp the next morning. The people were in such haste to
-be off that they forgot to waken the dogs.
-
-“The third day after, they saw two great fires sweeping toward them
-over the prairie. The women cried out with fear. All thought that they
-should die.
-
-“When the fires came near, the people saw that they were the two dogs,
-Death and Sickness.
-
-“‘Do not fear,’ said the dogs. ‘Our hearts are not all evil. True, we
-will bite you, because you forgot us; but we will also live with you
-and be your friends. We will carry your burdens; and when we die, you
-shall eat us.’
-
-“The dogs grew old. The white one died, and her skin became the squash.
-Now our squashes are of different colors, white, gray, yellow, spotted,
-just as are dogs. These squashes we eat. Also we Rees eat dog meat;
-for, before he died, the black dog said, ‘You shall eat my flesh.’
-
-“And to this day, when our Ree people sicken and die, they say, ‘We are
-bitten by Sickness and Death.’”
-
-My father smiled. “We Hidatsas do not eat dogs,” he said; and then to
-me, “Little daughter, it is bedtime.”
-
-I did not always obey my mothers; for, like all little girls, I was
-naughty sometimes, but I dared not disobey my father.
-
-I put my dog out of the lodge, and went to bed.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                             TENTH CHAPTER
-
-                           LEARNING TO WORK
-
-
-My mothers began to teach me household tasks when I was about twelve
-years old. “You are getting to be a big girl,” they said. “Soon you
-will be a woman, and marry. Unless you learn to work, how will you feed
-your family?”
-
-One of the things given me to do was fetching water from the river. No
-spring was near our village; and, anyhow, our prairie springs are often
-bitter with alkali. But the Missouri river, fed by melting snows of
-the Montana mountains, gave us plenty of fresh water. Missouri river
-water is muddy; but it soon settles, and is cool and sweet to drink. We
-Indians love our big river, and we are glad to drink of its waters, as
-drank our fathers.
-
-A steep path led down the bank to the watering place. Down this path,
-the village girls made their way every morning to get water for
-drinking and cooking. They went in little groups or in pairs. Two
-girls, cousins or chums, sometimes swung a freshly filled pail from a
-pole on their shoulders.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-But there were few pails of metal in my tribe, when I was a
-little girl. I used to fetch water in a clay pot, sometimes in a
-buffalo-paunch lining skewered on a stick; but my commonest bucket was
-of a buffalo heart skin. When my father killed a buffalo, he took out
-the heart skin, and filled it with grass until it dried. This he gave
-to Red Blossom, who sewed a little stick on each side of the mouth; and
-bound a short stick and sinews between them for handle. Such a bucket
-held about three pints. It was a frail looking vessel, but lasted a
-long time.
-
-We girls liked to go to the watering place; for, while we were filling
-our buckets, we could gossip with our friends. For older girls and
-young men it was a place for courtship. A youth, with painted face and
-trailing hair switch, would loiter near the path, and smile slyly at
-his sweetheart as she passed. She did not always smile back. Sometimes
-for long weeks, she held her eyes away, not even glancing at his
-moccasins. It was a shy smile that she gave him, at last. Nor did she
-talk with her love-boy—as we called him—when others were about. We
-should have thought that silly. But he might wait for her at sunset, by
-her father’s lodge, and talk with her in the twilight.
-
-But I had other tasks besides fetching water. I learned to cook,
-sweep, and sew with awl and sinew. Red Blossom taught me to embroider
-with quills of gull and porcupine, dyed in colors. Sometimes I helped
-at harder work; gathered drift wood at the river, dressed or scraped
-hides, and even helped in our cornfield.
-
-I liked to go with my mothers to the cornfields in planting time, when
-the spring sun was shining and the birds singing in the tree tops. How
-good it seemed to be out under the open sky, after the long months in
-our winter camp! A cottonwood tree stood at a turn of the road to our
-field. Every season a pair of magpies built their nest in it. They were
-saucy birds and scolded us roundly when we passed. How I used to laugh
-at their wicked scoldings!
-
-I am afraid I did not help my mothers much. Like any young girl, I
-liked better to watch the birds than to work. Sometimes I chased away
-the crows. Our corn indeed had many enemies, and we had to watch that
-they did not get our crop. Magpies and crows destroyed much of the
-young corn. Crows were fond of pulling up the plants when they were
-a half inch or an inch high. Spotted gophers dug up the roots of the
-young corn, to nibble the soft seed.
-
-When our field was all planted, Red Blossom used to go back and replant
-any hills that the birds had destroyed. Where she found a plant
-missing, she dug a little hole with her hand and dropped in a seed, or
-I dropped it in for her.
-
-It was hard work, stooping to plant in the hot sun, and Red Blossom
-never liked having to go over the field a second time. “Those bad
-crows,” she would groan, “they make us much trouble.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-My grandmother Turtle made scarecrows to frighten away the birds. In
-the middle of the field she drove two sticks for legs, and bound two
-other sticks to them for arms; on the top, she fastened a ball of
-cast-away skins for a head. She belted an old robe about the figure to
-make it look like a man. Such a scarecrow looked wicked! Indeed I was
-almost afraid of it myself. But the bad crows, seeing the scarecrow
-never moved from its place, soon lost their fear, and came back.
-
-In the months of midsummer, the crows did not give us much trouble;
-but, as the moon of Cherries drew near, they became worse than ever.
-The corn had now begun to ear, and crows and blackbirds came in flocks
-to peck open the green ears for the soft kernels. Many families now
-built stages in their fields, where the girls and young women of the
-household came to sit and sing as they watched that crows and other
-thieves did not steal the ripening grain.
-
-We cared for our corn in those days, as we would care for a child; for
-we Indian people loved our fields as mothers love their children. We
-thought that the corn plants had souls, as children have souls, and
-that the growing corn liked to hear us sing, as children like to hear
-their mothers sing to them. Nor did we want the birds to come and steal
-our corn, after the hard work of planting and hoeing. Horses, too,
-might break into the field, or boys might steal the green ears and go
-off and roast them.
-
-A watchers’ stage was not hard to build. Four posts, forked at the
-tops, upheld beams, on which was laid a floor of puncheons, or split
-small logs, at the height of the full grown corn. The floor was about
-four feet long by three wide, roomy enough for two girls to sit
-together comfortably. Often a soft robe was spread on the floor. A
-ladder made of the trunk of a tree rested against the stage. The ladder
-had three steps.
-
-A tree was often left standing in the field, to shade the watchers’
-stage. If the tree was small and more shade was wanted, a robe was
-stretched over three poles leaned against the stage. These poles could
-be shifted with the sun.
-
-Girls began to go on the watchers’ stage when about ten or twelve
-years of age, and many kept up the custom after they were grown up and
-married. Older women, working in the field and stopping to rest, often
-went on the stage and sang.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-There was a watchers’ stage in my mothers’ field, where my sister, Cold
-Medicine, and I sat and sang; and in the two weeks of the ripening
-season we were singing most of the time. We looked upon watching our
-field as a kind of lark. We liked to sing, and now and then between
-songs we stood up to see if horses had broken into the field or if
-any boys were about. Boys of nine or ten years of age were quite
-troublesome. They liked to steal the green ears to roast by a fire in
-the woods.
-
-I think Cold Medicine and I were rather glad to catch a boy stealing
-our corn, especially if he was a clan cousin, for then we could call
-him all the bad names we wished. “You bad, bad boy,” we would cry. “You
-thief,—stealing from your own relatives! _Nah, nah_,—go away.” This was
-enough; no boy stayed after such a scolding.
-
-Most of the songs we sang were love-boy songs, as we called them; but
-not all were. One that we younger girls were fond of singing—girls,
-that is, of about twelve years of age—was like this:
-
-    You bad boys, you are all alike!
-    Your bow is like a bent basket hoop;
-    Your arrows are fit only to shoot into the air;
-    You poor boys, you must run on the prairie barefoot, because you
-        have no moccasins!
-
-This song we sang to tease the boys who came to hunt birds in the
-near-by woods. Small boys went bird hunting nearly every day. The birds
-that a boy snared or shot he gave to his grandparents to roast in the
-lodge fire; for, with their well-worn teeth, old people could no longer
-chew our hard, dried buffalo meat.
-
-Here is another song; but, that you may understand it, I will explain
-to you what _eekupa_[20] means. A girl loved by another girl as her
-own sister was called her _eekupa_. I think your word “chum,” as you
-explain it, has nearly the same meaning. This is the song:
-
-    “My _eekupa_, what do you wish to see?” you said to me.
-    What I wish to see is the corn silk peeping out of the growing ear;
-    But what _you_ wish to see is that naughty young man coming!
-
-  [20] ēē´ kṳ pä
-
-Here is a song that older girls sang to tease young men of the Dog
-Society who happened to be going by:
-
-    You young man of the Dog Society, you said to me,
-    “When I go east with a war party, you will hear news of me how
-        brave I am!”
-    I have heard news of you;
-    When the fight was on, you ran and hid;
-    And you still think you are a brave young man!
-    Behold, you have joined the Dog Society;
-    But I call you just plain _dog_!
-
-Songs that we sang on the watchers’ stage we called _meedaheeka_,[21]
-or gardeners’ songs. I have said that many of them were love-boy
-songs, and were intended to tease. We called a girl’s sweetheart her
-love-boy. All girls, we know, like to tease their sweethearts.
-
-  [21] mēē dä´ hēē kä
-
-[Illustration]
-
-At one side of our field Turtle had made a booth, diamond willows
-thrust in the ground in a circle, with leafy tops bent over and tied
-together. In this booth, my sister and I, with our mothers and old
-Turtle, cooked our meals. We started a fire in the booth as soon as we
-got to the field, and ate our breakfast often at sunrise. Our food we
-had brought with us, usually buffalo meat, fresh or dried. Fresh meat
-we laid on the coals to broil. Dried meat we thrust on a stick and held
-over the fire to toast.
-
-Sometimes we brought a clay cooking pot, and boiled squashes. We were
-fond of squashes and ate many of them. We sometimes boiled green corn
-and beans. My sister and I shelled the corn from the cob. We shelled
-the beans or boiled them in the pod. My grandmother poured the mess in
-a wooden bowl, and we ate with spoons which she made from squash stems.
-She would split a stem with her knife and put in a little stick to hold
-the split open.
-
-I do not think anything can taste sweeter than a mess of fresh corn and
-beans, in the cool morning air, when the birds are twittering and the
-sun is just peeping over the tree tops.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                           ELEVENTH CHAPTER
-
-                         PICKING JUNE BERRIES
-
-
-June berry time had come. I was now fourteen years, old and had begun
-to think myself almost a young woman. Some of the young men even smiled
-at me as I came up from the watering place. I never smiled back, for
-I thought: “My father is a chief, and I belong to one of the best
-families in my tribe. I will be careful whom I choose to be my friends.”
-
-A little north of my father’s, stood the earth lodge of Bear Man’s
-family. Bear Man was an eagle hunter. He had magic snares of sacred
-hemp plant which he tossed into the air as he prayed to the eagle
-spirits. After doing so he was sure to catch many young golden eagles
-at his eagle pit. We thought him a great medicine man.
-
-Bear Man had a son named Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing, a straight-limbed,
-rather good-looking lad, a year older than myself. Bear Man’s
-father died, and Bear Man cut off his long hair in mourning.
-Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing made a switch of his father’s hair, tastefully
-spotting it with little lumps of spruce gum mixed with red ochre. He
-looked quite manly, I thought, wearing this switch, in spite of his
-fifteen years.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-My father’s earth lodge and Bear Man’s both faced eastward, with the
-lodge of Blue Paint’s family standing between; but, as I stood at my
-father’s lodge entrance, I could see the flat top of Bear Man’s lodge
-over Blue Paint’s roof. Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing had joined the Stone
-Hammer Society a short while before, and had begun to paint his face
-like a young man. He would get up on his father’s roof, painted, and
-decked out in hair switch, best leggings, and moccasins, and sing his
-society’s songs. He had a fine voice, I thought; and when I went out
-with my buck-brush broom to sweep the ground about our lodge entrance,
-Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing would sing harder than ever. I thought perhaps he
-did this so that I would hear him. I was too well-bred to look up at
-him, but I did not always hurry to finish my sweeping.
-
-There had been plenty of rain, and the June berry trees were now loaded
-with ripe fruit. We Indians set great store by these berries, and
-almost every family dried one or more sackfuls for winter. June berries
-are sweet, and, as we had no sugar, we were fond of them.
-
-We were sitting one evening at our supper. Red Blossom had gone into
-the woods earlier in the day and fetched home some ripe June berries
-which we were eating. Perhaps that is why we ended our meal with
-our kettle half-full of boiled meat. “We will save this meat until
-morning,” Red Blossom said. “We must breakfast early, for Strikes-Many
-Woman and I are going with a party to pick June berries. Our daughter
-may go with us, if she will.”
-
-I was quite happy when I heard this. I had seen my two mothers getting
-ready their berry sacks; and, looking over to the bench where they lay,
-I now saw that a small sack had been laid out for me.
-
-Red Blossom dipped her fingers into the kettle for a lump of fat and
-continued: “The mother of that young man, Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing, said
-to me to-day, ‘If your daughter goes berrying to-morrow, my son wishes
-to go with her. He will take his bow and keep off enemies.”
-
-I did not blush, for we Indian girls had dark skins and painted our
-cheeks; but I felt my heart jump. I looked down at the floor, then got
-up and went about my work, humming a song as I did so; for I thought,
-“I am going berrying in the morning.” I felt quite grown-up to know
-that a young man wanted to go berrying with me.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-We were off the next morning before the sun was up. I walked with my
-mothers and the other women. The men went a little ahead, armed, some
-with guns, others with bows. Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing walked behind the
-men. On his back I saw a handsome otter-skin quiver, full of arrows.
-I felt safer to see those arrows. Enemies might be lurking anywhere
-in the woods, ready to capture us or take our scalps. We Indian women
-dared not go far into the woods without men to protect us.
-
-At the woods the men joined us, and our party broke up into little
-groups, the older men helping their wives, and the younger men
-their sweethearts. I made my way to a clump of June berry trees
-bent nearly to the ground with fruit. I did not look to see if
-Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing was following me. I thought, “If he wants to
-help me, he may; but I shall not ask him.” I spread a skin under the
-branches, and I was looking for a stout stick when I saw my boy friend
-breaking off the laden branches and piling them on the skin, ready to
-be beaten.
-
-I sat on the ground and with my stick beat off the berries.
-Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing fetched me fresh branches, and in an hour or two
-I had enough berries to fill my sack. Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing’s arrows
-lay at my feet. Once, when a near-by bush stirred, my boy friend leaped
-for his bow and laid an arrow on the string; but it was the wind, I
-guess.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-All the time that we worked together Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing and I spoke
-not a word. Older couples, I knew, talked together, when they thought
-of marrying; but I was a young girl yet and did not want to be bothered
-with a husband.
-
-When my sack was filled, I tied it shut and slung it on my back by my
-packing strap. Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing laid some sweet smelling leaves
-under the sack that the juices from the ripe berries might not ooze
-through and stain my dress.
-
-I am sorry to say that I am not sure I even thanked
-Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing for all he did to help me.
-
-I walked back to the village with the women as I had come. Ahead of us
-walked a young woman named Pink Blossom, with her chin in the air as
-if she were angry. The older women, coming after her, were laughing
-and slyly jesting with one another. I asked my mothers what it was all
-about.
-
-It seems there was an old man in our party named Old Bear, whose wife
-had died. He wanted to marry again and smiled at Pink Blossom whenever
-she passed him; but she did not like Old Bear, and she turned her eyes
-away whenever he came near.
-
-When she came to the June berry woods, Pink Blossom set her sack under
-a tree, while she picked berries. Old Bear saw the sack. He folded his
-robe under his arm into a kind of pocket, picked it full of berries,
-and emptied them into Pink Blossom’s sack.
-
-This vexed Pink Blossom. She went to her sack and poured Old Bear’s
-berries out on the ground. “I do not want that old man to smile at me,”
-she told the other women.
-
-It was because the women were laughing at her and Old Bear, that Pink
-Blossom walked ahead with her chin in the air. The others were having a
-good deal of fun with one another at her expense.
-
-“I think Pink Blossom did wrong to waste the berries,” said one, a clan
-cousin. “If she did not want them herself, she should have given them
-back to Old Bear, for him to eat.”
-
-“Old Bear’s is a sad case,” said Elk Woman. “But I knew a man in a
-worse case.”
-
-“Tell us of it,” said Red Blossom.
-
-“Years ago,” said Elk Woman, “I went berrying with some others on the
-other side of the Missouri. In the party was a young man named Weasel
-Arm. He was a good singer, and he liked to sing so that his sweetheart
-could hear his voice. His sweetheart was also in the party. Weasel Arm
-helped her fill her sack; and when she went back with the other women
-and they were waiting for some that had not yet come in, Weasel Arm lay
-down on the grass a little way off and sang, beating time on the stock
-of his gun.
-
-“As he lay there he heard some one riding toward him, but thought it
-was one of his party. It was a Sioux; and right in the midst of the
-song—_poh!_—the Sioux fired, wounding Weasel Arm in the hip. Luckily
-the wound was slight, and Weasel Arm sprang for the near-by woods. The
-Sioux dared not follow him, for he saw that Weasel Arm had a gun.”
-
-“I do not think Weasel Arm’s case as sad as Old Bear’s,” said one of
-the women. “Weasel Arm was wounded in his body, but Old Bear is wounded
-in his heart.”
-
-Elk Woman laughed. “Have no fear for Old Bear,” she said. “He is an old
-man and has had more than one sweetheart. His heart will soon heal.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-“But I am sorry for the spilled berries,” she continued. “Pink Blossom
-should not waste good berries, even if Old Bear does look like an old
-man.”
-
-All laughed at this but Pink Blossom.
-
-“I knew a young woman who once wasted good rose berries, just as Pink
-Blossom wasted the June berries,” said Old-Owl Woman.
-
-“Tell us the story,” said one of my mothers.
-
-“When I was a girl,” said Old-Owl Woman, “Ear-Eat, a Crow Indian,
-married Yellow Blossom, a Hidatsa girl. They went to live with the
-Crows, but after a year they came back to visit our tribe at Five
-Villages.
-
-“It was in the fall, when the rose berries are ripe. Now the Crow
-Indians like to eat rose berries, and gather them to dry for winter as
-we dry squashes. We Hidatsas eat rose berries sometimes, but we never
-dry them for winter. We think they are food for wild men.
-
-“Ear-Eat was riding in the woods near our villages, when he found a
-thicket of rose bushes bending over with their load of ripe berries.
-‘_Ey_,’ he cried, ‘how many berries are here! I never saw it thus in
-our Crow country.’ And he got off his horse and began to pick the
-berries.
-
-“He had no basket to put them in, so he drew off his leggings, tied the
-bottoms shut with his moccasin strings, and, when he had filled the
-leggings with berries, he slung them over his horse’s back like a pair
-of saddle bags.
-
-“He rode home happy, for he thought, ‘My wife will be glad to see so
-many berries.’
-
-“When Yellow Blossom saw her husband riding home without his leggings,
-and with the tops of his moccasins loose and flapping, she could
-hardly believe her eyes. As she stood staring, Ear-Eat got off his
-horse and handed her his bulging leggings. ‘Here, wife,’ he cried,
-‘look at these fine berries. Now we shall have something good to eat.’
-
-“The village women, hearing what Ear-Eat said, crowded close to look.
-When they saw that his leggings were filled with rose berries, they
-cried out with laughter.
-
-“Yellow Blossom was angry. ‘You are crazy,’ she cried to her husband.
-‘We Hidatsas raise corn, beans, sunflower seed, and good squashes to
-eat. We are not starving, that we must eat rose berries.’
-
-“‘The Crow Indians eat rose berries,’ said Ear-Eat. ‘My mother used to
-dry them for winter food.’
-
-“His words but vexed Yellow Blossom more.
-
-“‘I am a Hidatsa woman, not a Crow,’ she cried. ‘We Hidatsas are not
-wild people. We live in earth lodges and eat foods from our gardens.
-When we go berrying we put our berries into clean baskets, not into our
-leggings.’ And she turned the leggings up and poured the rose berries
-out on the ground.”
-
-We all laughed at Old-Owl Woman’s story.
-
-“We had other use for rose berries when I was a girl,” said Red
-Blossom. “If a young man went at evening to talk with his sweetheart,
-he put a ripe rose berry in his mouth to make his breath sweet.”
-
-“I wonder if Old Bear put a rose berry in his mouth,” said Old-Owl
-Woman.
-
-“I think he put two rose berries in his mouth,” said Red Blossom,
-smiling.
-
-All laughed again but Pink Blossom; she walked on, saying nothing.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                            TWELFTH CHAPTER
-
-                           THE CORN HUSKING
-
-
-After the June berry season came choke-cherries. We did not gather so
-big a store of these, but they were harder to prepare for drying. I
-can yet see old Turtle, with her gnarled, wrinkled fingers, plying the
-crushing stones. She dropped three or four cherries on a round stone
-and crushed them with a smaller stone held in her palm. The pulp she
-squeezed through her palms into lumps, which she dried in the sun.
-
-And then came the corn harvest, busiest and happiest time of all the
-year. It was hard work gathering and husking the corn, but what fun
-we had! For days we girls thought of nothing but the fine dresses we
-should wear at the husking.
-
-While the ears were ripening my sister and I went every morning to sit
-on our watch stage and sing to the corn. One evening we brought home
-with us a basketful of the green ears and were husking them by the
-fire. My father gathered up the husks and took them out of the lodge. I
-wondered why he did so.
-
-“I fed the husks, daughter, to my pack horses,” he said, when he came
-back. “To-morrow I go hunting to get meat for the husking.” He had
-brought his hunting pony into the lodge, but he had penned his pack
-horses for the night under the corn stage.
-
-My two mothers, I knew, were planning a big feast. “We have much corn
-to husk,” they said, “and we must have plenty of food, for we do not
-want our huskers to go away hungry.”
-
-Small Ankle left us before daybreak. He returned the fourth day
-after, about noon, with two deer loaded on his pack horses. “One is
-a black-tail,” he told us when he came in the lodge, “a buck that I
-killed yesterday in some bad lands by the Little Missouri. He was
-hiding in a clump of trees. As I rode near, he winded me and ran out
-into the open. I checked my pony, and the buck stopped to look around.
-I fired, and he fell; but, when I got off my horse, the buck rose and
-tried to push me with his horns. I killed him with my knife.” A wounded
-black-tail often tried to fight off the hunters: a white-tail hardly
-ever did so.
-
-The next morning we women rose early, and with our baskets hastened to
-the cornfield. All day we plucked the ripe ears, bearing them in our
-baskets to the center of the field, where we laid them in a long pile.
-That night my father and Red Blossom slept on the watchers’ stage, to
-see that no horse broke in and trampled our corn pile. There was not
-much danger of this. Around the field ran a kind of fence, of willows,
-enough to keep out the ponies.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-The rest of us returned to the lodge to make ready for the feast the
-next day. Turtle fetched out three great bundles of dried buffalo meat
-and piled them on the puncheon bench with the freshly killed deer meat.
-Our three kettles were scoured and set by, ready to be taken to the
-field.
-
-At nightfall Bear’s Tail went around the village to lodges of our
-relatives and friends, and invited the young men to come to our husking.
-
-I was too excited that night to sleep much. Early in the morning my
-sister and I rose and went to the river for a dip in its cold waters.
-After a hasty breakfast I put on my best dress, of deer skin, with
-hoofs hanging like bangles at the edge of the skirt and three rows of
-costly elk teeth across the front. Cold Medicine helped me paint my
-face, and was careful to rub a little red ochre in the part of my hair.
-
-The sun was just coming over the prairie when we started for the field.
-We had loaded our kettles and meat on two pack horses, and old Turtle
-led the way. My father and Red Blossom had risen early and eaten
-breakfast, and now had a brisk fire going. We put our kettles on, after
-filling them with water. In one we put dried, in another fresh, meat;
-the third kettle we filled with green corn, late planted for this
-purpose. The meat and corn were for our feast.
-
-The sun was three hours high when the huskers came. They were about
-thirty in all, young men, except three or four crippled old warriors
-who wanted to feast. These were too old to work much, but my father
-made them welcome.
-
-The huskers came into the field yelling and singing. We had, indeed,
-heard their yells long before we saw them. I think young men all sing
-and yell, just because they are young.
-
-My sister and I were already seated at one side of the corn pile, and
-the other women joined us. The young men sat down on the opposite side,
-and the husking began.
-
-I saw that Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing sat just opposite me. Next to him was
-a young man named Red Hand, with grass plumes in his hair. These meant
-that he had been in a war party and had been sent out to spy on the
-enemy. I saw Red Hand looking at me, and I was glad that I was wearing
-my elk teeth dress. “He is a young man,” I thought, “not a boy, like
-Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing.”
-
-The huskers worked rapidly, stripping off the dry husks with their
-hands. The big fine ears they braided in strings, to save for seed.
-Smaller ears they tossed into a pile. Big as our corn pile was, it was
-husked in about four hours.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-My mothers then served the feast. The huskers were hearty eaters; for,
-like all young men, they had good appetites; but we had a big feast of
-meat, and even they could not eat all. It was not polite to leave any
-of the food, and some had brought sharp sticks on which they skewered
-the meat they could not eat, to take home with them.
-
-The feast over, the huskers went to another field, singing and yelling
-as they went.
-
-We women had now to busy ourselves carrying in our corn.
-
-We loaded our two pack horses with strings of braided ears, ten strings
-to a pony. The smaller ears we bore to the village in our baskets, to
-dry on our corn stage before threshing.
-
-In midafternoon there were a few strings of corn still left, and I was
-laying them by for the next trip when I heard steps. I looked up and
-saw Red Hand coming, leading his pony.
-
-Red Hand did not speak, but he laid my strings of corn on his pony and
-started for the village. “He wants to help me take home my corn,” I
-thought. A young man did thus for the girl he admired. “Red Hand is
-brave, and he owns a pony,” I said to myself; and I forgot all about
-Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing.
-
-My father returned with the pack horses just as Red Hand was starting
-off; and I was stooping to fill my basket, when suddenly there came a
-sound, _poh-poh-poh_, as of guns; then yells, and a woman screamed.
-Small Ankle sprang for his war pony, which he had left hobbled near the
-husking pile.
-
-Our corn fields lay in a strip of flat land skirted by low foot hills;
-and now I saw, coming over the hills, a party of Sioux, thirty or
-more, mounted, and painted for war. At the edge of the hills they
-checked their ponies, and those who had guns began firing down into our
-gardens. Many of the Sioux were armed with bows and arrows.
-
-On all sides arose outcries. My brave father dashed by with his ringing
-war whoop, _ui, ui, ui_;[22] and after him Red Hand, lashing his pony
-and yelling like mad. Red Hand had thrown away my strings of corn, but
-I was not thinking of my corn just then.
-
-  [22] ṳ ï (pronounced like ōō ēē, but quickly and sharply)
-
-Women and children began streaming past our field to the village. Brave
-young men rode between them and our enemies, lest the Sioux dash down
-and cut off some straggler. Two lads, on swift ponies, galloped ahead
-to rouse the villagers.
-
-Meanwhile my father and others were fighting off the Sioux from the
-shelter of some clumps of small trees that dotted the flat: Our enemies
-did not fight standing, but galloped and pranced their horses about on
-the hillside to spoil our aim.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Suddenly a Sioux warrior, in trailing eagle-feather bonnet, and mounted
-on a beautiful spotted pony, dashed down the hillside toward us, waving
-his bow over his head; and from our side I saw Red Hand, gun in hand,
-riding to meet him.
-
-As they drew near one another the Sioux swerved, and an arrow, like a
-little snake, came curving through the air. Red Hand’s pony stumbled
-and fell, the shaft in its throat; but Red Hand, leaping to the ground,
-raised his gun and fired. I saw the Sioux drop his bow and ride back
-clinging desperately to his pony’s mane. Red Hand put his hand to his
-mouth and I heard his _yi-yi-yi-yi-yah_,[23] the yell that a warrior
-made when he had wounded an enemy.
-
-  [23] yĭ yĭ yĭ yĭ yäh´
-
-On the side toward our village other cries now arose, for the warriors
-were coming to our help. The Sioux fled. Our men pursued them, and at
-nightfall came back with one scalp.
-
-All that night we danced the scalp dance. A big fire was built. Men and
-women painted their faces black and sang glad songs. Old women cried
-_a-la-la-la-la!_[24] Young men danced, yelled and boasted of their
-deeds. All said that Red Hand was a brave young man and would become a
-great warrior.
-
-  [24] ä lä lä lä lä´
-
-[Illustration]
-
-The next day I was coming from the watering place with my kettle. Just
-ahead of me walked Waving Corn, a handsome girl two years older than I.
-Red Hand passed by; shyly I looked up, thinking to see him smile at me.
-
-He was smiling at Waving Corn.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                          THIRTEENTH CHAPTER
-
-                               MARRIAGE
-
-
-And so I grew up, a happy, contented Indian girl, obedient to my
-mothers, but loving them dearly. I learned to cook, dress skins,
-embroider, sew with awl and sinew, and cut and make moccasins, clothing
-and tent covers. There was always plenty of work to do, but I had time
-to rest, and to go to see my friends; and I was not given tasks beyond
-my strength. My father did the heavy lifting, if posts or beams were
-to be raised. “You are young, daughter,” he would say. “Take care you
-do not overstrain!” He was a kind man, and helped my mothers and me
-whenever we had hard work to do.
-
-For my industry in dressing skins, my clan aunt, Sage, gave me a
-woman’s belt. It was as broad as my three fingers, and covered with
-blue beads. One end was made long, to hang down before me. Only a very
-industrious girl was given such a belt. She could not buy or make one.
-No relative could give her the belt; for a clan aunt, remember, was not
-a blood relative. To wear a woman’s belt was an honor. I was as proud
-of mine as a war leader of his first scalp.
-
-I won other honors by my industry. For embroidering a robe for my
-father with porcupine quills I was given a brass ring, bought of the
-traders; and for embroidering a tent cover with gull quills dyed yellow
-and blue I was given a bracelet. There were few girls in the village
-who owned belt, ring and bracelet.
-
-In these years of my girlhood my mothers were watchful of all that I
-did. We had big dances in the village, when men and women sang, drums
-beat loud, and young men, painted and feathered, danced and yelled to
-show their brave deeds. I did not go to these dances often, and, when
-I did, my mothers went with me. Ours was one of the better families of
-the tribe, and my mothers were very careful of me.
-
-I was eighteen years old the Bent-Enemy-Killed winter; for we Hidatsas
-reckoned by winters, naming each for something that happened in it. An
-old man named Hanging Stone then lived in the village. He had a stepson
-named Magpie, a handsome young man and a good hunter.
-
-One morning Hanging Stone came into our lodge. It was a little while
-after our morning meal, and I was putting away the wooden bowls that
-we used for dishes. The hollow buffalo hoofs hung on the door for
-bells, I remember, rattled clitter, clitter, clitter, as he raised and
-let fall the door. My father was sitting by the fire.
-
-Hanging Stone walked up to my father, and laid his right hand on my
-father’s head. “I want you to believe what I say,” he cried. “I want my
-boy to live in your good family. I am poor, you are rich; but I want
-you to favor us and do as I ask.”
-
-He went over to my mothers and did likewise, speaking the same words to
-both. He then strode out of the lodge.
-
-Neither my father nor my mothers said anything, and I did not know at
-first what it all meant. My father sat for a while, looking at the
-fire. At last he spoke, “My daughter is too young to marry. When she is
-older I may be willing.”
-
-Toward evening Hanging Stone and his relatives brought four horses and
-three flint-lock guns to our lodge. He tied the four horses to the
-drying stage outside. They had good bridles, with chains hanging to the
-bits. On the back of each horse was a blanket and some yards of calico,
-very expensive in those days.
-
-Hanging Stone came into the lodge. “I have brought you four horses and
-three guns,” he said to my father.
-
-“I must refuse them,” answered Small Ankle. “My daughter is too young
-to marry.”
-
-Hanging Stone went away, but he did not take his horses with him. My
-father sent them back by some young men.
-
-The evening of the second day after, Hanging Stone came again to our
-lodge. As before, he brought the three guns and gifts of cloth, and
-four horses; but two of these were hunting horses. A hunting horse was
-one fleet enough to overtake a buffalo, a thing that few of our little
-Indian ponies could do. Such horses were costly and hard to get. A
-family that had good hunting horses had always plenty of meat.
-
-After Hanging Stone left, my father said to his wives, “What do you
-think about it?”
-
-“We would rather not say anything,” they answered. “Do as you think
-best.”
-
-“I know this Magpie,” said my father. “He is a kind young man. I have
-refused his gifts once, but I see his heart is set on having our
-daughter. I think I shall agree to it.”
-
-Turning to me he spoke: “My daughter, I have tried to raise you right.
-I have hunted and worked hard to give you food to eat. Now I want you
-to take my advice. Take this man for your husband. Try always to love
-him. Do not think in your heart, ‘I am a handsome young woman, but this
-man, my husband, is older and not handsome.’ Never taunt your husband.
-Try not to do anything that will make him angry.”
-
-I did not answer _yes_ or _no_ to this; for I thought, “If my father
-wishes me to do this, why that is the best thing for me to do.” I had
-been taught to be obedient to my father. I do not think white children
-are taught so, as we Indian children were taught.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-For nigh a week my father and my two mothers were busy getting ready
-the feast foods for the wedding. On the morning of the sixth day, my
-father took from his bag a fine weasel-skin cap and an eagle-feather
-war bonnet. The first he put on my head; the second he handed to my
-sister, Cold Medicine. “Take these to Hanging Stone’s lodge,” he said.
-
-We were now ready to march. I led, my sister walking with me. Behind
-us came some of our relatives, leading three horses; and, after them,
-five great kettles of feast foods, on poles borne on the shoulders of
-women relatives. The kettles held boiled dried green corn and ripe corn
-pounded to meal and boiled with beans; and they were steaming hot.
-
-There was a covered entrance to Hanging Stone’s lodge. The light was
-rather dim inside, and I did not see a dog lying there until he sprang
-up, barking _wu-wu!_ and dashed past me. I sprang back, startled.
-Cold Medicine tittered. “Do not be foolish,” called one of our women
-relatives. Cold Medicine stopped her tittering, but I think we were
-rather glad of the dog. My sister and I had never marched in a wedding
-before, and we were both a little scared.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-I lifted the skin door—it was an old-fashioned one swinging on thongs
-from the beam overhead—and entered the lodge. Hanging Stone sat on
-his couch against the puncheon fire screen. I went to him and put the
-weasel-skin cap on his head. The young man who was to be my husband was
-sitting on his couch, a frame of poles covered with a tent skin. Cold
-Medicine and I went over and shyly sat on the floor near-by.
-
-The kettles of feast foods had been set down near the fireplace, and
-the three horses tied to the corn stage without. Hanging Stone had
-fetched my father four horses. We reckoned the weasel cap and the war
-bonnet as worth each a horse; and, with these and our three horses, my
-father felt he was going his friend one horse better. It was a point
-of honor in an Indian family for the bride’s father to make a more
-valuable return gift than that brought him by the bridegroom and his
-friends.
-
-[Illustration: Plate II.—“I put the weasel-skin cap on his head.”]
-
-As we two girls sat on the floor, with ankles to the right, as Indian
-women always sit, Magpie’s mother filled a wooden bowl with dried
-buffalo meat pounded fine and mixed with marrow fat, and set it for my
-sister and me to eat. We ate as much as we could. What was left, my
-sister put in a fold of her robe, and we arose and went home. It would
-have been impolite to leave behind any of the food given us to eat.
-
-Later in the day Magpie’s relatives and friends came to feast on the
-foods we had taken to Hanging Stone’s lodge. Each guest brought a gift,
-something useful to a new-wed bride—beaded work, fawn-skin work bag,
-girl’s leggings, belt, blanket, woman’s robe, calico for a dress, and
-the like. In the evening two women of Magpie’s family brought these
-gifts to my father’s lodge, packing them each in a blanket on her back.
-They piled the gifts on the floor beside Red Blossom, the elder of my
-two mothers.
-
-Red Blossom spent the next few days helping me build and decorate the
-couch that was to mark off the part of our lodge set apart for my
-husband and me. We even made and placed before the couch a fine, roomy
-lazy-back, or willow chair.
-
-All being now ready, Red Blossom said to me: “Go and call your husband.
-Go and sit beside him and say, ‘I want you to come to my father’s
-lodge.’ Do not feel shy. Go boldly and have no fear.”
-
-So with my sister I slowly walked to Hanging Stone’s lodge. There were
-several besides the family within, for they were expecting me; but no
-one said anything as we entered.
-
-Magpie was sitting on his couch, for this in the daytime was used as
-white men use a lounge or a big chair. My sister and I went over and
-sat beside him. Magpie smiled and said, “What have you come for?”
-
-“I have come to call you,” I answered.
-
-“_Sukkeets_—good!” he said.
-
-Cold Medicine and I arose and returned to my father’s lodge. Magpie
-followed us a few minutes later; for young men did not walk through the
-village with their sweethearts in the daytime. We should have thought
-that foolish.
-
-And so I was wed.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                          FOURTEENTH CHAPTER
-
-                            A BUFFALO HUNT
-
-
-My young husband and I lived together but a few years. He died of lung
-sickness; and, after I had mourned a year, I married Son-of-a-Star, a
-Mandan. My family wished me to marry again; for, while an Indian woman
-could raise corn for herself and family, she could not hunt to get meat
-and skins.
-
-Son-of-a-Star was a kind man, and my father liked him. “He is brave,
-daughter,” Small Ankle said. “He wears two eagle feathers, for he has
-twice struck an enemy, and he has danced the death dance. Three times
-he has shot an arrow through a buffalo.” It was not easy to shoot an
-arrow through a buffalo and few of my tribe had done so.
-
-Spring had come, and in the moon of Breaking Ice we returned to
-Like-a-Fishhook village. Our hunters had not killed many deer the
-winter before, and our stores of corn were getting low. As ours was
-a large family, Son-of-a-Star thought he would join a hunting party
-that was going up the river for buffaloes. “Even if we do not find much
-game,” he said, “we shall kill enough for ourselves. We younger men
-should not be eating the corn and beans that old men and children need.”
-
-Small Ankle thought the plan a good one. I was glad also, for I was to
-be one of the party. Corn planting time would not come for a month yet;
-and, after the weeks in our narrow winter quarters, I longed to be out
-again in the fresh air.
-
-There were ten in the party besides Son-of-a-Star and myself:
-Crow-Flies-High, Bad Brave, High Backbone, Long Bear, and Scar, and
-their wives. Scar was a Teton Sioux who had come to visit us.
-
-My tribe now owned many horses, and fewer dogs were used than when I
-was a little girl. A party of buffalo hunters usually took both hunting
-and pack horses; but our village herd was weak and poor in flesh after
-the scant winter’s feeding, and we thought it better to take only dogs.
-There was yet little pasture, and the ground was wet and spongy from
-the spring thaws. Only a strong, well-fed pony could go all day on wet
-ground.
-
-I took three of our family dogs. On the travois of two I loaded robes
-for bedding, the halves of an old tent cover, moccasins for myself and
-husband, an ax, a copper kettle and a flesher for dressing hides. My
-third dog dragged a bull boat, bound mouth down to the travois poles.
-We planned to return by way of the river, in boats.
-
-We were clad warmly, for the weather was chill. All had robes. I wore a
-dress of two deer skins sewed edge to edge; the hind legs, thus sewed,
-made the sleeves for my arms.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-I had made my husband a fine skin shirt, embroidered with beads. Over
-it he drew his robe, fur side in. He spread his feet apart, drew the
-robe high enough to cover his head, and folded it, tail end first, over
-his right side; then the head end over his left, and belted the robe in
-place. He spread his feet apart when belting, to give the robe a loose
-skirt for walking in.
-
-We all wore winter moccasins, fur lined, with high tops. The men
-carried guns. Buffalo hunters no longer used bows except from horseback.
-
-We started off gaily, in a long line. Each woman was followed by her
-dogs. Two women, having no dogs, packed their camp stuff on their backs.
-
-We made our first camp late in the afternoon, at a place called
-Timber-Faces-across-River. There was a spring here, of good water.
-Crow-Flies-High and Bad Brave went hunting, while we women pitched
-our tent. We cut forked poles and stacked them with tops together
-like a tepee. We covered this frame with skins, laced together at
-the edges with thongs. A rawhide lariat was drawn around the outside
-of the cover; and small logs, laid about the edges, held the tent to
-the ground. We could not use tent pins, for the ground was frozen.
-We raised an old saddle skin on the windward side of the smoke hole,
-staying it with a forked pole, thrust through a hole in the edge. We
-were some time building, as the tent had to be large enough for twelve
-persons.
-
-We finished just at dusk; and we were starting a fire inside, when the
-two hunters came in. Each packed on his back the side and ham of an
-elk they had killed. Bad Brave had laid a pad of dry grass across his
-shoulders that the meat juice might not stain his robe.
-
-It was getting dark, and, while we women gathered dry grass for our
-beds, the two hunters roasted one of the sides of meat. They skewered
-it on a stick and swung it from the drying pole. Standing on each side,
-the two men swung the meat slowly, forth and back, over the fire.
-
-We were all hungry when we sat down to eat. The fresh roasted ribs of
-the elk were juicy and sweet, and with full stomachs we felt sleepy,
-for the day’s march had been long. We gladly spread our robes and crept
-into our beds, first covering a coal with ashes for the morning fire.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Next morning we had struck our tent and loaded our dogs before the sun
-was well up. We took only the tent cover, leaving the poles. Three
-of our men went ahead to hunt. The rest followed more slowly, not to
-tire our dogs. Now and then we stopped to rest and eat from our lunch
-bags. These were of dried buffalo heart skins. Every woman in the party
-carried one of them tucked under her belt. We had been careful to fill
-our bags with cooked meat, from our breakfast.
-
-My husband walked at my side if he talked with me. At other times he
-went a little ahead; for, if enemies or a grizzly attacked us, he would
-thus be in front, ready to fight, giving me time to escape.
-
-Our trail led along the brow of the bluffs overlooking the Missouri.
-There was a path here, fairly well marked, made by hunting parties, and
-perhaps by buffaloes.
-
-Our second camp was at a place called the Slides; for, here, big blocks
-of earth, softened by the spring rains, sometimes slide down the bank
-into the river. We found a spring a little way in from the river, with
-small trees that we could cut for tent poles.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Our tent was hardly pitched when Son-of-a-Star and Scar came in to say
-they had killed a stray buffalo not far away. They had packed part of
-the meat to camp on their shoulders, and Son-of-a-Star had cut out the
-buffalo’s paunch and filled it with fresh blood. While the two hunters
-went back for the rest of the meat, I put on my copper kettle and made
-blood pudding. It was hot and ready to serve by the time they came
-back. I had stirred the pudding with a green chokecherry stick, giving
-it a pleasant, cherry flavor.
-
-We were a jolly party as we sat around the evening fire. The hot
-pudding felt good in our stomachs, after the long march. My good dogs,
-Knife-Carrier, Took-a-Scalp, and Packs-a-Babe, I had fed with scraps
-of meat from the dead buffalo, and they were dozing outside, snuggled
-against the tent to keep warm. _Okeemeea_,[25] Crow-Flies-High’s wife,
-fetched in some dry wood, which she put on the fire. A yellow blaze lit
-up the tent and a column of thin, blue smoke rose upward to the smoke
-hole.
-
-  [25] O kēē mēē´ ä
-
-Crow-Flies-High filled his pipe and passed it among the men. Hidatsa
-women do not smoke.
-
-In the morning, on the way up, we had forded a stream we call Rising
-Water creek. My leggings and moccasins were still wet; and, as I was
-wringing them out to dry over the fire, I said to High Backbone’s
-wife Blossom: “That creek is dangerous. As I was fording it to-day, I
-slipped in the mud and nearly fell in; but I once got a good dinner out
-of that mud.”
-
-“How did you get a dinner out of mud?” asked Blossom.
-
-“I will tell you,” I answered. “I was a young girl then. My tribe
-had come up the river to hunt buffaloes and we had stopped at Rising
-Water Creek to make fires and eat our midday meal. It was summer and
-the creek was low, for there had been little rain. Some little girls
-went down for water. They came running back, much frightened. ‘We saw
-something move in the mud of the creek,’ they cried. ‘It is alive!’
-
-“We ran to the bank of the creek and, sure enough, something that
-looked as big as a man was struggling and floundering in a pool. The
-water was roiled and thick with mud.
-
-“We could not think what it could be. Some thought it was an enemy
-trying to hide in the mud.
-
-“A brave young man named Skunk threw off his leggings, drew his knife,
-and waded out to the thing. Suddenly he stooped, and in a moment
-started to land with the thing in his arms. It was a great fish, a
-sturgeon. It had a smooth back, like a catfish. We cut up the flesh and
-boiled it. It tasted sweet, like catfish flesh. I do not remember if we
-drank the broth, as we do when we boil catfish.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-“I have seen those fish,” said Bad Brave. “Sometimes when the Missouri
-falls after the spring floods, one of them will be left stranded on the
-sand; but I never knew one to be seen in Rising Water creek. I know
-that turtles are found there, the big kind that fight.”
-
-“I have heard that white men eat turtles,” said Long Bear’s wife. “I do
-not believe it.”
-
-“They do eat turtles,” said High Backbone, “and they eat frogs. A white
-man told me. I asked him.”
-
-“_Ey!_ And such unclean things; I could not eat them,” cried Bird Woman.
-
-“There are big turtles in our Dakota lakes,” said Scar. “They are so
-big that they drag under the water buffaloes that come there to drink.
-I once heard a story of a magic turtle.”
-
-“Tell us the story,” said Son-of-a-Star.
-
-“A brave young Dakota led out a war party, of six men,” began Scar.
-“They came into the Chippewa country and wandered about, seeking to
-strike an enemy. They found deserted camps, sometimes with ashes in the
-fire pit still warm; but they found no enemies.
-
-“One day they came to a beautiful lake. On the shore, close to the
-water, was a grassy knoll, rising upward like the back of a great
-turtle.
-
-“The leader of the party had now begun to lose heart. ‘We have found no
-enemy,’ he said. ‘I think the gods are angry with us. We should return
-home. If we do not, harm may come to us.’
-
-“‘Let us rest by this knoll,’ said one. ‘When we have smoked, we will
-start back home.’
-
-“They had smoked but one pipe when the leader said, ‘I think we should
-go now. There is something strange about this knoll. Somehow, I think
-it is alive.’
-
-“There was a young man in the party, reckless and full of life, whom
-the others called the Mocker. He sprang up crying, ‘Let us see if it is
-alive. Come on, we will dance on the knoll.’
-
-“‘No,’ said the leader, ‘an evil spirit may be in the knoll. The hill
-may be but the spirit’s body. It is not wise to mock the gods.’
-
-“‘_Hwee_[26]—come on! Who is afraid?’ cried the Mocker. He ran to the
-top of the knoll, and three of the party followed him laughing. They
-leaped and danced and called to the others, ‘What do you fear?’
-
-  [26] Hwēē
-
-“Suddenly the knoll began to shake. It put out legs. It began to move
-toward the lake. It was a huge turtle.
-
-“‘Help, help!’ cried the Mocker. He and his friends tried to escape.
-They could not. Some power held their feet fast to the turtle’s back,
-so that they could not move.
-
-“The great turtle plunged in the lake. The men were never seen again.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-There was silence when Scar ended. Then Crow-Flies-High spoke: “Those
-men were foolish. One should never make mock of the spirits.” He
-paused, puffing at his pipe and blowing great clouds from his nostrils.
-“I know a story of another Dakota who came to grief at a lake,” he
-continued, as he passed the burning pipe for my husband to smoke.
-
-“What is the story?” said Scar, smiling.
-
-“We Hidatsas,” said Crow-Flies-High, “believe that all babies born in
-our tribe have lived in another life. Some have lived in hills we call
-Babes’ Lodges. Others have lived as birds or beasts or even plants.
-
-“Down near the Dakota country is a lake. It is magic; and in old times
-young men went there to see what they had been in a former life. If one
-got up early in the morning while the lake was smooth, and looked in
-the water, he saw in his shadow the shadow also of what he had been.
-Some found this to be a bird, others a plant, as a flower or a squash.
-
-“A Dakota Indian had married a Hidatsa woman, and dwelt with our tribe.
-He was a good man, but he had a sharp tongue. He often got angry and
-said bitter words to his wife. When his anger had gone, he felt sorry
-for his words. ‘I do not know why I have such a sharp tongue,’ he would
-say.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-“One day, when hunting with some Hidatsas, he came near the magic lake.
-‘I am going to see what I was before I became a babe,’ he told the
-others. In the morning he went to the lake, leaned over and looked. In
-his shadow he saw what he had been. It was a thorn bush.
-
-“With heavy heart, he came back to camp. ‘Now I know why I have a sharp
-tongue,’ he cried. ‘It is because I was a thorn bush. All my life I
-shall speak sharp words, like thorns.’”
-
-All laughed at Crow-Flies-High’s story, none more than Scar himself. “I
-am sure _I_ was never a thorn bush,” he said, “for I speak sweet words
-to my wife, even when she scolds me.”
-
-“Hey, listen to the man!” cried his wife.
-
-“But stop talking, you men,” she continued, as she reached for a piece
-of bark to use as a shovel. “It is time to sleep, for we must be up
-early in the morning.” And she began to cover the fire with ashes.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                           FIFTEENTH CHAPTER
-
-                           THE HUNTING CAMP
-
-
-We were up the next morning before the sun, and, after a hasty
-breakfast, the men went out to look for buffaloes. “The one we killed
-yesterday may have strayed from a herd,” Son-of-a-Star said. He was
-hopeful that they might find the herd near.
-
-We women were getting dinner when the men returned, having seen no
-buffaloes. I had cut a green stick with prongs, on which I spread
-slices of fresh buffalo steak, and held them over the fire to broil. I
-had three juicy steaks, steaming hot, lying on a little pile of clean
-grass, when my husband came in. “_Sukkeets_—good!” he cried; and he had
-eaten all three steaks before I had the fourth well warmed through.
-
-After dinner we broke camp and went on about five miles to Shell Creek
-Lake. In the afternoon of the following day we reached Deep Creek. We
-pitched our tent on a bit of rising ground from which we scraped the
-wet snow with a hoe. The weather was getting warmer. Ice had broken on
-the Missouri the day we killed the stray buffalo.
-
-While we women busied ourselves with things in camp, the men went to
-hunt, and five miles farther on they discovered a herd of buffaloes
-crossing the Missouri from the south side. Our hunters, creeping close
-on the down-wind side, shot five fat cows as they landed. Buffaloes are
-rather stupid animals, but have keen scent. Had our hunters tried to
-come at them from the windward side, the herd would have winded them a
-half mile away. As it was, no more buffaloes crossed after the shots
-were fired, and some that were in the water swam back to the other
-side. A rifle shot at the Missouri’s edge will echo between the bluffs
-like a crash of thunder.
-
-The hunters found an elm tree with low hanging branches, and under it
-they built a rude stage. Meat and skins of the slain buffaloes they
-laid on the floor of the stage, out of reach of wolves. Some of the
-meat they hung on the branches of the elm.
-
-Son-of-a-Star brought back two hams and a tongue. I sliced the tough
-outer meat from the hams, to feed to my dogs. The bones, with the
-tender, inner meat, I laid on stones, around the fireplace, to roast,
-turning them now and then to keep the meat from scorching. The roasted
-meat we stripped off, and cracked the hot bones for the rich, yellow
-marrow.
-
-The next morning Crow-Flies-High called a council, and we decided to
-cross over to the other side of the river. “The main herd is there,”
-said Crow-Flies-High. “We should hunt the buffaloes before they move to
-other pasture.” We thought he spoke wisely, and men and women seized
-axes to cut a road through the willows for our travois.
-
-These we now loaded. The dogs dragged them to the water’s edge and
-we made ready to cross. There were two other bull boats in the party
-besides my own.
-
-My husband helped me load my boat, and we pushed off, our three dogs
-swimming after us. We had bound our travois to the tail of the boat,
-one upon the other. The long runners dragged in the water, but the
-travois baskets, raised to the boat’s edge, were hardly wetted.
-
-We landed, and I lent my boat to Scar to bring over his wife and her
-camp stuff. Our whole party crossed and brought over their goods in two
-trips.
-
-We packed our goods up the bank and made camp. While we women were
-cutting poles for our tent, we heard the men disputing. They were
-seated in a circle near our pile of goods. High Backbone had lighted a
-pipe.
-
-“I say we should go across the river and get the meat we staged
-yesterday,” said Crow-Flies-High. Others said, “No, there is better
-hunting on this side. Let us go at once and find the herd.” And all
-took their guns and hastened off but High Backbone, who stayed to
-guard the camp. We were afraid enemies might also be following the
-herd.
-
-But the hunters returned at evening without having seen buffalo sign,
-and hungry—so hungry that they ate up half our store of meat. After
-supper, Crow-Flies-High called them to another council. “I told you we
-should get the meat we staged,” he said. “The gods gave us that meat.
-We should not waste it.”
-
-We recrossed the river the next morning and fetched back most of the
-staged meat and skins, reaching camp again in the early part of the
-afternoon. Too busy to stop and eat, we spent the rest of the day
-building stages and staking out the green hides to dry.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-The next day we found to our joy that the wind had shifted to the west.
-Our stages were now hung with slices of drying meat, and we had built
-slow fires beneath. An east wind would have carried the smoke toward
-the herd and stampeded it.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-It was evening and getting dusk when Son-of-a-Star came into the tent,
-saying, “Buffaloes are on a bluff a quarter of a mile up the river. I
-can see them moving against the sky line.” We listened and heard the
-bulls roaring; so we knew a herd was coming in.
-
-We were careful to chop no wood that evening, nor do anything to make
-a noise. We smothered our fires, and we fed our dogs; for, with gorged
-stomachs, they would be sleepy and not bark. If a dog stirred in the
-night, one of us went out and quieted him.
-
-We made another crossing the next morning to fetch over the last of the
-meat we had staged. We returned about noon. The first woman to climb
-the bank under our camp was Scar’s wife, Blossom. She dropped her pack
-and came running back, her hands at each side of her head with two
-fingers crooked, like horns, the sign for buffaloes.
-
-We hastened into camp and saw the buffaloes a quarter of a mile away,
-swarming over a bluff. There was a bit of bad-land formation below,
-round-topped buttes with grassy stretches between. In these lower
-levels the sun had started the grass, and I think the buffaloes were
-coming down into them to seek pasture.
-
-Our hunters had come up from the boats, guns in hand, and set off at
-once, creeping up the coulees from the lee side, that the buffaloes
-might not wind them. Presently I saw a flash and a puff of smoke; then
-another, and another; and the reports came echoing down the river
-basin, _poh—poh—poh—poh, poh, poh!_ like thunder, away off. The herd
-took to their heels. Buffaloes, when alarmed, usually run up-wind; but,
-as the wind had shifted again to the east, this would have taken the
-herd into the river; so they swerved off and went tearing away toward
-the north.
-
-The hunters returned before evening. Son-of-a-Star was the first to
-come in. “I shot two fat cows,” he cried. “I have cut up the meat and
-put it in a pile, covered with the skins.” He had brought back the
-choice cuts, however, the tongues, kidneys and hams. We ate the kidneys
-raw.
-
-In the morning we harnessed our dogs and went out to the butchering
-place. As we neared my husband’s meat pile, I saw that he had driven
-a stick into the ground and tied his headcloth to it, like a flag.
-This was to keep away the wolves. There were many of them in the
-Missouri-river country then.
-
-While the flag fluttered and they winded the human smell, wolves would
-not touch the meat pile.
-
-Sometimes in the fall, when hunters were cutting up a dead buffalo, I
-have seen wolves, coyotes, and foxes, a half hundred maybe, stalking
-about or seated just out of bow shot, awaiting the time the hunters
-left. All then rushed in to gorge on the offal. The wolves often
-snarled and bit at one another as they ate.
-
-All these animals were great thieves; but the kit foxes, I think, were
-boldest. I was once with a hunting party, sleeping at night in a tent,
-when I awoke, hearing some one scream. A kit fox had stolen into the
-tent and walked over the bare face of one of the sleeping women. She
-was terribly vexed. “That bad fox stepped his foot in my mouth,” she
-cried angrily. In the morning we found the fox had made off with some
-of our meat.
-
-Son-of-a-Star uncovered his meat pile, and helped me load our travois,
-binding each load to its basket with thongs. By long use I knew how
-heavy a load each of my dogs was able to drag. When I thought the
-travois held enough, I lifted its poles and tried the weight with my
-hands.
-
-My husband and I packed loads on our own backs. Mine, I remember, was a
-whole green buffalo cow skin, a side of ribs and a tongue. This was a
-heavy load for a woman, and my husband scolded me roundly when we came
-in to camp. “That is foolish,” he said. “You will hurt your back.” I
-liked to work, however, and I wanted to show the older women how much I
-could carry.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-We remained in the camp about ten days. The men would hunt until they
-made a kill. Then we harnessed our dogs, and all went out to fetch in
-the meat. To do this took us about half a day. At other times, when not
-drying meat, we women busied ourselves making bull boats, to freight
-our meat down the river.
-
-I have said that I had brought one boat up from the village on one
-of my dogs. I now made another. There were some _mahoheesha_ willows
-growing near the camp. I made the boat frame of these, covering it with
-the green hide of a buffalo cow. _Mahoheesha_ willows are light, tough,
-and bend to any shape. They make good boat ribs.
-
-When ready to move camp, I carried my new boat down to the river,
-turned over my head like a big hat. At the water’s edge I drove a stout
-stake into the mud, and to this I fastened the floating boat with a
-short thong.
-
-Skins and dried meat had been made up into small bales. I packed these
-to the boat on my back, using a two-banded packing strap. As the river
-was not far from our camp and the bank not very steep, I did not think
-this task a hard one.
-
-When the boat was filled, I covered the load neatly with a piece of
-old tent skin, and to the tail of the boat, I lashed my three travois.
-The buffalo skin covering a bull boat was so laid that the tail was
-to the rear of the boat. For this reason we often spoke of the boat’s
-_head_ and _tail_.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Meanwhile, Son-of-a-Star fetched the boat I had brought up from the
-village, and I bound it to the head of my newer boat. We were now ready
-to embark. I waded out, climbed into the empty, or passenger, boat, and
-called to my dogs. They leaped in beside me.
-
-Son-of-a-Star took off his moccasins and rolled up his leggings. He
-handed me his gun, loosed the thong that bound the boats to the stake,
-pushed the boats into deeper water, and climbed in. I handed him his
-paddle.
-
-I had hewn this paddle from a cottonwood log, only the day before. My
-own, lighter and better made, I had brought with me from the village.
-Each paddle had a large hole cut in the center of the blade. Without
-this hole, a paddle wobbled in the current.
-
-On the front of my paddle blade, Son-of-a-Star had painted a part of
-his war record, hoof prints as of a pony, and moccasin tracks such as
-a man makes with his right foot. Hoof and footprints had each a wound
-mark, as of flowing blood. Son-of-a-Star had drawn these marks with his
-finger, dipped in warm buffalo fat and red ochre.
-
-The marks were for a brave deed of my husband. He once rode against a
-party of Sioux, firing his gun, when a bullet went through his right
-thigh, and killed his horse. The footprints with the wound marks meant
-that Son-of-a-Star had been shot in his right leg.
-
-On his own paddle my husband had marked a cross within bars. These
-meant, “I was one of four warriors to count _strike_ on an enemy.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-It was an Indian custom to mark a warrior’s honors, much as a soldier
-wears stripes for the wounds he has had. I was quite proud of the marks
-on my paddles. I was a young woman, remember, and I thought, “Not every
-woman has a husband as brave as mine.”
-
-Just before I got into my boat I had paused to wash my sweaty face
-in the river, and, with a little ochre and buffalo fat, I painted my
-cheeks a bright red. I thought this made me look handsome; and, too,
-the paint kept my face from being tanned by the sun, for I had a light
-skin. In those days everybody painted, and came to feasts with handsome
-faces, red or yellow. Now we follow white men’s ways, and we go about
-with faces pale, like ghosts from the Dead village. I think that is why
-some tribes call white men _pale-faces_; because they do not paint and
-are pale like ghosts.
-
-Altogether there were eleven boats in our fleet, two to each couple
-except Scar and his wife, who had but one. At that, their one boat
-was enough, for they had small store of meat or skins to take home.
-They were a young couple and thought more of having a good time than of
-doing any hard work.
-
-We had launched our boats in a tiny bay, and our paddles, dipping into
-the quiet backwater, sent the waves rippling against the shore. It was
-a crisp spring morning, and the sun, rising almost in our faces, threw
-a broad band of gold over the water. In the shadow of the opposite
-bank, a pelican was fishing. He paused to gaze at us, his yellow beak
-laid against his white plumage; then calmly went to fishing again. Out
-in mid-current, an uprooted tree swept by, and our skin boats, as they
-swung out of the bay, passed a deadhead that bobbed up and down, up and
-down. Then with a roar, the current caught us and bore us swiftly away.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                           SIXTEENTH CHAPTER
-
-                            HOMEWARD BOUND
-
-
-When using her bull boat to cross over the river, a woman knelt in
-the bow and dipped her paddle in front of her; but, with a second and
-freighted boat in tow, my husband and I paddled, seated one at each
-side of our boat. We had not much need to use our paddles as long as we
-rode the current.
-
-Crow-Flies-High led the way. We had gone, I think, an hour or two, and
-Crow-Flies-High’s boat was rounding a point, when I saw him rise to his
-knees and back water with his paddle. My husband and I speeded up; and,
-as we came near, Crow-Flies-High pointed to the bank just below the
-point. It was thickly covered with buffaloes.
-
-Scar’s wife put her hand to her mouth for astonishment, but made no
-sound. If buffaloes have not good sight, they have keen ears; and she
-knew better than to cry out.
-
-A bit of woodland stretched along the shore farther on. Crow-Flies-High
-signed for us to follow, and we floated silently down to the end of the
-woods, where the trees hid us from the herd. The men sprang out and
-held the boats while we women landed.
-
-The bank was high and rather steep, but at its foot was a narrow bench
-of sand a foot or more above the water’s level. We hastily unloaded our
-boats and dragged them out upon this sand.
-
-Along the Missouri’s edge are always to be found dead-and-dry willow
-sticks, left there by the falling current. I gathered an armful of
-these, and, having climbed the bank, laid them together in a kind of
-floor. Son-of-a-Star now helped me fetch up our bundles, and we piled
-them on this willow floor. He also brought up my two boats. These I
-turned, bottom up, over my pile of bundles, to keep off frost and rain.
-
-The men now seized their guns and hastened off after the buffaloes. It
-was about noon. I think we had spent less than an hour unloading the
-boats and packing them and our stuff to the top of the bank.
-
-While our hunters were stalking the herd, we women stayed in camp,
-keeping very quiet, and stilling the dogs if they whined or barked.
-Before long we heard the _poh-poh-poh!_ of guns, and knew the herd
-was started. We now arose and began gathering sticks for a fire. I
-think the first man to return struck fire for us, and we got dinner.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-We did not trouble to set up our tent. “The weather is not cold,”
-said Crow-Flies-High’s wife. “We can sleep in the open air.” I cut
-buck-brush bushes and spread a robe over them for my bed. Dry grass
-stuffed under one end of the robe did for a pillow. My covering was a
-pair of buffalo skins. We were weary and went to bed early. The night
-was clear; and, with the fresh river air blowing in my face, I soon
-fell asleep.
-
-We were astir the next morning at an early hour. While Son-of-a-Star
-started a fire, I went to fill my copper kettle at the river. My
-husband had asked me to boil him some meat, for the broth; for in old
-times we Indians drank broth instead of coffee.
-
-The river’s roar, I thought, sounded louder than usual; and, when I
-reached the edge of the high bank, I saw that the current was thronged
-with masses of ice. This amazed me, for the river had been running free
-for a fortnight. The Missouri is never a silent stream, and now to
-the roar of its waters was added the groaning and crashing of the ice
-cakes, as they grated and pounded one another in the current.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-When the Missouri is running ice, the mid-current will be thronged,
-well-nigh choked, with ice masses, but near the banks, where are
-shallows, the water will be free, since here the stream is not deep
-enough to float the ice chunks. On the side of the river under our camp
-was a margin of ice-free water of this kind; and I now saw, out near
-the edge of the floating ice, two bull boats bound together, with a
-woman in the foremost, paddling with all her might. She was struggling
-to keep from being caught in the ice and crushed.
-
-I ran down the bank to the bench of sand below, just as the boats
-came sweeping by. The woman saw me and held out her paddle crying,
-“Daughter, save me!” I seized the wet blade, and tugging hard, drew
-the boats to shore. The woman was _Amaheetseekuma_,[27] or Lies-on
-Red-Hill, a woman older than I, and my friend.
-
-  [27] A mä hēēt´ sēē kṳ mä
-
-Lies-on-Red-Hill, though rather fat, scrambled quickly out of the boat
-and began tumbling her bundles out upon the sand. The other women of
-our party now came down, and we helped my friend carry her bundles up
-to the camp.
-
-As we sat by the fire, wringing and drying her moccasins,
-Lies-on-Red-Hill told us her story: “My husband, Short Bull, and I were
-hunting buffaloes. We dried much meat, which I loaded in my two boats,
-to freight down the river. While I paddled, Short Bull was to go along
-the shore with our horses. ‘We will meet at Beaver Wood,’ he said, ‘and
-camp.’ But I did not find him at Beaver Wood. Then ice came. I was
-afraid to camp alone, and tried to paddle down stream, keeping near the
-shore, where was no ice. More ice came, and I feared I should be upset
-and drown.”
-
-[Illustration]
-
-It was not until afterwards, when we reached our village, that we
-learned why Short Bull did not meet his wife. He got to Beaver Wood
-ahead of her. Not finding her, and thinking she had passed him, he went
-on to the place where they had agreed to make their second camping.
-When again she did not come, he became alarmed, and returned up the
-river looking for her. In the morning he saw the river was full of ice.
-“She is drowned,” he thought. And he went on to Like-a-Fishhook village.
-
-Lies-on-Red-Hill’s father was an old man named Dried Squash. He was
-fond of his daughter, and, when he heard she was drowned, he put her
-squash basket on his back and went through the village weeping and
-crying out, “Lies-on-Red-Hill, dear daughter, I shall never see you
-again.” He wanted to leap into the river and die, but his friends held
-him.
-
-Lies-on-Red-Hill rested in our camp two days. The third morning the
-river was running free again, and she loaded her boats and paddled off
-down stream. The rest of us stayed one more day, to finish drying and
-packing our meat. Then we, too, loaded our boats and started down the
-river.
-
-We floated with the current, and the second day sighted Stands-Alone
-Point, or Independence, as white men now call it. Here a party of
-Mandans were just quitting camp. They pushed their boats into the
-current and caught up with us. “We knew you were coming,” they said.
-“Lies-on-Red-Hill told us. She passed us yesterday.”
-
-Our united party floated safely down until we were two miles below what
-is now Elbowoods. Here, to our astonishment, we found that the current
-was hardly running, and the water was backing up and flooding the
-shores. We rounded a point of land, and saw what was the matter. Ice,
-brought down on the current, had jammed, bridging the river and partly
-damming it.
-
-Fearing to go farther, we were bringing our boats to land, when we
-heard the sound of a gun and voices calling to us. On the opposite
-shore stood two white men, waving handkerchiefs.
-
-We paddled across and landed. The white men, we found, were traders,
-who had married Indian women. They had a flat boat, loaded with buffalo
-skins and furs. With them was Lies-on-Red-Hill. One of the traders we
-Indians had named Spots, because he had big freckles on his face.
-
-Like-a-Fishhook village was yet about fifteen miles away. While the
-rest of our party waited, one of the men went afoot, to notify our
-relatives. They came about noon, the next day, with ponies and saddles
-to help us bring home our goods. The saddles were pack saddles, made
-with horn frames.
-
-It took four ponies to pack the dried meat and skins my husband and I
-had brought. I loaded my boats on the travois of two of my dogs.
-
-We reached Like-a-Fishhook village at sunset. Lies-on-Red-Hill came
-with us, to the great joy of her father.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                          SEVENTEENTH CHAPTER
-
-                           AN INDIAN PAPOOSE
-
-
-My father was overjoyed to see me and my husband again, and he was glad
-for the store of meat that we brought. We had a real feast the next
-day. I boiled green corn, shelled from the cob and dried the summer
-before, and packed away in skin bags. We were fond of this corn, and
-had little of it left. Strikes-Many Woman parched ripe sweet corn,
-pounded it in a mortar with roast buffalo fats, and kneaded the meal
-into little balls.
-
-With these corn messes and boiled dried buffalo meat we made a big
-feast and called in all our relatives. To each woman guest, as she went
-away again, I gave a bundle of dried buffalo meat; and I thus gave away
-one of the four pony-loads of meat I had brought home. It was an Indian
-custom that, when a hunter brought in meat of a deer or buffalo, it
-belonged to his wife; and we should have thought her a bad woman, if
-she did not feast her relatives and give to them.
-
-My father sat with his cronies at the right of the fireplace, at our
-feast. We women ate apart, for men and women do not sit together at an
-Indian feast. I heard my father talking with his friend, Lean Wolf:
-“Every spring, when I was young, we fired the prairie grass around the
-Five Villages. Green grass then sprang up; buffaloes came to graze on
-it, and we killed many.”
-
-“Those were good days,” said Lean Wolf. “There were many buffaloes
-then.”
-
-“It is so,” said my father. “It is now seven years since a herd was
-seen near our village. White men’s guns have driven them away. And each
-year we kill fewer deer.”
-
-“I have heard that some Sioux families starved last winter,” said Lean
-Wolf.
-
-“They starved, because they are hunters and raise no corn,” said my
-father. “We Hidatsas must plant more corn, or we shall starve; and we
-must learn to raise white men’s wheat and potatoes.” Small Ankle was a
-progressive old man.
-
-One morning, not long after our feast, Red Blossom came in from the
-woods with news that the wild gooseberry vines were in leaf. This was a
-sign that corn planting time was come, and we women began to make ready
-our corn seed and sharpen our hoes.
-
-I had been thinking of my father’s words to Lean Wolf. “They are wise
-words,” I told my mothers. “We should widen our fields, and plant more
-corn.” While they busied themselves with planting, I worked with my
-hoe around the edges of our two fields, breaking new ground.
-
-Having thus more ground to work over, my mothers planted for more than
-a month, or well into June. The last week of our planting, Red Blossom
-soaked her corn seed in tepid water. “It will make the seed sprout
-earlier,” she said, “so that the ears will ripen before frost comes.”
-
-Our fall harvest was good. My two mothers and I were more than a week
-threshing and winnowing our corn; but some families, less wise than
-ours, had not increased their planting, and had none too much grain to
-lay by for winter. This troubled our chief men. “The summer’s hunt has
-been poor,” they said. “If our winter’s hunting is not better, we shall
-be hungry before harvest comes again.”
-
-They had twice called a council to talk of the matter, when scouts
-brought word that buffaloes had been seen. “Big herds have come down
-into the Yellowstone country,” they said. The Black Mouths thought
-we should make our winter camp there, in tepees; and they went about
-choosing a winter chief.
-
-But no one wanted to be winter chief. Camping in the Yellowstone
-country in skin tents, was not like our wintering in earth lodges in
-the woods near our village. The people expected their chief’s prayers
-to keep enemies away and bring them good hunting. If ill luck came to
-any in the camp, they blamed the winter chief.
-
-The Black Mouths offered gifts to one or another of our chief men,
-whose prayers we knew were strong; but none would take them. At last,
-they gave half the gifts to _Eydeeahkata_,[28] and half to Short Horn.
-“You shall take turns at being chief,” they said. “_Eydeeahkata_ shall
-lead one day and Short Horn the next.”
-
-  [28] E̱y dēē äh´ kä tä
-
-The two leaders chose Red Kettle to be their crier. The evening before
-we started he went through the village crying, “We move to-morrow at
-sunrise. Get ready.”
-
-Our way led up the Missouri, above the bluffs; and most of the time
-we were within sight of the river. Now and then, if the current made
-a wide bend, we took a shorter course over the prairie. _Eydeeahkata_
-and Short Horn went ahead, each with a sacred medicine bundle bound to
-his saddle bow. The camp followed in a long line. Some rode ponies, but
-most went afoot. We camped at night in our tepees.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-We made our eleventh camp on the north side of the Missouri, a few
-miles below the mouth of the Yellowstone. Here the Missouri is not
-very wide, and its sloping banks make a good place for crossing. A low
-bank of clean, hard sand lay along the water’s edge. We pitched our
-tents about noon on this sand. There were about a hundred tepees. They
-stood in rows, like houses, for there was not room on the sand to make
-a camping circle.
-
-Small Ankle pitched his tent near the place chosen for the crossing.
-The day was windy and chill. With flint-and-steel my father struck
-a fire, and we soon had meat boiling. After our dinner he drove his
-horses to pasture.
-
-Strikes-Many Woman fetched dry grass for our beds, spreading it thickly
-on the floor against the tent wall. On the edges of the beds next the
-fireplace she laid small logs, to keep in the grass bedding and to
-catch any flying sparks from the fire.
-
-The wind died at evening. Twilight fell, and the coals in the fireplace
-cast a soft, red glow on the tent walls. I sat near the tent door. With
-robe drawn over my shoulders to keep off the chill, I raised the skin
-door and looked out. The new moon, narrow and bent like an Indian bow,
-shone white over the river, and the waves of the swift mid-current
-sparkled silvery in the moonlight. I could hear the swish of eddies,
-the lap-lapping of the waves rolling shoreward. Over all rose the roar,
-roar, roar of the great river, sweeping onward we Indians knew not
-where.
-
-[Illustration: Plate III.—“With horn spoon she filled her mouth with
-water.”]
-
-My dogs were sleeping without, snugged against the tent for warmth.
-At midnight one of them stirred, pointed his nose at the moon and
-broke into a howl. The howl soon grew to a chorus, for every dog
-in the camp joined in. Far out on the prairie rose the wailing
-_yip-yip-yip-yip-ya-a-ah!_[29] of a coyote. The dogs grew silent again,
-and curled up, nose-in-tail, to sleep.
-
-  [29] yĭp yĭp yĭp yĭp yä´ ä äh
-
-And my little son came into the world.
-
-The morning sky was growing light when Son-of-a-Star came into the
-tent. His eyes were smiling as he stepped to the fireplace, for they
-saw a pretty sight. Red Blossom was giving my baby a bath.
-
-She had laid him on a piece of soft skin, before the fire. With horn
-spoon she filled her mouth with water, held it in her cheeks until it
-was warm, and blew it over my baby’s body. I do not think he liked his
-bath, for he squalled loudly.
-
-My husband laughed. “It is a lusty cry,” he said. “I am sure my son
-will be a warrior.”
-
-Having bathed my baby, Red Blossom bound him in his wrapping skins. She
-had a square piece of tent cover, folded and sewed along the edges of
-one end into a kind of sack. Into this she slipped my baby, with his
-feet against the sewed end. About his little body she packed cattail
-down.
-
-On a piece of rawhide, she put some clean sand, which she heated by
-rolling over it a red-hot stone. She packed this sand under my baby’s
-feet; and, lest it prove too hot, she slipped a piece of soft buckskin
-under them.
-
-Over all she bound a wildcat skin, drawing the upper edge over the
-baby’s head, like a hood.
-
-The hot sand was to keep my baby warm. This and the cattail down we
-placed in a baby’s wrappings only in winter, when on a journey.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                          EIGHTEENTH CHAPTER
-
-                            THE VOYAGE HOME
-
-
-Meanwhile Small Ankle and other members of the family were making ready
-to cross. “We must hasten,” my father said. “Ice chunks are running on
-the current this morning. This shows that up in the mountains the river
-is freezing over and cold weather is setting in.”
-
-My mothers began packing soon after breakfast and Son-of-a-Star came
-in to say that he would take me across in our bull boat; for we had
-brought one with us from the village. Old Turtle began unpinning the
-tent cover while I was still inside. She made the tent poles into a
-bundle and bound them at the tail of the boat. I stepped in with my
-baby in my arms and my husband paddled the boat across.
-
-Son-of-a-Star helped me up the bank on the other side and gave me a
-place to sit where I could watch the crossing. I folded a robe to sit
-upon, and, with another robe drawn snugly over my shoulders and my baby
-in my arms, I felt comfortable and warm.
-
-My husband even made a small fire in a hollow place in the ground
-near-by. One of my women friends boiled some meat and gave me the hot
-broth to drink; for I was weary with the work of crossing and caring
-for my babe.
-
-There were not enough boats in the camp for all the people. Most of the
-old people and little children were brought over in boats, and some
-of the camp goods; but many families floated their stuff over in tent
-covers, and, cold as was the water, many of the men swam.
-
-I had left my two mothers and old Turtle loading their tent cover.
-Turtle had made a big noose in the end of a lariat and laid it on the
-sand. Over this she spread the skin cover, a large one. She bent a
-green willow into a hoop, laid it on the tent cover, and within the
-hoop piled most of our camp goods. She now gathered the edges of the
-cover together over the pile, drew tight the noose, and tied it firm.
-This tent-cover bundle my mothers and old Turtle pushed out into the
-water as a kind of raft. The willow hoop gave the raft a flat bottom so
-that it did not turn over in the water.
-
-The lariat that bound the mouth of the raft was fastened to the tail of
-a pony we had named Shaggy, and the end was carried into and about the
-pony’s mouth like a halter. Shaggy was driven into the stream and swam
-across, towing the raft. The lariat was fastened to his tail so that,
-if the raft was swept down stream by the current, it would not drag the
-pony’s head, and turn him from his course.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-As I have said, many families floated their goods over in these
-tent-cover rafts; and not a few women, in haste to cross, swam clinging
-to their rafts. One woman put her little four-year-old son on the top
-of her raft, while she swam behind, pushing and guiding it. Another old
-woman, named Owl Ear, mounted her raft and rode astraddle. Her pony
-landed in a place where the shore was soft with oozy mud, so that he
-could not climb out. Owl Ear had to wade in the mud up to her middle to
-get her raft ashore; and when she was climbing out she slipped and sat
-down backwards again in the ooze. She came up sputtering mud from her
-mouth and much vexed with herself. “I think there must be bad spirits
-in that mud, and they are trying to pull me back,” she called to me, as
-she came waddling up the steep bank.
-
-Before evening my mothers had brought all their camp goods across. They
-raised the poles of our tent and drew on the cover. It was wet, but
-soon dried in the wind. We built a fire inside. My baby had wakened up
-and was crying. I loosened his wrapping and warmed him by the tent
-fire, and he soon fell asleep. Red Blossom dug a hole, slipped into it
-a kind of sack of raw hide, for a mortar. We had brought a pestle with
-us from the village, and with this we pounded parched corn to a meal to
-boil with beans. We ate a late supper and went to bed.
-
-We camped on the bank three days, until all had crossed. Our chiefs
-would not remain longer, for they wanted to get into winter camp before
-snow fell; and, on the morning of the fourth day, we struck tents and
-made ready to march.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-There was a mule in our family herd, a slow-going, gentle beast, that
-I had bought of a Sioux for a worthless pony and some strings of corn.
-Son-of-a-Star harnessed this mule to a travois, and my baby and I
-rode. Had our march been in olden days, I should have had to go afoot,
-carrying my baby on my back.
-
-My husband had spread a heavy bull-skin robe over the travois basket
-and set me on it, with another skin folded under me for a cushion.
-Through holes in the edge of the bull skin Son-of-a-Star passed a
-lariat; and when I was seated, with my baby in my arms and my robe
-belted snugly about us, my husband drew the lariat, drawing the bull
-skin about my knees and ankles. The day was windy and cold, and the
-bull skin kept the chill air from me and my babe.
-
-Our leaders had chosen for our winter camp a place called Round Bank,
-on a small stream named Bark Creek. There were no trees here for
-building earth lodges, so we camped in our tepees, pitching them in a
-hollow, to shelter them from the wind. The ground was frozen so that we
-could not peg our tents to the ground, but laid stones around the edges
-of the tent covers. Such was our older-fashioned way. We did not use
-wooden tent pegs much until after we got iron axes.
-
-My mothers fetched dry grass into our tent for our beds, and made a
-fire under the smoke hole. A tepee was kept warm with a rather small
-fire, if it was well sheltered from the wind.
-
-Ours was a big tent, for we had a big family. With my two half
-brothers, Bear’s Tail and Wolf Chief, and their wives; and Red Kettle,
-Full House, and Flies Low, younger sons of Red Blossom and Strikes-Many
-Woman, we numbered fourteen in all. This was a large number for one
-tent. Ten were as many as a tepee usually sheltered. Every member of
-the family had his own bed, where he slept at night and sat in the
-daylight hours.
-
-My little son was ten days old the second day we were in winter camp;
-and, though we were hardly well settled, I found time to make ready his
-naming feast. Having filled a wooden bowl with venison and boiled dried
-green corn—foods I knew well were to his liking—I set it before Small
-Ankle.
-
-“I want you to name your grandson,” I said to him.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-Small Ankle ate, thinking the while what name he should give my son.
-Then he arose and took my baby tenderly in his arms, saying, “I name
-him _Tsakahka Sukkee_,[30] Good Bird.” Small Ankle’s gods were birds,
-and the name was a kind of prayer that they remember and help my little
-son.
-
-  [30] Tsä käh´ kä Sŭk´ kēē
-
-Winter passed without mishap to us. We had found no buffaloes on the
-Yellowstone; but our hunters thrice discovered small herds near our
-camp and brought in meat; and a good many deer were killed.
-
-Rather early in the spring, the women of the Goose Society danced and
-hung up meat for the goose spirits, praying them for good weather for
-corn planting. Then we all broke camp.
-
-Most of the tribe returned to the Yellowstone for the spring hunt, but
-my father wanted to go up the Missouri. “We have not found the herds
-our scouts saw in the fall,” he said. “I am sure they are farther up
-the river.” One Buffalo and his family joined us and we went up the
-river and made camp. A small herd was sighted and ten buffaloes were
-killed.
-
-We were building stages to dry the meat when four more tents caught up
-with us, those of Strikes Backbone, Old Bear, Long Wing, and Spotted
-Horn, and their families. To each tent owner my father gave a whole
-green buffalo hide and a side of meat. The hides were for making bull
-boats, for we were planning to return home by water.
-
-Ice broke on the Missouri and flocks of wild ducks began coming north.
-My mothers were eager to be home in time for the spring planting. I
-made four new boats, giving one of them to my father, and we made ready
-to go.
-
-Son-of-a-Star partly loaded one of my boats with dried meat, and put
-in his gun and ax. A second boat, also partly loaded, he lashed to the
-first; and a third, loaded to the gunwale with meat and hides, he bound
-to the tail of the second. In this second boat sat my half brother,
-Flies Low, a seventeen-year-old lad, with my baby in his arms. My
-husband and I sat in the first boat and paddled.
-
-There were eleven boats in the six families of our party. One or two
-families, having no meat to freight, rode in single boats. My father
-and two of the men did not come in the boats, but rode along the bank,
-driving our horses. They kept back near the foot hills, but in sight of
-the river.
-
-We were in no haste, and we made a jolly party as we floated down the
-broad current. At night we paddled to the shore. The men joined us with
-the horses, and we camped under the stars.
-
-The Missouri is a swift stream, and at places we found the waves were
-quite choppy. Especially if a bend in the river carried the current
-against the wind, the waves rolled and foamed, rocking our boats and
-threatening to swamp us. At such times we drew together, catching hold
-of one another’s boats. Thus bunched, our fleet rode the choppy current
-more safely than a single boat could have done.
-
-The weather had set in rather warm when we left our winter camp and the
-grass had already begun to show green on the prairie. But, as we neared
-the mouth of the Little Missouri, a furious storm of snow and wind
-arose. The storm blew up suddenly, and, as we rounded a bend in the
-river, we rode into the very teeth of the wind.
-
-Son-of-a-Star shouted to me to turn in to the shore, though I could
-hardly hear his voice above the wind. We plied our paddles with all our
-might. Suddenly my husband stopped paddling and leaned over the side of
-the boat, nigh upsetting it. “_Eena, eena_”[31] I cried, scared nearly
-out of my wits, and I grasped at the boat’s edge to keep from being
-tumbled in upon him. Then I saw what was the matter. My husband was
-lifting my little son out of the water.
-
-  [31] ēē nä´
-
-I have said that Flies Low sat in our second boat, with my little son
-in his arms. The baby had grown restless, and Flies Low had loosened
-the babe’s wrappings to give freedom of his limbs. A sudden billow
-rocked the boat, throwing Flies Low against the side and tumbling my
-little son out of his arms into the water.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-His loosened wrappings, by some good luck, made my baby buoyant, so
-that he floated. He was crying lustily when my husband drew him out;
-but he was not strangling, and under his wraps he was not even wet.
-
-“I could not help it,” said Flies Low afterwards. “The boat seemed to
-turn over, and the baby fell out of my arms.” We knew this was true and
-said nothing more of it.
-
-Our party reached shore without further mishap. We hastily unpacked two
-tents; and, while some busied themselves pitching them, others gathered
-wood and made fires.
-
-That night the snow turned to a cold rain, which the next day turned
-again into a heavy snow. The summer birds had come north, and after the
-storm was over we found many of them frozen to death. It snowed for
-four days.
-
-Small Ankle and his brother, Charging Enemy, were driving their horses
-along the bank when the storm overtook them. They did not stop to camp
-with us, but pushed on through the storm to Like-a-Fishhook village.
-They reached the village safely and drove their horses down into the
-thick timber out of the cold wind. There was a pond there, and the
-horses found it warmer to wade out into the water than to stand on the
-bank in the cold rain. But after a while, grown weary with standing,
-they came out; and, as the wind was blowing a gale, the horses were
-chilled and three of them died. Many others of our village herd died in
-the same way.
-
-Our own party, as soon as the storm was over, re-embarked and floated
-safely down to Like-a-Fishhook village.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration]
-
-                           AFTER FIFTY YEARS
-
-
-I am an old woman now. The buffaloes and black-tail deer are gone, and
-our Indian ways are almost gone. Sometimes I find it hard to believe
-that I ever lived them.
-
-My little son grew up in the white man’s school. He can read books, and
-he owns cattle and has a farm. He is a leader among our Hidatsa people,
-helping teach them to follow the white man’s road.
-
-He is kind to me. We no longer live in an earth lodge, but in a house
-with chimneys; and my son’s wife cooks by a stove.
-
-But for me, I cannot forget our old ways.
-
-Often in summer I rise at daybreak and steal out to the cornfields;
-and as I hoe the corn I sing to it, as we did when I was young. No one
-cares for our corn songs now.
-
-Sometimes at evening I sit, looking out on the big Missouri. The sun
-sets, and dusk steals over the water. In the shadows I seem again
-to see our Indian village, with smoke curling upward from the earth
-lodges; and in the river’s roar I hear the yells of the warriors, the
-laughter of little children as of old. It is but an old woman’s dream.
-Again I see but shadows and hear only the roar of the river; and tears
-come into my eyes. Our Indian life, I know, is gone forever.
-
-[Illustration]
-
-
-
-
-                       GLOSSARY OF INDIAN WORDS
-
-                  English equivalents are in italics
-
-
-  Ä hä he̱y´                An exclamation; _Ho there!_
-  Ä hä hṳts´               _They come against us._
-  Ä kēē´ kä hēē            _Took-from-Him_; name of a dog.
-  Ä lä lä lä lä´           Cry of triumph by women; made by curling the
-                             tip of the tongue backward and vibrating
-                             it against the roof of the mouth.
-  Ä mä hēēt´ sēē kṳ mä     _Lies-on-Red-Hill_; name of a woman.
-  Ēē´ kṳ pä                _Chum_.
-  Ēē nä´                   An exclamation.
-  Ēēt sēē pä däh´ pä kēē   _Foot moving_; name of a game.
-  Ēēt sṳ´ tä               Name of the large tendon of a buffalo’s neck.
-  E̱y                       An exclamation.
-  E̱y dēē äh´ kä tä         Name of an Indian.
-  Hau (how)                The Indian salutation.
-  He̱y dä e̱y´               An exclamation of pleasure.
-  Hwēē                     _Hasten_; an exclamation.
-  Mä hō´ hēē shä           A species of willow.
-  Mä kṳt´ sä tēē           _Clan cousin._
-  Mä pēē´                  _Meal made by pounding._
-  Mä pṳk´ sä ō kï hĕ       _Snake Head-Ornament_; a man’s name.
-  Mēē dä´ hēē kä           _Gardeners’ songs._
-  Mēē dēē päh´ dēē         _Rising water_; name of a Hidatsa clan, or
-                             band.
-  Näh                      _Go, come._
-  Nä kä päh´               _Mush._
-  O kēē mēē´ ä             _Head-Ornament Woman_; a woman’s name.
-  Shēē´ pēē shä            _Black._
-  Sŭk´ kēēts (or Sŭkkēē)   _Good._
-  Tsä käh´ ka Sŭk´ kēē     Name of Waheenee’s son; from _tsakahka_,
-                             bird, and _sukkee_, good.
-  Tsïst´ skä               _Prairie chicken._
-  Ṳ´ ï                     The Hidatsa war whoop.
-  Wä hēē´ nēē              _Cowbird_, or _Buffalo-bird_; name of the
-                             Indian woman whose story is told in this
-                             book.
-  Wē´ä                     _Woman._
-  Wṳ ṳ ṳ                   Imitation of a dog’s bark.
-  Yĭ yĭ yĭ yĭ yäh´         A war cry of triumph, made with hand vibrated
-                             over the mouth or against the throat.
-  Wē´ äh tēē               A woman’s name.
-
-
-
-
-                           EXPLANATORY NOTES
-
-
-_Page 9, l. 24_: “We had corn a-plenty” The Hidatsas and Mandans
-were the best agriculturists of the north-plains Indians. Varieties
-of corn developed by them mature in the semi-arid climate of western
-North Dakota where our better known eastern strains will not ripen.
-The varieties include flint, flour, and a kind of sweet corn called
-_maikadishake_,[32] or gummy, which the Indians use for parching.
-Hidatsa seed planted at the United States Agricultural Experiment
-Station at Bozeman, Montana, has made surprising yields.
-
-  [32] mä´ ï kä dï shä kĕ
-
-_Page 10, l. 29_: “the ghost land.” A Hidatsa Indian believed he had
-four ghosts. At death, one ghost went to the Ghost village, to live in
-an earth lodge and hunt buffaloes as on earth; a second remained at the
-grave until after a time it joined the first in the Ghost village where
-they became one again. What became of the other two ghosts does not
-seem to be known.
-
-_Page 11, l. 20_: “The march was led by the older chiefs.” A Hidatsa
-chief was a man who by his war deeds, hospitality, and wisdom, came
-to be recognized as one of the influential men of the tribe. He was
-not necessarily an officer. When translating into English, Hidatsas
-usually call the officer elected for any executive duty a _leader_,
-as war-party leader, winter-camp leader, leader of the buffalo hunt.
-It should be remembered that the activities of an Indian tribe are
-decided in councils; and in these councils the eloquence and wisdom of
-the chiefs had greatest weight. The Hidatsa word for chief, literally
-translated, is excellent man, superior man.
-
-_Page 13, l. 8_: “At this hour fires burned before most of the tepees.”
-In fall or winter the fire was within the tepee, under the smoke hole.
-
-_Page 15, l. 13_: “for a woman to ... begin building her earth lodge.”
-While the work falling to an Indian woman was far from light, she did
-not look upon herself as overburdened. Women were more kindly treated
-by Hidatsas and Mandans than by some tribes.
-
-_Page 17, l. 28_: “dried prairie turnips.” The prairie turnip,
-_psoralea esculenta_, is a starchy, bulbous root, growing rather
-plentifully on the plains. Its food value is high. Attempts have been
-made unsuccessfully to cultivate it.
-
-_Page 17, l. 30_: “June berries.” The June berry, _amelanchier
-alnifolia_, is a small, hardwood tree, bearing sweet, dark-red berries.
-Its branches were much used for making arrow shafts.
-
-_Page 21, l. 14_: “young men fasted and cut their flesh.” Such
-self-inflicted tortures were not, as is often believed, for the
-purpose of proving the warrior’s fortitude, but were made as a kind of
-sacrifice to the gods that these might pity the devotee and answer his
-prayers. See Bible, I Kings, XVIII; 28.
-
-_Page 24, l. 30_: “It was a long pipe with black stone bowl.” The stone
-bowl was carved from a hard kind of grey clay, anointed with grease and
-baked in a fire to turn it black. It took a high polish.
-
-_Page 35, l. 11_: “Telling tales ... in ... autumn and winter.” Tribal
-myths, told of the gods, were often forbidden in summer when nature was
-_alive_. In winter nature was _asleep_ or _dead_. One could talk of
-sleeping spirits without fear of offending them.
-
-_Page 36, l. 5_: “Making ready her seed.” The Hidatsas used the
-greatest care in selecting their seed corn. Only large and perfect ears
-were chosen. The best ear for seed was the _eeteeshahdupadee_,[33] or
-muffled-head, so called because the kernels cover the cob quite to the
-tip, making the ear look like an Indian with his head muffled up in his
-robe.
-
-  [33] ēē tēē shä dṳ´ pä dēē
-
-_Page 36, l. 14_: “Wooden bowl.” In olden days almost every family
-owned several of these feast bowls. A large knot was split out of a
-tree trunk with wedges and, after being hollowed out with fire, was
-slowly carved into shape with flint tools. Some of these bowls are
-beautiful examples of carving.
-
-_Page 37, l. 16_: “Trying to parch an ear of corn.” Parched corn
-entered largely into the diet of our corn raising Indians. Among
-eastern tribes, a warrior set forth on a long journey with a sack of
-parched corn pounded to a meal. When hungry, he swallowed a spoonful of
-the parched meal, washing it down with a pint of water. In a short time
-the meal had absorbed the water, filling the stomach with a digestible
-mass like mush.
-
-Every farmer’s lad should put away some ears of ripened sweet corn in
-the fall, to parch of a winter’s evening. Sweet corn was raised by the
-Hidatsas and Mandans for parching only.
-
-_Page 38, l. 21_: “Ground beans,” or hog peanut; _amphicarpa falcata_.
-These beans, like peanuts, are borne under ground.
-
-_Page 38, l. 22_: “Wild potatoes,” or Jerusalem artichoke. Roots of
-_helianthus tuberosus_, a plant of the sunflower family.
-
-_Page 41, l. 25_: “Who had been a black bear.” Tradition has it that
-the art and mysteries of trapping eagles were taught the Hidatsas by
-the black bears. An eagle hunters’ camp was conducted as a kind of
-symbolic play, the hunters acting the ceremonies of the delivery to the
-Indians of the eagle-hunt mysteries.
-
-_Page 44, l. 17_: “Earth lodges well-built and roomy.” The earth lodge
-of the Mandans and Hidatsas was the highest example of the building art
-among our plains tribes. Some of these lodges were quite large, having
-a height of eighteen feet or more, and a floor diameter exceeding sixty
-feet. Usually two or more families of relatives inhabited the same
-lodge.
-
-An earth lodge had four large central posts and beams, supporting the
-roof; twelve surrounding posts and beams, supporting the eaves; and a
-hundred rafters. The roof was covered with a matting of willows over
-which was laid dry grass and a heavy coating of earth.
-
-An earth lodge lasted but about ten years, when it was abandoned or
-rebuilt. The labor of building and repairing these imposing structures,
-especially in days when iron tools were unknown and posts and beams had
-to be burned to proper lengths, must have been severe.
-
-When the author first visited Fort Berthold reservation in 1906, there
-were eight earth lodges still standing; in 1918 there were two.
-
-_Page 47, l. 18_: “An earthen pot.” The potter’s craft was practiced
-professionally by certain women who had purchased the secrets of the
-art. The craft was an important one, as much of Hidatsa cooking was by
-boiling. Some of the earthen boiling pots held as much as two gallons.
-A collection of earthen pots, fired in 1910 by Hides-and-Eats, a Mandan
-woman nearly ninety years old, is in the American Museum of Natural
-History.
-
-_Page 49, l. 18_: “From her cache pit.” The cache pit was a jug-shaped
-pit within or without the lodge, six or eight feet deep. It was floored
-with willow sticks and its walls were lined with dry grass. It was used
-to store the fall harvest.
-
-Strings of braided ears were laid in series against the wall. Within
-these was poured the threshed grain, in which were buried strings of
-dried squash and sacks of beans and sunflower seed. Buffalo-Bird Woman
-says there were five cache pits in use in her father’s family.
-
-Many families had a cache pit within the lodge to serve as a cellar.
-Besides corn for immediate use, it held sacks of dried berries, prairie
-turnips, packages of dried meat and even bladders of marrow fat.
-
-The pits without the lodge with their stores of grain were carefully
-sealed with slabs and grass, over which were trampled earth and ashes.
-This was done to conceal the pits from any Sioux who might come
-prowling around when the tribe was away in winter camp. If a family
-lacked food in winter, they returned to their summer village and opened
-one of these cache pit granaries for its stores of corn.
-
-_Page 49, l. 31_: “Red Blossom pounded the parched corn ... in a
-corn mortar.” The corn mortar, or hominy pounder, is a section of a
-cottonwood or ash trunk, hollowed out by fire. The pestal is of ash.
-The mortar was sunk in the floor of the earth lodge and covered, when
-not in use, by a flat stone.
-
-Corn mortars are still used by the Hidatsas. Our grandmothers in
-pioneer days also used them.
-
-_Page 51, l. 4_: “Chief.” A Hidatsa chief, as explained, was not
-necessarily a tribal officer. His position was like that of an
-influential citizen of a country village, who is often a member of
-the local school or hospital board, is chosen to preside at patriotic
-meetings, and is expected to extend hospitality and charity to those in
-need.
-
-Hospitality, indeed, is the Indian’s crowning virtue. In tribal days,
-when one had food, all had food; when one starved, all starved. A
-reservation Indian does not like to take pay for a meal, especially
-from one of his own race; and he can not comprehend how any white man
-having food can let another go hungry.
-
-His hospitality is often a hindrance to the Indian’s progress. Indolent
-Indians eat up the food stores of industrious relatives.
-
-_Page 56, l. 14_: “Dried meat pounded fine and mixed with marrow fat.”
-This was regarded as a delicate dish. Old people especially were fond
-of it. The plains Indians usually had sound teeth, but their coarse
-diet wore the teeth down so that old men found it hard to eat dried
-meat unless it was thus pounded to shreds. Marrow fat was used much as
-we use butter.
-
-_Page 57, l. 1_: “A doll, woven of rushes.” Very good mats were also
-woven of rushes.
-
-_Page 58, l. 4_: “Tossing in a blanket.” The blanket tossing game has
-been found among widely separated peoples. In Don Quixote, we are told
-how Sancho Panza unwilling participated in the game.
-
-_Page 66, l. 6_: “Every Hidatsa belonged to a clan.” The clan was,
-nevertheless, relatively weak among the Hidatsas, its functions
-apparently having been usurped at least in part by the age societies.
-(The Black Mouths were an age society. See chapter V).
-
-In many tribes a man was forbidden to marry within his clan.
-
-_Page 68, l. 25_: “He was a great medicine man.” The story of Snake
-Head-Ornament is a good example of the tales told of the old time
-medicine men. Snake Head-Ornament’s friendship for the bull snake would
-seem uncanny even to a white man.
-
-_Page 73, l. 1_: “In old times we Indian people had no horses.”
-
-At the time of America’s discovery the Indians had domesticated the
-llama in the Peruvian highlands; the guinea pig, raised for food by
-many South American tribes; turkeys, and even bees, in Mexico; dogs,
-developed from wolves or coyotes, were universally domesticated among
-the North American tribes.
-
-Indian dogs were used as watch dogs and as beasts of burden. Dog flesh
-was eaten by many tribes. An edible, hairless variety of dog, bred by
-the Mexican Indians has become extinct.
-
-_Page 77, l. 23_: “My grandmother brought in some fresh sage.” The sage
-was a sacred plant.
-
-_Page 81, l. 10_: “Our dogs dragged well-laden travois.” Older Indians
-say that a well-trained dog could drag a load of eighty pounds on a
-travois.
-
-_Page 85, l. 6_: “The big tendon ... we Indians call the
-_eetsuta_.”[34] When dried this tendon becomes hard, like horn; and
-arrow points and even arrow shafts were carved from it.
-
-  [34] ēēt sṳ´ tä
-
-_Page 87, l. 32_: “Coyote Eyes, a Ree Indian.” The Rees, or Arikaras,
-are an offshoot of the Pawnee tribe, whose language they speak. They
-removed to Fort Berthold reservation and settled there with the
-Hidatsas and Mandans in 1862.
-
-_Page 92, l. 7_: “To embroider with quills of gull.” The tribe used
-to make annual journeys to the lakes near Minot, North Dakota, where,
-older Indians say, the gulls nested. The feathers were gathered along
-the beach. The quill was split, the flat nether half being the part
-used. Quills were dyed with native vegetable colors.
-
-_Page 99, l. 10_: “Bear Man was an eagle hunter.” The tail feathers
-of the golden eagle were much worn by all the plains tribes. These
-feathers, in eagles under two years of age, are of a pure white, with
-dark brown or black tips, and were much prized. Eagle hunting was a
-highly honored occupation.
-
-_Page 112, l. 17_: “The huskers came into the field yelling and
-singing.” Buffalo-Bird Woman laughingly adds, that the yelling was by
-young men who wanted their sweethearts to hear their voices.
-
-_Page 114, l. 2_: “The hollow buffalo hoofs rattled.” The earth lodge
-door was a heavy buffalo skin, stretched when green on a frame of light
-poles. It was swung from the beam above by heavy thongs. The puncheon
-fire screen stood between it and the fireplace, about which the family
-sat or worked. As the moccasined tread of a visitor made little noise,
-a bunch or two of buffalo hoofs was hung to a bar running across the
-middle of the door.
-
-The hoof was prepared by boiling and removing the pith. Its edges were
-then trimmed and a hole was cut in the toe. Through this hole a thong
-was run with a knotted end, to keep the hoof from slipping off. As the
-door dropped after an entering visitor, the hollow hoofs fell together
-with a clittering noise, warning the family.
-
-_Page 118, l. 28_: “Hanging Stone.” A literal translation of the
-Hidatsa word. It refers to a form of war club, a short stick, from an
-end of which swung a stone sewed in a piece of skin.
-
-_Page 125, l. 3_: “With ankles to the right, as Indian women sit.” A
-warrior sat Turkish fashion, or, often, squat-on-heels. An Indian woman
-sat with feet to the right unless she was left-handed, when feet were
-to the left.
-
-_Page 125, l. 6_: “Mixed with marrow fat.” Marrow fat was obtained by
-boiling the crushed bones of a buffalo in a little water. The yellow
-marrow as it rose was skimmed off and stored in bladders or short
-casings made of entrails, like sausage casings.
-
-_Page 126, l. 10_: “I have come to call you.” Buffalo-Bird Woman means
-that her father invited his son-in-law to come and live in his earth
-lodge. If he had not sent this invitation, the young couple would have
-set up housekeeping elsewhere.
-
-_Page 128, l. 37_: “Only a strong, well-fed pony could go all day on
-wet ground.” Nature designed the solid hoof of the horse for a prairie
-or semidesert country. A pony finds it hard to withdraw his hoof in wet
-spongy soil, and soon tires. A deer or buffalo, with divided hoof, runs
-upon wet ground with comparative ease. Every farmer’s boy knows that an
-ox will walk through a swamp in which a horse will mire.
-
-_Page 142, l. 26_: “With two fingers crooked like horns, the sign for
-buffaloes.” So many languages were spoken by our Indian tribes, that
-they found it necessary to invent a sign language so that Indians,
-ignorant of each other’s speech, could converse. A well-trained deaf
-mute and an old plains Indian can readily talk together by signs.
-
-_Page 143, l. 4_: “Creeping up the coulees.” A coulee in the Dakotas is
-a grassy ravine, usually dry except in spring and autumn, and after a
-heavy rain.
-
-_Page 157, l. 19_: “They starved, because they are hunters and raise
-no corn.” The Hidatsas and Mandans as agriculturists felt themselves
-superior to the hunting tribes. Small-Ankle refers here to the western,
-or Teton, Sioux. The eastern Sioux were corn raisers.
-
-_Page 158, l. 10_: “My mothers and I were more than a week threshing.”
-In the summer of 1912, the author had Buffalo-Bird Woman pace off on
-the prairie the size of her mothers’ field, as she recollected it. It
-measured one hundred and ninety yards in length by ninety yards in
-width. Such were some of the fields which in olden days were cultivated
-with wooden sticks and bone hoes.
-
-
-
-
-                              SUPPLEMENT
-
-                      HOW TO MAKE AN INDIAN CAMP
-
-
-Young Americans who wish to grow up strong and healthy should live much
-out of doors; and there is no pleasanter way to do this than in an
-Indian camp. Such a camp you can make yourself, in your back yard or an
-empty lot or in a neighboring wood.
-
-
-                               The Lodge
-
-Buffalo-Bird Woman has told us of the earth lodges of her people. They
-were for permanent abode. Hunters, however, camping but a day or two in
-a place, usually put up a pole hunting lodge.
-
-Four forked poles were stacked, as in Figure 1.
-
-[Illustration: Figure 1]
-
-[Illustration: Figure 2]
-
-Around these in a circle, other poles were laid, as in Figure 2, for a
-frame.
-
-For cover buffalo skins, bound together at the edges, were drawn around
-the frame in two series, the lower series being laid first. The peak of
-the pole frame was left uncovered, to let out the smoke.
-
-Instead of buffalo skins, gunny sacks may be used, fastened at the
-edges with safety pins or with wooden skewers; or strips of canvas or
-carpet may be used. Three or four heavier poles may be laid against the
-gunny-sack cover to stay it in place.
-
-The door may be made of a gunny sack, hung on a short pole.
-
-Indians often raised a piece of skin on a forked pole for a shield, to
-keep the wind from driving the smoke down the smoke hole.
-
-Figure 3 shows the finished lodge with gunny-sack cover, door, and wind
-shield. The last is made of a piece of oil cloth.
-
-[Illustration: Figure 3]
-
-[Illustration: Figure 4]
-
-
-                                 Booth
-
-Buffalo-Bird Woman tells of the booth which Turtle made in her
-cornfield. A booth is easily made of willows or long branches.
-
-A short digging stick will be needed. This was of ash, a foot or two
-in length, sharpened at one end by burning in a fire. The point was
-often rubbed with fat and charred over the coals to harden it. (Such a
-digging stick was not the kind used for cultivating corn.)
-
-[Illustration: Figure 5]
-
-[Illustration: Figure 6]
-
-If you have no ash stick, a section of a broom handle will do.
-
-With a stone, drive the digging stick four inches in the ground, as in
-Figure 4. Withdraw digging stick and repeat until you have six holes
-set in a circle. The diameter of the circle should be about five feet.
-
-Into the six holes set willows, or branches, five or six feet high, as
-in Figure 5.
-
-Weave or bind tops together so as to make a leafy roof, or shade, as
-in Figure 6. For binding, use strips of elm bark; or slender willows,
-twisted, so as to break the fibers.
-
-
-                               Fireplace
-
-Indians, when journeying, made the campfire outside the lodge in
-summer; inside the lodge, in winter. Usually a slight pit was dug for
-the fireplace, thus lessening danger of sparks, setting fire to prairie
-or forest. The fire was smothered with earth when camp was forsaken.
-
-[Illustration: Figure 7]
-
-[Illustration: Figure 8]
-
-
-                             Broiling Meat
-
-Indians broiled fresh meat on a stick thrust in the ground and leaning
-over the coals. Often a forked stick was cut, the meat was laid on the
-prongs, and it was held over the coals until broiled. In Figures 7 and
-8 both methods are shown.
-
-
-[Illustration: Figure 9]
-
-                              Drying Meat
-
-Buffalo-Bird Woman often speaks of dried buffalo meat. If you want to
-know what it was like, cut a steak into thin pieces, and dry on a stage
-of green sticks, three feet high. This may be done in the sun; or, a
-small fire may be made beneath, to smoke as well as dry the meat. In
-Figures 9 and 10 two forms of drying stage are shown.
-
-
-[Illustration: Figure 10]
-
-                          Cooking Dried Meat
-
-A pail or small bucket will do for kettle. It should be swung from a
-tripod by stick-and-thong, as in Figure 11. Put in dried meat with
-enough water to cover, and bring to a boil. The broth may be used as
-the Indians used it, for a drink.
-
-
-                             Parching Corn
-
-Ripe sweet corn, thoroughly dried, is best for parching; but field corn
-will do nearly as well. Drop a handful of the shelled corn in a skillet
-with a little butter. Cover skillet and set on the fire. Shake skillet
-from side to side to keep corn from scorching.
-
-In the earth lodge, Hidatsa women parched the grain in an earthen pot,
-stirring it with a stick. Indian boys, when out herding horses, often
-carried two or three ears of corn for lunch. An ear was parched by
-thrusting a stick into the cob, and holding it over the coals, as in
-Figure 12.
-
-[Illustration: Figure 11]
-
-[Illustration: Figure 12]
-
-A steak broiled Indian fashion over the coals, or a kettle of boiled
-dried meat, with a cupful of parched corn, will make just such a meal
-as Indians often ate.
-
-
-
-
-                        HINTS TO YOUNG CAMPERS
-
-
-Do not throw away bits of unused food, but burn or bury them. Unless
-thus destroyed, the decaying food will attract insects, which often
-bring disease. Bury all tin cans.
-
-Potatoes may be kept fresh as in your cellar by burying them in loose
-earth or sand.
-
-Hang out your blankets and bed clothing to be aired an hour or two each
-day, preferably in the morning.
-
-Indians had no soap. Indian women scoured out their earthen cooking
-pots with rushes. You may clean your camp kettle and pans in the same
-way; or, if no rushes can be found, scour with coarse grass dipped in
-wet sand or sandy mud, and drench with clean water.
-
-Axes, clothing, shoes, and the like may be stored out of the way by
-making them into a long bundle, with a cloth or thick paper, and
-lashing them to one of the upright tent poles within the tent.
-
-Indian children were fond of chewing green cornstalks, for the sweet
-juice they contained. If your camp is near a cornfield about the time
-the corn is in milk, you will find the chewed stalks almost as sweet as
-some varieties of sugar cane.
-
-
-
-
-                            INDIAN COOKING
-
-
-Young people often wonder what Indian cooking is like, and groups of
-them—as a class in Sunday school or day school—may like to eat a meal
-of Indian foods. Following are a few common Hidatsa dishes. Usually,
-but one kind of food was eaten at a single meal.
-
-
-=Madapozhee Eekteea[35]=, _or Boiled Whole Corn_
-
-Pour three pints of water into a kettle and set on the fire. Drop in
-a pint of shelled field corn, a handful of kidney beans and a lump of
-suet the size of an egg. Boil until the corn kernels burst open.
-
-  [35] Mä dä pō´ zhēē Ēēk tēē´ ä
-
-
-=Manakapa=[36], _or Mush_
-
-Put a pint of shelled field corn into a canvas cloth, and with ax or
-stone pound to a coarse meal; or the corn may be ground in a coffee
-mill. To this meal add a handful of kidney beans, and boil in two pints
-of water. The Hidatsa mortar for pounding corn into meal is shown in
-cut on page 156.
-
-  [36] Mä´ nä kä pä
-
-
-=Dried, or Jerked, Meat=
-
-Cut some beefsteak, round or sirloin, into thin strips. Dry the strips
-on a stage of small poles (see cut on page 141) in the open air or over
-a slow fire, or in the kitchen oven, until brittle and hard. Meat thus
-dried could be kept for months. Warriors and hunters often ate jerked
-meat raw or toasted over a fire. In the lodge, it was more often boiled
-a few minutes to soften it; and the broth was drunk as we drink coffee.
-(See also “Drying Meat”, page 185.)
-
-
-=Pemmican=
-
-Take strips of beef, dried as described above, and pound them to shreds
-between two hard stones. Put the shredded mass in a bowl, and pour over
-it a little marrow fat from a boiled soup bone, or some melted butter.
-
-
-=Corn Balls=
-
-The Hidatsas raised sweet corn for parching. Hunters often carried a
-pouch of the parched grain for a lunch. Parched ripe sweet corn was
-often pounded to a fine meal, kneaded with lumps of hot roasted suet,
-and rolled between the palms into little lumps, or balls, the size of
-one’s thumb.
-
-Hidatsa custom did not permit a woman to speak to her son-in-law; but
-she often showed her love for him by making him a bowl of corn balls.
-
-
-
-
-                             EDITOR’S NOTE
-
-
-Surrounded by the powerful and hostile Sioux, the two little Hidatsa
-tribes were compelled to keep relatively close to their stockaded
-villages and cornfields, which, however, they most sturdily defended.
-Their weakness proved a blessing. The yearly crops of their cornfields
-were a sure protection against famine, and in their crowded little
-villages was developed a culture that was remarkable. The circular
-earth lodges of the Mandans and Hidatsas represent the highest
-expression of the house-building art east of the Rocky Mountains.
-
-Three members of Small Ankle’s family are now living: Small Ankle’s
-son, Wolf Chief, his daughter, Waheenee, or Buffalo-Bird Woman, and
-her son, Good Bird, or Goodbird. Goodbird was the first Indian of his
-tribe to receive a common school education. Like many Indians he has a
-natural taste for drawing. Several hundred sketches by him, crude but
-spirited and in true perspective, await publication by the Museum.
-
-Goodbird’s mother, Waheenee, is a marvelous source of information of
-old-time life and belief. Conservative, and sighing for the good old
-times, she is aware that the younger generation of Indians must adopt
-civilized ways. Ignorant of English, she has a quick intelligence and
-a memory that is marvelous. The stories in this book, out of her own
-life, were told by her with other accounts of scientific interest for
-the Museum. In the sweltering heat of an August day she has continued
-dictation for nine hours, lying down but never flagging, when too weary
-to sit longer in a chair. She is approximately 83 years old.
-
-The stories in this book are true stories, typical of Indian life.
-Many of them are exactly as they fell from Waheenee’s lips. Others
-have been completed from information given by Goodbird and Wolf Chief,
-and in a few instances by other Indians. The aim has been not to give
-a biography of Waheenee, but a series of stories illustrating the
-philosophy, the Indian-thinking of her life.
-
-In story and picture, therefore, this book is true to fact and becomes
-not only a reader of unusual interest but a contribution to the
-literature of history and of anthropology. The author and the artist
-have expressed and portrayed customs, places, and things that are
-purely Indian and perfect in every detail.
-
-
-
-
-   +--------------------------------------------------------------+
-   |                                                              |
-   |                          NED DAWSON                          |
-   |                        IN WILFUL LAND                        |
-   |                              BY                              |
-   |                        JAMES LEE ORR                         |
-   |                                                              |
-   |                A very fascinating realistic                  |
-   |                story characteristic of boys,                 |
-   |                written in allegorical style and              |
-   |                impressing a splendid moral                   |
-   |                lesson. For libraries and                     |
-   |                supplementary reading.                        |
-   |                                                              |
-   |                _Cloth, illustrated, 80 cents._               |
-   |                                                              |
-   |                   WEBB PUBLISHING COMPANY                    |
-   |                      Saint Paul, Minn.                       |
-   |                                                              |
-   +--------------------------------------------------------------+
-
-
-   +--------------------------------------------------------------+
-   |                                                              |
-   |                        RULES OF ORDER                        |
-   |                      FOR EVERY-DAY USE                       |
-   |                            _and_                             |
-   |                       CIVIL GOVERNMENT                       |
-   |                          MADE PLAIN                          |
-   |                                                              |
-   |                      _HENRY SLADE GOFF_                      |
-   |                                                              |
-   |              Parliamentary Procedure Simplified              |
-   |            With a Graphic Explanation and Tabular            |
-   |               Illustration of Local, State and               |
-   |                    National Institutions                     |
-   |                                                              |
-   |                _Cloth, 116 pages, 75 cents._                 |
-   |                                                              |
-   |                   WEBB PUBLISHING COMPANY                    |
-   |                      SAINT PAUL, MINN.                       |
-   |                                                              |
-   +--------------------------------------------------------------+
-
-
-                         Transcriber’s Notes:
-
-  - Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
-  - Text enclosed by equals is in bold (=bold=).
-  - Blank pages have been removed.
-  - Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected.
-
-*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WAHEENEE--AN INDIAN GIRL'S
-STORY ***
-
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-<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Waheenee--An Indian Girl's Story, by Waheenee</p>
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-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
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-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Waheenee--An Indian Girl's Story</p>
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Authors: Waheenee</p>
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em;'>Gilbert Livingstone Wilson</p>
-<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Frederick N. Wilson</p>
-<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 9, 2022 [eBook #67133]</p>
-<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p>
-  <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: MFR, Robert Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p>
-<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WAHEENEE--AN INDIAN GIRL'S STORY ***</div>
-
-  <div class="figcenter illowp100 x-ebookmaker-drop" id="cover">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <div class="figcenter illowp62">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_frontis.jpg" alt="" />
-    <div class="caption smcap">Waheenee and Her Husband, Son-of-a-Star</div>
-  </div>
-
-  <div class="bbox2 mt10">
-    <div class="titlepage bbox">
-      <h1><span class="gespertt2 xxxlarge">WAHEENEE</span><br />
-      <span class="large80">AN INDIAN GIRL’S STORY</span></h1>
-
-      <div class="bold mt5"><span class="large">TOLD BY HERSELF</span><br />
-      <span class="xsmall">———TO———</span><br />
-      GILBERT L. WILSON, Ph.D.</div>
-
-      <div class="titletext mt7">Field collector for the American Museum of Natural
-      History of New York City. Professor of Anthropology,
-      Macalester College.</div>
-
-      <div class="titletext mt4">Author of “Myths of the Red Children,” “Goodbird,
-      the Indian,” “The Agriculture of the Hidatsa Indians,”
-      “Indian Hero Tales.”</div>
-
-      <div class="mt20"><span class="xsmall">ILLUSTRATED<br />
-      BY</span><br />
-      FREDERICK N. WILSON</div>
-
-      <div class="smcap xsmall mt20 mb5">Webb Publishing Company<br />
-        St. Paul, Minnesota<br />
-        1921</div>
-    </div>
-  </div>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="center xsmall mt10 mb10 bold">
-    COPYRIGHT, 1921<br />
-    <span class="xxsmall">BY</span><br />
-    WEBB PUBLISHING CO.<br />
-    W<sup>1</sup>
-  </div>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">3</span>
-    <h2 class="nobreak" id="FOREWORD">FOREWORD</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>The Hidatsas, called Minitaris by the Mandans, are a Siouan tribe and
-    speak a language closely akin to that of the Crows. Wars with the
-    Dakota Sioux forced them to ally themselves with the Mandans, whose
-    culture they adopted. Lewis and Clark found the two tribes living in
-    five villages at the mouth of the Knife river, in 1804.</p>
-
-  <p>In 1832 the artist Catlin visited the Five Villages, as they were
-    called. A year later Maximilian of Wiet visited them with the artist
-    Bodmer. Several score canvasses, the work of the two artists, are
-    preserved to us.</p>
-
-  <p>Smallpox nearly exterminated the two tribes in 1837-8. The survivors,
-    a mere remnant, removed to Fort Berthold reservation where they still
-    dwell.</p>
-
-  <p>In 1908, with my brother, an artist, I was sent by Dr. Clark Wissler,
-    Curator of Anthropology, American Museum of Natural History, to begin
-    cultural studies among the Hidatsas. This work, continued through
-    successive summers for ten years, is but now drawing to a close.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">4</span></p>
-
-  <p>During these years my faithful interpreter and helper has been Edward
-    Goodbird, grandson of Small Ankle, a chief of the Hidatsas in the
-    trying years following the terrible smallpox winter; and my principal
-    informants have been Goodbird’s mother, <i>Waheenee-wea</i>, or
-    Buffalo-Bird Woman, and her brother, Wolf Chief.</p>
-
-  <p>The stories in this book were told me by Buffalo-Bird Woman. A few told
-    in mere outline, have been completed from information given by Wolf
-    Chief and others.</p>
-
-  <p>Illustrations are by my brother, from studies made by him on the
-    reservation. They have been carefully compared with the Catlin and
-    Bodmer sketches. Not a few are redrawn from cruder sketches by
-    Goodbird, himself an artist of no mean ability.</p>
-
-  <p>Acknowledgment is made of the courtesy of Curator Wissler, whose
-    permission makes possible the publishing of this book.</p>
-
-  <p>Indians have the gentle custom of adopting very dear friends by
-    relationship terms. By such adoption Buffalo-Bird Woman is my mother.
-    It is with real pleasure that I offer to young readers these stories
-    from the life of my Indian mother.</p>
-
-  <div class="right">G. L. W.</div>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">5</span>
-    <h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <table summary="Contents">
-    <thead>
-      <tr>
-        <th class="chapnum"><div>Chapter</div></th>
-        <th>&nbsp;</th>
-        <th class="tdr"><div>Page</div></th>
-      </tr>
-    </thead>
-    <tbody>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="chapnum"><div>I</div></td>
-        <td><a href="#A_LITTLE_INDIAN_GIRL">A Little Indian Girl</a></td>
-        <td class="tdr"><div>7</div></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="chapnum"><div>II</div></td>
-        <td><a href="#WINTER_CAMP">Winter Camp</a></td>
-        <td class="tdr"><div>15</div></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="chapnum"><div>III</div></td>
-        <td><a href="#THE_BUFFALO_SKIN_CAP">The Buffalo-skin Cap</a></td>
-        <td class="tdr"><div>21</div></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="chapnum"><div>IV</div></td>
-        <td><a href="#STORY_TELLING">Story Telling</a></td>
-        <td class="tdr"><div>29</div></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="chapnum"><div>V</div></td>
-        <td><a href="#LIFE_IN_AN_EARTH_LODGE">Life in an Earth Lodge</a></td>
-        <td class="tdr"><div>44</div></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="chapnum"><div>VI</div></td>
-        <td><a href="#CHILDHOOD_GAMES">Childhood Games</a></td>
-        <td class="tdr"><div>54</div></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="chapnum"><div>VII</div></td>
-        <td><a href="#KINSHIP_CLAN_COUSINS">Kinship, Clan Cousins</a></td>
-        <td class="tdr"><div>66</div></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="chapnum"><div>VIII</div></td>
-        <td><a href="#INDIAN_DOGS">Indian Dogs</a></td>
-        <td class="tdr"><div>73</div></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="chapnum"><div>IX</div></td>
-        <td><a href="#TRAINING_A_DOG">Training a Dog</a></td>
-        <td class="tdr"><div>81</div></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="chapnum"><div>X</div></td>
-        <td><a href="#LEARNING_TO_WORK">Learning to Work</a></td>
-        <td class="tdr"><div>90</div></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="chapnum"><div>XI</div></td>
-        <td><a href="#PICKING_JUNE_BERRIES">Picking June Berries</a></td>
-        <td class="tdr"><div>99</div></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="chapnum"><div>XII</div></td>
-        <td><a href="#THE_CORN_HUSKING">The Corn Husking</a></td>
-        <td class="tdr"><div>109</div></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="chapnum"><div>XIII</div></td>
-        <td><a href="#MARRIAGE">Marriage</a></td>
-        <td class="tdr"><div>117</div></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="chapnum"><div>XIV</div></td>
-        <td><a href="#A_BUFFALO_HUNT">A Buffalo Hunt</a></td>
-        <td class="tdr"><div>127</div></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="chapnum"><div>XV</div></td>
-        <td><a href="#THE_HUNTING_CAMP">The Hunting Camp</a></td>
-        <td class="tdr"><div>138</div></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="chapnum"><div>XVI</div></td>
-        <td><a href="#HOMEWARD_BOUND">Homeward Bound</a></td>
-        <td class="tdr"><div>149</div></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="chapnum"><div>XVII</div></td>
-        <td><a href="#AN_INDIAN_PAPOOSE">An Indian Papoose</a></td>
-        <td class="tdr"><div>156</div></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="chapnum"><div>XVIII</div></td>
-        <td><a href="#THE_VOYAGE_HOME">The Voyage Home</a></td>
-        <td class="tdr"><div>165</div></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td>&nbsp;</td>
-        <td><a href="#GLOSSARY_OF_INDIAN_WORDS">Glossary of Indian Words</a></td>
-        <td class="tdr"><div>177</div></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td>&nbsp;</td>
-        <td><a href="#EXPLANATORY_NOTES">Explanatory Notes</a></td>
-        <td class="tdr"><div>178</div></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td colspan="3">Supplement:—</td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td>&nbsp;</td>
-        <td><a href="#HOW_TO_MAKE_AN_INDIAN_CAMP">How to Make an Indian Camp</a></td>
-        <td class="tdr"><div>183</div></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td>&nbsp;</td>
-        <td><a href="#HINTS_TO_YOUNG_CAMPERS">Hints to Young Campers</a></td>
-        <td class="tdr"><div>187</div></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td>&nbsp;</td>
-        <td><a href="#INDIAN_COOKING">Indian Cooking</a></td>
-        <td class="tdr"><div>188</div></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td>&nbsp;</td>
-        <td><a href="#EDITORS_NOTE">Editor’s Note</a></td>
-        <td class="tdr"><div>189</div></td>
-      </tr>
-    </tbody>
-  </table>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter" id="A_LITTLE_INDIAN_GIRL">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">7</span>
-    <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-      <img class="w100" src="images/i_007.jpg" alt="" />
-    </div>
-    <div class="xxlarge bold">WAHEENEE</div>
-    <div class="large mt2">FIRST CHAPTER</div>
-    <h2 class="nobreak">A LITTLE INDIAN GIRL</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>I was born in an earth lodge by the mouth of the Knife river, in what
-    is now North Dakota, three years after the smallpox winter.</p>
-
-  <p>The Mandans and my tribe, the Hidatsas, had come years before from the
-    Heart river; and they had built the Five Villages, as we called them,
-    on the banks of the Knife, near the place where it enters the Missouri.</p>
-
-  <p>Here were bottom lands for our cornfields and cottonwood trees for the
-    beams and posts of our lodges. The dead wood that floated down either
-    river would help keep us in firewood, the old women thought. Getting
-    fuel in a prairie country was not always easy work.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">8</span></p>
-
-  <p>When I was ten days old my mother made a feast and asked an old man
-    named Nothing-but-Water to give me a name. He called me Good Way. “For
-    I pray the gods,” he said, “that our little girl may go through life by
-    a <i>good way</i>; that she may grow up a good woman, not quarreling
-    nor stealing; and that she may have good luck all her days.”</p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp56">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_008.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>I was a rather sickly child and my father wished after a time to give
-    me a new name. We Indians thought that sickness was from the gods.
-    A child’s name was given him as a kind of prayer. A new name, our
-    medicine men thought, often moved the gods to help a sick or weakly
-    child.</p>
-
-  <p>So my father gave me another name, <i>Waheenee-wea</i>,<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> or
-    Buffalo-Bird Woman. In our Hidatsa language, <i>waheenee</i>, means
-    cowbird, or buffalo-bird, as this little brown bird is known in the
-    buffalo country; <i>wea</i>, meaning girl or woman, is often added to a
-    girl’s name that none mistake it for the name of a boy. I do not know
-    why my father chose this name. His gods, I know, were birds; and these,
-    we thought, had much holy power. Perhaps the buffalo-birds had spoken
-    to him in a dream.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">9</span></p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1">[1]</a> Wä hēē´ nēē wē´ a
-  </div>
-
-  <p>I am still called by the name my father gave me; and, as I have lived
-    to be a very old woman, I think it has brought me good luck from the
-    gods.</p>
-
-  <p>My mother’s name was <i>Weahtee</i>.<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> She was one of four sisters,
-    wives of my father; her sisters’ names were Red Blossom, Stalk-of-Corn,
-    and Strikes-Many Woman. I was taught to call all these my mothers. Such
-    was our Indian custom. I do not think my mother’s sisters could have
-    been kinder to me if I had been an own daughter.</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2">[2]</a> Wē´ äh tēē
-  </div>
-
-  <p>I remember nothing of our life at the Five Villages; but my
-    great-grandmother, White Corn, told me something of it. I used to creep
-    into her bed when the nights were cold and beg for stories.</p>
-
-  <p>“The Mandans lived in two of the villages, the Hidatsas in three,” she
-    said. “Around each village, excepting on the side that fronted the
-    river, ran a fence of posts, with spaces between for shooting arrows.
-    In front of the row of posts was a deep ditch.</p>
-
-  <p>“We had corn aplenty and buffalo meat to eat in the Five Villages, and
-    there were old people and little children in every lodge. Then smallpox
-    came. More than half of my tribe died in the smallpox winter. Of the
-    Mandans only a few families were left alive. All the old people and
-    little children died.”</p>
-
-  <p>I was sad when I heard this story. “Did any of your family die,
-    grandmother?” I asked.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">10</span></p>
-
-  <p>“Yes, my husband, Yellow Elk, died. So many were the dead that there
-    was no time to put up burial scaffolds; so his clan fathers bore Yellow
-    Elk to the burying ground and laid him on the grass with logs over him
-    to keep off the wolves.</p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp48">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_010.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>“That night the villagers heard a voice calling to them from the
-    burying ground. ‘<i>A-ha-hey!</i><a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> I have waked up. Come for me.’</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3">[3]</a> Ä hä he̱y´
-  </div>
-
-  <p>“‘It is a ghost,’ the villagers cried; and they feared to go.</p>
-
-  <p>“Some brave young men, listening, thought they knew Yellow Elk’s voice.
-    They went to the burying ground and called, ‘Are you alive, Yellow Elk?’</p>
-
-  <p>“‘Yes,’ he answered, ‘I have waked up!’</p>
-
-  <p>“The young men rolled the logs from his body and bore Yellow Elk to the
-    village; he was too weak to walk.”</p>
-
-  <p>This story of Yellow Elk I thought wonderful; but it scared me to know
-    that my great-grandfather had been to the ghost land and had come back
-    again.</p>
-
-  <p>Enemies gave our tribes much trouble after the smallpox year, my
-    grandmother said. Bands <span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">11</span>of Sioux waylaid hunting parties or came
-    prowling around our villages to steal horses. Our chiefs, Mandan and
-    Hidatsa, held a council and decided to remove farther up the Missouri.
-    “We will build a new village,” they agreed, “and dwell together as one
-    tribe.”</p>
-
-  <p>The site chosen for the new village was a place called Like-a-Fishhook
-    Point, a bit of high bench land that jutted into a bend of the
-    Missouri. We set out for our new home in the spring, when I was four
-    years old. I remember nothing of our march thither. My mothers have
-    told me that not many horses were then owned by the Hidatsas, and that
-    robes, pots, axes, bags of corn and other stuff were packed on the
-    backs of women or on travois dragged by dogs.</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp62">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_011.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>The march was led by the older chiefs and medicine men. My grandfather
-    was one of them. His name was Missouri River. On the pommel of his
-    saddle hung his medicines, or sacred objects, two human skulls wrapped
-    in a skin. They were believed to be the skulls of thunder birds, who,
-    before they died, had changed themselves into Indians. After the
-    chiefs, in a long line, came warriors, women, and children. Young men
-    who owned ponies were sent ahead to hunt meat for the evening camp.
-    Others rode up and down the line to speed the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">12</span> stragglers and to see
-    that no child strayed off to fall into the hands of our enemies, the
-    Sioux.</p>
-
-  <p>The earth lodges that the Mandans and Hidatsas built, were dome-shaped
-    houses of posts and beams, roofed over with willows-and-grass, and
-    earth; but every family owned a tepee, or skin tent, for use when
-    hunting or traveling. Our two tribes camped in these tents the first
-    summer at Like-a-Fishhook Point, while they cleared ground for
-    cornfields.</p>
-
-  <p>The labor of clearing was done chiefly by the women, although the older
-    men helped. Young men were expected to be off fighting our enemies or
-    hunting buffaloes. There was need for hunting. Our small, first year’s
-    fields could yield no large crops; and, to keep from going hungry
-    in the winter months, we must lay in a good store of dried meat. We
-    owned few guns in the tribe then; and hunting buffaloes with arrows
-    was anything but sport. Only young men, strong and active, made good
-    hunters.</p>
-
-  <p>My mothers were hard-working women, and began their labor of clearing a
-    field almost as soon as camp was pitched. My grandmother, Turtle, chose
-    the ground for the field. It was in a piece of bottom land that lay
-    along the river, a little east of the camp. My mothers had brought seed
-    corn from the Five Villages; and squash, bean and sunflower seed.</p>
-
-  <p>I am not sure that they were able to plant much corn the first season.
-    I know they planted some beans and a few squashes. I am told that
-    when the squash harvest came in, my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">13</span> grandmother picked out a long
-    green-striped squash for me, for a doll baby. I carried this about on
-    my back, snuggled under my buffalo-calf robe, as I had seen Indian
-    mothers carry their babies. At evening I wrapped my dolly in a bit of
-    skin and put her to bed.</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp54">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_013.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Our camp on a summer’s evening was a cheerful scene. At this hour,
-    fires burned before most of the tepees; and, as the women had ended
-    their day’s labors, there was much visiting from tent to tent. Here
-    a family sat eating their evening meal. Yonder, a circle of old men,
-    cross-legged or squat-on-heels in the firelight, joked and told
-    stories. From a big tent on one side of the camp came the <i>tum-tum
-    tum-tum</i> of a drum. We had dancing almost every evening in those
-    good days.</p>
-
-  <p>But for wee folks bedtime was rather early. In my father’s family, it
-    was soon after sunset. My mothers had laid dry grass around the tent
-    wall, and on this had spread buffalo skins for beds. Small logs, laid
-    along the edge of the beds, caught any sparks from the fireplace; for,
-    when the nights grew chill, my mothers made their fire in the tepee. My
-    father often sat and sang me to sleep by the firelight.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">14</span></p>
-
-  <p>He had many songs. Some of them were for little boys: others were for
-    little girls. Of the girls’ songs, there was one I liked very much; it
-    was something like this:</p>
-
-  <div class="center-container">
-    <div class="poetry">
-      <div class="stanza">
-        <div class="i0">My sister asks me to go out and stretch the smoke-flap.</div>
-        <div class="i4">My armlets and earrings shine!</div>
-        <div class="i0">I go through the woods where the elm trees grow.</div>
-        <div class="i4">Why do the berries not ripen?</div>
-        <div class="i0">What berries do you like best?—the red? the blue?</div>
-      </div>
-    </div>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>This song I used to try to sing to my squash doll, but I found it hard
-    to remember the words.</p>
-
-  <div class="figcenter illowp68">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_014.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter" id="WINTER_CAMP">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">15</span>
-    <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-      <img class="w100" src="images/i_015.jpg" alt="" />
-    </div>
-    <div class="large mt2">SECOND CHAPTER</div>
-    <h2 class="nobreak">WINTER CAMP</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>The medicine men of the two tribes had laid out the plan of our new
-    village when they made camp in the spring. There was to be an open
-    circle in the center, with the lodges of the chiefs and principal men
-    opening upon it; and in the center of the circle was to stand the
-    Mandans’ sacred corral. This corral was very holy. Around it were held
-    solemn dances, when young men fasted and cut their flesh to win favor
-    of the gods.</p>
-
-  <p>The early planning of the village by our medicine men made it possible
-    for a woman to choose a site and begin building her earth lodge. Few
-    lodges, however, were built the first summer. My mothers did not even
-    begin building theirs; but they got ready the timbers with which to
-    frame it.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">16</span></p>
-
-  <p>Going often into the woods with their dogs to gather firewood, they
-    kept a sharp lookout for trees that would make good beams or posts;
-    these they felled later, and let lie to cure. For rafters, they cut
-    long poles; and from cottonwood trunks they split puncheons for the
-    sloping walls. In olden days puncheons were split with wedges of
-    buffalo horn. A core of hard ash wood was driven into the hollow horn
-    to straighten it and make it solid.</p>
-
-  <p>Autumn came; my mothers harvested their rather scanty crops; and, with
-    the moon of Yellow Leaves, we struck tents and went into winter camp.
-    My tribe usually built their winter village down in the thick woods
-    along the Missouri, out of reach of the cold prairie winds. It was
-    of earth lodges, like those of our summer village, but smaller and
-    more rudely put together. We made camp this winter not very far from
-    Like-a-Fishhook Point.</p>
-
-  <p>My father’s lodge, or, better, my mothers’ lodge,—for an earth lodge
-    belonged to the women who built it—was more carefully constructed than
-    most winter lodges were. Earth was heaped thick on the roof to keep in
-    the warmth; and against the sloping walls without were leaned thorny
-    rosebushes, to keep the dogs from climbing up and digging holes in the
-    roof. The fireplace was a round, shallow pit, with edges plastered
-    smooth with mud. Around the walls stood the family beds, six of them,
-    covered each with an old tent skin on a frame of poles.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">17</span></p>
-
-  <p>A winter lodge was never very warm; and, if there were old people or
-    children in the family, a second, or “twin lodge,” was often built.
-    This was a small lodge with roof peaked like a tepee, but covered with
-    bark and earth. A covered passage led from it to the main lodge.</p>
-
-  <p>The twin lodge had two uses. In it the grandparents or other feeble or
-    sickly members of the family could sit, snug and warm, on the coldest
-    day; and the children of the household used it as a playhouse.</p>
-
-  <p>I can just remember playing in our twin lodge, and making little feasts
-    with bits of boiled tongue or dried berries that my mothers gave me.
-    I did not often get to go out of doors; for I was not a strong little
-    girl, and, as the winter was a hard one, my mothers were at pains to
-    see that I was kept warm. I had a tiny robe, made of a buffalo-calf
-    skin, that I drew over my little buckskin dress; and short girls’
-    leggings over my ankles. In the twin lodge, as in the larger earth
-    lodge, the smoke hole let in plenty of fresh air.</p>
-
-  <p>My mothers had a scant store of corn and beans, and some strings of
-    dried squashes; and they had put by two or three sacks of dried prairie
-    turnips. A mess of these turnips was boiled now and then and was very
-    good. Once, I remember, we had a pudding, dried prairie turnips pounded
-    to a meal and boiled with dried June berries. Such a pudding was sweet,
-    and we children were fond of it.</p>
-
-  <p>To eke out our store of corn and keep the pot boiling, my father hunted
-    much of the time.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">18</span> To hunt deer he left the lodge before daybreak, on
-    snowshoes, if the snow was deep. He had a flintlock gun, a smoothbore
-    with a short barrel. The wooden stock was studded with brass nails. For
-    shot he used slugs, bits of lead which he cut from a bar, and chewed to
-    make round like bullets. Powder and shot were hard to get in those days.</p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp45">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_018.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Buffaloes were not much hunted in winter, when they were likely to
-    be poor in flesh; but my father and his friends made one hunt before
-    midwinter set in. Buffaloes were hunted with bow and arrows, from
-    horseback. Only a fleet pony could overtake a buffalo, and there were
-    not many such owned in the tribe. We thought a man rich who had a good
-    buffalo horse.</p>
-
-  <p>My father stabled his horses at night in our lodge, in a little corral
-    fenced off against the wall. “I do not want the Sioux to steal them,”
-    he used to say. In the morning, after breakfast, he drove them out upon
-    the prairie, to pasture, but brought them in again before sunset. In
-    very cold weather my mothers cut down young cottonwoods and let our
-    horses browse on the tender branches.</p>
-
-  <p>Early in the spring our people returned to Like-a-Fishhook Point and
-    took up again the labor of clearing and planting fields. Each family<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">19</span>
-    had its own field, laid out in the timbered bottom lands along the
-    Missouri, if possible, in a rather open place where there were no large
-    trees to fell.</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp58">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_019.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Felling trees and grubbing out bushes were done with iron tools, axes
-    and heavy hoes, gotten of the traders. I have heard that in old times
-    my tribe used stone axes, but I never saw them myself. Our family field
-    was larger than any owned by our neighbors; and my mothers were at
-    pains to add to it, for they had many mouths to feed. My grandmother,
-    Turtle, helped them, rising at the first sound of the birds to follow
-    my mothers to the field.</p>
-
-  <p>Turtle was old-fashioned in her ways and did not take kindly to iron
-    tools. “I am an Indian,” she would say, “I use the ways my fathers
-    used.” Instead of grubbing out weeds and bushes, she pried them from
-    the ground with a wooden digging stick. I think she was as skillful
-    with this as were my mothers with their hoes of iron.</p>
-
-  <p>Digging sticks are even yet used by old Hidatsa women for digging wild
-    turnips. The best kind is made of a stout ash sapling, slightly bent
-    and trimmed at the root end to a three-cornered point. To harden the
-    point, it is oiled<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">20</span> with marrow fat, and a bunch of dry grass is tied
-    around it and fired. The charring makes the point almost as hard as
-    iron.</p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp52">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_020a.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Turtle, I think, was the last woman in the tribe to use an
-    old-fashioned, bone-bladed hoe. Two other old women owned such hoes,
-    but no longer used them in the fields. Turtle’s hoe was made of the
-    shoulder bone of a buffalo set in a light-wood handle, the blade firmly
-    bound in place with thongs. The handle was rather short, and so my
-    grandmother stooped as she worked among her corn hills.</p>
-
-  <p>She used to keep the hoe under her bed. As I grew a bit older my
-    playmates and I thought it a curious old tool, and sometimes we
-    tried to take it out and look at it, when Turtle would cry, “<i>Nah,
-      nah!</i><a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> Go away! Let that hoe alone; you will break it!”</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4">[4]</a> Näh
-  </div>
-
-  <p>We children were a little afraid of Turtle.</p>
-
-  <div class="figcenter illowp65">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_020b.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter" id="THE_BUFFALO_SKIN_CAP">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">21</span>
-    <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-      <img class="w100" src="images/i_021.jpg" alt="" />
-    </div>
-    <div class="large mt2">THIRD CHAPTER</div>
-    <h2 class="nobreak">THE BUFFALO-SKIN CAP</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>The winter I was six years old my mother, <i>Weahtee</i>, died.</p>
-
-  <p>The Black Mouths, a men’s society, had brought gifts to One Buffalo and
-    asked him to be winter chief. “We know you own sacred objects, and have
-    power with the gods,” they said. “We want you to pray for us and choose
-    the place for our camp.”</p>
-
-  <p>One Buffalo chose a place in the woods at the mouth of Many-Frogs
-    Brook, three miles from Like-a-Fishhook village. I remember our journey
-    thither. There was a round, open place in the trees by Many-Frogs
-    Brook, where young men fasted and made offerings to the gods. It was
-    a holy place; and One Buffalo thought, if we pitched our winter camp
-    near-by, the gods would remember us and give us a good winter.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">22</span></p>
-
-  <p>But it was a hard winter from its start. Cold weather set in before we
-    had our lodges well under cover; and, with the first snow, smallpox
-    broke out in camp. Had it been in summer, my tribe could have broken up
-    into small bands and scattered; and the smallpox would have died out.
-    This they could not do in winter, and many died. My brother, my mother
-    <i>Weahtee</i>, and her sister Stalk-of-Corn, died, of my father’s
-    family.</p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp45">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_022.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Although my old grandmother was good to me, I often wept for my mother.
-    I was lonesome in our winter lodge, and we Indian children did not
-    have many playthings. Old Turtle made me a dolly of deer skin stuffed
-    with antelope hair. She sewed on two white bone beads for eyes. I bit
-    off one of these bone beads, to see if it was good to eat, I suppose.
-    For some days my dolly was one-eyed, until my grandmother sewed on a
-    beautiful new eye, a blue glass bead she had gotten of a trader. I
-    thought this much better, for now my dolly had one blue eye and one
-    white one.</p>
-
-  <p>I liked to play with my father’s big hunting cap. It was made of
-    buffalo skin, from the part near the tail where the hair is short. He
-    wore it with the fur side in. Two ears of buffalo skin, stuffed with
-    antelope hair to make them stand<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">23</span> upright, were sewed one on each side.
-    They were long, to look like a jack rabbit’s ears; but they looked
-    more like the thumbs of two huge mittens. My father, I think, had had
-    a dream from the jack-rabbit spirits, and wore the cap as a kind of
-    prayer to them. Jack rabbits are hardy animals and fleet of foot. They
-    live on the open prairies through the hardest winters; and a full grown
-    rabbit can outrun a wolf. An Indian hunter had need to be nimble-footed
-    and hardy, like a jack rabbit.</p>
-
-  <p>Small Ankle thought his cap a protection in other ways. It kept his
-    head warm. Then, if he feared enemies were about, he could draw his cap
-    down to hide his dark hair, creep up a hill and spy over the top. Being
-    of dull color, like dead grass, the cap was not easily seen on the sky
-    line. A Sioux, spying it, would likely think it a coyote, or wolf, with
-    erect, pointed ears, peering over the hill, as these animals often did.
-    There were many such caps worn by our hunters; but most of them had
-    short pointed ears, like a coyote’s.</p>
-
-  <p>My father sometimes hung his cap, wet with snow, on the drying poles
-    over the fire to dry. I would watch it with longing eyes; and, when
-    I thought it well warmed, I would hold up my small hands and say,
-    “Father, let me play with the cap.” I liked to sit in it, my small
-    ankles turned to the right, like an Indian woman’s; for I liked the
-    feel of the warm fur against my bare knees. At other times I marched
-    about the lodge, the big cap set loosely on my head,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">24</span> and my dolly
-    thrust under my robe on my back. In doing this I always made my
-    grandmother laugh. “Hey, hey,” she would cry, “that is a warrior’s cap.
-    A little girl can not be a warrior.”</p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp65">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_024.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>The winter, if hard, was followed by an early spring. Snow was thawing
-    and flocks of wild geese were flying north a month before their wonted
-    time. The women of the Goose Society called the people for their spring
-    dance, and prayed the gods for good weather for the corn planting. One
-    Buffalo sent a crier through the lodges, warning us to make ready to
-    break camp. On the day set, we all returned to Like-a-Fishhook village,
-    glad to leave our stuffy little winter lodges for our roomy summer
-    homes.</p>
-
-  <p>One morning, shortly after our return, my father came into the lodge
-    with two brave men, Flying Eagle and Stuck-by-Fish. My grandfather,
-    Big Cloud, joined them. Big Cloud lighted a pipe, offered smoke to the
-    gods, and passed the pipe to the others. It was a long pipe with black
-    stone bowl. The four men talked together. I heard my father speak of a
-    war party and that he was sure his gods were strong.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">25</span></p>
-
-  <p>Toward evening, Red Blossom boiled meat and set it before the men. When
-    they had eaten, Small Ankle rose and went to his medicine bag, that
-    hung in the rear of the lodge. He held out his hands and I saw his lips
-    move; and I knew he was praying. He opened the medicine bag and took
-    out a bundle which he unrolled. It was a black bear’s skin, painted
-    red. He bore the skin reverently out of the lodge, and came back
-    empty-handed. Flying Eagle and Stuck-by-Fish rose and left the lodge.</p>
-
-  <p>My father sat by the fire awhile, silent. Then from a post of his bed
-    he fetched his hunting cap. “I shall need this cap,” he said to Red
-    Blossom. “See if it must be sewed or mended in any place.”</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp53">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_025.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>The next morning when I went out of the lodge, I saw that the
-    black-bear skin was bound to one of the posts at the entrance. This was
-    a sign that my father was going to lead out a war party. I was almost
-    afraid to pass the bear skin, for I knew it was very holy.</p>
-
-  <p>For days after, young men came to our lodge to talk with my father and
-    Big Cloud. My mothers—for so I called Red Blossom and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">26</span> Strikes-Many
-    Woman—had the pot boiling all the time, to give food to the young
-    warriors.</p>
-
-  <p>One night I was in bed and asleep, when I woke with a start, hearing
-    low voices. Peeping out, I saw many young men sitting around the
-    fireplace. The fire had died down, but the night was clear and a little
-    light came through the smoke hole. Many of the young men had bows and
-    well-filled quivers on their backs. A few had guns.</p>
-
-  <p>Some one struck flint and steel, and I saw by the glow of the burning
-    tobacco that a pipe was being passed. The men were talking low, almost
-    in whispers. Then I heard Big Cloud’s voice, low and solemn, praying:
-    “Oh gods, keep watch over these our young men. Let none of them be
-    harmed. Help them strike many enemies and steal many horses.”</p>
-
-  <p>The company now arose and filed out of the lodge. As the skin door fell
-    shut after them, I heard the whinny of Small Ankle’s war pony without.
-    Next morning, I learned that Small Ankle and Big Cloud had led out a
-    war party, all mounted, to strike the northern Sioux.</p>
-
-  <p>The ice on the Missouri river broke, and ran out with much crashing and
-    roaring. Some dead buffaloes, frozen in the ice, came floating down
-    the current. Our brave young men, leaping upon the ice cakes, poled
-    the carcasses to shore. We were glad to get such carcasses. Buffaloes
-    killed in the spring were lean and poor in flesh; but these, frozen in
-    the ice, were fat and tender.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">27</span></p>
-
-  <p>A good many frozen carcasses were thus taken at the spring break-up.
-    In the fall the rivers froze over, often with rather thin ice. A herd
-    would come down to the river’s edge and stand lowing and grumbling,
-    until some bold bull walked out upon the ice. The whole herd followed,
-    often breaking through with their weight.</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp50">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_027.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>The weather stayed warm. Bushes in the woods had begun to leaf, and old
-    Turtle even raked part of our field and planted sunflower seed around
-    the border. “We never saw such an early spring,” said some of the old
-    men.</p>
-
-  <p>Then, one night, a cold wind arose with rain turning to snow. I woke
-    up, crying out that I was chilled. My grandmother, who slept with me,
-    pulled over us an extra robe she had laid up on the top of the bed
-    frame.</p>
-
-  <p>The next morning a terrible blizzard broke over our village. The wind
-    howled overhead, driving the falling snow in blinding clouds. Red
-    Blossom drew her robe over her head and went to the entrance to run
-    over to our next neighbor’s; but she came back. “I am afraid to go
-    out,” she said. “The air is so full of snow<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">28</span> that I can not see my
-    hand when I hold it before my face. I fear I might lose my way, and
-    wander out on the prairie and die.” There were stories in the tribe of
-    villagers who had perished thus.</p>
-
-  <p>Old Turtle and Strikes-Many Woman made ready our noon meal—no easy
-    thing to do; for the cold wind, driving down the smoke hole, blew ashes
-    into our faces and into our food. An old bull-boat frame was turned
-    over the smoke hole. Against it, on the windward side, my mothers had
-    laid a buffalo skin the night before, weighting it down with a stone.
-    This was to keep the wind from blowing smoke down the smoke hole; but
-    the wind had shifted in the night, blowing the buffalo skin off the
-    boat frame. The weight of the stone had sunk one end of the skin into
-    the earth roof, where it had frozen fast; and we could hear the loose
-    end flapping and beating in the wind. Little snow came down the smoke
-    hole. The wind was so strong that it carried the snow off the roof.</p>
-
-  <p>Turtle and Strikes-Many Woman had gone with dogs for firewood only the
-    day before; so there was plenty of fuel in the lodge. We could not go
-    to get water at the river; but Red Blossom crept into the entrance way
-    and filled a skin basket with snow. This she melted in a clay pot, for
-    water. It was in this water that we boiled our meat for the midday
-    meal. In spite of the calf skin that my grandmother belted about me,
-    I shivered with the cold until my teeth chattered. Turtle poured some
-    of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">29</span> meat broth, steaming hot, into a wooden bowl, and fetched me
-    a buffalo-horn spoon. With this spoon I scooped up the broth, glad to
-    swallow something hot into my cold little stomach.</p>
-
-  <p>After our meal, my two mothers and Turtle sat on my father’s couch,
-    looking grave. “I hope Small Ankle and Big Cloud have reached shelter
-    in the Missouri-river timber,” I heard Red Blossom say. “If they are on
-    the prairie in this storm, they will die.”</p>
-
-  <p>“Big Cloud’s prayers are strong,” answered Turtle, “and Small Ankle is
-    a good plainsman. I am sure they and their party will find shelter.”</p>
-
-  <p>“I knew a Mandan who was caught in a blizzard,” said Red Blossom. “He
-    walked with the wind until he fell into a coulee, that was full of
-    snow. He burrowed under the drifts and lay on his back, with his knees
-    doubled against his chin and his robe tight about him. He lay there
-    three days, until the storm blew over. He had a little parched corn for
-    food; and, for drink, he ate snow. He came home safely; but his mouth
-    was sore from the snow he had eaten.”</p>
-
-  <p>Darkness came early, with the wind still screaming overhead. Turtle
-    tried to parch some corn in a clay pot, but blasts from the smoke hole
-    blew ashes into her eyes. She took out a handful of the half-parched
-    corn, when it had cooled, and poured it into my two hands. This was my
-    supper; but she also gave me a lump of dried chokecherries to eat. They
-    were sweet and I was fond of them.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">30</span></p>
-
-  <p>I awoke the next morning to see my mothers cooking our breakfast,
-    parched-corn meal stirred into a thick mush with beans and marrow fat.
-    I sprang out of bed and glanced up at the smoke hole. The sky, I saw,
-    was clear and the sun was shining.</p>
-
-  <p>The second day after, about midafternoon, Small Ankle came home. I
-    heard the tinkle of the hollow hoofs that hung on the skin door, and in
-    a moment my father came around the fire screen leading his war pony, a
-    bay with a white nose. He put his pony in the corral, replaced the bar,
-    and came over to his couch by the fire. My mothers said nothing. Red
-    Blossom put water and dried meat in a pot and set it on the fire, and
-    Turtle fetched an armful of green cottonwood bark to feed the pony.</p>
-
-  <p>My father took off his big cap and hung it on the drying pole, and
-    wrung out his moccasins and hung them beside the cap. They were winter
-    moccasins, and in each was a kind of stocking, of buffalo skin turned
-    fur in, and cut and sewed to fit snugly over the foot. These stockings
-    Small Ankle drew out and laid by the fire, to dry. He put on dry
-    moccasins, threw off his robe, and took upon his knees the bowl of
-    broth and meat that Red Blossom silently handed him.</p>
-
-  <p>In the evening, some of his cronies came in to smoke and talk. Small
-    Ankle told them of his war party.</p>
-
-  <p>“We had a hard time,” he said. “Perhaps the gods, for some cause, were
-    angry with us. We had gone five days; evening came and it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">31</span> began to
-    rain. We were on the prairie, and our young men sat all night with
-    their saddles and saddle skins over their heads to keep off the rain.</p>
-
-  <p>“In the morning, the rain turned to snow. A heavy wind blew the snow in
-    our faces, nearly blinding us.</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp55">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_031.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>“‘We must make our way to the Missouri timber and find shelter,’ Big
-    Cloud said.</p>
-
-  <p>“Flying Eagle feared we could not find our way. ‘The air is so full of
-    snow that we can not see the hills,’ he said.</p>
-
-  <p>“‘The wind will guide us,’ said Stuck-by-Fish. ‘We know the Missouri
-    river is in the south. The wind is from the west. If we travel with the
-    wind on our right, we shall be headed south. We should reach the river
-    before night.’</p>
-
-  <p>“I thought this a good plan, and I cried, ‘My young men, saddle your
-    horses.’ We had flat saddles, such as hunters use. We had a few bundles
-    of dried meat left. These we bound firmly to our saddles, for we knew
-    we could kill no game while the storm lasted.</p>
-
-  <p>“Many of my young men had head cloths which they bound over their hair
-    and under their chins; but the wind was so strong that it blew the wet
-    snow through the cloths, freezing them<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">32</span> to the men’s faces. I had on my
-    fur cap, which kept my face warm. Also, I think the jack-rabbit spirits
-    helped me.</p>
-
-  <p>“We pushed on; but the snow got deeper and deeper until we could hardly
-    force our ponies through it. We grew so chilled that Big Cloud ordered
-    us to dismount and go afoot. ‘You go first,’ he said to Flying Eagle.
-    ‘You are a tall man and have long legs. You break the way through the
-    snow. We will follow single-file.’</p>
-
-  <p>“Flying Eagle did so, leading his pony. With Flying Eagle had come his
-    brother, Short Buffalo, a lad of fourteen or fifteen years. He was not
-    yet grown, and his legs were so short that he could not make his way
-    through the deep snow. We let him ride.</p>
-
-  <p>“But in a little while Short Buffalo cried out, ‘My brother, I freeze;
-    I die!’</p>
-
-  <p>“Flying Eagle called back, ‘Do not give up, little brother. Be strong!’
-    And he came back and bound Short Buffalo’s robe snugly about his neck,
-    and took the reins of his pony, so that Short Buffalo could draw his
-    hands under his robe to warm them. Short Buffalo’s robe had frozen
-    stiff in the cold wind.</p>
-
-  <p>“We reached the Missouri before nightfall and went down into the thick
-    timber. It was good to be out of the freezing wind, sheltered by the
-    trees.</p>
-
-  <p>“Flying Eagle led us to a point of land over which had swept a fire,
-    killing the trees. Many dead cottonwoods stood there, with shaggy bark.
-    We peeled off the thick outer bark, shredding<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">33</span> the dry inner bark
-    for tinder. I had flint and steel. We rolled over a fallen trunk and
-    started a fire on the dry ground beneath. We broke off dead branches
-    for fuel.</p>
-
-  <p>“Flying Eagle helped me get wood and start the fire. He is a strong
-    man and bore the cold better than the others. Many of the men were too
-    benumbed to help any. My mittens and my cap had kept me warm.</p>
-
-  <p>“The men’s leggings, wetted by rain and snow, were frozen stiff. We
-    soon had a hot fire. When their leggings had thawed soft, the men took
-    off these and their moccasins, and wrung them out; and when they had
-    half dried them by the fire, put them on again. They also put shredded
-    cottonwood bark in their moccasins, packing it about their feet and
-    ankles to keep them warm and dry.</p>
-
-  <p>“We toasted dried meat over the fire, and ate; for we were hungry, and
-    weak from the cold. We fed our ponies green cottonwood branches that we
-    cut with our knives.</p>
-
-  <p>“The storm died down before morning; and early the next day we started
-    down the river to our village. We were slow coming, for the snow
-    thawed, growing soft and slushy under our ponies’ feet. Our ponies,
-    too, were weak from the cold.”</p>
-
-  <p>Many of the young men of my father’s party had their faces frozen on
-    the right side. Short Buffalo had part of his right hand frozen, and
-    his right foot. He was sick for a long time. Another war party that had
-    been led<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">34</span> out by Wooden House had also been caught in the storm and had
-    fared even worse. They were afoot, and, not being able to reach the
-    river timber, they lay down in a coulee and let the snow drift over
-    them. Two were frozen to death.</p>
-
-  <p>The leaders of a war party were held to blame for any harm that came
-    to their men. The villagers, however, did not blame my father much.
-    Some of the older men said, “Small Ankle and Big Cloud were foolish.
-    The wild geese had come north, but this fact alone was not proof that
-    winter had gone. We know that bad storms often blow up at this season
-    of the year.”</p>
-
-  <p>Of course, being but six years old, I could hardly remember all these
-    things. But my father talked of his war party many times afterwards, at
-    his evening fire, as he smoked with his cronies; and so I came to know
-    the story.</p>
-
-  <div class="figcenter illowp50">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_034.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter" id="STORY_TELLING">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">35</span>
-    <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-      <img class="w100" src="images/i_035.jpg" alt="" />
-    </div>
-    <div class="large mt2">FOURTH CHAPTER</div>
-    <h2 class="nobreak">STORY TELLING</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>My good old grandmother could be stern when I was naughty;
-    nevertheless, I loved her dearly, and I know she was fond of me. After
-    the death of my mother, it fell to Turtle to care for me much of the
-    time. There were other children in the household, and, with so many
-    mouths to feed, my two other mothers, as I called them, had plenty of
-    work to do.</p>
-
-  <p>Indians are great story tellers; especially are they fond of telling
-    tales around the lodge fire in the long evenings of autumn and winter.
-    My father and his cronies used sometimes to sit up all night, drumming
-    and singing and telling stories. Young men often came with gift of robe
-    or knife, to ask him to tell them tales of our tribe.</p>
-
-  <p>I was too young yet to understand many of these tales. My father was
-    hours telling some<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">36</span> of them, and they had many strange words. But my
-    grandmother used to tell me stories as she sat or worked by the lodge
-    fire.</p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp50">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_036.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>One evening in the corn planting moon, she was making ready her seed
-    for the morrow’s planting. She had a string of braided ears lying
-    beside her. Of these ears she chose the best, broke off the tip and
-    butt of each, and shelled the perfect grain of the mid-cob into a
-    wooden bowl. Baby-like, I ran my fingers through the shiny grain,
-    spilling a few kernels on the floor.</p>
-
-  <p>“Do not do that,” cried my grandmother. “Corn is sacred; if you waste
-    it, the gods will be angry.”</p>
-
-  <p>I still drew my fingers through the smooth grain, and my grandmother
-    continued: “Once a Ree woman went out to gather her corn. She tied her
-    robe about her with a big fold in the front, like a pocket. Into this
-    she dropped the ears that she plucked, and bore them off to the husking
-    pile. All over the field she went, row by row, leaving not an ear.</p>
-
-  <p>“She was starting off with her last load when she heard a weak voice,
-    like a babe’s, calling, ‘Please, please do not go. Do not leave me.’</p>
-
-  <p>“The woman stopped, astonished. She put down her load. ‘Can there be a
-    babe hidden<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">37</span> in the corn?’ she thought. She then carefully searched the
-    field, hill by hill, but found nothing.</p>
-
-  <p>“She was taking up her load, when again she heard the voice: ‘Oh,
-    please do not go. Do not leave me!’ Again she searched, but found
-    nothing.</p>
-
-  <p>“She was lifting her load when the voice came the third time: ‘Please,
-    please, do not go! Please, do not leave me!’</p>
-
-  <p>“This time the woman searched every corn hill, lifting every leaf. And
-    lo, in one corner of the field, hidden under a leaf, she found a tiny
-    nubbin of yellow corn. It was the nubbin that had been calling to her.
-    For so the gods would teach us not to be wasteful of their gifts.”</p>
-
-  <p>Another evening I was trying to parch an ear of corn over the coals of
-    our lodge fire. I had stuck the ear on the end of a squash spit, as I
-    had seen my mothers do; but my baby fingers were not strong enough to
-    fix the ear firmly, and it fell off into the coals and began to burn.
-    My mouth puckered, and I was ready to cry.</p>
-
-  <p>My grandmother laughed. “You should put only half the ear on the spit,”
-    she said. “That is the way the Mandans did when they first gave us
-    corn.”</p>
-
-  <p>I dropped the spit and, forgetting the burning ear, asked eagerly, “How
-    did the Mandans give us corn, grandmother? Tell me the story.”</p>
-
-  <p>Turtle picked up the spit and raked the burning ear from the ashes.
-    “I have told you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">38</span> that the gods gave us corn to eat, not to waste,”
-    she said. “Some of the kernels on this cob are well parched.” And she
-    shelled off a handful and put one of the hot kernels in her mouth.</p>
-
-  <p>“I will tell you the story,” she continued. “I had it from my mother
-    when I was a little girl like you.</p>
-
-  <p>“In the beginning, our Hidatsa people lived under the waters of Devils
-    Lake. They had earth lodges and lived much as we live now. One day
-    some hunters found the root of a grapevine growing down from the lake
-    overhead. They climbed the vine and found themselves on this earth.
-    Others climbed the vine until half the tribe had escaped; but, when a
-    fat woman tried to climb it, the vine broke, leaving the rest of the
-    tribe under the lake.</p>
-
-  <p>“Those who had safely climbed the vine, built villages of earth lodges.
-    They lived by hunting; and some very old men say that they also planted
-    small fields in ground beans and wild potatoes. As yet the Hidatsas
-    knew nothing of corn or squashes.</p>
-
-  <p>“One day, a war party that had wandered west to the Missouri river saw
-    on the other side a village of earth lodges like their own. It was a
-    village of the Mandans. Neither they nor the Hidatsas would cross over,
-    each party fearing the other might be enemies.</p>
-
-  <p>“It was in the fall of the year, and the Missouri was running low, so
-    that an arrow could be shot from shore to shore. The Mandans parched
-    some ears of ripe corn with the grain<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">39</span> on the cob. These ears they
-    broke in pieces, stuck the pieces on the points of arrows and shot them
-    across the river. ‘Eat!’ they called. The word for ‘eat’ is the same in
-    both the Hidatsa and the Mandan languages.</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp31">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_039.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>“The Hidatsas ate of the parched corn. They returned to their village
-    and said, ‘We have found a people on a great river, to the west. They
-    have a strange kind of grain. We ate of it and found it good.’</p>
-
-  <p>“After this, a party of Hidatsas went to visit the Mandans. The Mandan
-    chief took an ear of corn, broke it in two, and gave half to the
-    Hidatsas for seed. This half ear the Hidatsas took home, and soon every
-    family in the village was planting corn.”</p>
-
-  <p>My father had been listening, as he sat smoking on the other side of
-    the fire. “I know that story,” he said. “The name of the Mandan chief
-    was Good-Fur Robe.”</p>
-
-  <p>My grandmother then put me to bed. I was so sleepy that I did not
-    notice she had eaten up all the corn I had parched.</p>
-
-  <p>Winter came again, and spring. As soon as the soil could be worked,
-    my mothers and old<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">40</span> Turtle began cleaning up our field, and breaking
-    new ground to add to it. Our first year’s field had been small; but my
-    mothers added to it each season, until the field was as large as our
-    family needed.</p>
-
-  <p>I was too little to note very much of what was done. I remember that my
-    father set up boundary marks—little piles of earth or stones, I think
-    they were—to mark the corners of the field we claimed. My mothers and
-    Turtle began at one end of the field and worked forward. My mothers had
-    their heavy iron hoes; and Turtle, her old-fashioned digging stick.</p>
-
-  <p>On the new ground, my mothers first cut the long grass with their hoes,
-    bearing it off the field to be burned. They next dug and loosened the
-    soil in places for the corn hills, which they laid off in rows. These
-    hills they planted. Then all summer in this and other parts of the
-    field they worked with their hoes, breaking and loosening the soil
-    between the corn hills and cutting weeds.</p>
-
-  <p>Small trees and bushes, I know, were cut off with axes; but I remember
-    little of this labor, most of it having been done the year before, when
-    I was yet quite small. My father once told me that in very old times,
-    when the women cleared a field, they first dug the corn hills with
-    digging sticks, and afterwards worked between them with their bone hoes.</p>
-
-  <p>I remember this season’s work the better for a dispute that my mothers
-    had with two neighbors, Lone Woman and Goes-Back-to-Next-Timber.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">41</span> These
-    two women were clearing lands that bordered our own. My father, I
-    have said, to set up claim to our land, had placed boundary marks,
-    one of them in the corner that touched the fields of Lone Woman and
-    Goes-Back-to-Next-Timber. While my mothers were busy clearing and
-    digging up the other end of their field, their two neighbors invaded
-    this marked-off corner. Lone Woman had even dug up a small part before
-    she was discovered.</p>
-
-  <p>My mothers showed Lone Woman the mark my father had placed.
-    “This land belongs to us,” they said; “but we will pay you and
-    Goes-Back-to-Next-Timber for any rights you may think are yours. We do
-    not want our neighbors to bear us any hard feelings.”</p>
-
-  <p>We Indians thought our fields sacred, and we did not like to quarrel
-    about them. A family’s right to a field once having been set up, no one
-    thought of disputing it. If any one tried to seize land belonging to
-    another, we thought some evil would come upon him; as that one of his
-    family would die or have some bad sickness.</p>
-
-  <p>There is a story of a hunter who had before been a black bear, and had
-    been given great magic power. He dared try to catch eagles from another
-    man’s pit, and had his mind taken from him for doing so. Thus the gods
-    punished him for entering ground that was not his own.</p>
-
-  <p>Lone Woman and Goes-Back-to-Next-Timber having withdrawn, my
-    grandmother Turtle undertook to clear and break the ground that had
-    been in dispute. She was a little woman but active,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">42</span> and she loved to
-    work out-of-doors. Often, when my mothers were busy in the earth lodge,
-    Turtle would go out to work in the field, and she would take me along
-    for company. I was too little to help her any, but I liked to watch her
-    work.</p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp45">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_042.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>With her digging stick Turtle dug up a little round place in the center
-    of the corner, and around this she circled from day to day, enlarging
-    the dug-up space. She had folded her robe over her middle, like a
-    pad. Resting the handle of her digging stick against her folded robe,
-    she would drive the point into the soft earth to a depth equal to the
-    length of my hand and pry up the soil.</p>
-
-  <p>She broke clods by striking them smartly with her digging stick. Roots
-    of coarse grass, weeds, small brush and the like, she took in her hand
-    and shook or struck them against the ground, to knock off the loose
-    earth clinging to them. She then cast them into little piles to dry. In
-    a few days she gathered these piles into a heap about four feet high
-    and burned them.</p>
-
-  <p>My grandmother worked in this way all summer, but not always in the
-    corner that had been in dispute. Some days, I remember, she dug along
-    the edges of the field, to add to it and make the edges even. Of
-    course, not all the labor of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">43</span> enlarging the field was done by Turtle;
-    but she liked to have me with her when she worked, and I remember best
-    what I saw her do.</p>
-
-  <p>It was my grandmother’s habit to rise early in the summer months.
-    She often arrived at the field before sunrise; about ten o’clock she
-    returned to the lodge to eat and rest.</p>
-
-  <p>One morning, having come to the field quite early, I grew tired of my
-    play before my grandmother had ended her work. “I want to go home,”
-    I begged, and I began to cry. Just then a strange bird flew into the
-    field. It had a long curved beak, and made a queer cry, <i>cur-lew,
-    cur-lew</i>.</p>
-
-  <p>I stopped weeping. My grandmother laughed.</p>
-
-  <p>“That is a curlew,” she said. “Once at the mouth of the Knife river, a
-    woman went out with her digging stick to dig wild turnips. The woman
-    had a babe. Growing tired of carrying her babe on her back, she laid it
-    on the ground.</p>
-
-  <p>“The babe began to cry. The mother was busy digging turnips, and did
-    not go to her babe as she should have done. By and by she looked up.
-    Her babe was flying away as a bird!</p>
-
-  <p>“The bird was a curlew, that cries like a babe. Now, if you cry,
-    perhaps you, too, will turn into a curlew.”</p>
-
-  <div class="figcenter illowp59">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_043.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter" id="LIFE_IN_AN_EARTH_LODGE">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">44</span>
-    <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-      <img class="w100" src="images/i_044.jpg" alt="" />
-    </div>
-    <div class="large mt2">FIFTH CHAPTER</div>
-    <h2 class="nobreak">LIFE IN AN EARTH LODGE</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>The small lodges we built for winter did not stand long after we left
-    them in the spring. Built on low ground by the Missouri, they were
-    often swept away in the June rise; for in that month the river is
-    flooded by snows melting in the Rocky Mountains.</p>
-
-  <p>The loss of our winter lodges never troubled us, however; for we
-    thought of them as but huts. Then, too, we seldom wintered twice in the
-    same place. We burned much firewood in our winter lodges, and before
-    spring came the women had to go far to find it. The next season we made
-    camp in a new place, where was plenty of dead-and-down wood for fuel.</p>
-
-  <p>We looked upon our summer lodges, to which we came every spring, as our
-    real homes. There were about seventy of these, earth lodges<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">45</span> well-built
-    and roomy, in Like-a-Fishhook village. Most of them were built the
-    second summer of our stay there.</p>
-
-  <p>My mothers’ earth lodge—for the lodge belonged to the women of a
-    household—was a large one, with floor measuring more than forty feet
-    across. In the center was the fireplace. A screen of puncheons, set
-    upright in a trench, stood between the fireplace and the door. This
-    screen shut out draughts and kept out the dogs.</p>
-
-  <p>The screen ran quite to the sloping wall, on the right; but, on
-    the left, there was space for a passage from the door to the fire.
-    Right and left in an Indian lodge are reckoned as one stands at the
-    fireplace, looking toward the door. We thought an earth lodge was alive
-    and had a spirit like a human body, and that its front was like a face,
-    with the door for mouth.</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp55">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_045.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Before the fireplace and against the puncheon screen was my father’s
-    bed. Forked posts, eighteen inches high, stood in the earth floor. On
-    poles laid in the forks rested cottonwood planks over which were thrown
-    buffalo robes. A skin pillow, stuffed with antelope hair, lay at one
-    end of the bed.</p>
-
-  <p>The beds of the rest of the family stood in the back of the lodge,
-    against the wall. They<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">46</span> were less simply made than my father’s, being
-    each covered with an old tent skin drawn over a frame of posts and
-    poles. The bedding was of buffalo skins. As these could not be washed,
-    my mothers used to take them out and hang them on the poles of the corn
-    stage on sunny days, to air.</p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp53">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_046.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Most of the earth lodges—at least most of the larger ones—had each a
-    bed like my father’s before the fireplace; for this was the warmest
-    place in the lodge. Usually the eldest in the family, as the father or
-    grandfather, slept in this bed.</p>
-
-  <p>My father’s bed, not being enclosed, made a good lounging place by day,
-    and here he sat to smoke or chat with his friends. My mothers, too,
-    used to sit here to peel wild turnips or make ready the daily meals.</p>
-
-  <p>Two or three sticks burned in the fireplace, not piled one upon the
-    other as done by white men, but laid with ends meeting. As the ends
-    burned away, the sticks were pushed in, keeping alive a small but hot
-    fire. At night, the last thing my father did was to cover one of these
-    burning sticks with ashes, that it might keep fire until morning.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">47</span></p>
-
-  <p>Unless he had spent the night with some of his cronies, my father was
-    the first to rise in the morning. He would go to the fireplace, draw
-    out a buried coal, lay some dry sticks upon it, and blow with his
-    breath until the fire caught. Sometimes he fanned the coal with a goose
-    wing.</p>
-
-  <p>Soon a little column of smoke would rise toward the smoke hole, and my
-    father would call, “Up, little daughter; up, sons! Get up, wives! The
-    sun is up. To the river for your bath! Hasten!” And he would go up on
-    the roof to look if enemies were about and if his horses were safe. My
-    mothers were already up when I crept from my bed still sleepy, but glad
-    that morning had come.</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp41">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_047.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>But if the weather was cold, we did not go to the river to bathe. An
-    earthen pot full of water stood by one of the posts near the fire. It
-    rested in a ring of bark, to keep it from falling. My mothers dipped
-    each a big horn spoon full of water, filled her mouth, and, blowing the
-    water over her palms, gave her face a good rubbing. Red Blossom washed
-    my face in the same way. I did not like it very much, and I would shut
-    my eyes and pucker my face when I felt the cold water. Red Blossom
-    would say, “Why do you pucker up your face? You make it look like a
-    piece of old, dried, buffalo skin.”</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">48</span></p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp50">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_048.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Her face washed, Red Blossom sat on the edge of her bed and finished
-    her toilet. She had a little fawn-skin bag, worked with red porcupine
-    quills. From this bag she took her hairbrush, a porcupine tail mounted
-    on a stick, with the sharp points of the quills cut off. She brushed
-    her hair smooth, parting it in two braids that fell over each shoulder
-    nearly hiding her ears. Red Blossom was no longer young, but her black
-    tresses had not a grey hair in them.</p>
-
-  <p>She now opened her paint bag, put a little buffalo grease on her two
-    fingers, pressed the tips lightly in the dry paint, and rubbed them
-    over her cheeks and face. She also rubbed a little red into the part of
-    her hair.</p>
-
-  <p>Meanwhile, the pot had been put on the fire. We Indians did not eat
-    many things at a meal as white men do. Usually, breakfast was of one
-    thing, often buffalo meat dried, and boiled to soften it. When a
-    buffalo was killed, the meat was cut into thin slices, and some parts,
-    into strips. These were dried in the open air over the earth lodge fire
-    or in the smoke of a small fire out-of-doors. For breakfast, a round
-    earthen pot was filled with water, dried meat put in, and the water
-    brought to a boil. Red Blossom used to lift out the hot meat slices on
-    the point of a stick, laying them on a bit of clean rawhide.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">49</span></p>
-
-  <p>A rough bench stood back of the fireplace, a cottonwood plank, with
-    ends resting on two blocks chopped from a tree trunk. My grandmother
-    Turtle sat on this bench to eat her meals. My two mothers sat beside
-    her, or on the floor near the meat they were serving. My father ate
-    sitting on the edge of his couch. A wooden bowl, heaped with steaming
-    meat, was set before each. Our fingers did for forks.</p>
-
-  <p>Boiling the meat in water made a thin broth which we used for a hot
-    drink. It was very good, tasting much like white man’s beef tea. We had
-    no cups; but we had big spoons made of buffalo horn, and ladles, of
-    mountain-sheep horn. Either of these did very well for drinking cups.
-    Sometimes we used mussel shells.</p>
-
-  <p>A common breakfast dish was <i>mapee<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> naka-pah</i>,<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> or
-    pounded-meal mush. From her cache pit Red Blossom took a string of
-    dried squash slices. She cut off a length and tied the ends together,
-    making a ring four or five inches in width. This ring and a double
-    handful of beans she dropped in a pot of water, and set on the fire.
-    When boiled, she lifted the ring out with a stick, with her horn ladle
-    mashed the softened squash slices in a wooden bowl and put them back in
-    the pot.</p>
-
-  <div class="center">
-    <div class="inline">
-      <div class="footnotel">
-        <a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5">[5]</a> mä pēē´
-      </div>
-
-      <div class="footnotel">
-        <a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6">[6]</a> nä kä päh´
-      </div>
-    </div>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Meanwhile Strikes-Many Woman or old Turtle had parched some corn in a
-    clay pot, and toasted some buffalo fats on a stick, over the coals. Red
-    Blossom now pounded the parched corn and toasted fats together in the
-    corn mortar, and stirred the pounded mass into the pot with <span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">50</span>the squash
-    and beans. The mess was soon done. Red Blossom dipped it into our bowls
-    with a horn spoon.</p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp47">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_050.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>We ate such messes with horn spoons or with mussel shells; for we
-    Hidatsas had few metal spoons in those days. There was a shelf, or
-    bench, at one side of the room, under the sloping roof, where were
-    stored wooden bowls, uneaten foods, horn spoons, and the mussel shells
-    that we used for teaspoons. When I was a little girl, nearly every
-    family owned such shells, worn smooth and shiny from use.</p>
-
-  <p>After breakfast, unless it was in the corn season, when they went to
-    the field, my mothers tidied up the lodge. They had short brooms of
-    buckbrush. With these they swept the floor, stooping over and drawing
-    the broom with a sidewise motion. As my father stabled his hunting
-    ponies in the lodge at night, there was a good deal of litter to be
-    taken out. Red Blossom used to scrape her sweepings into a skin basket,
-    which she bore to the river bank and emptied.</p>
-
-  <p>Other tasks were then taken up; and there were plenty of them.
-    Moccasins had to be made or old ones mended. Shirts and other garments
-    had to be made. Often there were skins to be dressed or scraped.
-    Leggings and shirts were embroidered usually in winter, when the women
-    had no corn to hoe.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">51</span></p>
-
-  <p>There was a good deal of visiting in our lodge; for my father was one
-    of the chiefs of the village, and always kept open house. “If a man
-    would be chief,” we said, “he should be ready to feed the poor and
-    strangers.” A pot with buffalo meat or corn and beans cooking was
-    always on the fire in my father’s lodge. His friends and the other
-    chief men of the village often came in to talk over affairs. A visitor
-    came in without knocking, but did not sit down until he was asked.</p>
-
-  <p>Friends of my mothers also came in to sit and chat; and they often
-    joined my mothers at whatever task they might be doing. Red Blossom
-    would set a bowl of food before each. What she could not eat the guest
-    took home with her. It was impolite to leave any uneaten food, as that
-    would mean, “I do not like your cooking; it is unfit to eat.”</p>
-
-  <p>My mothers were neat housekeepers and kept the ground about the lodge
-    entrance swept as clean as the lodge floor; but many families were
-    careless, and cast ashes, floor sweepings, scraps of broken bones and
-    other litter on the ground about their lodges. In time this rubbish
-    made little piles and became a nuisance, so that people could hardly
-    walk in the paths between the lodges.</p>
-
-  <p>The Black Mouths then went through the village and ordered the women to
-    clean up. The Black Mouths were a society of men of about forty years
-    of age. They acted as police and punished any one who broke the camp
-    laws.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">52</span></p>
-
-  <p>These clean-ups were made rather often; in summer, perhaps twice a
-    month. They were always ordered by the Black Mouths.</p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp38">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_052.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>I remember one morning, just after breakfast, I heard singing, as of a
-    dozen or more men coming toward our lodge. I started to run out to see
-    what it was, but my mothers cried, “Do not go. It is the Black Mouths.”
-    My mothers, I thought, looked rather scared. We were still speaking,
-    when I heard the tramp of feet. The door lifted, and the Black Mouths
-    came in.</p>
-
-  <p>They looked very terrible, all painted with the lower half of the face
-    black. Many, but not all, had the upper half of the face red. Some had
-    eagles’ feathers in their hair, and all wore robes or blankets. Some
-    carried guns. Others had sticks about as long as my arm. With these
-    sticks they beat any woman who would not help in the clean-up.</p>
-
-  <p>I fled to my father, but I dared not cry out, for I, too, was scared.</p>
-
-  <p>“One of you women go out and help clean up the village,” said the Black
-    Mouths. They spoke sternly, and several of them at once.</p>
-
-  <p>Like all the other women, my mothers were afraid of the Black Mouths
-    “We will go,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">53</span> said both, and Red Blossom caught up broom and skin
-    basket and went out.</p>
-
-  <p>The Black Mouths went also, and I followed to see what they did. They
-    went into another lodge not far away. I heard voices, then the report
-    of a gun, and a woman screamed. After a time, the Black Mouths came out
-    driving before them a woman, very angry, but much frightened. She had
-    not moved quickly enough to get her basket, and one of the Black Mouths
-    had fired his gun at her feet to frighten her. The gun was loaded only
-    with powder.</p>
-
-  <p>After they had made the rounds of the village, the Black Mouths
-    returned to the lodge of their “keeper,” a man named Crow Paunch. Soon
-    we heard singing and drumming, and knew they were singing some of the
-    society’s songs.</p>
-
-  <p>When they had sung three or four times, there was silence for a while,
-    as if a pipe were being passed. Then all came out and made the rounds
-    a second time, to see if the work of cleaning was done and to hurry up
-    the laggards. The village was all cleaned before noon; but some of the
-    women got their work done sooner than others.</p>
-
-  <p>After the clean-up the village children came out to play in the spaces
-    between the lodges, now swept clean and smooth. It was in these smooth
-    spaces that the boys liked to play at throw sticks, light willow rods
-    which they darted against the ground, whence they bounded to a great
-    distance.</p>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter" id="CHILDHOOD_GAMES">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">54</span>
-    <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-      <img class="w100" src="images/i_054.jpg" alt="" />
-    </div>
-    <div class="large mt2">SIXTH CHAPTER</div>
-    <h2 class="nobreak">CHILDHOOD GAMES AND BELIEFS</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>White people seem to think that Indian children never have any play
-    and never laugh. Such ideas seem very funny to me. How can any child
-    grow up without play? I have seen children at our reservation school
-    playing white men’s games—baseball, prisoners’ base, marbles. We Indian
-    children also had games. I think they were better than white children’s
-    games.</p>
-
-  <p>I look back upon my girlhood as the happiest time of my life. How I
-    should like to see all my little girl playmates again! Some still live,
-    and when we meet at feasts or at Fourth-of-July camp, we talk of the
-    good times we had when we were children.</p>
-
-  <p>My little half sister was my usual playmate. She was two years younger
-    than I, and I loved<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">55</span> her dearly. She had a pretty name, Cold Medicine.
-    On our prairies grows a flower with long, yellow root. In old times, if
-    a warrior was running from enemies and became wearied he chewed a bit
-    of the root and rubbed it on his eyelids. It made his eyes and tongue
-    feel cold and kept him awake. The flower for this reason was called
-    cold medicine. When my father spoke my sister’s name, it made him think
-    of this flower and of the many times he had bravely gone out with war
-    parties.</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp60">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_055.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>For playgrounds my little sister and I had the level spaces between
-    the lodges or the ground under the corn stage, in sunny weather; and
-    the big, roomy floor of the earth lodge, if it rained or the weather
-    were chill. We liked, too, to play in the lodge in the hot days of the
-    Cherry moon; for it was cool inside, never hot and stuffy like a white
-    man’s house. In the fall, when the air was frosty, the sun often shone,
-    and we could play in the big yellow sunspot that fell on the floor
-    through the smoke hole.</p>
-
-  <p>We liked to play at housekeeping, especially in the warm spring
-    days, when we had returned from winter camp and could again play
-    out-ofdoors.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">56</span> With the help of the neighbors’ children, we fetched long
-    forked sticks. These we stacked like a tepee frame and covered with
-    robes that we borrowed. To this play tent we brought foods and had a
-    feast.</p>
-
-  <p>Sometimes little boys joined in our play; and then it was like real
-    housekeeping. We girls chose each a little boy for husband. To my
-    little husband I said, “Old man, get your arrows, and go kill some
-    buffaloes. We are hungry. Go at once!”</p>
-
-  <p>My little husband hastened to his mother and told her our needs. She
-    laughed and gave him a boiled buffalo tongue; or perhaps pemmican,
-    dried meat pounded fine and mixed with marrow fat. This and the foods
-    which the other little husbands fetched us, we girls laid on fresh,
-    clean grass that we pulled. Then we sat down to feast, the little girls
-    on one side of the fireplace, the little boys on the other, just as we
-    had seen men and women sit when they feasted. Only there really was no
-    fireplace. We just made believe there was.</p>
-
-  <p>In summer, my little sister and I often went to the river for wet clay,
-    which we modeled into figures. There is a smooth, blue clay found in
-    places at the water’s edge, very good for modeling. We liked best to
-    make human figures, man, woman, or little child. We dried them in the
-    shade, else the sun cracked them. I fear they were not very beautiful.
-    When we made a mud man, we had to give him three legs to make him stand
-    up.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">57</span></p>
-
-  <p>I had a doll, woven of rushes, that Turtle made me. It really was not
-    a doll, but a cradle, such as Indian women used for carrying a small
-    child. In winter I had my deer-skin doll, with the beads for eyes.
-    My grandmother had made me a little bed for my dolls. The frame was
-    of willows, and it was covered with gopher skins, tanned and sewed
-    together. In this little bed my sister and I used to put our dollies to
-    sleep.</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp47">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_057.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>We had a game of ball much like shinny. It was a woman’s game, but we
-    little girls played it with hooked sticks. We also had a big, soft
-    ball, stuffed with antelope hair, which we would bounce in the air with
-    the foot. The game was to see how long a girl could bounce the ball
-    without letting it touch the ground. Some girls could bounce it more
-    than a hundred times. It was lots of fun.</p>
-
-  <p>We coasted in winter, on small sleds made of buffalo ribs; but coasting
-    on the snow was rather for boys and older girls. There was another
-    kind of coaster that we girls liked. A buffalo skin has the hair lying
-    backwards, towards the flanks. I would borrow a skin of my mothers and
-    tie a thong through two of the stake holes at the head or neck, to
-    draw it by. Such a skin made a good coaster even<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">58</span> in summer on a steep
-    hillside; for, laid head forward, it slid smoothly over the soft grass.</p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp55">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_058.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Girls of thirteen or fourteen were fond of playing at “tossing in a
-    blanket,” or “foot-moving,” as we called it. There were fifteen or
-    twenty players. A newly dried skin was borrowed, one that was scraped
-    clean of hair. There were always holes cut in the edges of a hide, to
-    stake it to the ground while drying. Into each hole a small hard wood
-    stick was now thrust and twisted around, for a handle.</p>
-
-  <p>Along the ditch at the edge of the village grew many tall weeds. The
-    players pulled armfuls of these and made them into a pile. They laid
-    the hide on this pile of weeds; and, with a player at every one of the
-    stick handles, they stretched the hide taut.</p>
-
-  <p>A girl now lay downward on the hide. With a quick pull, the others
-    tossed her into the air, when she was expected to come down on her
-    feet, to be instantly tossed again. The game was to see how many times
-    she could be tossed without falling. A player was often tossed ten or
-    more times before she lost her balance.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">59</span> Each time, as she came down,
-    she kept turning in one direction, right or left. When at last she
-    fell, the pile of weeds saved her from any hurt.</p>
-
-  <p>We called the game <i>eetseepadahpakee</i>,<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> or foot-moving, from the
-    player’s habit of wriggling her feet when in the air. We thought this
-    wriggling, or foot moving, a mark of skill.</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7">[7]</a> ēēt sēē pä däh´ pä kēē
-  </div>
-
-  <p>But, if my mothers let me play much of the time, they did not forget to
-    teach me good morals. “We are a family that has not a bad woman in it,”
-    they used to say. “You must try hard not to be naughty.”</p>
-
-  <p>My grandfather Big Cloud often talked to me. “My granddaughter,” he
-    would say, “try to be good, so that you will grow up to be a good
-    woman. Do not quarrel nor steal. Do not answer anyone with bad words.
-    Obey your parents, and remember all that I say.”</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp40">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_059.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>When I was naughty my mothers usually scolded me; for they were kind
-    women and did not like to have me punished. Sometimes they scared me
-    into being good, by saying, “The owl will get you.” This saying had to
-    do with an old custom that I will explain.</p>
-
-  <p>Until I was about nine years old, my hair was cut short, with a tuft on
-    either side of my head, like the horns of an owl. Turtle used to cut my
-    hair. She used a big, steel knife. In old times, I have heard, a thin
-    blade of flint was <span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">60</span>used. I did not like Turtle’s hair cutting a bit,
-    because she <i>pulled</i>.</p>
-
-  <p>“Why do you cut my hair, grandmother?” I asked.</p>
-
-  <p>“It is our custom,” Turtle answered. “I will tell you the story.”</p>
-
-  <p>“Thousands and thousands of years ago, there lived a great owl. He was
-    strong and had magic power, but he was a bad bird. When the hunters
-    killed buffaloes, the owl would turn all the meat bitter, so that the
-    Indians could not eat it, and so they were always hungry.</p>
-
-  <p>“On this earth then lived a young man called the Sun’s Child; for the
-    sun was his father. He heard how the Indians were made hungry, and came
-    to help them.</p>
-
-  <p>“The owl lived in a hollow tree that had a hole high up in its trunk.
-    The Sun’s Child climbed the tree, and when the owl put his head out of
-    the hole, he caught the bird by the neck.</p>
-
-  <p>“‘Do not let the Sun’s Child kill me!’ the owl cried to the Indians. ‘I
-    have been a bad bird; now I will be good and I will help your children.</p>
-
-  <p>“‘As soon as a child is old enough to understand you when you speak to
-    him, cut his hair with two tufts like my own. Do this to make him look
-    like an owl; and I will remember and make the child grow up strong and
-    healthy. If a child weeps or will not obey, say to him, “The owl will
-    get you!” This will frighten him, so that he will obey you.’”</p>
-
-  <div class="figcenter illowp64">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">61</span>
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_061.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-  <div class="caption">Plate I.—Offering food before the shrine of the Big
-    Birds’ ceremony</div>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">63</span></p>
-
-  <p>It was thus my mothers frightened me when I was naughty. Red Blossom
-    would call, “O owl, I have a bad daughter. Come.”</p>
-
-  <p>“I will be good, I will be good!” I would cry, as I ran to my father. I
-    knew he would not let the owl hurt me.</p>
-
-  <p>My old grandfather, Missouri River, taught me of the gods. He was a
-    medicine man and very holy, and I was rather afraid of him. He used
-    to sit on the bench behind the fire, to smoke. He had a long pipe, of
-    polished black stone. He liked best to smoke dried tobacco blossoms
-    which he first oiled with buffalo fat.</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp56">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_063.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>One day, as he sat smoking, I asked him, “Grandfather, who are the
-    gods?”</p>
-
-  <p>Missouri River took a long pull at his pipe, blew the smoke from his
-    nostrils, and put the stem from his mouth. “Little granddaughter,” he
-    answered, “this earth is alive and has a soul or spirit, just as you
-    have a spirit. Other things also have spirits, the sun, clouds, trees,
-    beasts, birds. These spirits are our gods. We pray to them and offer
-    them food, that they may help us when we have need.”</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">64</span></p>
-
-  <p>“Do the spirits eat the food?” I asked. I had seen my grandfather set
-    food before the two skulls of the Big Birds’ ceremony.</p>
-
-  <p>“No,” said my grandfather, “They eat the food’s spirit; for the food
-    has a spirit as have all things. When the gods have eaten of its
-    spirit, we often take back the food to eat ourselves.”</p>
-
-  <p>“How do we know there are gods, grandfather?” I asked.</p>
-
-  <p>“They appear to us in our dreams. That is why the medicine man fasts
-    and cuts his flesh with knives. If he fasts long, he will fall in a
-    vision. In this vision the gods will come and talk with him.”</p>
-
-  <p>“What are the gods like?” I asked.</p>
-
-  <p>“Like beings that live on this earth. Some are as men. Others are as
-    birds, or beasts, or even plants and other things. Not all the gods are
-    good. Some seek to harm us. The good gods send us buffaloes, and rain
-    to make our corn grow.”</p>
-
-  <p>“Do they send us thunder?” I asked. There had been a heavy storm the
-    day before.</p>
-
-  <p>“The thunder bird god sends us thunder,” said my grandfather. “He is
-    like a great swallow, with wings that spread out like clouds. Lightning
-    is the flash of his eyes. His scream makes the thunder.</p>
-
-  <p>“Once in Five Villages,” my grandfather went on, “there lived a brave
-    man who owned a gun. One day a storm blew up. As the man sat in his
-    lodge, there came a clap of thunder and lightning struck his roof,
-    tearing a great hole.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">65</span></p>
-
-  <p>“This did not frighten the man at all. Indeed, it angered him. He
-    caught up his gun and fired it through the hole straight into the sky.
-    ‘You thunder bird,’ he shouted, ‘stay away from my lodge. See this gun.
-    If you come, I will shoot at you again!’”</p>
-
-  <p>My grandfather paused to fill his pipe. “That was a brave man,” he said
-    as he reached for a coal. “Perhaps the thunder bird loves brave men,
-    and did not harm him. But it is not well to provoke the gods. My little
-    granddaughter should never laugh at them nor speak of them lightly.”</p>
-
-  <p>My grandfather spoke very solemnly.</p>
-
-  <div class="figcenter illowp53">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_065.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter" id="KINSHIP_CLAN_COUSINS">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">66</span>
-    <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-      <img class="w100" src="images/i_066.jpg" alt="" />
-    </div>
-    <div class="large mt2">SEVENTH CHAPTER</div>
-    <h2 class="nobreak">KINSHIP, CLAN COUSINS</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>We Hidatsas do not reckon our kin as white men do. If a white man
-    marries, his wife is called by his name; and his children also, as
-    Tom Smith, Mary Smith. We Indians had no family names. Every Hidatsa
-    belonged to a clan; but a child, when he was born, became a member of
-    his mother’s, not his father’s clan.</p>
-
-  <p>An Indian calls all members of his clan his brothers and sisters. The
-    men of his father’s clan he calls his clan fathers; and the women,
-    his clan aunts. Thus I was born a member of the <i>Tsistska</i><a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a>,
-    or Prairie Chicken clan, because my mother was a <i>Tsistska</i>. My
-    father was a member of the <i>Meedeepahdee</i>,<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> or Rising Water
-    clan. Members of the <i>Tsistska</i> clan are my brothers and sisters;
-    but my father’s clan brothers, men of the <i>Meedeepahdee</i>, are my
-    clan fathers, and his clan sisters are my clan aunts.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">67</span></p>
-
-  <div class="center">
-    <div class="inline">
-      <div class="footnotel">
-        <a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8">[8]</a> Tsïst´ skä
-      </div>
-
-      <div class="footnotel">
-        <a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9">[9]</a> Mēē dēē päh´ dēē
-      </div>
-    </div>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>These relations meant much to us Indians. Members of a clan were
-    bound to help one another in need, and thought the gods would punish
-    them if they did not. Thus, if my mother was in need, members of the
-    <i>Tsistska</i> clan helped her. If she was hungry, they gave her food.
-    If her child was naughty, my mother called in a <i>Meedeepahdee</i> to
-    punish him, a clan father, if the child was a boy; if a girl, a clan
-    aunt; for parents did not punish their own children. Again, when my
-    father died, his clan fathers and clan aunts it was, who bore him to
-    the burial scaffold and prayed his ghost not to come back to trouble
-    the villagers.</p>
-
-  <p>Another clan relative is <i>makutsatee</i>,<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> or clan cousin. I
-    reckon as my clan cousins all members of my tribe whose fathers are my
-    clan fathers. Thus, my mother, I have said, was a Prairie Chicken; my
-    father, a member of the <i>Meedeepahdee</i>, or Rising Water, clan.
-    Another woman, of what clan does not matter, is also married to a
-    <i>Meedeepahdee</i>; her children will be my clan cousins, because
-    their father, being a <i>Meedeepahdee</i>, is my clan father.</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10">[10]</a> mä kṳt´ sä tēē
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Clan cousins had a custom that will seem strange to white people. We
-    Indians are proud, and it makes our hearts sore if others make mock
-    of us. In olden times if a man said to his friend, even in jest, “You
-    are like a dog,” his friend would draw his knife to fight. I think we
-    Indians are more careful of our words than white men are.</p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp52">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_068.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>But it is never good for a man not to know his faults, and so we let
-    one’s clan cousins tease him <span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">68</span>for any fault he had. Especially was
-    this teasing common between young men and young women. Thus a young
-    man might be unlucky in war. As he passed the fields where the village
-    women hoed their corn, he would hear some mischievous girl, his clan
-    cousin, singing a song taunting him for his ill success. Were any one
-    else to do this, the young man would be ready to fight; but, seeing
-    that the singer was his clan cousin, he would laugh and call out, “Sing
-    louder cousin, sing louder, that I may hear you.”</p>
-
-  <p>I can best explain this custom by telling you a story:</p>
-
-  <h3><b>Story of Snake Head-Ornament</b></h3>
-
-  <p>A long time ago, in one of our villages at Knife river, lived a man
-    named <i>Mapuksaokihe</i>,<a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> or Snake Head-Ornament. He was a great
-    medicine man. In a hole in the floor of his earth lodge, there lived a
-    bull snake. Snake Head-Ornament called the bull snake “father.”</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11">[11]</a> Mä pṳk´ sä ō kēē hĕ
-  </div>
-
-  <p>When Snake Head-Ornament was invited to a feast, he would paint his
-    face, wrap himself in his best robe and say, “Come, father; let us go
-    and get something to eat.”</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">69</span></p>
-
-  <p>The bull snake would creep from his hole, crawl up the man’s body and
-    coil about his neck, thrusting his head over the man’s forehead; or he
-    would coil about the man’s head like the headcloth of a hunter, with
-    his head thrust forward, as I have said.</p>
-
-  <p>Bearing the snake thus on his head, Snake Head-Ornament would enter the
-    lodge where the feast was held and sit down to eat. The snake, however,
-    did not eat of the food that Snake Head-Ornament ate. The snake’s food
-    was scrapings of buffalo hides that the women of the lodge fed him.</p>
-
-  <p>When Snake Head-Ornament came home, he would say to the bull snake,
-    “Father, get off.” And the snake would crawl down the man’s body and
-    into his den again.</p>
-
-  <p>Snake Head-Ornament fasted and had a vision. In the vision his gods, he
-    thought, bade him go to war. He made up a war party and led it against
-    enemies on the Yellowstone river. The party not only killed no enemies,
-    but lost three of their own men; and they thought Snake Head-Ornament
-    was to blame for it. “You said your prayers were strong,” they said;
-    “and we have lost three men! Your gods have not helped us.”</p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp38">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_070.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Snake Head-Ornament thought his gods were angry with him; and when he
-    came home he went about crying and mourning and calling upon his gods
-    to give him another vision. “Pity me, gods,” he cried, “make me strong
-    that I may bring home scalps and horses.” He was a brave man, and his
-    bad fortune made his heart sore.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">70</span></p>
-
-  <p>In those days, when a man mourned he cut off his hair, painted his body
-    with white clay, and threw away his moccasins. He also cut his flesh
-    with a knife or some sharp weapon. Now when a man sought a vision from
-    the gods, he wept and mourned, that the gods might have pity on him;
-    and for this he went away from the village, alone, into the hills. So
-    it happened, that Snake Head-Ornament, on his way to the hills, went
-    mourning and crying past a field where sat a woman, his clan cousin, on
-    her watch-stage. Seeing him, she began a song to tease him:</p>
-
-  <div class="center-container">
-    <div class="poetry">
-      <div class="stanza">
-        <div class="i0">He said, “I am a young bird!”</div>
-        <div class="i0">If a young bird, he should be in his nest;</div>
-        <div class="i0">But he comes here looking gray,</div>
-        <div class="i0">And wanders about outside the village!</div>
-      </div>
-      <div class="stanza">
-        <div class="i0">He said, “I am a young snake!”</div>
-        <div class="i0">If a young snake, he should be in the hills among the red buttes;</div>
-        <div class="i0">But he comes here looking gray and crying,</div>
-        <div class="i0">And wanders aimlessly about!</div>
-      </div>
-    </div>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>When the woman sang, “He comes here looking gray,” she meant that the
-    man was gray from the white-clay paint on his body.</p>
-
-  <p>Snake Head-Ornament heard her song; but, knowing she was his clan
-    sister, he cried out to her: “Sing louder, cousin! You are right; let
-    my ‘fathers’ hear what you say. I do not know if they will feel shame
-    or not, but the bull snake and the bald eagle both called me ‘son’!”</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">71</span></p>
-
-  <p>What he meant was that the bull snake and the bald eagle were his dream
-    gods. That is, they had appeared to him in a dream, and promised to
-    help him as they would a son, when he went to war. In her song, the
-    woman taunted him with this. If she had not been his clan cousin, he
-    would have been beside himself with anger. As it was, he but laughed
-    and did not hurt her.</p>
-
-  <p>But the woman had cause for singing her song. Years before, when Snake
-    Head-Ornament was a very young man, he went out with a war party and
-    killed a Sioux woman. When he came home the people called him brave,
-    and made much of him; and he grew quite puffed up now that all looked
-    up to him.</p>
-
-  <p>Not long after, he was made a member of the Black Mouth society.
-    It happened one day, that the women were building a fence of logs,
-    set upright around the village, to defend it from enemies. Snake
-    Head-Ornament, as a member of the Black Mouths, was one of the men
-    overseeing the work. This woman, his clan cousin, was slow at her task;
-    and, to make her move more briskly, Snake Head-Ornament came close to
-    her and fired off his gun just past her knees. She screamed, but seeing
-    it was Snake Head-Ornament who had shot, and knowing he was her clan
-    cousin, she did not get angry. Nevertheless, she did not forget! And,
-    years after, she had revenge in her taunting song.</p>
-
-  <hr class="tb" />
-
-  <p>Young men going out with a war party had to take much chaffing from
-    older warriors who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">72</span> were clan cousins. My brother was once out with a
-    party of fifty, many of them young men. They were fleeing from a big
-    camp of Sioux and had ridden for two days. The second night one of the
-    younger men, a mere lad, fell asleep as he rode his pony. An older
-    warrior, his clan cousin, fired a gun past the lad’s ear. “Young man,”
-    he cried, “you sleep so soundly that only thunder can waken you!” The
-    rest of the party thought the warrior’s words a huge joke.</p>
-
-  <div class="figcenter illowp69">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_072.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter" id="INDIAN_DOGS">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">73</span>
-    <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-      <img class="w100" src="images/i_073.jpg" alt="" />
-    </div>
-    <div class="large mt2">EIGHTH CHAPTER</div>
-    <h2 class="nobreak">INDIAN DOGS</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>In old times we Indian people had no horses, and not many families of
-    my tribe owned them when I was a little girl. But I do not think there
-    ever was a time when we Hidatsas did not own dogs. We trained them to
-    draw our tent poles and our loaded travois. We never used dogs to chase
-    deer, as white men do.</p>
-
-  <p>Our Hidatsa dogs—the breed we owned when I was a little girl—had broad
-    faces, with gentle, knowing eyes; erect, pointed ears; and tails
-    curling, never trailing like a wolf’s tail. They had soft silky hair,
-    gray, black, or spotted red or white. All had stout, heavy legs. I
-    think this sturdiness was because we saved only dogs of stout build to
-    drag our travois.</p>
-
-  <p>The Teton Sioux, who lived south of us, owned dogs like ours, but of
-    slenderer build and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">74</span> legs. They liked these dogs, I think, because they
-    were speedier; for the Sioux were hunters, always moving from place to
-    place.</p>
-
-  <p>Almost every family in Like-a-Fishhook village owned two or more dogs;
-    and, as there were about seventy lodges in the village, our dogs made
-    a large pack. The dogs knew every man and child in the village, and
-    being, besides, well trained, seldom bit anyone. But they were quick to
-    wind a stranger. A visitor from another tribe was sure to be beset by a
-    troop of dogs, growling and barking at his heels.</p>
-
-  <p>The dogs had one habit I liked. Every evening about bedtime—and bedtime
-    for a little Indian girl was early—some dog was sure to start up,
-    <i>wu-wu-wu!</i> And all the others would join in, even the little
-    puppies. I used to lie in my bed and listen to them.</p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp64">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_074.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>About midnight, the barking would start up again, especially if there
-    was a moon, and again a little before daylight; but I was usually
-    asleep at these hours.</p>
-
-  <p>In daytime lookouts were always on the roofs of some of the lodges
-    watching if enemies or buffaloes were about. If they saw our hunters,
-    with meat, coming home over the prairie, these lookouts would cry out,
-    “<i>Hey-da-ey!</i>”<a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> And the dogs, knowing what the cry meant, would
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">75</span>join in with “<i>wu-u-u-u</i>.”<a id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> They liked fresh buffalo meat no
-    less than the Indians.</p>
-
-  <div class="center">
-    <div class="inline">
-    <div class="footnotel">
-      <a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12">[12]</a> He̱y dä e̱y´
-    </div>
-
-    <div class="footnotel">
-      <a id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13">[13]</a> Wṳ-ṳ-ṳ
-    </div>
-    </div>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>But the greatest excitement was when enemies were seen. The lookouts
-    then cried, “<i>Ahahuts<a id="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a>—they come against us!</i>” Warriors, on
-    hearing the cry, seized weapons and ran out of their lodges, yelling
-    shrilly. The chiefs sprang for their ponies, twisting lariats into the
-    ponies’ mouths for bridles. Medicine men chanted holy songs, and women
-    ran about calling to their children. But above all rose the barking of
-    the dogs, every beast joining in the hubbub.</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14">[14]</a> A hä hṳts´
-  </div>
-
-  <p>One day, after the midday meal—I think I was then eight years old—old
-    Turtle went down to the river and fetched an armful of dry willows.
-    They were about four feet long and as thick as a child’s wrist; some
-    were forked at the top. She set them in a circle, with tops together
-    like a tepee, at one side of the lodge entrance near the place where
-    the dogs slept.</p>
-
-  <p>“What are you doing, grandmother?” I asked.</p>
-
-  <p>Turtle did not answer my question. “I want to get some dry grass,” she
-    said. “Come and help me.”</p>
-
-  <p>We went out to a place in the hills where was some long, dead grass.
-    Turtle pulled a big armful, piling it on her robe which she spread on
-    the ground. She drew the corners of the robe together, slung the bundle
-    over her shoulder and we came back to the village.</p>
-
-  <p>She laid the grass thickly over the sides of the little tepee, leaning
-    chunks of wood against it to keep the grass in place. She left a door,
-    or <span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">76</span>opening, in front; and she even bound a stick over the door, like
-    the pole over the door of a hunting lodge. Last, she put grass inside,
-    as if for a bed.</p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp55">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_076.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>“Grandmother, what <i>are</i> you doing?” I begged; but she led me into
-    the lodge, telling me nothing.</p>
-
-  <p>I was awakened early the next morning by dogs barking on the roof. As I
-    lay listening, I thought I heard a faint whining outside. It seemed to
-    come from the place where the little grass tepee stood.</p>
-
-  <p>I fell asleep, and awoke a second time to see Red Blossom fanning the
-    fire with a goose wing. Breakfast was soon ready, of fresh boiled
-    buffalo meat. The hunters had come in only the night before, and they
-    had brought a fresh side-and-ribs for a present to my father.</p>
-
-  <p>After the meal I saw Turtle gather up the scraps of meat into a wooden
-    bowl. “Come,” she said, leading me out of the lodge.</p>
-
-  <p>She stopped before the tepee, and thrust the bowl of scraps within.
-    Again I heard the faint whining. I dropped to my knees and looked in.
-    There I saw our best dog, the pet of us all; and beside her lay four
-    little puppies.</p>
-
-  <p>“<i>Eh, sukkeets!</i>”<a id="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> I cried, “Oh, good!” And I drew the puppies
-    out one by one, to cuddle them. The mother dog whined, and raised
-    her eyes to me. She was a gentle dog and did not snap at my hand.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">77</span></p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15">[15]</a> sŭk´ kēēts
-  </div>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp42">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_077.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>I do not know whether I or the puppies’ mother cuddled them more, the
-    next few days. One puppy I came to love dearly. He was a wriggling
-    little thing, with a bob tail for all the world like a rabbit’s,
-    except that it hung down. There were ten or more bobtailed dogs in
-    the village all of them born so. My puppy was black, so I named him
-    <i>Sheepeesha</i>,<a id="FNanchor_16" href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> or Blackie.</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_16" href="#FNanchor_16">[16]</a> Shēē´ pēē shä
-  </div>
-
-  <p>It must have been a funny sight to see me take my puppy out for a walk.
-    Stooping, I would lay the puppy between my shoulders and draw my tiny
-    robe up over his back; and I would walk off proud as any Indian mother
-    of her new babe. The old mother dog would creep half out of her kennel,
-    following me with her gentle eyes. I was careful not to go out of her
-    sight.</p>
-
-  <p>When the puppies were ten days old my grandmother brought in some fresh
-    sage, the kind we Indians use in a sweat lodge. She laid the sage by
-    the fireplace and fetched in the puppies, barring the door so that
-    the mother dog could not come in. I could hear the poor dog whining
-    pitifully.</p>
-
-  <p>“What are you going to do, grandmother?” I asked.</p>
-
-  <p>“I am going to smoke the puppies.”</p>
-
-  <p>“Why, grandmother?” I cried.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">78</span></p>
-
-  <p>“Because the puppies are old enough to eat cooked meat, for their
-    teeth have come through. The sage is a sacred plant. Its smoke will
-    make the puppies hungry, so that they will eat.”</p>
-
-  <p>While she was speaking, she opened my little pet’s jaws. Sure enough,
-    four white teeth were coming through the gums.</p>
-
-  <p>Turtle raked some coals from the ashes, and laid on them a handful of
-    the sage. A column of thick white smoke arose upward to the smoke hole.</p>
-
-  <p>My grandmother took my puppy in her hands and held his head in the
-    smoke. The poor puppy struggled and choked. Thick spittle, like suds,
-    came out of his mouth. I was frightened, and thought he was going to
-    die.</p>
-
-  <p>“The smoke will make the puppy healthy,” said Turtle. “Now let us see
-    if he will grow up strong, to carry my little granddaughter’s tent.”</p>
-
-  <p>She lifted the puppy, still choking, from the floor, and let him fall
-    so that he landed on his feet. The puppy was still young and weak, and
-    he was strangling; but his little legs stiffened, and he stood without
-    falling.</p>
-
-  <p>“Hey, hey,” laughed my grandmother. “This is a strong dog! He will grow
-    up to carry your tent.” For in old times, when traveling, we Hidatsas
-    made our dogs drag our tents on poles, like travois.</p>
-
-  <p>Turtle tried the other three puppies. One, not as strong as the
-    rest, fell on his side. “This dog will not grow up strong,” said my
-    grandmother. “I will give him to my neighbor, who asks for one.”</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">79</span></p>
-
-  <p>She now lifted a clay pot out of the ashes, and from it poured
-    something into a flat bowl; corn mush, I think it was, boiled with
-    buffalo fats. She set the bowl before the puppies. They quickly lapped
-    up the mush, with funny red tongues. My little black puppy even gulped
-    down a lump of fat.</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp48">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_079.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Turtle laughed. “I told you your puppy is strong,” she cried. “He will
-    soon grow up to carry your tent. But to grow, our puppies must be fed.
-    It will be your work to feed them. See they do not starve.”</p>
-
-  <p>But, if I had to feed the puppies, my grandmother also helped. Indeed,
-    the whole family watched to see that they had enough. If fresh meat
-    was brought in, we always boiled some and gave to the puppies. We did
-    not give them raw meat. “It is not good for puppies. It will make them
-    sick,” said Turtle.</p>
-
-  <p>But, as the puppies grew up, we began to feed them raw meat. My
-    grandmother sometimes boiled corn for them, into a coarse mush. They
-    were fond of this. As they grew older, any food that turned sour or was
-    unfit for the family to eat was given me for my doggies. They ate it
-    greedily. It did not seem to harm them.</p>
-
-  <p>Sometimes a deer or elk was killed, that was poor in flesh. Such a
-    carcass was cut up and given to the dogs of the village, and of course
-    mine got their share.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">80</span></p>
-
-  <p>When several buffaloes were killed, the hunters often could not carry
-    all the meat home, and took only the best cuts. The next day any one
-    who wanted, could go out and take the cast-away pieces for her dogs.
-    Then, there were parts that we always threw away or gave to the dogs.
-    The tough, outside meat of a buffalo’s hams we cut off and saved for
-    the dogs. The inside meat, next the bone, we thought our very best.
-    Hunters were fond of roasting it before the fire, on two stones.</p>
-
-  <p>Even in famine times we did not forget our dogs; but we sometimes had
-    only soft bones to give them that had been broken for boiling. The dogs
-    gnawed these, and so got a little food.</p>
-
-  <p>We Hidatsas loved our good dogs, and were kind to them.</p>
-
-  <div class="figcenter illowp47">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_080.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter" id="TRAINING_A_DOG">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">81</span>
-    <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-      <img class="w100" src="images/i_081.jpg" alt="" />
-    </div>
-    <div class="large mt2">NINTH CHAPTER</div>
-    <h2 class="nobreak">TRAINING A DOG</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Autumn twice came around, and my puppy had grown into a romping dog.
-    In the moon of Yellow Leaves, my tribe went again into winter camp. We
-    returned to Like-a-Fishhook village rather early in the spring. Patches
-    of snow lay on the ground, and the ice was still firm on the Missouri
-    when we crossed. We reached the village in midafternoon.</p>
-
-  <p>My father had two pack horses loaded with our stuff and our dogs
-    dragged well-laden travois. While my mothers were unpacking, my father
-    made a fire. He drew his flint and steel, and with a bit of soft,
-    rotten wood for tinder struck a spark. In olden times the Hidatsas made
-    fire with two sticks. “I saw very old men make fire thus, when I was a
-    lad,” my grandfather once told me. I never saw it done myself.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">82</span></p>
-
-  <p>Small Ankle wrapped the spark, caught in the tinder, in a little bunch
-    of dry grass, and waved it in the air until the grass was ablaze. He
-    had raked together some bits of charcoal in the fireplace and on them
-    laid a few dry-wood splinters. To these he held the burning grass and
-    soon had a fire.</p>
-
-  <p>There was a little firewood in the lodge, left from the previous
-    autumn, but not enough to keep the fire going long. As my mothers were
-    still unpacking, my father offered to go out and get wood for the
-    night. Getting wood, we thought, was woman’s work; but my father was a
-    kind man, willing to help his wives.</p>
-
-  <p>From the saddle of one of his horses Small Ankle took a rawhide lariat,
-    and to one end fastened a short stick. There were some cottonwoods
-    under the river bank, not far from the village. Into one of the largest
-    trees Small Ankle threw his lariat until the stick caught in some dead
-    branches overhead. A sharp pull broke off the branches. My father
-    gathered them up and bore them to the lodge.</p>
-
-  <p>There were logs and dead wood lying along the river, but they were wet
-    with the snows. My father knew the dead branches in the trees would be
-    dried by the winds. He wanted dry wood to kindle a quick fire.</p>
-
-  <p>The next morning after we had eaten, Red Blossom took her ax, and,
-    dragging a travois from its place against the fire screen, led the way
-    out of the lodge. Strikes-Many Woman followed her. Our biggest dog,
-    lying outside,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">83</span> saw them coming. He got up, shaking himself, wagging
-    his tail, and barking <i>wu-wu-wu!</i> Our dogs were always ready to
-    be harnessed. They liked to go to the woods, knowing they would be fed
-    well afterwards.</p>
-
-  <p>This, our best dog, was named <i>Akeekahee</i>,<a id="FNanchor_17" href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> or Took-from-Him.
-    He belonged to Red Blossom. A woman owning a dog would ask some brave
-    man of her family to name him for her; and Red Blossom had asked my
-    grandfather, Big Cloud, to name her dog. Once an enemy had stolen his
-    horse, but Big Cloud gave chase and retook his horse from that bad
-    enemy. For this, he named the dog Took-from-Him.</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_17" href="#FNanchor_17">[17]</a> Ȧ kēē´ kä hēē
-  </div>
-
-  <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_083.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>My mothers harnessed their dogs, four in number and started off. They
-    returned a little after midday; first, Red Blossom, with a great pack
-    of wood on her back; after her, Strikes-Many Woman; then the four dogs,
-    marching one behind the other, Took-from-Him in the lead. Each dog
-    dragged a travois loaded with wood.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">84</span></p>
-
-  <p>My mothers dropped their loads before the lodge entrance. The dogs
-    were unhitched; and, while old Turtle fed them, Strikes-Many Woman
-    carried the wood into the lodge and piled it by the corral, where it
-    was handy to the fire.</p>
-
-  <p>I was eager to have my dog broken to harness and begged my grandmother
-    to make a travois for him. “I will,” she said, “but wait another moon.
-    Your dog will then be fed fat, after the long winter. A dog should be
-    two years old, and strong, when he is broken. To work a dog too young
-    or when he is weak will hurt his back.”</p>
-
-  <p>A month after this, my mothers came home one afternoon from
-    woodgathering, dragging each a cottonwood pole about eight feet long.
-    They peeled these poles bare of bark, and laid them up on the corn
-    stage to dry.</p>
-
-  <p>“What are the poles for?” I asked.</p>
-
-  <p>“They are for your travois,” said my grandmother. “Your dog
-    <i>Sheepeesha</i> is now old enough to work; and my little
-    granddaughter, too, must learn to be useful.”
-  </p>
-
-  <p>I was ready to cry out and dance, when I heard these words of my
-    grandmother; and I thought I could never, never wait until those poles
-    dried. The heavy ladder we used for mounting the stage lay on the
-    ground when not in use. I was too little to lift it, to climb up to the
-    poles; but I went every day to stand below and gaze at them longingly.</p>
-
-  <p>One afternoon my grandmother fetched the poles into the lodge. “They
-    are dry now,” she said. “I will make the travois frame.”</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">85</span></p>
-
-  <p>With her big knife she hacked the greater ends of the poles flat, so
-    that they would run smooth on the ground. The small ends she crossed
-    for the joint, cutting a notch in each to make them fit. She bound the
-    joint with strips of the big tendon in a buffalo’s neck that we Indians
-    call the <i>eetsuta</i><a id="FNanchor_18" href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a>. These strips drew taut as they dried,
-    making the joint firm.</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_18" href="#FNanchor_18">[18]</a> ēēt sṳ´ tä
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Turtle now drew a saddle, or cushion, over the poles just under the
-    joint, sewing it down with buckskin thongs. This saddle was to keep the
-    dog from fretting his shoulders against the poles.</p>
-
-  <p>The hoop for the basket was of ash. My father webbed it. He cut a
-    long, thin thong from the edges of a hide, and soaked it to make it
-    soft. Taking some wet paint in his palm, he drew the thong through it,
-    thus painting it a bright red. He laced the thong over the hoop and my
-    grandmother bound the basket in place.</p>
-
-  <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_085.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>The harness was of two pieces: a collar, to go around the dog’s
-    neck; and a breast thong, that was drawn across his chest and through a
-    loop in the saddle, was lapped once or twice around one of the travois
-    poles, and was finally carried under the dog’s body to the other pole,
-    where it was made fast.</p>
-
-  <p>I could hardly wait to eat my breakfast the next morning, for my
-    mothers had promised to <span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">86</span>take me with them to gather wood. “And we are
-    going to begin training your dog to-day,” they told me.</p>
-
-  <p>I knew a dog should be fed before he was harnessed, and I saved half my
-    breakfast meat to give to mine. Owning a dog, and invited to go with
-    my mothers to get wood, I felt that in spite of my girlish years I was
-    almost a woman now.</p>
-
-  <p>Breakfast ended, Red Blossom fetched the new travois and laid it on
-    my dog’s back. He looked up, puzzled, then sank to the ground and lay
-    wagging his tail from side to side, sweeping a clean place in the dust.
-    Red Blossom bound the collar about his neck, and drew and fastened the
-    breast thong. While she was doing this I gently patted my dog’s head.</p>
-
-  <p>“<i>Nah!</i>” said Red Blossom, “Come!” But my doggie was a bit
-    frightened. He twisted about, trying to rid himself of the travois, but
-    only hurt himself. He looked up at me and whined. Red Blossom tied a
-    thong to his collar and put the end in my hand. “Lead him,” she said.
-    “He will follow the other dogs.” She led off, Strikes-Many Woman behind
-    her, and the dogs followed after, in a line.</p>
-
-  <p>I tugged at my dog’s thong, pursing my lips and making a whistling
-    sound, as Indians do. My doggie understood. He rose to his feet, and,
-    seeing the other dogs moving off, followed after the last one.</p>
-
-  <p>We thus came to the woods, about a mile and a half from the village.
-    The dogs sank in their tracks, to rest. My mothers searched about for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">87</span>
-    dead-and-dry wood, which they cut into lengths of two feet or more, and
-    piled them in the path near the dogs.</p>
-
-  <p>When they had enough wood cut, my mothers lifted each travois by its
-    basket, and turned it so that the dog’s nose was pointed toward the
-    village; and they loaded each travois with a double armful of wood,
-    bound to the basket with two thongs. My two mothers then lifted each a
-    load to her own back, and started to the village.</p>
-
-  <p>I did not carry any load myself, as my shoulders were not strong enough
-    for such heavy work; but I led my dog. Not a very big load was put on
-    him, as it was his first. I called to him, tugging gently at the thong.
-    Seeing the other dogs ahead, he followed willingly.</p>
-
-  <p>Old Turtle awaited us at the door. “Grandmother,” I cried joyfully,
-    “my dog has brought home a load of wood. He did not try to run away.”
-    Turtle laughed, and helped me unload.</p>
-
-  <p>That evening I was sitting by the fire with my good dog, for Red
-    Blossom had let me bring him into the lodge. Now and then I slipped him
-    a bit of meat I had saved from my supper. My father had laid some dry
-    sticks on the fire, and the blaze flickered and rose, flickered and
-    rose, making post and rafter yellow with its light. Small Ankle sat on
-    his couch smoking his pipe. Suddenly I heard the clitter of the hollow
-    hoofs as the lodge door was raised and let fall again. I looked up.
-    Coyote Eyes, a Ree Indian, was coming around the screen.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">88</span></p>
-
-  <p>“<i>Hau!</i>”<a id="FNanchor_19" href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> cried my father, making a place for him on the couch.
-    Small Ankle was a polite man. He handed his pipe to the Ree, who took
-    big pulls, blowing the smoke through his nostrils.</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_19" href="#FNanchor_19">[19]</a> Hau (How)
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Coyote Eyes gave the pipe back to my father. “That is a fine dog you
-    have,” he said to me. “I know a story of my tribe about two dogs.”</p>
-
-  <p>Being but a little girl, I did not think it proper for me to talk to a
-    stranger, but my father answered for me, “What is the story?”</p>
-
-  <p>“In the beginning, my tribe came out of a cave in the earth,” said
-    Coyote Eyes. “They journeyed until they came to the Missouri river.
-    ‘Let us go up this river,’ they said, ‘and find a place to build our
-    villages.’ They were weary of journeying.</p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp60">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_088.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>“They had two dogs in the camp. One was black; his name was Death. The
-    other was white, and her name was Sickness. These dogs were asleep when
-    the tribe broke camp the next morning. The people were in such haste to
-    be off that they forgot to waken the dogs.</p>
-
-  <p>“The third day after, they saw two great fires sweeping toward them
-    over the prairie. The women cried out with fear. All thought that they
-    should die.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">89</span></p>
-
-  <p>“When the fires came near, the people saw that they were the two dogs,
-    Death and Sickness.</p>
-
-  <p>“‘Do not fear,’ said the dogs. ‘Our hearts are not all evil. True, we
-    will bite you, because you forgot us; but we will also live with you
-    and be your friends. We will carry your burdens; and when we die, you
-    shall eat us.’</p>
-
-  <p>“The dogs grew old. The white one died, and her skin became the squash.
-    Now our squashes are of different colors, white, gray, yellow, spotted,
-    just as are dogs. These squashes we eat. Also we Rees eat dog meat;
-    for, before he died, the black dog said, ‘You shall eat my flesh.’</p>
-
-  <p>“And to this day, when our Ree people sicken and die, they say, ‘We are
-    bitten by Sickness and Death.’”</p>
-
-  <p>My father smiled. “We Hidatsas do not eat dogs,” he said; and then to
-    me, “Little daughter, it is bedtime.”</p>
-
-  <p>I did not always obey my mothers; for, like all little girls, I was
-    naughty sometimes, but I dared not disobey my father.</p>
-
-  <p>I put my dog out of the lodge, and went to bed.</p>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter" id="LEARNING_TO_WORK">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">90</span>
-    <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-      <img class="w100" src="images/i_090.jpg" alt="" />
-    </div>
-    <div class="large mt2">TENTH CHAPTER</div>
-    <h2 class="nobreak">LEARNING TO WORK</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>My mothers began to teach me household tasks when I was about twelve
-    years old. “You are getting to be a big girl,” they said. “Soon you
-    will be a woman, and marry. Unless you learn to work, how will you feed
-    your family?”</p>
-
-  <p>One of the things given me to do was fetching water from the river. No
-    spring was near our village; and, anyhow, our prairie springs are often
-    bitter with alkali. But the Missouri river, fed by melting snows of
-    the Montana mountains, gave us plenty of fresh water. Missouri river
-    water is muddy; but it soon settles, and is cool and sweet to drink. We
-    Indians love our big river, and we are glad to drink of its waters, as
-    drank our fathers.</p>
-
-  <p>A steep path led down the bank to the watering place. Down this path,
-    the village girls<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">91</span> made their way every morning to get water for
-    drinking and cooking. They went in little groups or in pairs. Two
-    girls, cousins or chums, sometimes swung a freshly filled pail from a
-    pole on their shoulders.</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp38">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_091.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>But there were few pails of metal in my tribe, when I was a
-    little girl. I used to fetch water in a clay pot, sometimes in a
-    buffalo-paunch lining skewered on a stick; but my commonest bucket was
-    of a buffalo heart skin. When my father killed a buffalo, he took out
-    the heart skin, and filled it with grass until it dried. This he gave
-    to Red Blossom, who sewed a little stick on each side of the mouth; and
-    bound a short stick and sinews between them for handle. Such a bucket
-    held about three pints. It was a frail looking vessel, but lasted a
-    long time.</p>
-
-  <p>We girls liked to go to the watering place; for, while we were filling
-    our buckets, we could gossip with our friends. For older girls and
-    young men it was a place for courtship. A youth, with painted face and
-    trailing hair switch, would loiter near the path, and smile slyly at
-    his sweetheart as she passed. She did not always smile back. Sometimes
-    for long weeks, she held her eyes away, not even glancing at his
-    moccasins. It was a shy smile that she gave him, at last. Nor did she
-    talk with her love-boy—as we called<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">92</span> him—when others were about. We
-    should have thought that silly. But he might wait for her at sunset, by
-    her father’s lodge, and talk with her in the twilight.</p>
-
-  <p>But I had other tasks besides fetching water. I learned to cook,
-    sweep, and sew with awl and sinew. Red Blossom taught me to embroider
-    with quills of gull and porcupine, dyed in colors. Sometimes I helped
-    at harder work; gathered drift wood at the river, dressed or scraped
-    hides, and even helped in our cornfield.</p>
-
-  <p>I liked to go with my mothers to the cornfields in planting time, when
-    the spring sun was shining and the birds singing in the tree tops. How
-    good it seemed to be out under the open sky, after the long months in
-    our winter camp! A cottonwood tree stood at a turn of the road to our
-    field. Every season a pair of magpies built their nest in it. They were
-    saucy birds and scolded us roundly when we passed. How I used to laugh
-    at their wicked scoldings!</p>
-
-  <p>I am afraid I did not help my mothers much. Like any young girl, I
-    liked better to watch the birds than to work. Sometimes I chased away
-    the crows. Our corn indeed had many enemies, and we had to watch that
-    they did not get our crop. Magpies and crows destroyed much of the
-    young corn. Crows were fond of pulling up the plants when they were
-    a half inch or an inch high. Spotted gophers dug up the roots of the
-    young corn, to nibble the soft seed.</p>
-
-  <p>When our field was all planted, Red Blossom used to go back and replant
-    any hills that the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">93</span> birds had destroyed. Where she found a plant
-    missing, she dug a little hole with her hand and dropped in a seed, or
-    I dropped it in for her.</p>
-
-  <p>It was hard work, stooping to plant in the hot sun, and Red Blossom
-    never liked having to go over the field a second time. “Those bad
-    crows,” she would groan, “they make us much trouble.”</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp44">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_093.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>My grandmother Turtle made scarecrows to frighten away the birds. In
-    the middle of the field she drove two sticks for legs, and bound two
-    other sticks to them for arms; on the top, she fastened a ball of
-    cast-away skins for a head. She belted an old robe about the figure to
-    make it look like a man. Such a scarecrow looked wicked! Indeed I was
-    almost afraid of it myself. But the bad crows, seeing the scarecrow
-    never moved from its place, soon lost their fear, and came back.</p>
-
-  <p>In the months of midsummer, the crows did not give us much trouble;
-    but, as the moon of Cherries drew near, they became worse than ever.
-    The corn had now begun to ear, and crows and blackbirds came in flocks
-    to peck open the green ears for the soft kernels. Many families now
-    built stages in their fields, where the girls and young women of the
-    household came to sit and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">94</span> sing as they watched that crows and other
-    thieves did not steal the ripening grain.</p>
-
-  <p>We cared for our corn in those days, as we would care for a child; for
-    we Indian people loved our fields as mothers love their children. We
-    thought that the corn plants had souls, as children have souls, and
-    that the growing corn liked to hear us sing, as children like to hear
-    their mothers sing to them. Nor did we want the birds to come and steal
-    our corn, after the hard work of planting and hoeing. Horses, too,
-    might break into the field, or boys might steal the green ears and go
-    off and roast them.</p>
-
-  <p>A watchers’ stage was not hard to build. Four posts, forked at the
-    tops, upheld beams, on which was laid a floor of puncheons, or split
-    small logs, at the height of the full grown corn. The floor was about
-    four feet long by three wide, roomy enough for two girls to sit
-    together comfortably. Often a soft robe was spread on the floor. A
-    ladder made of the trunk of a tree rested against the stage. The ladder
-    had three steps.</p>
-
-  <p>A tree was often left standing in the field, to shade the watchers’
-    stage. If the tree was small and more shade was wanted, a robe was
-    stretched over three poles leaned against the stage. These poles could
-    be shifted with the sun.</p>
-
-  <p>Girls began to go on the watchers’ stage when about ten or twelve
-    years of age, and many kept up the custom after they were grown up and
-    married. Older women, working in the field and stopping to rest, often
-    went on the stage and sang.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">95</span></p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp57">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_095.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>There was a watchers’ stage in my mothers’ field, where my sister, Cold
-    Medicine, and I sat and sang; and in the two weeks of the ripening
-    season we were singing most of the time. We looked upon watching our
-    field as a kind of lark. We liked to sing, and now and then between
-    songs we stood up to see if horses had broken into the field or if
-    any boys were about. Boys of nine or ten years of age were quite
-    troublesome. They liked to steal the green ears to roast by a fire in
-    the woods.</p>
-
-  <p>I think Cold Medicine and I were rather glad to catch a boy stealing
-    our corn, especially if he was a clan cousin, for then we could call
-    him all the bad names we wished. “You bad, bad boy,” we would cry. “You
-    thief,—stealing from your own relatives! <i>Nah, nah</i>,—go away.”
-    This was enough; no boy stayed after such a scolding.</p>
-
-  <p>Most of the songs we sang were love-boy songs, as we called them; but
-    not all were. One that we younger girls were fond of singing—girls,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">96</span>
-    that is, of about twelve years of age—was like this:</p>
-
-  <div class="center-container">
-    <div class="poetry">
-      <div class="stanza">
-        <div class="i0">You bad boys, you are all alike!</div>
-        <div class="i0">Your bow is like a bent basket hoop;</div>
-        <div class="i0">Your arrows are fit only to shoot into the air;</div>
-        <div class="i0">You poor boys, you must run on the prairie barefoot, because you have no moccasins!</div>
-      </div>
-    </div>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>This song we sang to tease the boys who came to hunt birds in the
-    near-by woods. Small boys went bird hunting nearly every day. The birds
-    that a boy snared or shot he gave to his grandparents to roast in the
-    lodge fire; for, with their well-worn teeth, old people could no longer
-    chew our hard, dried buffalo meat.</p>
-
-  <p>Here is another song; but, that you may understand it, I will explain
-    to you what <i>eekupa</i><a id="FNanchor_20" href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> means. A girl loved by another girl as
-    her own sister was called her <i>eekupa</i>. I think your word “chum,”
-    as you explain it, has nearly the same meaning. This is the song:</p>
-
-  <div class="center-container">
-    <div class="poetry">
-      <div class="stanza">
-        <div class="i0">“My <i>eekupa</i>, what do you wish to see?” you said to me.</div>
-        <div class="i0">What I wish to see is the corn silk peeping out of the growing ear;</div>
-        <div class="i0">But what <i>you</i> wish to see is that naughty young man coming!</div>
-      </div>
-    </div>
-  </div>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_20" href="#FNanchor_20">[20]</a> ēē´ kṳ pä
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Here is a song that older girls sang to tease young men of the Dog
-    Society who happened to be going by:</p>
-
-  <div class="center-container">
-    <div class="poetry">
-      <div class="stanza">
-        <div class="i0">You young man of the Dog Society, you said to me,</div>
-        <div class="i0">“When I go east with a war party, you will hear news of me how brave I am!”</div>
-        <div class="i0">I have heard news of you;</div>
-        <div class="i0">When the fight was on, you ran and hid;</div>
-        <div class="i0">And you still think you are a brave young man!</div>
-        <div class="i0">Behold, you have joined the Dog Society;</div>
-        <div class="i0">But I call you just plain <i>dog</i>!</div>
-      </div>
-    </div>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Songs that we sang on the watchers’ stage we called
-    <i>meedaheeka</i>,<a id="FNanchor_21" href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> or gardeners’ songs. I have said that many of
-    them were love-boy <span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">97</span>songs, and were intended to tease. We called a
-    girl’s sweetheart her love-boy. All girls, we know, like to tease their
-    sweethearts.</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_21" href="#FNanchor_21">[21]</a> mēē dä´ hēē kä
-  </div>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp64">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_097.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>At one side of our field Turtle had made a booth, diamond willows
-    thrust in the ground in a circle, with leafy tops bent over and tied
-    together. In this booth, my sister and I, with our mothers and old
-    Turtle, cooked our meals. We started a fire in the booth as soon as we
-    got to the field, and ate our breakfast often at sunrise. Our food we
-    had brought with us, usually buffalo meat, fresh or dried. Fresh meat
-    we laid on the coals to broil. Dried meat we thrust on a stick and held
-    over the fire to toast.</p>
-
-  <p>Sometimes we brought a clay cooking pot, and boiled squashes. We were
-    fond of squashes and ate many of them. We sometimes boiled green corn
-    and beans. My sister and I shelled the corn from the cob. We shelled
-    the beans or boiled them in the pod. My grandmother poured the mess in
-    a wooden bowl, and we ate with spoons which she made from squash stems.
-    She would split a stem with her knife and put in a little stick to hold
-    the split open.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">98</span></p>
-
-  <p>I do not think anything can taste sweeter than a mess of fresh corn and
-    beans, in the cool morning air, when the birds are twittering and the
-    sun is just peeping over the tree tops.</p>
-
-  <div class="figcenter illowp66">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_098.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter" id="PICKING_JUNE_BERRIES">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">99</span>
-    <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-      <img class="w100" src="images/i_099.jpg" alt="" />
-    </div>
-    <div class="large mt2">ELEVENTH CHAPTER</div>
-    <h2 class="nobreak">PICKING JUNE BERRIES</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>June berry time had come. I was now fourteen years, old and had begun
-    to think myself almost a young woman. Some of the young men even smiled
-    at me as I came up from the watering place. I never smiled back, for
-    I thought: “My father is a chief, and I belong to one of the best
-    families in my tribe. I will be careful whom I choose to be my friends.”</p>
-
-  <p>A little north of my father’s, stood the earth lodge of Bear Man’s
-    family. Bear Man was an eagle hunter. He had magic snares of sacred
-    hemp plant which he tossed into the air as he prayed to the eagle
-    spirits. After doing so he was sure to catch many young golden eagles
-    at his eagle pit. We thought him a great medicine man.</p>
-
-  <p>Bear Man had a son named Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing, a straight-limbed,
-    rather good-looking<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">100</span> lad, a year older than myself. Bear Man’s
-    father died, and Bear Man cut off his long hair in mourning.
-    Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing made a switch of his father’s hair, tastefully
-    spotting it with little lumps of spruce gum mixed with red ochre. He
-    looked quite manly, I thought, wearing this switch, in spite of his
-    fifteen years.</p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp54">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_100.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>My father’s earth lodge and Bear Man’s both faced eastward, with the
-    lodge of Blue Paint’s family standing between; but, as I stood at my
-    father’s lodge entrance, I could see the flat top of Bear Man’s lodge
-    over Blue Paint’s roof. Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing had joined the Stone
-    Hammer Society a short while before, and had begun to paint his face
-    like a young man. He would get up on his father’s roof, painted, and
-    decked out in hair switch, best leggings, and moccasins, and sing his
-    society’s songs. He had a fine voice, I thought; and when I went out
-    with my buck-brush broom to sweep the ground about our lodge entrance,
-    Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing would sing harder than ever. I thought perhaps he
-    did<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">101</span> this so that I would hear him. I was too well-bred to look up at
-    him, but I did not always hurry to finish my sweeping.</p>
-
-  <p>There had been plenty of rain, and the June berry trees were now loaded
-    with ripe fruit. We Indians set great store by these berries, and
-    almost every family dried one or more sackfuls for winter. June berries
-    are sweet, and, as we had no sugar, we were fond of them.</p>
-
-  <p>We were sitting one evening at our supper. Red Blossom had gone into
-    the woods earlier in the day and fetched home some ripe June berries
-    which we were eating. Perhaps that is why we ended our meal with
-    our kettle half-full of boiled meat. “We will save this meat until
-    morning,” Red Blossom said. “We must breakfast early, for Strikes-Many
-    Woman and I are going with a party to pick June berries. Our daughter
-    may go with us, if she will.”</p>
-
-  <p>I was quite happy when I heard this. I had seen my two mothers getting
-    ready their berry sacks; and, looking over to the bench where they lay,
-    I now saw that a small sack had been laid out for me.</p>
-
-  <p>Red Blossom dipped her fingers into the kettle for a lump of fat and
-    continued: “The mother of that young man, Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing, said
-    to me to-day, ‘If your daughter goes berrying to-morrow, my son wishes
-    to go with her. He will take his bow and keep off enemies.”</p>
-
-  <p>I did not blush, for we Indian girls had dark skins and painted our
-    cheeks; but I felt my heart jump. I looked down at the floor, then got<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">102</span>
-    up and went about my work, humming a song as I did so; for I thought,
-    “I am going berrying in the morning.” I felt quite grown-up to know
-    that a young man wanted to go berrying with me.</p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp35">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_102.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>We were off the next morning before the sun was up. I walked with my
-    mothers and the other women. The men went a little ahead, armed, some
-    with guns, others with bows. Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing walked behind the
-    men. On his back I saw a handsome otter-skin quiver, full of arrows.
-    I felt safer to see those arrows. Enemies might be lurking anywhere
-    in the woods, ready to capture us or take our scalps. We Indian women
-    dared not go far into the woods without men to protect us.</p>
-
-  <p>At the woods the men joined us, and our party broke up into little
-    groups, the older men helping their wives, and the younger men
-    their sweethearts. I made my way to a clump of June berry trees
-    bent nearly to the ground with fruit. I did not look to see if
-    Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing was following me. I thought, “If he wants to
-    help me, he may; but I shall not ask him.” I spread a skin under the
-    branches, and I was looking for a stout stick when I saw my boy friend
-    breaking off the laden branches and piling them on the skin, ready to
-    be beaten.</p>
-
-  <p>I sat on the ground and with my stick beat off the berries.
-    Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing fetched<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">103</span> me fresh branches, and in an hour or two
-    I had enough berries to fill my sack. Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing’s arrows
-    lay at my feet. Once, when a near-by bush stirred, my boy friend leaped
-    for his bow and laid an arrow on the string; but it was the wind, I
-    guess.</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp47">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_103.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>All the time that we worked together Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing and I spoke
-    not a word. Older couples, I knew, talked together, when they thought
-    of marrying; but I was a young girl yet and did not want to be bothered
-    with a husband.</p>
-
-  <p>When my sack was filled, I tied it shut and slung it on my back by my
-    packing strap. Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing laid some sweet smelling leaves
-    under the sack that the juices from the ripe berries might not ooze
-    through and stain my dress.</p>
-
-  <p>I am sorry to say that I am not sure I even thanked
-    Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing for all he did to help me.</p>
-
-  <p>I walked back to the village with the women as I had come. Ahead of us
-    walked a young woman named Pink Blossom, with her chin in the air as
-    if she were angry. The older women, coming after her, were laughing
-    and slyly jesting with one another. I asked my mothers what it was all
-    about.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">104</span></p>
-
-  <p>It seems there was an old man in our party named Old Bear, whose wife
-    had died. He wanted to marry again and smiled at Pink Blossom whenever
-    she passed him; but she did not like Old Bear, and she turned her eyes
-    away whenever he came near.</p>
-
-  <p>When she came to the June berry woods, Pink Blossom set her sack under
-    a tree, while she picked berries. Old Bear saw the sack. He folded his
-    robe under his arm into a kind of pocket, picked it full of berries,
-    and emptied them into Pink Blossom’s sack.</p>
-
-  <p>This vexed Pink Blossom. She went to her sack and poured Old Bear’s
-    berries out on the ground. “I do not want that old man to smile at me,”
-    she told the other women.</p>
-
-  <p>It was because the women were laughing at her and Old Bear, that Pink
-    Blossom walked ahead with her chin in the air. The others were having a
-    good deal of fun with one another at her expense.</p>
-
-  <p>“I think Pink Blossom did wrong to waste the berries,” said one, a clan
-    cousin. “If she did not want them herself, she should have given them
-    back to Old Bear, for him to eat.”</p>
-
-  <p>“Old Bear’s is a sad case,” said Elk Woman. “But I knew a man in a
-    worse case.”</p>
-
-  <p>“Tell us of it,” said Red Blossom.</p>
-
-  <p>“Years ago,” said Elk Woman, “I went berrying with some others on the
-    other side of the Missouri. In the party was a young man named Weasel
-    Arm. He was a good singer, and he liked to sing so that his sweetheart
-    could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">105</span> hear his voice. His sweetheart was also in the party. Weasel Arm
-    helped her fill her sack; and when she went back with the other women
-    and they were waiting for some that had not yet come in, Weasel Arm lay
-    down on the grass a little way off and sang, beating time on the stock
-    of his gun.</p>
-
-  <p>“As he lay there he heard some one riding toward him, but thought it
-    was one of his party. It was a Sioux; and right in the midst of the
-    song—<i>poh!</i>—the Sioux fired, wounding Weasel Arm in the hip.
-    Luckily the wound was slight, and Weasel Arm sprang for the near-by
-    woods. The Sioux dared not follow him, for he saw that Weasel Arm had a
-    gun.”</p>
-
-  <p>“I do not think Weasel Arm’s case as sad as Old Bear’s,” said one of
-    the women. “Weasel Arm was wounded in his body, but Old Bear is wounded
-    in his heart.”</p>
-
-  <p>Elk Woman laughed. “Have no fear for Old Bear,” she said. “He is an old
-    man and has had more than one sweetheart. His heart will soon heal.”</p>
-
-  <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_105.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>“But I am sorry for the spilled berries,” she continued. “Pink Blossom<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">106</span>
-    should not waste good berries, even if Old Bear does look like an old
-    man.”</p>
-
-  <p>All laughed at this but Pink Blossom.</p>
-
-  <p>“I knew a young woman who once wasted good rose berries, just as Pink
-    Blossom wasted the June berries,” said Old-Owl Woman.</p>
-
-  <p>“Tell us the story,” said one of my mothers.</p>
-
-  <p>“When I was a girl,” said Old-Owl Woman, “Ear-Eat, a Crow Indian,
-    married Yellow Blossom, a Hidatsa girl. They went to live with the
-    Crows, but after a year they came back to visit our tribe at Five
-    Villages.</p>
-
-  <p>“It was in the fall, when the rose berries are ripe. Now the Crow
-    Indians like to eat rose berries, and gather them to dry for winter as
-    we dry squashes. We Hidatsas eat rose berries sometimes, but we never
-    dry them for winter. We think they are food for wild men.</p>
-
-  <p>“Ear-Eat was riding in the woods near our villages, when he found a
-    thicket of rose bushes bending over with their load of ripe berries.
-    ‘<i>Ey</i>,’ he cried, ‘how many berries are here! I never saw it thus
-    in our Crow country.’ And he got off his horse and began to pick the
-    berries.</p>
-
-  <p>“He had no basket to put them in, so he drew off his leggings, tied the
-    bottoms shut with his moccasin strings, and, when he had filled the
-    leggings with berries, he slung them over his horse’s back like a pair
-    of saddle bags.</p>
-
-  <p>“He rode home happy, for he thought, ‘My wife will be glad to see so
-    many berries.’</p>
-
-  <p>“When Yellow Blossom saw her husband riding home without his leggings,
-    and with the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">107</span> tops of his moccasins loose and flapping, she could
-    hardly believe her eyes. As she stood staring, Ear-Eat got off his
-    horse and handed her his bulging leggings. ‘Here, wife,’ he cried,
-    ‘look at these fine berries. Now we shall have something good to eat.’</p>
-
-  <p>“The village women, hearing what Ear-Eat said, crowded close to look.
-    When they saw that his leggings were filled with rose berries, they
-    cried out with laughter.</p>
-
-  <p>“Yellow Blossom was angry. ‘You are crazy,’ she cried to her husband.
-    ‘We Hidatsas raise corn, beans, sunflower seed, and good squashes to
-    eat. We are not starving, that we must eat rose berries.’</p>
-
-  <p>“‘The Crow Indians eat rose berries,’ said Ear-Eat. ‘My mother used to
-    dry them for winter food.’</p>
-
-  <p>“His words but vexed Yellow Blossom more.</p>
-
-  <p>“‘I am a Hidatsa woman, not a Crow,’ she cried. ‘We Hidatsas are not
-    wild people. We live in earth lodges and eat foods from our gardens.
-    When we go berrying we put our berries into clean baskets, not into our
-    leggings.’ And she turned the leggings up and poured the rose berries
-    out on the ground.”</p>
-
-  <p>We all laughed at Old-Owl Woman’s story.</p>
-
-  <p>“We had other use for rose berries when I was a girl,” said Red
-    Blossom. “If a young man went at evening to talk with his sweetheart,
-    he put a ripe rose berry in his mouth to make his breath sweet.”</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">108</span></p>
-
-  <p>“I wonder if Old Bear put a rose berry in his mouth,” said Old-Owl
-    Woman.</p>
-
-  <p>“I think he put two rose berries in his mouth,” said Red Blossom,
-    smiling.</p>
-
-  <p>All laughed again but Pink Blossom; she walked on, saying nothing.</p>
-
-  <div class="figcenter illowp72">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_108.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter" id="THE_CORN_HUSKING">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">109</span>
-    <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-      <img class="w100" src="images/i_109.jpg" alt="" />
-    </div>
-    <div class="large mt2">TWELFTH CHAPTER</div>
-    <h2 class="nobreak">THE CORN HUSKING</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>After the June berry season came choke-cherries. We did not gather so
-    big a store of these, but they were harder to prepare for drying. I
-    can yet see old Turtle, with her gnarled, wrinkled fingers, plying the
-    crushing stones. She dropped three or four cherries on a round stone
-    and crushed them with a smaller stone held in her palm. The pulp she
-    squeezed through her palms into lumps, which she dried in the sun.</p>
-
-  <p>And then came the corn harvest, busiest and happiest time of all the
-    year. It was hard work gathering and husking the corn, but what fun
-    we had! For days we girls thought of nothing but the fine dresses we
-    should wear at the husking.</p>
-
-  <p>While the ears were ripening my sister and I went every morning to sit
-    on our watch stage<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">110</span> and sing to the corn. One evening we brought home
-    with us a basketful of the green ears and were husking them by the
-    fire. My father gathered up the husks and took them out of the lodge. I
-    wondered why he did so.</p>
-
-  <p>“I fed the husks, daughter, to my pack horses,” he said, when he came
-    back. “To-morrow I go hunting to get meat for the husking.” He had
-    brought his hunting pony into the lodge, but he had penned his pack
-    horses for the night under the corn stage.</p>
-
-  <p>My two mothers, I knew, were planning a big feast. “We have much corn
-    to husk,” they said, “and we must have plenty of food, for we do not
-    want our huskers to go away hungry.”</p>
-
-  <p>Small Ankle left us before daybreak. He returned the fourth day
-    after, about noon, with two deer loaded on his pack horses. “One is
-    a black-tail,” he told us when he came in the lodge, “a buck that I
-    killed yesterday in some bad lands by the Little Missouri. He was
-    hiding in a clump of trees. As I rode near, he winded me and ran out
-    into the open. I checked my pony, and the buck stopped to look around.
-    I fired, and he fell; but, when I got off my horse, the buck rose and
-    tried to push me with his horns. I killed him with my knife.” A wounded
-    black-tail often tried to fight off the hunters: a white-tail hardly
-    ever did so.</p>
-
-  <p>The next morning we women rose early, and with our baskets hastened to
-    the cornfield. All day we plucked the ripe ears, bearing them in our
-    baskets to the center of the field, where<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">111</span> we laid them in a long pile.
-    That night my father and Red Blossom slept on the watchers’ stage, to
-    see that no horse broke in and trampled our corn pile. There was not
-    much danger of this. Around the field ran a kind of fence, of willows,
-    enough to keep out the ponies.</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp53">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_111.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>The rest of us returned to the lodge to make ready for the feast the
-    next day. Turtle fetched out three great bundles of dried buffalo meat
-    and piled them on the puncheon bench with the freshly killed deer meat.
-    Our three kettles were scoured and set by, ready to be taken to the
-    field.</p>
-
-  <p>At nightfall Bear’s Tail went around the village to lodges of our
-    relatives and friends, and invited the young men to come to our husking.</p>
-
-  <p>I was too excited that night to sleep much. Early in the morning my
-    sister and I rose and went to the river for a dip in its cold waters.
-    After a hasty breakfast I put on my best dress, of deer skin, with
-    hoofs hanging like bangles at the edge of the skirt and three rows of
-    costly elk teeth across the front. Cold Medicine helped me paint my
-    face, and was careful to rub a little red ochre in the part of my hair.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">112</span></p>
-
-  <p>The sun was just coming over the prairie when we started for the field.
-    We had loaded our kettles and meat on two pack horses, and old Turtle
-    led the way. My father and Red Blossom had risen early and eaten
-    breakfast, and now had a brisk fire going. We put our kettles on, after
-    filling them with water. In one we put dried, in another fresh, meat;
-    the third kettle we filled with green corn, late planted for this
-    purpose. The meat and corn were for our feast.</p>
-
-  <p>The sun was three hours high when the huskers came. They were about
-    thirty in all, young men, except three or four crippled old warriors
-    who wanted to feast. These were too old to work much, but my father
-    made them welcome.</p>
-
-  <p>The huskers came into the field yelling and singing. We had, indeed,
-    heard their yells long before we saw them. I think young men all sing
-    and yell, just because they are young.</p>
-
-  <p>My sister and I were already seated at one side of the corn pile, and
-    the other women joined us. The young men sat down on the opposite side,
-    and the husking began.</p>
-
-  <p>I saw that Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing sat just opposite me. Next to him was
-    a young man named Red Hand, with grass plumes in his hair. These meant
-    that he had been in a war party and had been sent out to spy on the
-    enemy. I saw Red Hand looking at me, and I was glad that I was wearing
-    my elk teeth dress. “He is a young man,” I thought, “not a boy, like
-    Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing.”</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">113</span></p>
-
-  <p>The huskers worked rapidly, stripping off the dry husks with their
-    hands. The big fine ears they braided in strings, to save for seed.
-    Smaller ears they tossed into a pile. Big as our corn pile was, it was
-    husked in about four hours.</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp36">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_113.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>My mothers then served the feast. The huskers were hearty eaters; for,
-    like all young men, they had good appetites; but we had a big feast of
-    meat, and even they could not eat all. It was not polite to leave any
-    of the food, and some had brought sharp sticks on which they skewered
-    the meat they could not eat, to take home with them.</p>
-
-  <p>The feast over, the huskers went to another field, singing and yelling
-    as they went.</p>
-
-  <p>We women had now to busy ourselves carrying in our corn.</p>
-
-  <p>We loaded our two pack horses with strings of braided ears, ten strings
-    to a pony. The smaller ears we bore to the village in our baskets, to
-    dry on our corn stage before threshing.</p>
-
-  <p>In midafternoon there were a few strings of corn still left, and I was
-    laying them by for the next trip when I heard steps. I looked up and
-    saw Red Hand coming, leading his pony.</p>
-
-  <p>Red Hand did not speak, but he laid my strings of corn on his pony and
-    started for the village. “He wants to help me take home my corn,” I
-    thought. A young man did thus for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">114</span> the girl he admired. “Red Hand is
-    brave, and he owns a pony,” I said to myself; and I forgot all about
-    Sacred-Red-Eagle-Wing.</p>
-
-  <p>My father returned with the pack horses just as Red Hand was starting
-    off; and I was stooping to fill my basket, when suddenly there came
-    a sound, <i>poh-poh-poh</i>, as of guns; then yells, and a woman
-    screamed. Small Ankle sprang for his war pony, which he had left
-    hobbled near the husking pile.</p>
-
-  <p>Our corn fields lay in a strip of flat land skirted by low foot hills;
-    and now I saw, coming over the hills, a party of Sioux, thirty or
-    more, mounted, and painted for war. At the edge of the hills they
-    checked their ponies, and those who had guns began firing down into our
-    gardens. Many of the Sioux were armed with bows and arrows.</p>
-
-  <p>On all sides arose outcries. My brave father dashed by with his ringing
-    war whoop, <i>ui, ui, ui</i>;<a id="FNanchor_22" href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> and after him Red Hand, lashing his
-    pony and yelling like mad. Red Hand had thrown away my strings of corn,
-    but I was not thinking of my corn just then.</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_22" href="#FNanchor_22">[22]</a> ṳ ï (pronounced like ōō ēē, but quickly and sharply)
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Women and children began streaming past our field to the village. Brave
-    young men rode between them and our enemies, lest the Sioux dash down
-    and cut off some straggler. Two lads, on swift ponies, galloped ahead
-    to rouse the villagers.</p>
-
-  <p>Meanwhile my father and others were fighting off the Sioux from the
-    shelter of some clumps of small trees that dotted the flat: Our enemies
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">115</span>did not fight standing, but galloped and pranced their horses about on
-    the hillside to spoil our aim.
-  </p>
-
-  <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_115.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Suddenly a Sioux warrior, in trailing eagle-feather bonnet, and mounted
-    on a beautiful spotted pony, dashed down the hillside toward us, waving
-    his bow over his head; and from our side I saw Red Hand, gun in hand,
-    riding to meet him.</p>
-
-  <p>As they drew near one another the Sioux swerved, and an arrow, like a
-    little snake, came curving through the air. Red Hand’s pony stumbled
-    and fell, the shaft in its throat; but Red Hand, leaping to the ground,
-    raised his gun and fired. I saw the Sioux drop his bow and ride back
-    clinging desperately to his pony’s mane. Red Hand put his hand to his
-    mouth and I heard his <i>yi-yi-yi-yi-yah</i>,<a id="FNanchor_23" href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> the yell that a
-    warrior made when he had wounded an enemy.</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_23" href="#FNanchor_23">[23]</a> yĭ yĭ yĭ yĭ yäh´
-  </div>
-
-  <p>On the side toward our village other cries now arose, for the warriors
-    were coming to our help. The Sioux fled. Our men pursued them, and at
-    nightfall came back with one scalp.</p>
-
-  <p>All that night we danced the scalp dance. A big fire was built. Men and
-    women painted <span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">116</span>their faces black and sang glad songs. Old women cried
-    <i>a-la-la-la-la!</i><a id="FNanchor_24" href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> Young men danced, yelled and boasted of their
-    deeds. All said that Red Hand was a brave young man and would become a
-    great warrior.</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_24" href="#FNanchor_24">[24]</a> ä lä lä lä lä´
-  </div>
-
-  <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_116.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>The next day I was coming from the watering place with my kettle. Just
-    ahead of me walked Waving Corn, a handsome girl two years older than I.
-    Red Hand passed by; shyly I looked up, thinking to see him smile at me.</p>
-
-  <p>He was smiling at Waving Corn.</p>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter" id="MARRIAGE">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">117</span>
-    <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-      <img class="w100" src="images/i_117.jpg" alt="" />
-    </div>
-    <div class="large mt2">THIRTEENTH CHAPTER</div>
-    <h2 class="nobreak">MARRIAGE</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>And so I grew up, a happy, contented Indian girl, obedient to my
-    mothers, but loving them dearly. I learned to cook, dress skins,
-    embroider, sew with awl and sinew, and cut and make moccasins, clothing
-    and tent covers. There was always plenty of work to do, but I had time
-    to rest, and to go to see my friends; and I was not given tasks beyond
-    my strength. My father did the heavy lifting, if posts or beams were
-    to be raised. “You are young, daughter,” he would say. “Take care you
-    do not overstrain!” He was a kind man, and helped my mothers and me
-    whenever we had hard work to do.</p>
-
-  <p>For my industry in dressing skins, my clan aunt, Sage, gave me a
-    woman’s belt. It was as broad as my three fingers, and covered with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">118</span>
-    blue beads. One end was made long, to hang down before me. Only a very
-    industrious girl was given such a belt. She could not buy or make one.
-    No relative could give her the belt; for a clan aunt, remember, was not
-    a blood relative. To wear a woman’s belt was an honor. I was as proud
-    of mine as a war leader of his first scalp.</p>
-
-  <p>I won other honors by my industry. For embroidering a robe for my
-    father with porcupine quills I was given a brass ring, bought of the
-    traders; and for embroidering a tent cover with gull quills dyed yellow
-    and blue I was given a bracelet. There were few girls in the village
-    who owned belt, ring and bracelet.</p>
-
-  <p>In these years of my girlhood my mothers were watchful of all that I
-    did. We had big dances in the village, when men and women sang, drums
-    beat loud, and young men, painted and feathered, danced and yelled to
-    show their brave deeds. I did not go to these dances often, and, when
-    I did, my mothers went with me. Ours was one of the better families of
-    the tribe, and my mothers were very careful of me.</p>
-
-  <p>I was eighteen years old the Bent-Enemy-Killed winter; for we Hidatsas
-    reckoned by winters, naming each for something that happened in it. An
-    old man named Hanging Stone then lived in the village. He had a stepson
-    named Magpie, a handsome young man and a good hunter.</p>
-
-  <p>One morning Hanging Stone came into our lodge. It was a little while
-    after our morning<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">119</span> meal, and I was putting away the wooden bowls that
-    we used for dishes. The hollow buffalo hoofs hung on the door for
-    bells, I remember, rattled clitter, clitter, clitter, as he raised and
-    let fall the door. My father was sitting by the fire.</p>
-
-  <p>Hanging Stone walked up to my father, and laid his right hand on my
-    father’s head. “I want you to believe what I say,” he cried. “I want my
-    boy to live in your good family. I am poor, you are rich; but I want
-    you to favor us and do as I ask.”</p>
-
-  <p>He went over to my mothers and did likewise, speaking the same words to
-    both. He then strode out of the lodge.</p>
-
-  <p>Neither my father nor my mothers said anything, and I did not know at
-    first what it all meant. My father sat for a while, looking at the
-    fire. At last he spoke, “My daughter is too young to marry. When she is
-    older I may be willing.”</p>
-
-  <p>Toward evening Hanging Stone and his relatives brought four horses and
-    three flint-lock guns to our lodge. He tied the four horses to the
-    drying stage outside. They had good bridles, with chains hanging to the
-    bits. On the back of each horse was a blanket and some yards of calico,
-    very expensive in those days.</p>
-
-  <p>Hanging Stone came into the lodge. “I have brought you four horses and
-    three guns,” he said to my father.</p>
-
-  <p>“I must refuse them,” answered Small Ankle. “My daughter is too young
-    to marry.”</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">120</span></p>
-
-  <p>Hanging Stone went away, but he did not take his horses with him. My
-    father sent them back by some young men.</p>
-
-  <p>The evening of the second day after, Hanging Stone came again to our
-    lodge. As before, he brought the three guns and gifts of cloth, and
-    four horses; but two of these were hunting horses. A hunting horse was
-    one fleet enough to overtake a buffalo, a thing that few of our little
-    Indian ponies could do. Such horses were costly and hard to get. A
-    family that had good hunting horses had always plenty of meat.</p>
-
-  <p>After Hanging Stone left, my father said to his wives, “What do you
-    think about it?”</p>
-
-  <p>“We would rather not say anything,” they answered. “Do as you think
-    best.”</p>
-
-  <p>“I know this Magpie,” said my father. “He is a kind young man. I have
-    refused his gifts once, but I see his heart is set on having our
-    daughter. I think I shall agree to it.”</p>
-
-  <p>Turning to me he spoke: “My daughter, I have tried to raise you right.
-    I have hunted and worked hard to give you food to eat. Now I want you
-    to take my advice. Take this man for your husband. Try always to love
-    him. Do not think in your heart, ‘I am a handsome young woman, but this
-    man, my husband, is older and not handsome.’ Never taunt your husband.
-    Try not to do anything that will make him angry.”</p>
-
-  <p>I did not answer <i>yes</i> or <i>no</i> to this; for I thought, “If my
-    father wishes me to do this, why that is the best thing for me to do.”
-    I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">121</span> had been taught to be obedient to my father. I do not think white
-    children are taught so, as we Indian children were taught.</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp58">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_121.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>For nigh a week my father and my two mothers were busy getting ready
-    the feast foods for the wedding. On the morning of the sixth day, my
-    father took from his bag a fine weasel-skin cap and an eagle-feather
-    war bonnet. The first he put on my head; the second he handed to my
-    sister, Cold Medicine. “Take these to Hanging Stone’s lodge,” he said.</p>
-
-  <p>We were now ready to march. I led, my sister walking with me. Behind
-    us came some of our relatives, leading three horses; and, after them,
-    five great kettles of feast foods, on poles borne on the shoulders of
-    women relatives. The kettles held boiled dried green corn and ripe corn
-    pounded to meal and boiled with beans; and they were steaming hot.</p>
-
-  <p>There was a covered entrance to Hanging Stone’s lodge. The light was
-    rather dim inside, and I did not see a dog lying there until he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">122</span> sprang
-    up, barking <i>wu-wu!</i> and dashed past me. I sprang back, startled.
-    Cold Medicine tittered. “Do not be foolish,” called one of our women
-    relatives. Cold Medicine stopped her tittering, but I think we were
-    rather glad of the dog. My sister and I had never marched in a wedding
-    before, and we were both a little scared.</p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp56">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_122.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>I lifted the skin door—it was an old-fashioned one swinging on thongs
-    from the beam overhead—and entered the lodge. Hanging Stone sat on
-    his couch against the puncheon fire screen. I went to him and put the
-    weasel-skin cap on his head. The young man who was to be my husband was
-    sitting on his couch, a frame of poles covered with a tent skin. Cold
-    Medicine and I went over and shyly sat on the floor near-by.</p>
-
-  <p>The kettles of feast foods had been set down near the fireplace, and
-    the three horses tied to the corn stage without. Hanging Stone had
-    fetched my father four horses. We reckoned the weasel cap and the war
-    bonnet as worth each a horse; and, with these and our three horses, my
-    father felt he was going his friend one horse better. It was a point
-    of honor in an Indian family for the bride’s father to make a <span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">125</span>more
-    valuable return gift than that brought him by the bridegroom and his
-    friends.</p>
-
-  <div class="figcenter illowp64">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_123.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-  <div class="caption">Plate II.—“I put the weasel-skin cap on his head.”</div>
-
-  <p>As we two girls sat on the floor, with ankles to the right, as Indian
-    women always sit, Magpie’s mother filled a wooden bowl with dried
-    buffalo meat pounded fine and mixed with marrow fat, and set it for my
-    sister and me to eat. We ate as much as we could. What was left, my
-    sister put in a fold of her robe, and we arose and went home. It would
-    have been impolite to leave behind any of the food given us to eat.</p>
-
-  <p>Later in the day Magpie’s relatives and friends came to feast on the
-    foods we had taken to Hanging Stone’s lodge. Each guest brought a gift,
-    something useful to a new-wed bride—beaded work, fawn-skin work bag,
-    girl’s leggings, belt, blanket, woman’s robe, calico for a dress, and
-    the like. In the evening two women of Magpie’s family brought these
-    gifts to my father’s lodge, packing them each in a blanket on her back.
-    They piled the gifts on the floor beside Red Blossom, the elder of my
-    two mothers.</p>
-
-  <p>Red Blossom spent the next few days helping me build and decorate the
-    couch that was to mark off the part of our lodge set apart for my
-    husband and me. We even made and placed before the couch a fine, roomy
-    lazy-back, or willow chair.</p>
-
-  <p>All being now ready, Red Blossom said to me: “Go and call your husband.
-    Go and sit beside him and say, ‘I want you to come to my father’s
-    lodge.’ Do not feel shy. Go boldly and have no fear.”</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">126</span></p>
-
-  <p>So with my sister I slowly walked to Hanging Stone’s lodge. There were
-    several besides the family within, for they were expecting me; but no
-    one said anything as we entered.</p>
-
-  <p>Magpie was sitting on his couch, for this in the daytime was used as
-    white men use a lounge or a big chair. My sister and I went over and
-    sat beside him. Magpie smiled and said, “What have you come for?”</p>
-
-  <p>“I have come to call you,” I answered.</p>
-
-  <p>“<i>Sukkeets</i>—good!” he said.</p>
-
-  <p>Cold Medicine and I arose and returned to my father’s lodge. Magpie
-    followed us a few minutes later; for young men did not walk through the
-    village with their sweethearts in the daytime. We should have thought
-    that foolish.</p>
-
-  <p>And so I was wed.</p>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter" id="A_BUFFALO_HUNT">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">127</span>
-    <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-      <img class="w100" src="images/i_127.jpg" alt="" />
-    </div>
-    <div class="large mt2">FOURTEENTH CHAPTER</div>
-    <h2 class="nobreak">A BUFFALO HUNT</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>My young husband and I lived together but a few years. He died of lung
-    sickness; and, after I had mourned a year, I married Son-of-a-Star, a
-    Mandan. My family wished me to marry again; for, while an Indian woman
-    could raise corn for herself and family, she could not hunt to get meat
-    and skins.</p>
-
-  <p>Son-of-a-Star was a kind man, and my father liked him. “He is brave,
-    daughter,” Small Ankle said. “He wears two eagle feathers, for he has
-    twice struck an enemy, and he has danced the death dance. Three times
-    he has shot an arrow through a buffalo.” It was not easy to shoot an
-    arrow through a buffalo and few of my tribe had done so.</p>
-
-  <p>Spring had come, and in the moon of Breaking Ice we returned to
-    Like-a-Fishhook village. Our hunters had not killed many deer the
-    winter<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">128</span> before, and our stores of corn were getting low. As ours was
-    a large family, Son-of-a-Star thought he would join a hunting party
-    that was going up the river for buffaloes. “Even if we do not find much
-    game,” he said, “we shall kill enough for ourselves. We younger men
-    should not be eating the corn and beans that old men and children need.”</p>
-
-  <p>Small Ankle thought the plan a good one. I was glad also, for I was to
-    be one of the party. Corn planting time would not come for a month yet;
-    and, after the weeks in our narrow winter quarters, I longed to be out
-    again in the fresh air.</p>
-
-  <p>There were ten in the party besides Son-of-a-Star and myself:
-    Crow-Flies-High, Bad Brave, High Backbone, Long Bear, and Scar, and
-    their wives. Scar was a Teton Sioux who had come to visit us.</p>
-
-  <p>My tribe now owned many horses, and fewer dogs were used than when I
-    was a little girl. A party of buffalo hunters usually took both hunting
-    and pack horses; but our village herd was weak and poor in flesh after
-    the scant winter’s feeding, and we thought it better to take only dogs.
-    There was yet little pasture, and the ground was wet and spongy from
-    the spring thaws. Only a strong, well-fed pony could go all day on wet
-    ground.</p>
-
-  <p>I took three of our family dogs. On the travois of two I loaded robes
-    for bedding, the halves of an old tent cover, moccasins for myself and
-    husband, an ax, a copper kettle and a flesher for dressing hides. My
-    third dog dragged<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">129</span> a bull boat, bound mouth down to the travois poles.
-    We planned to return by way of the river, in boats.</p>
-
-  <p>We were clad warmly, for the weather was chill. All had robes. I wore a
-    dress of two deer skins sewed edge to edge; the hind legs, thus sewed,
-    made the sleeves for my arms.</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp48">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_129.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>I had made my husband a fine skin shirt, embroidered with beads. Over
-    it he drew his robe, fur side in. He spread his feet apart, drew the
-    robe high enough to cover his head, and folded it, tail end first, over
-    his right side; then the head end over his left, and belted the robe in
-    place. He spread his feet apart when belting, to give the robe a loose
-    skirt for walking in.</p>
-
-  <p>We all wore winter moccasins, fur lined, with high tops. The men
-    carried guns. Buffalo hunters no longer used bows except from horseback.</p>
-
-  <p>We started off gaily, in a long line. Each woman was followed by her
-    dogs. Two women, having no dogs, packed their camp stuff on their backs.</p>
-
-  <p>We made our first camp late in the afternoon, at a place called
-    Timber-Faces-across-River. There was a spring here, of good water.
-    Crow-Flies-High and Bad Brave went hunting,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">130</span> while we women pitched
-    our tent. We cut forked poles and stacked them with tops together
-    like a tepee. We covered this frame with skins, laced together at
-    the edges with thongs. A rawhide lariat was drawn around the outside
-    of the cover; and small logs, laid about the edges, held the tent to
-    the ground. We could not use tent pins, for the ground was frozen.
-    We raised an old saddle skin on the windward side of the smoke hole,
-    staying it with a forked pole, thrust through a hole in the edge. We
-    were some time building, as the tent had to be large enough for twelve
-    persons.</p>
-
-  <p>We finished just at dusk; and we were starting a fire inside, when the
-    two hunters came in. Each packed on his back the side and ham of an
-    elk they had killed. Bad Brave had laid a pad of dry grass across his
-    shoulders that the meat juice might not stain his robe.</p>
-
-  <p>It was getting dark, and, while we women gathered dry grass for our
-    beds, the two hunters roasted one of the sides of meat. They skewered
-    it on a stick and swung it from the drying pole. Standing on each side,
-    the two men swung the meat slowly, forth and back, over the fire.</p>
-
-  <p>We were all hungry when we sat down to eat. The fresh roasted ribs of
-    the elk were juicy and sweet, and with full stomachs we felt sleepy,
-    for the day’s march had been long. We gladly spread our robes and crept
-    into our beds, first covering a coal with ashes for the morning fire.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">131</span></p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp53">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_131.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Next morning we had struck our tent and loaded our dogs before the sun
-    was well up. We took only the tent cover, leaving the poles. Three
-    of our men went ahead to hunt. The rest followed more slowly, not to
-    tire our dogs. Now and then we stopped to rest and eat from our lunch
-    bags. These were of dried buffalo heart skins. Every woman in the party
-    carried one of them tucked under her belt. We had been careful to fill
-    our bags with cooked meat, from our breakfast.</p>
-
-  <p>My husband walked at my side if he talked with me. At other times he
-    went a little ahead; for, if enemies or a grizzly attacked us, he would
-    thus be in front, ready to fight, giving me time to escape.</p>
-
-  <p>Our trail led along the brow of the bluffs overlooking the Missouri.
-    There was a path here, fairly well marked, made by hunting parties, and
-    perhaps by buffaloes.</p>
-
-  <p>Our second camp was at a place called the Slides; for, here, big blocks
-    of earth, softened by the spring rains, sometimes slide down the bank
-    into the river. We found a spring a little way in from the river, with
-    small trees that we could cut for tent poles.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">132</span></p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp42">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_132.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Our tent was hardly pitched when Son-of-a-Star and Scar came in to say
-    they had killed a stray buffalo not far away. They had packed part of
-    the meat to camp on their shoulders, and Son-of-a-Star had cut out the
-    buffalo’s paunch and filled it with fresh blood. While the two hunters
-    went back for the rest of the meat, I put on my copper kettle and made
-    blood pudding. It was hot and ready to serve by the time they came
-    back. I had stirred the pudding with a green chokecherry stick, giving
-    it a pleasant, cherry flavor.</p>
-
-  <p>We were a jolly party as we sat around the evening fire. The hot
-    pudding felt good in our stomachs, after the long march. My good dogs,
-    Knife-Carrier, Took-a-Scalp, and Packs-a-Babe, I had fed with scraps
-    of meat from the dead buffalo, and they were dozing outside, snuggled
-    against the tent to keep warm. <i>Okeemeea</i>,<a id="FNanchor_25" href="#Footnote_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> Crow-Flies-High’s
-    wife, fetched in some dry wood, which she put on the fire. A yellow
-    blaze lit up the tent and a column of thin, blue smoke rose upward to
-    the smoke hole.</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_25" href="#FNanchor_25">[25]</a> O kēē mēē´ ä
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Crow-Flies-High filled his pipe and passed it among the men. Hidatsa
-    women do not smoke.</p>
-
-  <p>In the morning, on the way up, we had forded a stream we call Rising
-    Water creek. <span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">133</span>My leggings and moccasins were still wet; and, as I was
-    wringing them out to dry over the fire, I said to High Backbone’s
-    wife Blossom: “That creek is dangerous. As I was fording it to-day, I
-    slipped in the mud and nearly fell in; but I once got a good dinner out
-    of that mud.”</p>
-
-  <p>“How did you get a dinner out of mud?” asked Blossom.</p>
-
-  <p>“I will tell you,” I answered. “I was a young girl then. My tribe
-    had come up the river to hunt buffaloes and we had stopped at Rising
-    Water Creek to make fires and eat our midday meal. It was summer and
-    the creek was low, for there had been little rain. Some little girls
-    went down for water. They came running back, much frightened. ‘We saw
-    something move in the mud of the creek,’ they cried. ‘It is alive!’</p>
-
-  <p>“We ran to the bank of the creek and, sure enough, something that
-    looked as big as a man was struggling and floundering in a pool. The
-    water was roiled and thick with mud.</p>
-
-  <p>“We could not think what it could be. Some thought it was an enemy
-    trying to hide in the mud.</p>
-
-  <p>“A brave young man named Skunk threw off his leggings, drew his knife,
-    and waded out to the thing. Suddenly he stooped, and in a moment
-    started to land with the thing in his arms. It was a great fish, a
-    sturgeon. It had a smooth back, like a catfish. We cut up the flesh and
-    boiled it. It tasted sweet, like catfish flesh. I do not remember if we
-    drank the broth, as we do when we boil catfish.”</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">134</span></p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp56">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_134.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>“I have seen those fish,” said Bad Brave. “Sometimes when the Missouri
-    falls after the spring floods, one of them will be left stranded on the
-    sand; but I never knew one to be seen in Rising Water creek. I know
-    that turtles are found there, the big kind that fight.”</p>
-
-  <p>“I have heard that white men eat turtles,” said Long Bear’s wife. “I do
-    not believe it.”</p>
-
-  <p>“They do eat turtles,” said High Backbone, “and they eat frogs. A white
-    man told me. I asked him.”</p>
-
-  <p>“<i>Ey!</i> And such unclean things; I could not eat them,” cried Bird
-    Woman.</p>
-
-  <p>“There are big turtles in our Dakota lakes,” said Scar. “They are so
-    big that they drag under the water buffaloes that come there to drink.
-    I once heard a story of a magic turtle.”</p>
-
-  <p>“Tell us the story,” said Son-of-a-Star.</p>
-
-  <p>“A brave young Dakota led out a war party, of six men,” began Scar.
-    “They came into the Chippewa country and wandered about, seeking to
-    strike an enemy. They found deserted camps, sometimes with ashes in the
-    fire pit still warm; but they found no enemies.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">135</span></p>
-
-  <p>“One day they came to a beautiful lake. On the shore, close to the
-    water, was a grassy knoll, rising upward like the back of a great
-    turtle.</p>
-
-  <p>“The leader of the party had now begun to lose heart. ‘We have found no
-    enemy,’ he said. ‘I think the gods are angry with us. We should return
-    home. If we do not, harm may come to us.’</p>
-
-  <p>“‘Let us rest by this knoll,’ said one. ‘When we have smoked, we will
-    start back home.’</p>
-
-  <p>“They had smoked but one pipe when the leader said, ‘I think we should
-    go now. There is something strange about this knoll. Somehow, I think
-    it is alive.’</p>
-
-  <p>“There was a young man in the party, reckless and full of life, whom
-    the others called the Mocker. He sprang up crying, ‘Let us see if it is
-    alive. Come on, we will dance on the knoll.’</p>
-
-  <p>“‘No,’ said the leader, ‘an evil spirit may be in the knoll. The hill
-    may be but the spirit’s body. It is not wise to mock the gods.’</p>
-
-  <p>“‘<i>Hwee</i><a id="FNanchor_26" href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a>—come on! Who is afraid?’ cried the Mocker. He ran to
-    the top of the knoll, and three of the party followed him laughing.
-    They leaped and danced and called to the others, ‘What do you fear?’</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_26" href="#FNanchor_26">[26]</a> Hwēē
-  </div>
-
-  <p>“Suddenly the knoll began to shake. It put out legs. It began to move
-    toward the lake. It was a huge turtle.</p>
-
-  <p>“‘Help, help!’ cried the Mocker. He and his friends tried to escape.
-    They could not. Some power held their feet fast to the turtle’s back,
-    so that they could not move.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">136</span></p>
-
-  <p>“The great turtle plunged in the lake. The men were never seen again.”</p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp68">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_136.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>There was silence when Scar ended. Then Crow-Flies-High spoke: “Those
-    men were foolish. One should never make mock of the spirits.” He
-    paused, puffing at his pipe and blowing great clouds from his nostrils.
-    “I know a story of another Dakota who came to grief at a lake,” he
-    continued, as he passed the burning pipe for my husband to smoke.</p>
-
-  <p>“What is the story?” said Scar, smiling.</p>
-
-  <p>“We Hidatsas,” said Crow-Flies-High, “believe that all babies born in
-    our tribe have lived in another life. Some have lived in hills we call
-    Babes’ Lodges. Others have lived as birds or beasts or even plants.</p>
-
-  <p>“Down near the Dakota country is a lake. It is magic; and in old times
-    young men went there to see what they had been in a former life. If one
-    got up early in the morning while the lake was smooth, and looked in
-    the water, he saw in his shadow the shadow also of what he had been.
-    Some found this to be a bird, others a plant, as a flower or a squash.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">137</span></p>
-
-  <p>“A Dakota Indian had married a Hidatsa woman, and dwelt with our tribe.
-    He was a good man, but he had a sharp tongue. He often got angry and
-    said bitter words to his wife. When his anger had gone, he felt sorry
-    for his words. ‘I do not know why I have such a sharp tongue,’ he would
-    say.</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp47">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_137.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>“One day, when hunting with some Hidatsas, he came near the magic lake.
-    ‘I am going to see what I was before I became a babe,’ he told the
-    others. In the morning he went to the lake, leaned over and looked. In
-    his shadow he saw what he had been. It was a thorn bush.</p>
-
-  <p>“With heavy heart, he came back to camp. ‘Now I know why I have a sharp
-    tongue,’ he cried. ‘It is because I was a thorn bush. All my life I
-    shall speak sharp words, like thorns.’”</p>
-
-  <p>All laughed at Crow-Flies-High’s story, none more than Scar himself. “I
-    am sure <i>I</i> was never a thorn bush,” he said, “for I speak sweet
-    words to my wife, even when she scolds me.”</p>
-
-  <p>“Hey, listen to the man!” cried his wife.</p>
-
-  <p>“But stop talking, you men,” she continued, as she reached for a piece
-    of bark to use as a shovel. “It is time to sleep, for we must be up
-    early in the morning.” And she began to cover the fire with ashes.</p>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter" id="THE_HUNTING_CAMP">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">138</span>
-    <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-      <img class="w100" src="images/i_138.jpg" alt="" />
-    </div>
-    <div class="large mt2">FIFTEENTH CHAPTER</div>
-    <h2 class="nobreak">THE HUNTING CAMP</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>We were up the next morning before the sun, and, after a hasty
-    breakfast, the men went out to look for buffaloes. “The one we killed
-    yesterday may have strayed from a herd,” Son-of-a-Star said. He was
-    hopeful that they might find the herd near.</p>
-
-  <p>We women were getting dinner when the men returned, having seen no
-    buffaloes. I had cut a green stick with prongs, on which I spread
-    slices of fresh buffalo steak, and held them over the fire to broil. I
-    had three juicy steaks, steaming hot, lying on a little pile of clean
-    grass, when my husband came in. “<i>Sukkeets</i>—good!” he cried; and
-    he had eaten all three steaks before I had the fourth well warmed
-    through.</p>
-
-  <p>After dinner we broke camp and went on about five miles to Shell Creek
-    Lake. In the afternoon of the following day we reached Deep<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">139</span> Creek. We
-    pitched our tent on a bit of rising ground from which we scraped the
-    wet snow with a hoe. The weather was getting warmer. Ice had broken on
-    the Missouri the day we killed the stray buffalo.</p>
-
-  <p>While we women busied ourselves with things in camp, the men went to
-    hunt, and five miles farther on they discovered a herd of buffaloes
-    crossing the Missouri from the south side. Our hunters, creeping close
-    on the down-wind side, shot five fat cows as they landed. Buffaloes are
-    rather stupid animals, but have keen scent. Had our hunters tried to
-    come at them from the windward side, the herd would have winded them a
-    half mile away. As it was, no more buffaloes crossed after the shots
-    were fired, and some that were in the water swam back to the other
-    side. A rifle shot at the Missouri’s edge will echo between the bluffs
-    like a crash of thunder.</p>
-
-  <p>The hunters found an elm tree with low hanging branches, and under it
-    they built a rude stage. Meat and skins of the slain buffaloes they
-    laid on the floor of the stage, out of reach of wolves. Some of the
-    meat they hung on the branches of the elm.</p>
-
-  <p>Son-of-a-Star brought back two hams and a tongue. I sliced the tough
-    outer meat from the hams, to feed to my dogs. The bones, with the
-    tender, inner meat, I laid on stones, around the fireplace, to roast,
-    turning them now and then to keep the meat from scorching. The roasted
-    meat we stripped off, and cracked the hot bones for the rich, yellow
-    marrow.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">140</span></p>
-
-  <p>The next morning Crow-Flies-High called a council, and we decided to
-    cross over to the other side of the river. “The main herd is there,”
-    said Crow-Flies-High. “We should hunt the buffaloes before they move to
-    other pasture.” We thought he spoke wisely, and men and women seized
-    axes to cut a road through the willows for our travois.</p>
-
-  <p>These we now loaded. The dogs dragged them to the water’s edge and
-    we made ready to cross. There were two other bull boats in the party
-    besides my own.</p>
-
-  <p>My husband helped me load my boat, and we pushed off, our three dogs
-    swimming after us. We had bound our travois to the tail of the boat,
-    one upon the other. The long runners dragged in the water, but the
-    travois baskets, raised to the boat’s edge, were hardly wetted.</p>
-
-  <p>We landed, and I lent my boat to Scar to bring over his wife and her
-    camp stuff. Our whole party crossed and brought over their goods in two
-    trips.</p>
-
-  <p>We packed our goods up the bank and made camp. While we women were
-    cutting poles for our tent, we heard the men disputing. They were
-    seated in a circle near our pile of goods. High Backbone had lighted a
-    pipe.</p>
-
-  <p>“I say we should go across the river and get the meat we staged
-    yesterday,” said Crow-Flies-High. Others said, “No, there is better
-    hunting on this side. Let us go at once and find the herd.” And all
-    took their guns and hastened off but High Backbone, who stayed to
-    guard<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">141</span> the camp. We were afraid enemies might also be following the
-    herd.</p>
-
-  <p>But the hunters returned at evening without having seen buffalo sign,
-    and hungry—so hungry that they ate up half our store of meat. After
-    supper, Crow-Flies-High called them to another council. “I told you we
-    should get the meat we staged,” he said. “The gods gave us that meat.
-    We should not waste it.”</p>
-
-  <p>We recrossed the river the next morning and fetched back most of the
-    staged meat and skins, reaching camp again in the early part of the
-    afternoon. Too busy to stop and eat, we spent the rest of the day
-    building stages and staking out the green hides to dry.</p>
-
-  <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_141.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>The next day we found to our joy that the wind had shifted to the west.
-    Our stages were now hung with slices of drying meat, and we had built
-    slow fires beneath. An east wind would have carried the smoke toward
-    the herd and stampeded it.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">142</span></p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp35">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_142.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>It was evening and getting dusk when Son-of-a-Star came into the tent,
-    saying, “Buffaloes are on a bluff a quarter of a mile up the river. I
-    can see them moving against the sky line.” We listened and heard the
-    bulls roaring; so we knew a herd was coming in.</p>
-
-  <p>We were careful to chop no wood that evening, nor do anything to make
-    a noise. We smothered our fires, and we fed our dogs; for, with gorged
-    stomachs, they would be sleepy and not bark. If a dog stirred in the
-    night, one of us went out and quieted him.</p>
-
-  <p>We made another crossing the next morning to fetch over the last of the
-    meat we had staged. We returned about noon. The first woman to climb
-    the bank under our camp was Scar’s wife, Blossom. She dropped her pack
-    and came running back, her hands at each side of her head with two
-    fingers crooked, like horns, the sign for buffaloes.</p>
-
-  <p>We hastened into camp and saw the buffaloes a quarter of a mile away,
-    swarming over a bluff. There was a bit of bad-land formation below,
-    round-topped buttes with grassy stretches between. In these lower
-    levels the sun had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">143</span> started the grass, and I think the buffaloes were
-    coming down into them to seek pasture.</p>
-
-  <p>Our hunters had come up from the boats, guns in hand, and set off at
-    once, creeping up the coulees from the lee side, that the buffaloes
-    might not wind them. Presently I saw a flash and a puff of smoke; then
-    another, and another; and the reports came echoing down the river
-    basin, <i>poh—poh—poh—poh, poh, poh!</i> like thunder, away off. The
-    herd took to their heels. Buffaloes, when alarmed, usually run up-wind;
-    but, as the wind had shifted again to the east, this would have taken
-    the herd into the river; so they swerved off and went tearing away
-    toward the north.</p>
-
-  <p>The hunters returned before evening. Son-of-a-Star was the first to
-    come in. “I shot two fat cows,” he cried. “I have cut up the meat and
-    put it in a pile, covered with the skins.” He had brought back the
-    choice cuts, however, the tongues, kidneys and hams. We ate the kidneys
-    raw.</p>
-
-  <p>In the morning we harnessed our dogs and went out to the butchering
-    place. As we neared my husband’s meat pile, I saw that he had driven
-    a stick into the ground and tied his headcloth to it, like a flag.
-    This was to keep away the wolves. There were many of them in the
-    Missouri-river country then.</p>
-
-  <p>While the flag fluttered and they winded the human smell, wolves would
-    not touch the meat pile.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">144</span></p>
-
-  <p>Sometimes in the fall, when hunters were cutting up a dead buffalo, I
-    have seen wolves, coyotes, and foxes, a half hundred maybe, stalking
-    about or seated just out of bow shot, awaiting the time the hunters
-    left. All then rushed in to gorge on the offal. The wolves often
-    snarled and bit at one another as they ate.</p>
-
-  <p>All these animals were great thieves; but the kit foxes, I think, were
-    boldest. I was once with a hunting party, sleeping at night in a tent,
-    when I awoke, hearing some one scream. A kit fox had stolen into the
-    tent and walked over the bare face of one of the sleeping women. She
-    was terribly vexed. “That bad fox stepped his foot in my mouth,” she
-    cried angrily. In the morning we found the fox had made off with some
-    of our meat.</p>
-
-  <p>Son-of-a-Star uncovered his meat pile, and helped me load our travois,
-    binding each load to its basket with thongs. By long use I knew how
-    heavy a load each of my dogs was able to drag. When I thought the
-    travois held enough, I lifted its poles and tried the weight with my
-    hands.</p>
-
-  <p>My husband and I packed loads on our own backs. Mine, I remember, was a
-    whole green buffalo cow skin, a side of ribs and a tongue. This was a
-    heavy load for a woman, and my husband scolded me roundly when we came
-    in to camp. “That is foolish,” he said. “You will hurt your back.” I
-    liked to work, however, and I wanted to show the older women how much I
-    could carry.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">145</span></p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp62">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_145.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>We remained in the camp about ten days. The men would hunt until they
-    made a kill. Then we harnessed our dogs, and all went out to fetch in
-    the meat. To do this took us about half a day. At other times, when not
-    drying meat, we women busied ourselves making bull boats, to freight
-    our meat down the river.</p>
-
-  <p>I have said that I had brought one boat up from the village on one of
-    my dogs. I now made another. There were some <i>mahoheesha</i> willows
-    growing near the camp. I made the boat frame of these, covering it with
-    the green hide of a buffalo cow. <i>Mahoheesha</i> willows are light,
-    tough, and bend to any shape. They make good boat ribs.</p>
-
-  <p>When ready to move camp, I carried my new boat down to the river,
-    turned over my head like a big hat. At the water’s edge I drove a stout
-    stake into the mud, and to this I fastened the floating boat with a
-    short thong.</p>
-
-  <p>Skins and dried meat had been made up into small bales. I packed these
-    to the boat on my back, using a two-banded packing strap. As the river
-    was not far from our camp and the bank not very steep, I did not think
-    this task a hard one.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">146</span></p>
-
-  <p>When the boat was filled, I covered the load neatly with a piece of
-    old tent skin, and to the tail of the boat, I lashed my three travois.
-    The buffalo skin covering a bull boat was so laid that the tail was
-    to the rear of the boat. For this reason we often spoke of the boat’s
-    <i>head</i> and <i>tail</i>.
-  </p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp12">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_146.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Meanwhile, Son-of-a-Star fetched the boat I had brought up from the
-    village, and I bound it to the head of my newer boat. We were now ready
-    to embark. I waded out, climbed into the empty, or passenger, boat, and
-    called to my dogs. They leaped in beside me.</p>
-
-  <p>Son-of-a-Star took off his moccasins and rolled up his leggings. He
-    handed me his gun, loosed the thong that bound the boats to the stake,
-    pushed the boats into deeper water, and climbed in. I handed him his
-    paddle.</p>
-
-  <p>I had hewn this paddle from a cottonwood log, only the day before. My
-    own, lighter and better made, I had brought with me from the village.
-    Each paddle had a large hole cut in the center of the blade. Without
-    this hole, a paddle wobbled in the current.</p>
-
-  <p>On the front of my paddle blade, Son-of-a-Star had painted a part of
-    his war record, hoof prints as of a pony, and moccasin tracks such as
-    a man makes with his right foot. Hoof and footprints had each a wound
-    mark, as of flowing blood. Son-of-a-Star had drawn these marks with his
-    finger, dipped in warm buffalo fat and red ochre.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">147</span></p>
-
-  <p>The marks were for a brave deed of my husband. He once rode against a
-    party of Sioux, firing his gun, when a bullet went through his right
-    thigh, and killed his horse. The footprints with the wound marks meant
-    that Son-of-a-Star had been shot in his right leg.</p>
-
-  <p>On his own paddle my husband had marked a cross within bars. These
-    meant, “I was one of four warriors to count <i>strike</i> on an enemy.”</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp12">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_147.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>It was an Indian custom to mark a warrior’s honors, much as a soldier
-    wears stripes for the wounds he has had. I was quite proud of the marks
-    on my paddles. I was a young woman, remember, and I thought, “Not every
-    woman has a husband as brave as mine.”</p>
-
-  <p>Just before I got into my boat I had paused to wash my sweaty face
-    in the river, and, with a little ochre and buffalo fat, I painted my
-    cheeks a bright red. I thought this made me look handsome; and, too,
-    the paint kept my face from being tanned by the sun, for I had a light
-    skin. In those days everybody painted, and came to feasts with handsome
-    faces, red or yellow. Now we follow white men’s ways, and we go about
-    with faces pale, like ghosts from the Dead village. I think that is why
-    some tribes call white men <i>pale-faces</i>; because they do not paint
-    and are pale like ghosts.</p>
-
-  <p>Altogether there were eleven boats in our fleet, two to each couple
-    except Scar and his wife, who had but one. At that, their one boat<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">148</span>
-    was enough, for they had small store of meat or skins to take home.
-    They were a young couple and thought more of having a good time than of
-    doing any hard work.</p>
-
-  <p>We had launched our boats in a tiny bay, and our paddles, dipping into
-    the quiet backwater, sent the waves rippling against the shore. It was
-    a crisp spring morning, and the sun, rising almost in our faces, threw
-    a broad band of gold over the water. In the shadow of the opposite
-    bank, a pelican was fishing. He paused to gaze at us, his yellow beak
-    laid against his white plumage; then calmly went to fishing again. Out
-    in mid-current, an uprooted tree swept by, and our skin boats, as they
-    swung out of the bay, passed a deadhead that bobbed up and down, up and
-    down. Then with a roar, the current caught us and bore us swiftly away.</p>
-
-  <div class="figcenter illowp53">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_148.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter" id="HOMEWARD_BOUND">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">149</span>
-    <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-      <img class="w100" src="images/i_149.jpg" alt="" />
-    </div>
-    <div class="large mt2">SIXTEENTH CHAPTER</div>
-    <h2 class="nobreak">HOMEWARD BOUND</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>When using her bull boat to cross over the river, a woman knelt in
-    the bow and dipped her paddle in front of her; but, with a second and
-    freighted boat in tow, my husband and I paddled, seated one at each
-    side of our boat. We had not much need to use our paddles as long as we
-    rode the current.</p>
-
-  <p>Crow-Flies-High led the way. We had gone, I think, an hour or two, and
-    Crow-Flies-High’s boat was rounding a point, when I saw him rise to his
-    knees and back water with his paddle. My husband and I speeded up; and,
-    as we came near, Crow-Flies-High pointed to the bank just below the
-    point. It was thickly covered with buffaloes.</p>
-
-  <p>Scar’s wife put her hand to her mouth for astonishment, but made no
-    sound. If buffaloes have not good sight, they have keen ears; and she
-    knew better than to cry out.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">150</span></p>
-
-  <p>A bit of woodland stretched along the shore farther on. Crow-Flies-High
-    signed for us to follow, and we floated silently down to the end of the
-    woods, where the trees hid us from the herd. The men sprang out and
-    held the boats while we women landed.</p>
-
-  <p>The bank was high and rather steep, but at its foot was a narrow bench
-    of sand a foot or more above the water’s level. We hastily unloaded our
-    boats and dragged them out upon this sand.</p>
-
-  <p>Along the Missouri’s edge are always to be found dead-and-dry willow
-    sticks, left there by the falling current. I gathered an armful of
-    these, and, having climbed the bank, laid them together in a kind of
-    floor. Son-of-a-Star now helped me fetch up our bundles, and we piled
-    them on this willow floor. He also brought up my two boats. These I
-    turned, bottom up, over my pile of bundles, to keep off frost and rain.</p>
-
-  <p>The men now seized their guns and hastened off after the buffaloes. It
-    was about noon. I think we had spent less than an hour unloading the
-    boats and packing them and our stuff to the top of the bank.</p>
-
-  <p>While our hunters were stalking the herd, we women stayed in camp,
-    keeping very quiet, and stilling the dogs if they whined or barked.
-    Before long we heard the <i>poh-poh-poh!</i> of guns, and knew the herd
-    was started. We now arose and began gathering sticks for a fire. I
-    think the first man to return struck fire for us, and we got dinner.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">151</span></p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp41">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_151.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>We did not trouble to set up our tent. “The weather is not cold,”
-    said Crow-Flies-High’s wife. “We can sleep in the open air.” I cut
-    buck-brush bushes and spread a robe over them for my bed. Dry grass
-    stuffed under one end of the robe did for a pillow. My covering was a
-    pair of buffalo skins. We were weary and went to bed early. The night
-    was clear; and, with the fresh river air blowing in my face, I soon
-    fell asleep.</p>
-
-  <p>We were astir the next morning at an early hour. While Son-of-a-Star
-    started a fire, I went to fill my copper kettle at the river. My
-    husband had asked me to boil him some meat, for the broth; for in old
-    times we Indians drank broth instead of coffee.</p>
-
-  <p>The river’s roar, I thought, sounded louder than usual; and, when I
-    reached the edge of the high bank, I saw that the current was thronged
-    with masses of ice. This amazed me, for the river had been running free
-    for a fortnight. The Missouri is never a silent stream, and now to
-    the roar of its waters was added the groaning and crashing of the ice
-    cakes, as they grated and pounded one another in the current.</p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp39">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_152.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>When the Missouri is running ice, the mid-current will be thronged,
-    well-nigh choked, with ice masses, but near the banks, where are
-    shallows, the water will be free, since here the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">152</span> stream is not deep
-    enough to float the ice chunks. On the side of the river under our camp
-    was a margin of ice-free water of this kind; and I now saw, out near
-    the edge of the floating ice, two bull boats bound together, with a
-    woman in the foremost, paddling with all her might. She was struggling
-    to keep from being caught in the ice and crushed.</p>
-
-  <p>I ran down the bank to the bench of sand below, just as the boats
-    came sweeping by. The woman saw me and held out her paddle crying,
-    “Daughter, save me!” I seized the wet blade, and tugging hard, drew the
-    boats to shore. The woman was <i>Amaheetseekuma</i>,<a id="FNanchor_27" href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> or Lies-on
-    Red-Hill, a woman older than I, and my friend.</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_27" href="#FNanchor_27">[27]</a> A mä hēēt´ sēē kṳ mä
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Lies-on-Red-Hill, though rather fat, scrambled quickly out of the boat
-    and began tumbling her bundles out upon the sand. The other women of
-    our party now came down, and we helped my friend carry her bundles up
-    to the camp.</p>
-
-  <p>As we sat by the fire, wringing and drying her moccasins,
-    Lies-on-Red-Hill told us her story: “My husband, Short Bull, and I were
-    hunting buffaloes. We dried much meat, which I loaded in my two boats,
-    to freight down the river. While I paddled, Short Bull was to go along
-    the shore with our horses. ‘We will meet at Beaver Wood,’ he said, ‘and
-    camp.’ But I did not find <span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">153</span>him at Beaver Wood. Then ice came. I was
-    afraid to camp alone, and tried to paddle down stream, keeping near the
-    shore, where was no ice. More ice came, and I feared I should be upset
-    and drown.”</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp38">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_153.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>It was not until afterwards, when we reached our village, that we
-    learned why Short Bull did not meet his wife. He got to Beaver Wood
-    ahead of her. Not finding her, and thinking she had passed him, he went
-    on to the place where they had agreed to make their second camping.
-    When again she did not come, he became alarmed, and returned up the
-    river looking for her. In the morning he saw the river was full of ice.
-    “She is drowned,” he thought. And he went on to Like-a-Fishhook village.</p>
-
-  <p>Lies-on-Red-Hill’s father was an old man named Dried Squash. He was
-    fond of his daughter, and, when he heard she was drowned, he put her
-    squash basket on his back and went through the village weeping and
-    crying out, “Lies-on-Red-Hill, dear daughter, I shall never see you
-    again.” He wanted to leap into the river and die, but his friends held
-    him.</p>
-
-  <p>Lies-on-Red-Hill rested in our camp two days. The third morning the
-    river was running free again, and she loaded her boats and paddled off<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">154</span>
-    down stream. The rest of us stayed one more day, to finish drying and
-    packing our meat. Then we, too, loaded our boats and started down the
-    river.</p>
-
-  <p>We floated with the current, and the second day sighted Stands-Alone
-    Point, or Independence, as white men now call it. Here a party of
-    Mandans were just quitting camp. They pushed their boats into the
-    current and caught up with us. “We knew you were coming,” they said.
-    “Lies-on-Red-Hill told us. She passed us yesterday.”</p>
-
-  <p>Our united party floated safely down until we were two miles below what
-    is now Elbowoods. Here, to our astonishment, we found that the current
-    was hardly running, and the water was backing up and flooding the
-    shores. We rounded a point of land, and saw what was the matter. Ice,
-    brought down on the current, had jammed, bridging the river and partly
-    damming it.</p>
-
-  <p>Fearing to go farther, we were bringing our boats to land, when we
-    heard the sound of a gun and voices calling to us. On the opposite
-    shore stood two white men, waving handkerchiefs.</p>
-
-  <p>We paddled across and landed. The white men, we found, were traders,
-    who had married Indian women. They had a flat boat, loaded with buffalo
-    skins and furs. With them was Lies-on-Red-Hill. One of the traders we
-    Indians had named Spots, because he had big freckles on his face.</p>
-
-  <p>Like-a-Fishhook village was yet about fifteen miles away. While the
-    rest of our party waited, one of the men went afoot, to notify our
-    relatives.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">155</span> They came about noon, the next day, with ponies and saddles
-    to help us bring home our goods. The saddles were pack saddles, made
-    with horn frames.</p>
-
-  <p>It took four ponies to pack the dried meat and skins my husband and I
-    had brought. I loaded my boats on the travois of two of my dogs.</p>
-
-  <p>We reached Like-a-Fishhook village at sunset. Lies-on-Red-Hill came
-    with us, to the great joy of her father.</p>
-
-  <div class="figcenter illowp67">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_155.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter" id="AN_INDIAN_PAPOOSE">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">156</span>
-    <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-      <img class="w100" src="images/i_156.jpg" alt="" />
-    </div>
-    <div class="large mt2">SEVENTEENTH CHAPTER</div>
-    <h2 class="nobreak">AN INDIAN PAPOOSE</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>My father was overjoyed to see me and my husband again, and he was glad
-    for the store of meat that we brought. We had a real feast the next
-    day. I boiled green corn, shelled from the cob and dried the summer
-    before, and packed away in skin bags. We were fond of this corn, and
-    had little of it left. Strikes-Many Woman parched ripe sweet corn,
-    pounded it in a mortar with roast buffalo fats, and kneaded the meal
-    into little balls.</p>
-
-  <p>With these corn messes and boiled dried buffalo meat we made a big
-    feast and called in all our relatives. To each woman guest, as she went
-    away again, I gave a bundle of dried buffalo meat; and I thus gave away
-    one of the four pony-loads of meat I had brought home. It was an Indian
-    custom that, when a hunter brought in meat of a deer or buffalo, it
-    belonged to his wife;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">157</span> and we should have thought her a bad woman, if
-    she did not feast her relatives and give to them.</p>
-
-  <p>My father sat with his cronies at the right of the fireplace, at our
-    feast. We women ate apart, for men and women do not sit together at an
-    Indian feast. I heard my father talking with his friend, Lean Wolf:
-    “Every spring, when I was young, we fired the prairie grass around the
-    Five Villages. Green grass then sprang up; buffaloes came to graze on
-    it, and we killed many.”</p>
-
-  <p>“Those were good days,” said Lean Wolf. “There were many buffaloes
-    then.”</p>
-
-  <p>“It is so,” said my father. “It is now seven years since a herd was
-    seen near our village. White men’s guns have driven them away. And each
-    year we kill fewer deer.”</p>
-
-  <p>“I have heard that some Sioux families starved last winter,” said Lean
-    Wolf.</p>
-
-  <p>“They starved, because they are hunters and raise no corn,” said my
-    father. “We Hidatsas must plant more corn, or we shall starve; and we
-    must learn to raise white men’s wheat and potatoes.” Small Ankle was a
-    progressive old man.</p>
-
-  <p>One morning, not long after our feast, Red Blossom came in from the
-    woods with news that the wild gooseberry vines were in leaf. This was a
-    sign that corn planting time was come, and we women began to make ready
-    our corn seed and sharpen our hoes.</p>
-
-  <p>I had been thinking of my father’s words to Lean Wolf. “They are wise
-    words,” I told my mothers. “We should widen our fields, and plant more
-    corn.” While they busied themselves with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">158</span> planting, I worked with my
-    hoe around the edges of our two fields, breaking new ground.</p>
-
-  <p>Having thus more ground to work over, my mothers planted for more than
-    a month, or well into June. The last week of our planting, Red Blossom
-    soaked her corn seed in tepid water. “It will make the seed sprout
-    earlier,” she said, “so that the ears will ripen before frost comes.”</p>
-
-  <p>Our fall harvest was good. My two mothers and I were more than a week
-    threshing and winnowing our corn; but some families, less wise than
-    ours, had not increased their planting, and had none too much grain to
-    lay by for winter. This troubled our chief men. “The summer’s hunt has
-    been poor,” they said. “If our winter’s hunting is not better, we shall
-    be hungry before harvest comes again.”</p>
-
-  <p>They had twice called a council to talk of the matter, when scouts
-    brought word that buffaloes had been seen. “Big herds have come down
-    into the Yellowstone country,” they said. The Black Mouths thought
-    we should make our winter camp there, in tepees; and they went about
-    choosing a winter chief.</p>
-
-  <p>But no one wanted to be winter chief. Camping in the Yellowstone
-    country in skin tents, was not like our wintering in earth lodges in
-    the woods near our village. The people expected their chief’s prayers
-    to keep enemies away and bring them good hunting. If ill luck came to
-    any in the camp, they blamed the winter chief.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">159</span></p>
-
-  <p>The Black Mouths offered gifts to one or another of our chief men,
-    whose prayers we knew were strong; but none would take them. At
-    last, they gave half the gifts to <i>Eydeeahkata</i>,<a id="FNanchor_28" href="#Footnote_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> and half
-    to Short Horn. “You shall take turns at being chief,” they said.
-    “<i>Eydeeahkata</i> shall lead one day and Short Horn the next.”</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_28" href="#FNanchor_28">[28]</a> E̱y dēē äh´ kä tä
-  </div>
-
-  <p>The two leaders chose Red Kettle to be their crier. The evening before
-    we started he went through the village crying, “We move to-morrow at
-    sunrise. Get ready.”</p>
-
-  <p>Our way led up the Missouri, above the bluffs; and most of the time
-    we were within sight of the river. Now and then, if the current
-    made a wide bend, we took a shorter course over the prairie.
-    <i>Eydeeahkata</i> and Short Horn went ahead, each with a sacred
-    medicine bundle bound to his saddle bow. The camp followed in a long
-    line. Some rode ponies, but most went afoot. We camped at night in our
-    tepees.</p>
-
-  <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_159.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>We made our eleventh camp on the north side of the Missouri, a few
-    miles below the <span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">160</span>mouth of the Yellowstone. Here the Missouri is not
-    very wide, and its sloping banks make a good place for crossing. A low
-    bank of clean, hard sand lay along the water’s edge. We pitched our
-    tents about noon on this sand. There were about a hundred tepees. They
-    stood in rows, like houses, for there was not room on the sand to make
-    a camping circle.</p>
-
-  <p>Small Ankle pitched his tent near the place chosen for the crossing.
-    The day was windy and chill. With flint-and-steel my father struck
-    a fire, and we soon had meat boiling. After our dinner he drove his
-    horses to pasture.</p>
-
-  <p>Strikes-Many Woman fetched dry grass for our beds, spreading it thickly
-    on the floor against the tent wall. On the edges of the beds next the
-    fireplace she laid small logs, to keep in the grass bedding and to
-    catch any flying sparks from the fire.</p>
-
-  <p>The wind died at evening. Twilight fell, and the coals in the fireplace
-    cast a soft, red glow on the tent walls. I sat near the tent door. With
-    robe drawn over my shoulders to keep off the chill, I raised the skin
-    door and looked out. The new moon, narrow and bent like an Indian bow,
-    shone white over the river, and the waves of the swift mid-current
-    sparkled silvery in the moonlight. I could hear the swish of eddies,
-    the lap-lapping of the waves rolling shoreward. Over all rose the roar,
-    roar, roar of the great river, sweeping onward we Indians knew not
-    where.</p>
-
-
-   <div class="figcenter illowp64">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">161</span>
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_161.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-  <div class="caption">Plate III.—“With horn spoon she filled her mouth with water.”</div>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">163</span></p>
-
-  <p>My dogs were sleeping without, snugged against the tent for warmth.
-    At midnight one of them stirred, pointed his nose at the moon and
-    broke into a howl. The howl soon grew to a chorus, for every dog
-    in the camp joined in. Far out on the prairie rose the wailing
-    <i>yip-yip-yip-yip-ya-a-ah!</i><a id="FNanchor_29" href="#Footnote_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> of a coyote. The dogs grew silent
-    again, and curled up, nose-in-tail, to sleep.</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_29" href="#FNanchor_29">[29]</a> yĭp yĭp yĭp yĭp yä´ ä äh
-  </div>
-
-  <p>And my little son came into the world.</p>
-
-  <p>The morning sky was growing light when Son-of-a-Star came into the
-    tent. His eyes were smiling as he stepped to the fireplace, for they
-    saw a pretty sight. Red Blossom was giving my baby a bath.</p>
-
-  <p>She had laid him on a piece of soft skin, before the fire. With horn
-    spoon she filled her mouth with water, held it in her cheeks until it
-    was warm, and blew it over my baby’s body. I do not think he liked his
-    bath, for he squalled loudly.</p>
-
-  <p>My husband laughed. “It is a lusty cry,” he said. “I am sure my son
-    will be a warrior.”</p>
-
-  <p>Having bathed my baby, Red Blossom bound him in his wrapping skins. She
-    had a square piece of tent cover, folded and sewed along the edges of
-    one end into a kind of sack. Into this she slipped my baby, with his
-    feet against the sewed end. About his little body she packed cattail
-    down.</p>
-
-  <p>On a piece of rawhide, she put some clean sand, which she heated by
-    rolling over it a red-hot stone. She packed this sand under my <span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">164</span>baby’s
-    feet; and, lest it prove too hot, she slipped a piece of soft buckskin
-    under them.</p>
-
-  <p>Over all she bound a wildcat skin, drawing the upper edge over the
-    baby’s head, like a hood.</p>
-
-  <p>The hot sand was to keep my baby warm. This and the cattail down we
-    placed in a baby’s wrappings only in winter, when on a journey.</p>
-
-   <div class="figcenter illowp38">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_164.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter" id="THE_VOYAGE_HOME">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">165</span>
-    <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-      <img class="w100" src="images/i_165.jpg" alt="" />
-    </div>
-    <div class="large mt2">EIGHTEENTH CHAPTER</div>
-    <h2 class="nobreak">THE VOYAGE HOME</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Meanwhile Small Ankle and other members of the family were making ready
-    to cross. “We must hasten,” my father said. “Ice chunks are running on
-    the current this morning. This shows that up in the mountains the river
-    is freezing over and cold weather is setting in.”</p>
-
-  <p>My mothers began packing soon after breakfast and Son-of-a-Star came
-    in to say that he would take me across in our bull boat; for we had
-    brought one with us from the village. Old Turtle began unpinning the
-    tent cover while I was still inside. She made the tent poles into a
-    bundle and bound them at the tail of the boat. I stepped in with my
-    baby in my arms and my husband paddled the boat across.</p>
-
-  <p>Son-of-a-Star helped me up the bank on the other side and gave me a
-    place to sit where I could watch the crossing. I folded a robe to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">166</span> sit
-    upon, and, with another robe drawn snugly over my shoulders and my baby
-    in my arms, I felt comfortable and warm.</p>
-
-  <p>My husband even made a small fire in a hollow place in the ground
-    near-by. One of my women friends boiled some meat and gave me the hot
-    broth to drink; for I was weary with the work of crossing and caring
-    for my babe.</p>
-
-  <p>There were not enough boats in the camp for all the people. Most of the
-    old people and little children were brought over in boats, and some
-    of the camp goods; but many families floated their stuff over in tent
-    covers, and, cold as was the water, many of the men swam.</p>
-
-  <p>I had left my two mothers and old Turtle loading their tent cover.
-    Turtle had made a big noose in the end of a lariat and laid it on the
-    sand. Over this she spread the skin cover, a large one. She bent a
-    green willow into a hoop, laid it on the tent cover, and within the
-    hoop piled most of our camp goods. She now gathered the edges of the
-    cover together over the pile, drew tight the noose, and tied it firm.
-    This tent-cover bundle my mothers and old Turtle pushed out into the
-    water as a kind of raft. The willow hoop gave the raft a flat bottom so
-    that it did not turn over in the water.</p>
-
-  <p>The lariat that bound the mouth of the raft was fastened to the tail of
-    a pony we had named Shaggy, and the end was carried into and about the
-    pony’s mouth like a halter. Shaggy was driven into the stream and swam
-    across, towing the raft. The lariat was fastened to his tail so<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">167</span> that,
-    if the raft was swept down stream by the current, it would not drag the
-    pony’s head, and turn him from his course.</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp62">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_167.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>As I have said, many families floated their goods over in these
-    tent-cover rafts; and not a few women, in haste to cross, swam clinging
-    to their rafts. One woman put her little four-year-old son on the top
-    of her raft, while she swam behind, pushing and guiding it. Another old
-    woman, named Owl Ear, mounted her raft and rode astraddle. Her pony
-    landed in a place where the shore was soft with oozy mud, so that he
-    could not climb out. Owl Ear had to wade in the mud up to her middle to
-    get her raft ashore; and when she was climbing out she slipped and sat
-    down backwards again in the ooze. She came up sputtering mud from her
-    mouth and much vexed with herself. “I think there must be bad spirits
-    in that mud, and they are trying to pull me back,” she called to me, as
-    she came waddling up the steep bank.</p>
-
-  <p>Before evening my mothers had brought all their camp goods across. They
-    raised the poles of our tent and drew on the cover. It was wet, but
-    soon dried in the wind. We built a fire inside. My baby had wakened up
-    and was crying.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">168</span> I loosened his wrapping and warmed him by the tent
-    fire, and he soon fell asleep. Red Blossom dug a hole, slipped into it
-    a kind of sack of raw hide, for a mortar. We had brought a pestle with
-    us from the village, and with this we pounded parched corn to a meal to
-    boil with beans. We ate a late supper and went to bed.</p>
-
-  <p>We camped on the bank three days, until all had crossed. Our chiefs
-    would not remain longer, for they wanted to get into winter camp before
-    snow fell; and, on the morning of the fourth day, we struck tents and
-    made ready to march.</p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp47">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_168.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>There was a mule in our family herd, a slow-going, gentle beast, that
-    I had bought of a Sioux for a worthless pony and some strings of corn.
-    Son-of-a-Star harnessed this mule to a travois, and my baby and I
-    rode. Had our march been in olden days, I should have had to go afoot,
-    carrying my baby on my back.</p>
-
-  <p>My husband had spread a heavy bull-skin robe over the travois basket
-    and set me on it, with another skin folded under me for a cushion.
-    Through holes in the edge of the bull skin Son-of-a-Star passed a
-    lariat; and when I was seated, with my baby in my arms and my robe
-    belted snugly about us, my husband drew the lariat, drawing the bull
-    skin about my knees and ankles.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">169</span> The day was windy and cold, and the
-    bull skin kept the chill air from me and my babe.</p>
-
-  <p>Our leaders had chosen for our winter camp a place called Round Bank,
-    on a small stream named Bark Creek. There were no trees here for
-    building earth lodges, so we camped in our tepees, pitching them in a
-    hollow, to shelter them from the wind. The ground was frozen so that we
-    could not peg our tents to the ground, but laid stones around the edges
-    of the tent covers. Such was our older-fashioned way. We did not use
-    wooden tent pegs much until after we got iron axes.</p>
-
-  <p>My mothers fetched dry grass into our tent for our beds, and made a
-    fire under the smoke hole. A tepee was kept warm with a rather small
-    fire, if it was well sheltered from the wind.</p>
-
-  <p>Ours was a big tent, for we had a big family. With my two half
-    brothers, Bear’s Tail and Wolf Chief, and their wives; and Red Kettle,
-    Full House, and Flies Low, younger sons of Red Blossom and Strikes-Many
-    Woman, we numbered fourteen in all. This was a large number for one
-    tent. Ten were as many as a tepee usually sheltered. Every member of
-    the family had his own bed, where he slept at night and sat in the
-    daylight hours.</p>
-
-  <p>My little son was ten days old the second day we were in winter camp;
-    and, though we were hardly well settled, I found time to make ready his
-    naming feast. Having filled a wooden bowl with venison and boiled dried
-    green <span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">170</span>corn—foods I knew well were to his liking—I set it before Small
-    Ankle.</p>
-
-  <p>“I want you to name your grandson,” I said to him.</p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp39">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_170.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Small Ankle ate, thinking the while what name he should give my son.
-    Then he arose and took my baby tenderly in his arms, saying, “I name
-    him <i>Tsakahka Sukkee</i>,<a id="FNanchor_30" href="#Footnote_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> Good Bird.” Small Ankle’s gods were
-    birds, and the name was a kind of prayer that they remember and help my
-    little son.</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_30" href="#FNanchor_30">[30]</a> Tsä käh´ kä Sŭk´ kēē
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Winter passed without mishap to us. We had found no buffaloes on the
-    Yellowstone; but our hunters thrice discovered small herds near our
-    camp and brought in meat; and a good many deer were killed.</p>
-
-  <p>Rather early in the spring, the women of the Goose Society danced and
-    hung up meat for the goose spirits, praying them for good weather for
-    corn planting. Then we all broke camp.</p>
-
-  <p>Most of the tribe returned to the Yellowstone for the spring hunt, but
-    my father wanted to go up the Missouri. “We have not found the herds
-    our scouts saw in the fall,” he said. “I am sure they are farther up
-    the river.” One Buffalo and his family joined us and we went up the
-    river and made camp. A small herd was sighted and ten buffaloes were
-    killed.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">171</span></p>
-
-  <p>We were building stages to dry the meat when four more tents caught up
-    with us, those of Strikes Backbone, Old Bear, Long Wing, and Spotted
-    Horn, and their families. To each tent owner my father gave a whole
-    green buffalo hide and a side of meat. The hides were for making bull
-    boats, for we were planning to return home by water.</p>
-
-  <p>Ice broke on the Missouri and flocks of wild ducks began coming north.
-    My mothers were eager to be home in time for the spring planting. I
-    made four new boats, giving one of them to my father, and we made ready
-    to go.</p>
-
-  <p>Son-of-a-Star partly loaded one of my boats with dried meat, and put
-    in his gun and ax. A second boat, also partly loaded, he lashed to the
-    first; and a third, loaded to the gunwale with meat and hides, he bound
-    to the tail of the second. In this second boat sat my half brother,
-    Flies Low, a seventeen-year-old lad, with my baby in his arms. My
-    husband and I sat in the first boat and paddled.</p>
-
-  <p>There were eleven boats in the six families of our party. One or two
-    families, having no meat to freight, rode in single boats. My father
-    and two of the men did not come in the boats, but rode along the bank,
-    driving our horses. They kept back near the foot hills, but in sight of
-    the river.</p>
-
-  <p>We were in no haste, and we made a jolly party as we floated down the
-    broad current. At night we paddled to the shore. The men joined us with
-    the horses, and we camped under the stars.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">172</span></p>
-
-  <p>The Missouri is a swift stream, and at places we found the waves were
-    quite choppy. Especially if a bend in the river carried the current
-    against the wind, the waves rolled and foamed, rocking our boats and
-    threatening to swamp us. At such times we drew together, catching hold
-    of one another’s boats. Thus bunched, our fleet rode the choppy current
-    more safely than a single boat could have done.</p>
-
-  <p>The weather had set in rather warm when we left our winter camp and the
-    grass had already begun to show green on the prairie. But, as we neared
-    the mouth of the Little Missouri, a furious storm of snow and wind
-    arose. The storm blew up suddenly, and, as we rounded a bend in the
-    river, we rode into the very teeth of the wind.</p>
-
-  <p>Son-of-a-Star shouted to me to turn in to the shore, though I could
-    hardly hear his voice above the wind. We plied our paddles with all our
-    might. Suddenly my husband stopped paddling and leaned over the side of
-    the boat, nigh upsetting it. “<i>Eena, eena</i>”<a id="FNanchor_31" href="#Footnote_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> I cried, scared
-    nearly out of my wits, and I grasped at the boat’s edge to keep from
-    being tumbled in upon him. Then I saw what was the matter. My husband
-    was lifting my little son out of the water.</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_31" href="#FNanchor_31">[31]</a> ēē nä´
-  </div>
-
-  <p>I have said that Flies Low sat in our second boat, with my little son
-    in his arms. The baby had grown restless, and Flies Low had loosened
-    the babe’s wrappings to give freedom of his limbs. A sudden billow
-    rocked the boat, throwing Flies Low against the side and tumbling my
-    little son out of his arms into the water.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">173</span></p>
-
-  <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_173.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <p>His loosened wrappings, by some good luck, made my baby buoyant, so
-    that he floated. He was crying lustily when my husband drew him out;
-    but he was not strangling, and under his wraps he was not even wet.</p>
-
-  <p>“I could not help it,” said Flies Low afterwards. “The boat seemed to
-    turn over, and the baby fell out of my arms.” We knew this was true and
-    said nothing more of it.</p>
-
-  <p>Our party reached shore without further mishap. We hastily unpacked two
-    tents; and, while some busied themselves pitching them, others gathered
-    wood and made fires.</p>
-
-  <p>That night the snow turned to a cold rain, which the next day turned
-    again into a heavy snow. The summer birds had come north, and after the
-    storm was over we found many of them frozen to death. It snowed for
-    four days.</p>
-
-  <p>Small Ankle and his brother, Charging Enemy, were driving their horses
-    along the bank when the storm overtook them. They did not stop to camp
-    with us, but pushed on through<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">174</span> the storm to Like-a-Fishhook village.
-    They reached the village safely and drove their horses down into the
-    thick timber out of the cold wind. There was a pond there, and the
-    horses found it warmer to wade out into the water than to stand on the
-    bank in the cold rain. But after a while, grown weary with standing,
-    they came out; and, as the wind was blowing a gale, the horses were
-    chilled and three of them died. Many others of our village herd died in
-    the same way.</p>
-
-  <p>Our own party, as soon as the storm was over, re-embarked and floated
-    safely down to Like-a-Fishhook village.</p>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter" id="AFTER_FIFTY_YEARS">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">175</span>
-    <div class="figcenter illowp100">
-      <img class="w100" src="images/i_175.jpg" alt="" />
-    </div>
-    <h2 class="nobreak">AFTER FIFTY YEARS</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>I am an old woman now. The buffaloes and black-tail deer are gone, and
-    our Indian ways are almost gone. Sometimes I find it hard to believe
-    that I ever lived them.</p>
-
-  <p>My little son grew up in the white man’s school. He can read books, and
-    he owns cattle and has a farm. He is a leader among our Hidatsa people,
-    helping teach them to follow the white man’s road.</p>
-
-  <p>He is kind to me. We no longer live in an earth lodge, but in a house
-    with chimneys; and my son’s wife cooks by a stove.</p>
-
-  <p>But for me, I cannot forget our old ways.</p>
-
-  <p>Often in summer I rise at daybreak and steal out to the cornfields;
-    and as I hoe the corn I sing to it, as we did when I was young. No one
-    cares for our corn songs now.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">176</span></p>
-
-  <p>Sometimes at evening I sit, looking out on the big Missouri. The sun
-    sets, and dusk steals over the water. In the shadows I seem again
-    to see our Indian village, with smoke curling upward from the earth
-    lodges; and in the river’s roar I hear the yells of the warriors, the
-    laughter of little children as of old. It is but an old woman’s dream.
-    Again I see but shadows and hear only the roar of the river; and tears
-    come into my eyes. Our Indian life, I know, is gone forever.</p>
-
-  <div class="figcenter illowp64">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_176.jpg" alt="" />
-  </div>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter" id="GLOSSARY_OF_INDIAN_WORDS">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">177</span>
-    <h2 class="nobreak">GLOSSARY OF INDIAN WORDS</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <div class="center mb2">English equivalents are in italics</div>
-
-  <table summary="Glossary">
-    <tbody>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Ä hä he̱y´</td>
-        <td class="tdl">An exclamation; <i>Ho there!</i></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Ä hä hṳts´</td>
-        <td class="tdl"><i>They come against us.</i></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Ä kēē´ kä hēē</td>
-        <td class="tdl"><i>Took-from-Him</i>; name of a dog.</td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Ä lä lä lä lä´</td>
-        <td class="tdl">Cry of triumph by women; made by curling
-          the tip of the tongue backward and vibrating it against the roof of the mouth.</td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Ä mä hēēt´ sēē kṳ mä</td>
-        <td class="tdl"><i>Lies-on-Red-Hill</i>; name of a woman.</td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Ēē´ kṳ pä</td>
-        <td class="tdl"><i>Chum</i>.</td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Ēē nä´</td>
-        <td class="tdl">An exclamation.</td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Ēēt sēē pä däh´ pä kēē</td>
-        <td class="tdl"><i>Foot moving</i>; name of a game.</td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Ēēt sṳ´ tä</td>
-        <td class="tdl">Name of the large tendon of a buffalo’s neck.</td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">E̱y</td>
-        <td class="tdl">An exclamation.</td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">E̱y dēē äh´ kä tä</td>
-        <td class="tdl">Name of an Indian.</td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Hau (how)</td>
-        <td class="tdl">The Indian salutation.</td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">He̱y dä e̱y´</td>
-        <td class="tdl">An exclamation of pleasure.</td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Hwēē</td>
-        <td class="tdl"><i>Hasten</i>; an exclamation.</td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Mä hō´ hēē shä</td>
-        <td class="tdl">A species of willow.</td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Mä kṳt´ sä tēē</td>
-        <td class="tdl"><i>Clan cousin.</i></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Mä pēē´</td>
-        <td class="tdl"><i>Meal made by pounding.</i></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Mä pṳk´ sä ō kï hĕ</td>
-        <td class="tdl"><i>Snake Head-Ornament</i>; a man’s name.</td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Mēē dä´ hēē kä</td>
-        <td class="tdl"><i>Gardeners’ songs.</i></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Mēē dēē päh´ dēē</td>
-        <td class="tdl"><i>Rising water</i>; name of a Hidatsa clan, or band.</td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Näh</td>
-        <td class="tdl"><i>Go, come.</i></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Nä kä päh´</td>
-        <td class="tdl"><i>Mush.</i></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">O kēē mēē´ ä</td>
-        <td class="tdl"><i>Head-Ornament Woman</i>; a woman’s name.</td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Shēē´ pēē shä</td>
-        <td class="tdl"><i>Black.</i></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Sŭk´ kēēts (or Sŭkkēē)</td>
-        <td class="tdl"><i>Good.</i></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Tsä käh´ ka Sŭk´ kēē</td>
-        <td class="tdl">Name of Waheenee’s son; from <i>tsakahka</i>, bird, and <i>sukkee</i>, good.</td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Tsïst´ skä</td>
-        <td class="tdl"><i>Prairie chicken.</i></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Ṳ´ ï</td>
-        <td class="tdl">The Hidatsa war whoop.</td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Wä hēē´ nēē</td>
-        <td class="tdl"><i>Cowbird</i>, or <i>Buffalo-bird</i>; name of the Indian
-          woman whose story is told in this book.</td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Wē´ä</td>
-        <td class="tdl"><i>Woman.</i></td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Wṳ ṳ ṳ</td>
-        <td class="tdl">Imitation of a dog’s bark.</td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Yĭ yĭ yĭ yĭ yäh´&nbsp; </td>
-        <td class="tdl">A war cry of triumph, made with hand vibrated
-          over the mouth or against the throat.</td>
-      </tr>
-      <tr>
-        <td class="tdl">Wē´ äh tēē</td>
-        <td class="tdl">A woman’s name.</td>
-      </tr>
-    </tbody>
-  </table>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter" id="EXPLANATORY_NOTES">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">178</span>
-    <h2 class="nobreak">EXPLANATORY NOTES</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <p><i>Page 9, l. 24</i>: “We had corn a-plenty” The Hidatsas and Mandans
-    were the best agriculturists of the north-plains Indians. Varieties
-    of corn developed by them mature in the semi-arid climate of western
-    North Dakota where our better known eastern strains will not ripen.
-    The varieties include flint, flour, and a kind of sweet corn called
-    <i>maikadishake</i>,<a id="FNanchor_32" href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> or gummy, which the Indians use for parching.
-    Hidatsa seed planted at the United States Agricultural Experiment
-    Station at Bozeman, Montana, has made surprising yields.</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_32" href="#FNanchor_32">[32]</a> mä´ ï kä dï shä kĕ
-  </div>
-
-  <p><i>Page 10, l. 29</i>: “the ghost land.” A Hidatsa Indian believed he
-    had four ghosts. At death, one ghost went to the Ghost village, to live
-    in an earth lodge and hunt buffaloes as on earth; a second remained at
-    the grave until after a time it joined the first in the Ghost village
-    where they became one again. What became of the other two ghosts does
-    not seem to be known.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 11, l. 20</i>: “The march was led by the older chiefs.” A
-    Hidatsa chief was a man who by his war deeds, hospitality, and wisdom,
-    came to be recognized as one of the influential men of the tribe.
-    He was not necessarily an officer. When translating into English,
-    Hidatsas usually call the officer elected for any executive duty a
-    <i>leader</i>, as war-party leader, winter-camp leader, leader of the
-    buffalo hunt. It should be remembered that the activities of an Indian
-    tribe are decided in councils; and in these councils the eloquence and
-    wisdom of the chiefs had greatest weight. The Hidatsa word for chief,
-    literally translated, is excellent man, superior man.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 13, l. 8</i>: “At this hour fires burned before most of the
-    tepees.” In fall or winter the fire was within the tepee, under the
-    smoke hole.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 15, l. 13</i>: “for a woman to ... begin building her earth
-    lodge.” While the work falling to an Indian woman was far from light,
-    she did not look upon herself as overburdened. Women were more kindly
-    treated by Hidatsas and Mandans than by some tribes.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 17, l. 28</i>: “dried prairie turnips.” The prairie turnip,
-    <i>psoralea esculenta</i>, is a starchy, bulbous root, growing rather
-    plentifully on the plains. Its food value is high. Attempts have been
-    made unsuccessfully to cultivate it.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 17, l. 30</i>: “June berries.” The June berry, <i>amelanchier
-    alnifolia</i>, is a small, hardwood tree, bearing sweet, dark-red
-    berries. Its branches were much used for making arrow shafts.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 21, l. 14</i>: “young men fasted and cut their flesh.” Such
-    self-inflicted tortures were not, as is often believed, for the
-    purpose of proving the warrior’s fortitude, but were made as a kind of
-    sacrifice to the gods that these might pity the devotee and answer his
-    prayers. See Bible, I Kings, XVIII; 28.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 24, l. 30</i>: “It was a long pipe with black stone bowl.” The
-    stone bowl was carved from a hard kind of grey clay, anointed with
-    grease and baked in a fire to turn it black. It took a high polish.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">179</span></p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 35, l. 11</i>: “Telling tales ... in ... autumn and winter.”
-    Tribal myths, told of the gods, were often forbidden in summer
-    when nature was <i>alive</i>. In winter nature was <i>asleep</i>
-    or <i>dead</i>. One could talk of sleeping spirits without fear of
-    offending them.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 36, l. 5</i>: “Making ready her seed.” The Hidatsas used the
-    greatest care in selecting their seed corn. Only large and perfect ears
-    were chosen. The best ear for seed was the <i>eeteeshahdupadee</i>,<a id="FNanchor_33" href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a>
-    or muffled-head, so called because the kernels cover the cob quite to
-    the tip, making the ear look like an Indian with his head muffled up in
-    his robe.</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_33" href="#FNanchor_33">[33]</a> ēē tēē shä dṳ´ pä dēē
-  </div>
-
-  <p><i>Page 36, l. 14</i>: “Wooden bowl.” In olden days almost every family
-    owned several of these feast bowls. A large knot was split out of a
-    tree trunk with wedges and, after being hollowed out with fire, was
-    slowly carved into shape with flint tools. Some of these bowls are
-    beautiful examples of carving.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 37, l. 16</i>: “Trying to parch an ear of corn.” Parched corn
-    entered largely into the diet of our corn raising Indians. Among
-    eastern tribes, a warrior set forth on a long journey with a sack of
-    parched corn pounded to a meal. When hungry, he swallowed a spoonful of
-    the parched meal, washing it down with a pint of water. In a short time
-    the meal had absorbed the water, filling the stomach with a digestible
-    mass like mush.</p>
-
-  <p>Every farmer’s lad should put away some ears of ripened sweet corn in
-    the fall, to parch of a winter’s evening. Sweet corn was raised by the
-    Hidatsas and Mandans for parching only.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 38, l. 21</i>: “Ground beans,” or hog peanut; <i>amphicarpa
-    falcata</i>. These beans, like peanuts, are borne under ground.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 38, l. 22</i>: “Wild potatoes,” or Jerusalem artichoke. Roots
-    of <i>helianthus tuberosus</i>, a plant of the sunflower family.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 41, l. 25</i>: “Who had been a black bear.” Tradition has it
-    that the art and mysteries of trapping eagles were taught the Hidatsas
-    by the black bears. An eagle hunters’ camp was conducted as a kind of
-    symbolic play, the hunters acting the ceremonies of the delivery to the
-    Indians of the eagle-hunt mysteries.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 44, l. 17</i>: “Earth lodges well-built and roomy.” The earth
-    lodge of the Mandans and Hidatsas was the highest example of the
-    building art among our plains tribes. Some of these lodges were quite
-    large, having a height of eighteen feet or more, and a floor diameter
-    exceeding sixty feet. Usually two or more families of relatives
-    inhabited the same lodge.</p>
-
-  <p>An earth lodge had four large central posts and beams, supporting the
-    roof; twelve surrounding posts and beams, supporting the eaves; and a
-    hundred rafters. The roof was covered with a matting of willows over
-    which was laid dry grass and a heavy coating of earth.</p>
-
-  <p>An earth lodge lasted but about ten years, when it was abandoned or
-    rebuilt. The labor of building and repairing these imposing structures,
-    especially in days when iron tools were unknown and posts and beams had
-    to be burned to proper lengths, must have been severe.</p>
-
-  <p>When the author first visited Fort Berthold reservation in 1906, there
-    were eight earth lodges still standing; in 1918 there were two.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">180</span></p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 47, l. 18</i>: “An earthen pot.” The potter’s craft was
-    practiced professionally by certain women who had purchased the secrets
-    of the art. The craft was an important one, as much of Hidatsa cooking
-    was by boiling. Some of the earthen boiling pots held as much as two
-    gallons. A collection of earthen pots, fired in 1910 by Hides-and-Eats,
-    a Mandan woman nearly ninety years old, is in the American Museum of
-    Natural History.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 49, l. 18</i>: “From her cache pit.” The cache pit was a
-    jug-shaped pit within or without the lodge, six or eight feet deep. It
-    was floored with willow sticks and its walls were lined with dry grass.
-    It was used to store the fall harvest.</p>
-
-  <p>Strings of braided ears were laid in series against the wall. Within
-    these was poured the threshed grain, in which were buried strings of
-    dried squash and sacks of beans and sunflower seed. Buffalo-Bird Woman
-    says there were five cache pits in use in her father’s family.</p>
-
-  <p>Many families had a cache pit within the lodge to serve as a cellar.
-    Besides corn for immediate use, it held sacks of dried berries, prairie
-    turnips, packages of dried meat and even bladders of marrow fat.</p>
-
-  <p>The pits without the lodge with their stores of grain were carefully
-    sealed with slabs and grass, over which were trampled earth and ashes.
-    This was done to conceal the pits from any Sioux who might come
-    prowling around when the tribe was away in winter camp. If a family
-    lacked food in winter, they returned to their summer village and opened
-    one of these cache pit granaries for its stores of corn.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 49, l. 31</i>: “Red Blossom pounded the parched corn ... in a
-    corn mortar.” The corn mortar, or hominy pounder, is a section of a
-    cottonwood or ash trunk, hollowed out by fire. The pestal is of ash.
-    The mortar was sunk in the floor of the earth lodge and covered, when
-    not in use, by a flat stone.</p>
-
-  <p>Corn mortars are still used by the Hidatsas. Our grandmothers in
-    pioneer days also used them.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 51, l. 4</i>: “Chief.” A Hidatsa chief, as explained, was
-    not necessarily a tribal officer. His position was like that of an
-    influential citizen of a country village, who is often a member of
-    the local school or hospital board, is chosen to preside at patriotic
-    meetings, and is expected to extend hospitality and charity to those in
-    need.</p>
-
-  <p>Hospitality, indeed, is the Indian’s crowning virtue. In tribal days,
-    when one had food, all had food; when one starved, all starved. A
-    reservation Indian does not like to take pay for a meal, especially
-    from one of his own race; and he can not comprehend how any white man
-    having food can let another go hungry.</p>
-
-  <p>His hospitality is often a hindrance to the Indian’s progress. Indolent
-    Indians eat up the food stores of industrious relatives.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 56, l. 14</i>: “Dried meat pounded fine and mixed with marrow
-    fat.” This was regarded as a delicate dish. Old people especially were
-    fond of it. The plains Indians usually had sound teeth, but their
-    coarse diet wore the teeth down so that old men found it hard to eat
-    dried meat unless it was thus pounded to shreds. Marrow fat was used
-    much as we use butter.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">181</span></p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 57, l. 1</i>: “A doll, woven of rushes.” Very good mats were
-    also woven of rushes.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 58, l. 4</i>: “Tossing in a blanket.” The blanket tossing game
-    has been found among widely separated peoples. In Don Quixote, we are
-    told how Sancho Panza unwilling participated in the game.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 66, l. 6</i>: “Every Hidatsa belonged to a clan.” The clan
-    was, nevertheless, relatively weak among the Hidatsas, its functions
-    apparently having been usurped at least in part by the age societies.
-    (The Black Mouths were an age society. See chapter V).</p>
-
-  <p>In many tribes a man was forbidden to marry within his clan.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 68, l. 25</i>: “He was a great medicine man.” The story of
-    Snake Head-Ornament is a good example of the tales told of the old time
-    medicine men. Snake Head-Ornament’s friendship for the bull snake would
-    seem uncanny even to a white man.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 73, l. 1</i>: “In old times we Indian people had no horses.”</p>
-
-  <p>At the time of America’s discovery the Indians had domesticated the
-    llama in the Peruvian highlands; the guinea pig, raised for food by
-    many South American tribes; turkeys, and even bees, in Mexico; dogs,
-    developed from wolves or coyotes, were universally domesticated among
-    the North American tribes.</p>
-
-  <p>Indian dogs were used as watch dogs and as beasts of burden. Dog flesh
-    was eaten by many tribes. An edible, hairless variety of dog, bred by
-    the Mexican Indians has become extinct.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 77, l. 23</i>: “My grandmother brought in some fresh sage.” The
-    sage was a sacred plant.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 81, l. 10</i>: “Our dogs dragged well-laden travois.” Older
-    Indians say that a well-trained dog could drag a load of eighty pounds
-    on a travois.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 85, l. 6</i>: “The big tendon ... we Indians call the
-    <i>eetsuta</i>.”<a id="FNanchor_34" href="#Footnote_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a> When dried this tendon becomes hard, like horn;
-    and arrow points and even arrow shafts were carved from it.</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_34" href="#FNanchor_34">[34]</a> ēēt sṳ´ tä
-  </div>
-
-  <p><i>Page 87, l. 32</i>: “Coyote Eyes, a Ree Indian.” The Rees, or
-    Arikaras, are an offshoot of the Pawnee tribe, whose language they
-    speak. They removed to Fort Berthold reservation and settled there with
-    the Hidatsas and Mandans in 1862.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 92, l. 7</i>: “To embroider with quills of gull.” The tribe
-    used to make annual journeys to the lakes near Minot, North Dakota,
-    where, older Indians say, the gulls nested. The feathers were gathered
-    along the beach. The quill was split, the flat nether half being the
-    part used. Quills were dyed with native vegetable colors.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 99, l. 10</i>: “Bear Man was an eagle hunter.” The tail
-    feathers of the golden eagle were much worn by all the plains tribes.
-    These feathers, in eagles under two years of age, are of a pure white,
-    with dark brown or black tips, and were much prized. Eagle hunting was
-    a highly honored occupation.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 112, l. 17</i>: “The huskers came into the field yelling and
-    singing.” Buffalo-Bird Woman laughingly adds, that the yelling was by
-    young men who wanted their sweethearts to hear their voices.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">182</span></p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 114, l. 2</i>: “The hollow buffalo hoofs rattled.” The earth
-    lodge door was a heavy buffalo skin, stretched when green on a frame
-    of light poles. It was swung from the beam above by heavy thongs. The
-    puncheon fire screen stood between it and the fireplace, about which
-    the family sat or worked. As the moccasined tread of a visitor made
-    little noise, a bunch or two of buffalo hoofs was hung to a bar running
-    across the middle of the door.</p>
-
-  <p>The hoof was prepared by boiling and removing the pith. Its edges were
-    then trimmed and a hole was cut in the toe. Through this hole a thong
-    was run with a knotted end, to keep the hoof from slipping off. As the
-    door dropped after an entering visitor, the hollow hoofs fell together
-    with a clittering noise, warning the family.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 118, l. 28</i>: “Hanging Stone.” A literal translation of the
-    Hidatsa word. It refers to a form of war club, a short stick, from an
-    end of which swung a stone sewed in a piece of skin.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 125, l. 3</i>: “With ankles to the right, as Indian women sit.”
-    A warrior sat Turkish fashion, or, often, squat-on-heels. An Indian
-    woman sat with feet to the right unless she was left-handed, when feet
-    were to the left.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 125, l. 6</i>: “Mixed with marrow fat.” Marrow fat was obtained
-    by boiling the crushed bones of a buffalo in a little water. The yellow
-    marrow as it rose was skimmed off and stored in bladders or short
-    casings made of entrails, like sausage casings.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 126, l. 10</i>: “I have come to call you.” Buffalo-Bird Woman
-    means that her father invited his son-in-law to come and live in his
-    earth lodge. If he had not sent this invitation, the young couple would
-    have set up housekeeping elsewhere.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 128, l. 37</i>: “Only a strong, well-fed pony could go all
-    day on wet ground.” Nature designed the solid hoof of the horse for
-    a prairie or semidesert country. A pony finds it hard to withdraw
-    his hoof in wet spongy soil, and soon tires. A deer or buffalo, with
-    divided hoof, runs upon wet ground with comparative ease. Every
-    farmer’s boy knows that an ox will walk through a swamp in which a
-    horse will mire.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 142, l. 26</i>: “With two fingers crooked like horns, the sign
-    for buffaloes.” So many languages were spoken by our Indian tribes,
-    that they found it necessary to invent a sign language so that Indians,
-    ignorant of each other’s speech, could converse. A well-trained deaf
-    mute and an old plains Indian can readily talk together by signs.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 143, l. 4</i>: “Creeping up the coulees.” A coulee in the
-    Dakotas is a grassy ravine, usually dry except in spring and autumn,
-    and after a heavy rain.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 157, l. 19</i>: “They starved, because they are hunters and
-    raise no corn.” The Hidatsas and Mandans as agriculturists felt
-    themselves superior to the hunting tribes. Small-Ankle refers here to
-    the western, or Teton, Sioux. The eastern Sioux were corn raisers.</p>
-
-  <p><i>Page 158, l. 10</i>: “My mothers and I were more than a week
-    threshing.” In the summer of 1912, the author had Buffalo-Bird Woman
-    pace off on the prairie the size of her mothers’ field, as she
-    recollected it. It measured one hundred and ninety yards in length by
-    ninety yards in width. Such were some of the fields which in olden days
-    were cultivated with wooden sticks and bone hoes.</p>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter" id="HOW_TO_MAKE_AN_INDIAN_CAMP">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">183</span>
-    <div class="xlarge bold">SUPPLEMENT</div>
-    <h2 class="nobreak">HOW TO MAKE AN INDIAN CAMP</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Young Americans who wish to grow up strong and healthy should live much
-    out of doors; and there is no pleasanter way to do this than in an
-    Indian camp. Such a camp you can make yourself, in your back yard or an
-    empty lot or in a neighboring wood.</p>
-
-  <h3>The Lodge</h3>
-
-  <p>Buffalo-Bird Woman has told us of the earth lodges of her people. They
-    were for permanent abode. Hunters, however, camping but a day or two in
-    a place, usually put up a pole hunting lodge.</p>
-
-  <p>Four forked poles were stacked, as in Figure 1.</p>
-
-  <div class="center">
-    <div class="col50 illowp40">
-      <div class="figcenter">
-        <img class="w100" src="images/i_183a.jpg" alt="" />
-        <div class="caption">Figure 1</div>
-      </div>
-    </div>
-
-    <div class="col50 illowp47 ml5">
-      <div class="figcenter">
-        <img class="w100" src="images/i_183b.jpg" alt="" />
-        <div class="caption">Figure 2</div>
-      </div>
-    </div>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Around these in a circle, other poles were laid, as in Figure 2, for a
-    frame.</p>
-
-  <p>For cover buffalo skins, bound together at the edges, were drawn around
-    the frame in two series, the lower series being laid first. The peak of
-    the pole frame was left uncovered, to let out the smoke.</p>
-
-  <p>Instead of buffalo skins, gunny sacks may be used, fastened at the
-    edges with safety pins or with wooden skewers; or strips of canvas or
-    carpet may be used. Three or four heavier poles may be laid against the
-    gunny-sack cover to stay it in place.</p>
-
-  <p>The door may be made of a gunny sack, hung on a short pole.</p>
-
-  <p>Indians often raised a piece of skin on a forked pole for a shield, to
-    keep the wind from driving the smoke down the smoke hole.</p>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">184</span></p>
-
-  <p>Figure 3 shows the finished lodge with gunny-sack cover, door, and wind
-    shield. The last is made of a piece of oil cloth.</p>
-
-  <div class="center">
-    <div class="col50 illowp54">
-      <div class="figcenter">
-        <img class="w100" src="images/i_184a.jpg" alt="" />
-        <div class="caption">Figure 3</div>
-      </div>
-    </div>
-
-    <div class="col50 illowp29 ml5">
-      <div class="figcenter">
-        <img class="w100" src="images/i_184b.jpg" alt="" />
-        <div class="caption">Figure 4</div>
-      </div>
-    </div>
-  </div>
-
-  <h3>Booth</h3>
-
-  <p>Buffalo-Bird Woman tells of the booth which Turtle made in her
-    cornfield. A booth is easily made of willows or long branches.</p>
-
-  <p>A short digging stick will be needed. This was of ash, a foot or two
-    in length, sharpened at one end by burning in a fire. The point was
-    often rubbed with fat and charred over the coals to harden it. (Such a
-    digging stick was not the kind used for cultivating corn.)</p>
-
-  <div class="center">
-    <div class="col50 illowp50">
-      <div class="figcenter">
-        <img class="w100" src="images/i_184c.jpg" alt="" />
-        <div class="caption">Figure 5</div>
-      </div>
-    </div>
-
-    <div class="col50 illowp40 ml5">
-      <div class="figcenter">
-        <img class="w100" src="images/i_184d.jpg" alt="" />
-        <div class="caption">Figure 6</div>
-      </div>
-    </div>
-  </div>
-
-  <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">185</span></p>
-
-  <p>If you have no ash stick, a section of a broom handle will do.</p>
-
-  <p>With a stone, drive the digging stick four inches in the ground, as in
-    Figure 4. Withdraw digging stick and repeat until you have six holes
-    set in a circle. The diameter of the circle should be about five feet.</p>
-
-  <p>Into the six holes set willows, or branches, five or six feet high, as
-    in Figure 5.</p>
-
-  <p>Weave or bind tops together so as to make a leafy roof, or shade, as
-    in Figure 6. For binding, use strips of elm bark; or slender willows,
-    twisted, so as to break the fibers.</p>
-
-  <h3>Fireplace</h3>
-
-  <p>Indians, when journeying, made the campfire outside the lodge in
-    summer; inside the lodge, in winter. Usually a slight pit was dug for
-    the fireplace, thus lessening danger of sparks, setting fire to prairie
-    or forest. The fire was smothered with earth when camp was forsaken.</p>
-
-  <div class="center">
-    <div class="col50 illowp41">
-      <div class="figcenter">
-        <img class="w100" src="images/i_185a.jpg" alt="" />
-        <div class="caption">Figure 7</div>
-      </div>
-    </div>
-
-    <div class="col50 illowp54">
-      <div class="figcenter">
-        <img class="w100" src="images/i_185b.jpg" alt="" />
-        <div class="caption">Figure 8</div>
-      </div>
-    </div>
-  </div>
-
-  <h3>Broiling Meat</h3>
-
-  <p>Indians broiled fresh meat on a stick thrust in the ground and leaning
-    over the coals. Often a forked stick was cut, the meat was laid on the
-    prongs, and it was held over the coals until broiled. In Figures 7 and
-    8 both methods are shown.</p>
-
-  <div class="figright illowp53">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_185c.jpg" alt="" />
-    <div class="caption">Figure 9</div>
-  </div>
-
-  <h3 class="noclear">Drying Meat</h3>
-
-  <p>Buffalo-Bird Woman often speaks of dried buffalo meat. If you want to
-    know what it was like, cut a steak into thin pieces, and dry on a stage
-    of green sticks, three feet high. This may be done in the sun; or, a
-    small fire may be made beneath, to smoke as well as dry the meat. In
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">186</span>
-    Figures 9 and 10 two forms of drying stage are shown.</p>
-
-  <div class="figleft illowp56">
-    <img class="w100" src="images/i_186a.jpg" alt="" />
-    <div class="caption">Figure 10</div>
-  </div>
-
-  <h3 class="noclear">Cooking Dried Meat</h3>
-
-  <p>A pail or small bucket will do for kettle. It should be swung from a
-    tripod by stick-and-thong, as in Figure 11. Put in dried meat with
-    enough water to cover, and bring to a boil. The broth may be used as
-    the Indians used it, for a drink.</p>
-
-  <h3>Parching Corn</h3>
-
-  <p>Ripe sweet corn, thoroughly dried, is best for parching; but field corn
-    will do nearly as well. Drop a handful of the shelled corn in a skillet
-    with a little butter. Cover skillet and set on the fire. Shake skillet
-    from side to side to keep corn from scorching.</p>
-
-  <p>In the earth lodge, Hidatsa women parched the grain in an earthen pot,
-    stirring it with a stick. Indian boys, when out herding horses, often
-    carried two or three ears of corn for lunch. An ear was parched by
-    thrusting a stick into the cob, and holding it over the coals, as in
-    Figure 12.</p>
-
-  <div class="center">
-    <div class="col50 illowp36">
-      <div class="figcenter">
-        <img class="w100" src="images/i_186b.jpg" alt="" />
-        <div class="caption">Figure 11</div>
-      </div>
-    </div>
-
-    <div class="col50 illowp52 ml5">
-      <div class="figcenter">
-        <img class="w100" src="images/i_186c.jpg" alt="" />
-        <div class="caption">Figure 12</div>
-      </div>
-    </div>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>A steak broiled Indian fashion over the coals, or a kettle of boiled
-    dried meat, with a cupful of parched corn, will make just such a meal
-    as Indians often ate.</p>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter" id="HINTS_TO_YOUNG_CAMPERS">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">187</span>
-    <h2 class="nobreak">HINTS TO YOUNG CAMPERS</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Do not throw away bits of unused food, but burn or bury them. Unless
-    thus destroyed, the decaying food will attract insects, which often
-    bring disease. Bury all tin cans.</p>
-
-  <p>Potatoes may be kept fresh as in your cellar by burying them in loose
-    earth or sand.</p>
-
-  <p>Hang out your blankets and bed clothing to be aired an hour or two each
-    day, preferably in the morning.</p>
-
-  <p>Indians had no soap. Indian women scoured out their earthen cooking
-    pots with rushes. You may clean your camp kettle and pans in the same
-    way; or, if no rushes can be found, scour with coarse grass dipped in
-    wet sand or sandy mud, and drench with clean water.</p>
-
-  <p>Axes, clothing, shoes, and the like may be stored out of the way by
-    making them into a long bundle, with a cloth or thick paper, and
-    lashing them to one of the upright tent poles within the tent.</p>
-
-  <p>Indian children were fond of chewing green cornstalks, for the sweet
-    juice they contained. If your camp is near a cornfield about the time
-    the corn is in milk, you will find the chewed stalks almost as sweet as
-    some varieties of sugar cane.</p>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter" id="INDIAN_COOKING">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">188</span>
-    <h2 class="nobreak">INDIAN COOKING</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Young people often wonder what Indian cooking is like, and groups of
-    them—as a class in Sunday school or day school—may like to eat a meal
-    of Indian foods. Following are a few common Hidatsa dishes. Usually,
-    but one kind of food was eaten at a single meal.</p>
-
-  <div><b>Madapozhee Eekteea<a id="FNanchor_35" href="#Footnote_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a></b>, <i>or Boiled Whole Corn</i></div>
-
-  <p>Pour three pints of water into a kettle and set on the fire. Drop in
-    a pint of shelled field corn, a handful of kidney beans and a lump of
-    suet the size of an egg. Boil until the corn kernels burst open.</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_35" href="#FNanchor_35">[35]</a> Mä dä pō´ zhēē Ēēk tēē´ ä
-  </div>
-
-  <div><b>Manakapa</b><a id="FNanchor_36" href="#Footnote_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a>, <i>or Mush</i></div>
-
-  <p>Put a pint of shelled field corn into a canvas cloth, and with ax or
-    stone pound to a coarse meal; or the corn may be ground in a coffee
-    mill. To this meal add a handful of kidney beans, and boil in two pints
-    of water. The Hidatsa mortar for pounding corn into meal is shown in
-    cut on page 156.</p>
-
-  <div class="footnote">
-    <a id="Footnote_36" href="#FNanchor_36">[36]</a> Mä´ nä kä pä
-  </div>
-
-  <div><b>Dried, or Jerked, Meat</b></div>
-
-  <p>Cut some beefsteak, round or sirloin, into thin strips. Dry the strips
-    on a stage of small poles (see cut on page 141) in the open air or over
-    a slow fire, or in the kitchen oven, until brittle and hard. Meat thus
-    dried could be kept for months. Warriors and hunters often ate jerked
-    meat raw or toasted over a fire. In the lodge, it was more often boiled
-    a few minutes to soften it; and the broth was drunk as we drink coffee.
-    (See also “Drying Meat”, page 185.)</p>
-
-  <div><b>Pemmican</b></div>
-
-  <p>Take strips of beef, dried as described above, and pound them to shreds
-    between two hard stones. Put the shredded mass in a bowl, and pour over
-    it a little marrow fat from a boiled soup bone, or some melted butter.</p>
-
-  <div><b>Corn Balls</b></div>
-
-  <p>The Hidatsas raised sweet corn for parching. Hunters often carried a
-    pouch of the parched grain for a lunch. Parched ripe sweet corn was
-    often pounded to a fine meal, kneaded with lumps of hot roasted suet,
-    and rolled between the palms into little lumps, or balls, the size of
-    one’s thumb.</p>
-
-  <p>Hidatsa custom did not permit a woman to speak to her son-in-law; but
-    she often showed her love for him by making him a bowl of corn balls.</p>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="chapter" id="EDITORS_NOTE">
-    <span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">189</span>
-    <h2 class="nobreak">EDITOR’S NOTE</h2>
-  </div>
-
-  <p>Surrounded by the powerful and hostile Sioux, the two little Hidatsa
-    tribes were compelled to keep relatively close to their stockaded
-    villages and cornfields, which, however, they most sturdily defended.
-    Their weakness proved a blessing. The yearly crops of their cornfields
-    were a sure protection against famine, and in their crowded little
-    villages was developed a culture that was remarkable. The circular
-    earth lodges of the Mandans and Hidatsas represent the highest
-    expression of the house-building art east of the Rocky Mountains.</p>
-
-  <p>Three members of Small Ankle’s family are now living: Small Ankle’s
-    son, Wolf Chief, his daughter, Waheenee, or Buffalo-Bird Woman, and
-    her son, Good Bird, or Goodbird. Goodbird was the first Indian of his
-    tribe to receive a common school education. Like many Indians he has a
-    natural taste for drawing. Several hundred sketches by him, crude but
-    spirited and in true perspective, await publication by the Museum.</p>
-
-  <p>Goodbird’s mother, Waheenee, is a marvelous source of information of
-    old-time life and belief. Conservative, and sighing for the good old
-    times, she is aware that the younger generation of Indians must adopt
-    civilized ways. Ignorant of English, she has a quick intelligence and
-    a memory that is marvelous. The stories in this book, out of her own
-    life, were told by her with other accounts of scientific interest for
-    the Museum. In the sweltering heat of an August day she has continued
-    dictation for nine hours, lying down but never flagging, when too weary
-    to sit longer in a chair. She is approximately 83 years old.</p>
-
-  <p>The stories in this book are true stories, typical of Indian life.
-    Many of them are exactly as they fell from Waheenee’s lips. Others
-    have been completed from information given by Goodbird and Wolf Chief,
-    and in a few instances by other Indians. The aim has been not to give
-    a biography of Waheenee, but a series of stories illustrating the
-    philosophy, the Indian-thinking of her life.</p>
-
-  <p>In story and picture, therefore, this book is true to fact and becomes
-    not only a reader of unusual interest but a contribution to the
-    literature of history and of anthropology. The author and the artist
-    have expressed and portrayed customs, places, and things that are
-    purely Indian and perfect in every detail.</p>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="bbox break">
-    <div class="center bold xxlarge mt10">NED DAWSON<br />
-      <span class="xlarge">IN WILFUL LAND</span></div>
-
-    <div class="center mt5">BY<br />JAMES LEE ORR</div>
-
-    <div class="center mt5">
-      <p class="drop-cap w60 inline">A very fascinating realistic story characteristic of boys, written in
-        allegorical style and impressing a splendid moral lesson. For libraries
-        and supplementary reading.</p>
-    </div>
-
-    <div class="center mt5"><i>Cloth, illustrated, 80 cents.</i></div>
-
-    <div class="center mt5 mb10">
-      <span class="smcap large">Webb Publishing Company<br />
-        Saint Paul, Minn.</span>
-    </div>
-  </div>
-
-  <hr class="chap" />
-  <div class="bbox mt5 break">
-    <div class="center large200 smcap mt10">Rules of Order</div>
-
-    <div class="center large">FOR EVERY-DAY USE</div>
-
-    <div class="center mt2"><i>and</i></div>
-
-    <div class="center xxlarge smcap mt2">Civil Government</div>
-
-    <div class="center">MADE PLAIN</div>
-
-    <div class="center mt5"><i>HENRY SLADE GOFF</i></div>
-
-    <div class="center mt5">Parliamentary Procedure Simplified<br />
-      With a Graphic Explanation and Tabular<br />
-      Illustration of Local, State and<br />
-      National Institutions</div>
-
-    <div class="center mt5"><i>Cloth, 116 pages, 75 cents.</i></div>
-
-    <div class="center mt5 mb10"><span class="large">WEBB PUBLISHING COMPANY</span><br />
-      SAINT PAUL, MINN.</div>
-  </div>
-
-  <div class="transnote mt5">
-    <div class="large center"><b>Transcriber’s Notes:</b></div>
-    <ul class="spaced">
-      <li>Blank pages have been removed.</li>
-      <li>Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected.</li>
-    </ul>
-  </div>
-
-<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WAHEENEE--AN INDIAN GIRL'S STORY ***</div>
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