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max-width: 51.75em; } - .illowp72 { width: 72%; max-width: 54em; } - .illowp100 { width: 100%; max-width: 75em; } - .w100 { width: 100%; } - .w60 { width: 60%; } - - /* === Text drop caps === */ - p.drop-cap { text-indent: -1em; } - p.drop-cap:first-letter { - float: left; - font-size: 265%; - padding-right: 0.4em; - padding-left: 0.38em; - text-indent: 0; - line-height: 0.9em; - margin-top: -0.05em; - } - .x-ebookmaker p.drop-cap { text-indent: inherit; } - .x-ebookmaker p.drop-cap:first-letter { - float: none; - font-size: inherit; - padding-right: inherit; - padding-left: inherit; - margin-top: inherit; - line-height: inherit; - } - - abbr { - border: none; - text-decoration: none; - } - - /* === Transcriber's notes === */ - ul.spaced li { padding-top: 1%; } - - .transnote { - background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size: smaller; - padding: 0.5em; - margin-bottom: 5em; - font-family: sans-serif, serif; - } - - </style> -</head> - -<body> -<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> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. 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. -</div> - -<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> </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> </td> - <td><a href="#GLOSSARY_OF_INDIAN_WORDS">Glossary of Indian Words</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><div>177</div></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> </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> </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> </td> - <td><a href="#HINTS_TO_YOUNG_CAMPERS">Hints to Young Campers</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><div>187</div></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> </td> - <td><a href="#INDIAN_COOKING">Indian Cooking</a></td> - <td class="tdr"><div>188</div></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td> </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´ </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> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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