Farther Out On The
Prairie, A Host Of Little Naked Boys Were Roaming About, Engaged In
Various Rough Games, Or Pursuing Birds And Ground-Squirrels With
Their Bows And Arrows; And Woe To The Unhappy Little Animals That
Fell Into Their Merciless, Torture-Loving Hands!
A squaw from the
next lodge, a notable active housewife named Weah Washtay, or the
Good Woman, brought us
A large bowl of wasna, and went into an
ecstasy of delight when I presented her with a green glass ring, such
as I usually wore with a view to similar occasions.
The sun went down and half the sky was growing fiery red, reflected
on the little stream as it wound away among the sagebushes. Some
young men left the village, and soon returned, driving in before them
all the horses, hundreds in number, and of every size, age, and
color. The hunters came out, and each securing those that belonged
to him, examined their condition, and tied them fast by long cords to
stakes driven in front of his lodge. It was half an hour before the
bustle subsided and tranquillity was restored again. By this time it
was nearly dark. Kettles were hung over the blazing fires, around
which the squaws were gathered with their children, laughing and
talking merrily. A circle of a different kind was formed in the
center of the village. This was composed of the old men and warriors
of repute, who with their white buffalo robes drawn close around
their shoulders, sat together, and as the pipe passed from hand to
hand, their conversation had not a particle of the gravity and
reserve usually ascribed to Indians.
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