The old women seemed the brightest of all and were
apparently important people in the camp. Even the little
children's faces were sad and old in expression as if they too
realised something of the cares of wilderness life.
At first they stood about rather shyly watching me, with evident
interest, but making no move to greet or welcome me. I did not
know how best to approach them. Then seeing a young mother with
her babe in her arms standing among the group, near one of the
wigwams, I stepped towards her, and touching the little bundle I
spoke to her of her child and she held it so that I might see its
face. It was a very young baby, born only the day before, I
learned later, and the mother herself looked little more than a
child. Her face was pale, and she looked weak and sick. Though
she held her child towards me there was no lighting up of the face,
no sign of responsive interest. Almost immediately, however, I was
surrounded by nearly the whole community of women who talked
rapidly about the babe and its mother.
The little creature had no made garments on, but was simply wrapped
about with old cloths leaving only its face and neck bare. The
outermost covering was a piece of plaid shawl, and all were held
tightly in place by a stout cord passing round the bundle a number
of times.
