it all meant.

As we approached the edge of the marsh, the squaws walked more slowly,
with their eyes fixed upon the ground. Every other moment some of them
would be down, digging in the earth with forefinger or a little stick,
and I soon learned they were gathering bulbs about a quarter of an inch
in thickness and as large around as the smaller end of a woman's
thimble. I had seen the plants growing near the pond at the fort, but
now the bulbs were ripe, and were being gathered for winter use. In
accordance with the tribal custom, not a bulb was eaten during harvest
time. They grew so far apart and were so small that it took a long
while to make a fair showing in the baskets.

When no more bulbs could be found, the baskets were put on the ground
in groups, and the mothers carefully leaned their bickooses against
them in such positions that the wide awake papooses could look out from
under their shades and smile and sputter at each other in quaint Indian
baby-talk; and the sleeping could sleep on undisturbed.

That done, the squaws built a roaring fire, and one of them untied a
bundle of hardwood sticks which she had brought for the purpose, and
stuck them around under the fuel in touch with the hottest parts of the
burning mass. When the ends glowed like long-lasting coals, the waiting
crowd snatched them from their bed and rushed into the low thicket
which grew in the marsh. I followed with my fire-brand, but, not
knowing what to do with it, simply watched the Indians stick theirs
into the bushes, sometimes high up, sometimes low down. I saw them
dodge about, and heard their shouts of warning and their peals of
laughter. Then myriads of hornets came buzzing and swarming about. This
frightened me so that I ran back to where the brown babies were cooing
in safety.

Empty-handed, but happy, they at length returned, and though I could
not understand anything they were saying, their looks and actions
betokened what a good time they had had.

Years later, I described the scene to Elitha, who assured me that I had
been highly favored by those Indians for they had permitted me to
witness their annual "Grub Feast." The Piutes always use burning fagots
to drive hornets and other stinging insects from their nests, and they
also use heat in opening the comb cells so that they can easily remove
the larvae, which they eat without further preparation.

With the first cold snaps of winter, my feet felt the effect of former
fr