h rests on the ground, slender in shape,
tapering symmetrically, and eighteen feet or more in length. They are
tied together at the small ends with buffalo-hide, then raised until
the frame resembles a cone, over which buffalo-skins are placed, very
skilfully fitted and made soft by having been dubbed by the women--that
is, scraped to the requisite thinness, and made supple by rubbing with
the brains of the animal that wore it. They are sewed together with
sinews of the buffalo, generally of the long and powerful muscle that
holds up the ponderous head of the shaggy beast, a narrow strip running
towards the bump. In summer the lower edges of the skin are rolled up,
and the wind blowing through, it is a cool, shady retreat. In winter
everything is closed, and I know of no more comfortable place than a
well-made Indian lodge. The army tent known as the Sibley is modelled
after it, and is the best winter shelter for troops in the field that
can be made. Many times while the military post where I had been ordered
was in process of building, I have chosen the Sibley tent in preference
to any other domicile.
When a village is to be moved, it is an interesting sight. The young and
unfledged boys drive up the herd of ponies, and then the squaws catch
them. The women, too, take down the lodges, and, tying the poles in two
bundles, fasten them on each side of an animal, the long ends dragging
on the ground. Just behind the pony or mule, as the case may be, a
basket is placed and held there by buffalo-hide thongs, and into these
novel carriages the little children are put, besides such traps as are
not easily packed on the animal's back.
The women do all the work both in camp and when moving. They are doomed
to a hopeless bondage of slavery, the fate of their sex in every savage
race; but they accept their condition stoically, and there is as much
affection among them for their husbands and children as I have ever
witnessed among the white race. Here are two instances of their
devotion, both of which came under my personal observation, and I could
give hundreds of others.
Late in the fall of 1858, I was one of a party on the trail of a band of
Indians who had been committing some horrible murders in a mining-camp
in the northern portion of Washington Territory. On the fourth day out,
just about dusk, we struck their moccasin tracks, which we followed all
night, and surprised their camp in the gray light of the early morning.
|