e depended more on a heavy hickory club which he
had on hand than on the guns--it could be fired faster.

An ugly squaw whose nose had been bitten off years before in a fight,
stabbed her brother that night, because he refused her more whisky. He
had, according to custom, been left on guard, and was entirely sober.
The next day the Indians horrified my mother by declaring that they
should cut the squaw into inch pieces if her brother died. They went
down to Lake Koshkonong two days later, but he died the first day out.
The squaw escaped and lived a lonely life for years after, being known
up and down the river as "Old Mag."

At any time of the year we were liable to receive visits from Indians
passing to and fro between Lakes Horicon and Koshkonong. They would come
into the house without ceremony further than staring into the windows
before entering. Being used only to town life in the East, my mother was
afraid of them, but she always carried a bold face and would never give
them bread, which they always demanded, unless she could readily spare
it.

One summer afternoon, when she had finished her housework and had sat
down to sew, half a dozen Indians, male and female, suddenly bolted in
and clamored for bread. She shook her head and told them she had none
for them. When she came West she had brought yeast cakes which, by
careful renewal, she kept in succession until the family home was broken
up in 1880. Upon the afternoon referred to, she had a large pan of yeast
cakes drying before the fireplace. Seeing them, the Indians scowled at
her, called her a lying woman, and made a rush for the cakes, each one
taking a huge bite. Those familiar with the article know how bitter is
the mixture of raw meal, hops, and yeast, and so will not wonder that
presently a look of horror came over the Indians' faces and that then
they sputtered the unsavory stuff out all over the newly scrubbed floor.
My mother used to say that if they had killed her she could not have
kept from laughing. They looked very angry at first, but finally
concluded that they had not been poisoned and had only "sold"
themselves, they huddled together and went out chattering and laughing,
leaving my mother a good share of her day's work to do over again.

[Illustration: HALF A DOZEN INDIANS BOLTED IN]

One day I saw a big Indian shake her by the shoulder because she
wouldn't give him bread. She was ironing at the time, and threatened him
with a hot flat iro