All die but him." (She held up five of her
fingers.) "Brought him all the way from Mutta Lake[1] upon my back,
for white squaw to cure."
[1] Mud Lake, or Lake Shemong, in Indian.
"I cannot cure him, my poor friend. He is in God's care; in a few
hours he will be with Him."
The child was seized with a dreadful fit of coughing, which I
expected every moment would terminate his frail existence. I gave
him a teaspoonful of currant jelly, which he took with avidity, but
could not retain a moment on his stomach.
"Papouse die," murmured the poor woman; "alone - alone! No papouse;
the mother all alone." She began re-adjusting the poor sufferer in
her blanket. I got her some food, and begged her to stay and rest
herself; but she was too much distressed to eat, and too restless to
remain. She said little, but her face expressed the keenest anguish;
she took up her mournful load, pressed for a moment his wasted,
burning hand in hers, and left the room.
My heart followed her a long way on her melancholy journey. Think
what this woman's love must have been for that dying son, when she
had carried a lad of his age six miles, through the deep snow, upon
her back, on such a day, in the hope of my being able to do him some
good. Poor heart-broken mother! I learned from Joe Muskrat's squaw
some days after that the boy died a few minutes after Elizabeth
Iron, his mother, got home.
They never forget any little act of kindness. One cold night, late
in the fall, my hospitality was demanded by six squaws, and puzzled
I was how to accommodate them all. I at last determined to give them
the use of the parlour floor during the night. Among these women
there was one very old, whose hair was as white as snow. She was the
only gray-haired Indian I ever saw, and on that account I regarded
her with peculiar interest. I knew that she was the wife of a chief,
by the scarlet embroidered leggings, which only the wives and
daughters of chiefs are allowed to wear. The old squaw had a very
pleasing countenance, but I tried in vain to draw her into
conversation. She evidently did not understand me; and the Muskrat
squaw, and Betty Cow, were laughing at my attempts to draw her out.
I administered supper to them with my own hands, and after I had
satisfied their wants (which is no very easy task, for they have
great appetites), I told our servant to bring in several spare
mattresses and blankets for their use. "Now mind, Jenny, and give
the old squaw the best bed," I said; "the others are young, and can
put up with a little inconvenience."
The old Indian glanced at me with her keen, bright eye; but I had no
idea that she comprehended what I said.
