The coverings were then thrown off and the poor half-stewed
worshippers exposed freely to the air; but they kept their squatting
postures until a fourth speech was made in which the deity was strongly
reminded of the value of the gifts and exhorted to take an early
opportunity of showing his gratitude. The ceremony concluded by the
sweaters scampering down to the river and plunging into the stream. It
may be remarked that the door of the temple and of course the face of the
god was turned to the rising sun; and the spectators were desired not to
block up entirely the front of the building but to leave a lane for the
entrance or exit of some influence of which they could not give me a
correct description. Several Indians, who lay on the outside of the
sweating-house as spectators, seemed to regard the proceedings with very
little awe and were extremely free in the remarks and jokes they passed
upon the condition of the sweaters and even of Kepoochikawn himself. One
of them made a remark that the shawl would have been much better bestowed
upon himself than upon Kepoochikawn, but the same fellow afterwards
stripped and joined in the ceremony.
I did not learn that the Indians worship any other god by a specific
name. They often refer however to the Keetchee-Maneeto, or Great Master
of Life, and to an evil spirit, or Maatche-Maneeto. They also speak of
Weettako, a kind of vampire or devil into which those who have fed on
human flesh are transformed.
Whilst at Carlton I took an opportunity of asking a communicative old
Indian of the Blackfoot nation his opinion of a future state; he replied
that they had heard from their fathers that the souls of the departed
have to scramble with great labour up the sides of a steep mountain, upon
attaining the summit of which they are rewarded with the prospect of an
extensive plain, abounding in all sorts of game and interspersed here and
there with new tents pitched in agreeable situations. Whilst they are
absorbed in the contemplation of this delightful scene they are descried
by the inhabitants of the happy land who, clothed in new skin-dresses,
approach and welcome with every demonstration of kindness those Indians
who have led good lives, but the bad Indians, who have imbrued their
hands in the blood of their countrymen, are told to return from whence
they came and, without more ceremony, precipitated down the steep sides
of the mountain.
Women who have been guilty of infanticide never reach the mountain at all
but are compelled to hover round the seats of their crimes with branches
of trees tied to their legs.
