There was no doubt now as to whose the
rescued child might be, and it was touching to see how one and
another of the Indian mothers came forward and offered to adopt it as
her own. Yet it is no light charge for an Indian to undertake to rear
a child not her own, at so tender an age; and it is especially hard
in a country where milk is not to be procured, and where fish or
rabbit soup is the only substitute for an infant's natural food.
Minneha tried it, however, for a few weeks. She was cousin to poor
Accomba, and spent whole nights in wailing and lamenting, saying, "My
sister! my sister! why might I not die instead of you? Oh, my sister,
who shall mother your little ones? Who shall work for them? Who shall
hunt for them, and bring them the young sayoni skin (sheep skin) from
the mountains? Who shall bring them meat when they are hungry--the
fine fat ribs, the moose nose, or beaver tail, and the fine bladders
of grease, which we cook with the flour from the white man's country?
You were proud of your 'tezone' my sister. She had your eyes, dark as
the berries of the sassiketoum, and they flashed fire like the aurora
of winter nights. Your laugh was pleasant. Oh, my sister! like the
waters dancing over the stones, it fell: it was good to listen to
your words when we were partners in the days of our childhood. Our
mothers dwelt together; they loved each other with sisters' love;
they dwelt together among their own people.
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