One afternoon I was out shopping and on my way home I saw some little
Indian children coasting down hill on an earthen plate, but before
getting to the end of the hill, to their evident surprise the plate
broke and they commenced crying because it was broken and went back
and got another one, and so on until they thought they would try tin
plates, and the little friend that was with me, Effie Laurie, took the
tin plate from them and sat down on it herself and went down the hill,
and they looked so astonished to think that a white woman would do
such a thing.
Another time on going out while two men were crossing the bridge over
Battle river; a horse broke through and was killed and the squaws
gathered around it taking the skin off, while others carried some of
the carcass away, and I asked what they were going to do with it, and
my husband said "they will take it home and have a big feast and if
the meat has been poisoned they will boil it for a long time, changing
the water, and in this way anything that was poisonous would not
affect them."
The way the Indians get their wood, they send their squaws to the bush
to cut the wood and they take a rope and tie around as much as they
can carry, and hang it on their backs. Those who have dogs to carry
the wood for them tie two long sticks together, fastening them on the
dog's back, then tying a large bundle of wood on the back part of the
cross sticks by that means the squaw is relieved from the task.
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