Just then Big Bear's braves came into the tent; there were nearly
thirty of them, covered with war paint, some having on my husband's
clothes, and all giving vent to those terrible yells, and holding most
murderous looking instruments. They were long wooden clubs. At one end
were set three sharp shining knife blades. They all looked at me as I
eyed those weapons (and they well matched the expression of their
cruel mouths and develish eyes) thinking my troubles would soon be
over I calmly awaited the result. But they sat down around me with a
bottle full of something that looked like water, passing it from one
Indian to the other, so I put on a brave look as if I was not afraid
of them. After this they all went out and the most bloodcurdling yells
that ever pierced my ears was their war-whoop, mingled with dancing
and yelling and cutting most foolish antics.
I saw a little baby that I thought must be dead, lying in one part of
the tent, they had it done up in a moss bag. I will try and give an
idea of what it was like: they take a piece of cloth having it large
at the top, and cut it around where the feet should be, and on both
sides, of this little bag they have loops of very fine leather, then
they have a small thin cushion laid on this, the length of the child,
and three or four pieces of different colored flannels, then they
dress the baby in a thin print gown and put it in this bag, and its
little legs are put down just as straight as a needle, covered over
with moss, which they first heat very hot; then the arms are put down
in the same way and the flannels are wrapped around very tight and
then they lace the bag up, and all that can be seen is the little
brown face peeping out.
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