" In the last part of my captivity, I suffered from
exposure to the sun. The squaws took all my hats, and I could not get
anything to cover my head, except a blanket, and I would not dare to
put one on, as I knew not the moment we might fall in with the scouts;
and they might take me for a squaw. My shawl had become ribbons from
tearing through the bush, and towards the end I was not able to get
two rags of it to remain together. There is no possibility of giving
an idea of our sufferings. The physical pains, exposures, dangers,
colds, heats, sleepless nights, long marches, scant food, poor
raiment, &c., would be bad enough,--but we must not loose sight of the
mental anguish, that memory, only two faithful, would inflict upon us,
and the terror that alternate hope and despair would compel us to
undergo. I cannot say which was the worst. But when united, our sad
lives seemed to have passed beneath the darkest cloud that could
possibly hang over them.
When the Indians held their tea-dances or pow-wows in times of peace,
the squaws and children joined in, and it was a very amusing sight to
watch them. We often went three miles to look at a tea-dance, and I
found it as attractive and interesting as a big circus would be to the
children of a civilized place. But I had then no idea of the war-
dance. They differ in every respect. No fire-arms are used at the tea-
dance, and the guns and tomahawks and knives play the principal part
in the war dance.
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