[3] Virginia City, Montana.
Lee Moorhouse
“The burden bearer”—Squaw carrying wood.
As we left the canyon, we climbed a very steep mountain for about two miles, and then went down through thick timber until we came out on to a beautiful prairie covered with the finest grass I had ever seen. Off to the left was a deep canyon where one fork of the Big Hole River headed, and here we camped for a long time. The Indians killed a great many black-tailed deer and antelope and dried the meat. I think Washakie and I killed seventeen while we stayed here.
Our next move was down to the forks of the river, where we stayed three or four weeks to give the women time to tan the deerskins. It was fine fishing in the Big Hole River.
While we were staying here, one of the War Chief’s boys was accidentally shot and killed. Oh, what crying we had to do! Every one in camp who could raise a yelp had to cry for about five days. I had to mingle my gentle voice with the rest of the mourners. They killed three horses and buried them and his bow and arrows with him. The horses were for him to ride to the Happy Hunting Grounds. When they got ready to bury him, every one in camp had to go up to him and put a hand on his head and say he was sorry to have him leave us. When it came my turn, I went into our tepee and would not come out. Mother came after me. I told her I would not go, that I was not sorry to see him go, for he was no good anyhow.
“Don’t say that so they will hear it,” she said. Then she went back and made excuses for me.
They took him up to a high cliff and put him in a crevice with his bedding, a frying pan, an ax, his bow and arrows, and some dried buffalo meat. After this they covered him with rocks. When they got back to camp, they let out the most pitiful howls I ever heard. I joined them too, just as loud as I could scream, as if I was the most broken-hearted one in the camp, but it seemed so foolish to keep up this howling, as they did for five days. I got so hoarse I could hardly talk.
But I did feel sorry for his poor mother. She was really grief-stricken. She cut off her hair close to her head. I asked mother why she did that. She said that all mothers did it when their oldest boy died. After our mourning was over, she would still weep bitterly and sometimes scream out her sorrow.