One day we had to make a twenty-five-mile ride to reach water. That day was too hard on our sick. We were obliged to leave two of them in the sand hills, while we pushed on to the Piupa. One old Indian carried water back to them. It was way after dark when we got to the river. Oh, how tired I was, and how my leg did hurt before that day’s travel was over. I was glad to get a good drink of water and to lie down to rest. My leg hurt so much that mother would not let me do a thing. She unpacked all the horses and put up the tepee alone.
The medicine man came to take care of my leg. When he unwrapped it to put on another poultice, he found that it had turned black. He said that it had begun to mortify and would have to be cut off. Then mother began to cry so hard that the whole camp heard her, and several Indians came up to see what was the matter. She told them that her poor boy must lose his leg.
“Not by a blame sight!” I said. Then I told the old medicine man to pike away to his tepee and not to come back any more. Mother cried harder and begged him not to go. She said that I was out of my head and did not know what I was saying.
“Yes, he does,” said the old rascal, “and I do not care if the little white devil does die.”
“I know you don’t,” I replied; “if you did, you would not want to cut my leg off. I know very well what I am saying,” I told him; “now you get, and mighty quick, too, or when Washakie comes I’ll have him cut both your legs off.”
Away he went as mad as fire. When he had gone mother said, “Now you have run the medicine man off, you will die.”
“Not half so quick as I would if he kept putting his poisoned poultices on my leg,” I said. “I should have been well long ago if he had left me alone. He has been trying to kill me ever since he began to doctor me. I am not going to let him do anything for me any more.”
Mother gathered more sage and bathed my leg. The poor old woman worked with me nearly all night, and the next morning my leg was better, but I could not move it without a great deal of pain. Mother said that we should not leave that place until I got well even if it took all winter. The next morning, when mother got up she said she dreamed that Washakie came and killed a sage hen and put the entrails on my leg and it cured it right away. I told her to keep right on with sage tea, and I thought it would be all right soon.
American Museum of Natural History