“I go to fight white man. He take away land, and chase game away; then he take away our squaws. He take away my best squaw.”
Here his voice choked, and he displayed much emotion.
Pitying his misery, I endeavored to aid him, and rendered him all the assistance in my power, but death was then upon him.
The medicine man was with him also, practicing his incantations.
We were so constantly traveling, it wearied me beyond expression. The day after the Indian’s burial we were again on the move.
CHAPTER XV.
PREPARING THE CHI-CHA-CHA, OR KILLIKINNICK—ATTACK ON CAPTAIN FISK’S EMIGRANT TRAIN—FOURTEEN WHITES KILLED—A BIG HAUL OF WHISKY—A DRUNKEN DEBAUCH—I WRITE A LETTER TO CAPTAIN FISK UNDER DICTATION—POISONED INDIANS—THE TRAIN SAVED BY MY CLERICAL STRATEGY.
One of the occupations given me, while resting in the villages between war times, was to prepare the bark of a red willow called killikinnick, for smoking instead of tobacco.
They discovered that I could sing, and groups of idle warriors would gather around me before the tent, urging me to sing as I worked. A dreary, dreary task! chanting to please my savage companions while I rubbed and prepared the bark of willow, my heart ready to burst with grief.