“When so near the camp that they could plainly see the lodges, Falling Bear told the woman to go on in and tell her relatives to come to him; that he would await them right where he was. They soon came out to him, his father-in-law and his brother-in-law, and when they saw his scarred face and swollen eyes, they cried out: ‘Oh, what has happened to you? Have you been in a fight with a mountain lion?’
“‘Worse than that,’ he answered; ‘this was done to me by the one I most loved and trusted.’ And then he told them all about it, and concluded by giving them the horse and all the things that he had taken from the Nez Percé.
“When he finished his awful tale the two men, listening closely, were so overcome with shame and grief that for a time they could not speak. But at last Falling Bear’s father-in-law said: ‘I have made up my mind what to do. Come! Let us go on into camp.’
“They went in; Falling Bear to his own lodge—in which his father and mother lived. His woman was not there; she had gone to her father’s lodge. He was glad that she had gone there; he never wanted to see her again. His father asked him to give the story of his war trail, and he answered that he had nothing to say. He was so sick at heart that he could not talk.
“Arrived in his own lodge, and finding his daughter, Otter Woman, there, Falling Bear’s father-in-law told her to go out for a time; and when she was gone he told her mother all that she had done, and then, calling in their son, the three agreed upon the way the bad wife should be punished. They called her in and told her to braid her hair nicely, and to put on her best clothes. And while she was doing that, her father and mother and brother painted their faces black and let down their hair.
“As soon as Otter Woman was dressed, her father said to her: ‘We will now go outside, and you will mount the Nez Percé horse. I will lead it, your mother and brother will follow, and we will go all through the camp, stopping here and there to tell the people all about the great wrong you did your man.’
“‘Oh, no, no! Not that!’ Otter Woman cried. ‘I am ashamed enough as it is! I am sorry that I did it! I don’t know how I came to do it; I shall never, never do such a thing again!’
“‘You spoke the truth there,’ said her father. ‘No, you will never do it again!’ And he ordered her to go out ahead of them and mount the horse. She did so and sat upon it, head cast down, looking neither to the right nor left nor ahead: shame was with her. Holding the horse’s rope, the old man shouted: ‘Listen, people, listen.’ And when a crowd had gathered he told them what his daughter had done to her good man, and the people groaned with shame that one of their tribe could be so bad of heart. Some even wept at the horror of it.
“From one part of the camp to another the old man led the little procession, stopping often to tell the shameful story, until all knew it. And then at last he led the horse out into the center of the great circle of the lodges, and told his daughter to dismount. She did so, and, drawing his knife, he stabbed her in the heart and she fell and died. Said he then to his wife: ‘Get women to help you; drag that body far off and leave it, and never let me hear again the name of her who was once my daughter!’
“And the women did as he said. Never again did any one mention Otter Woman in his presence.”