I think there was but little earnest in their vexatious tricks, for she seemed very fond of them, and never failed to beg something of “her father,” that she could bestow upon them.
She crept into the parlor one morning, when straightening herself up, and supporting herself by the frame of the door, she cried in a most piteous tone—“Shaw-nee-aw-kee! Wau-tshob-ee-rah Thsoonsh-koo-nee-noh!” (Silverman, I have no looking-glass.) Her “father” smiling and taking up the same little tone, cried in return,
“Do you wish to look at yourself, Mother?”
The idea seemed to her so irresistibly comic, that she laughed until she was fairly obliged to seat herself upon the floor and give way to the enjoyment. She then owned that it was for one of her boys that she wanted the little mirror. When her father had given it to her, she found that she had “no comb,” then that she had “no knife,” then that she had “no calico shawl,” until it ended, as it generally did, by Shaw-nee-aw-kee paying pretty dearly for his joke.
When the Indians arrived and when they departed, my sense of “woman’s rights” was often greatly outraged. The master of the family, as a general thing, came leisurely bearing his gun and perhaps a lance in his hand. The woman, with the mats and poles of her lodge upon her shoulders, her pappoose, if she had one, her kettles, sacks of corn and wild rice, and not unfrequently, the household dog perched on the top of all. If there is a horse or pony in the list of family possessions, the man rides, the squaw trudges after.
This unequal division of labor is the result of no want of kind, affectionate feeling on the part of the husband. It is rather the instinct of the sex to assert their superiority of position and importance, when a proper occasion offers. When out of the reach of observation, and in no danger of compromising his own dignity, the husband is willing enough to relieve his spouse from the burden that custom imposes on her, by sharing her labors and hardships.[[90]]
The payment had not passed without its appropriate number of complimentary and medicine dances. The latter take place only at rare intervals—the former whenever an occasion presents itself—demanding a manifestation of respect and courtesy.
It is the custom to ask permission of the person to be complimented, to dance for him. This granted, preparation is made by painting the face elaborately, and marking the person, which is usually bare about the chest and shoulders, after the most approved pattern. All the ornaments that can be mustered, are added to the hair, or head dress. Happy is he, who, in virtue of having taken one or more scalps, is entitled to proclaim it by a corresponding number of eagle’s feathers. The less fortunate make a substitute of the feathers of the wild turkey, or, better still, of the first unlucky “rooster” that falls in their way. My poor fowls, during the time of payment, were always thoroughly plucked.
When their preparations are completed, the dancers assemble at some convenient place, and then come marching to the spot appointed, accompanied by the music of the Indian drum and shee-shee-qua or rattle. They range themselves in a circle and dance with violent contortions and gesticulations, some of them graceful, others only energetical, the squaws, who stand a little apart, and mingle their discordant voices with the music of the instruments, rarely participating in the dance. Occasionally, however, when excited by the general gaiety, a few of them will form a circle outside and perform a sort of ungraceful, up and down movement, which has no merit, save the perfect time which is kept, and for which, the Indians seem, without exception, to possess a natural ear.