IN THE OLD WEST 171 



knowing full well the duty required of them, 

 refuse to approach the coaxing squaws, and, at 

 the same time, are fearful of provoking their an- 

 ger by escaping and running off. They, there- 

 fore, squat on their haunches, with tongues hang- 

 ing out of their long mouths, the picture of in- 

 decision, removing a short distance as the irate 

 squaw approaches. When once harnessed to the 

 travee, however, which is simply a couple of lodge- 

 poles lashed on either side of the dog, with a 

 couple of cross-bars near the ends ta support 

 the freight, they follow quietly enough, urged by 

 bevies of children who invariably accompany the 

 women. Once arrived at the scene of their labors, 

 the reluctance of the curs to draw near the piles 

 of Cottonwood is most comical. They will lie 

 down stubbornly at a little distance, whining their 

 uneasiness, or sometimes scamper off bodily, with 

 their long poles trailing after them, pursued by 

 the yelling and half-frantic squaws. 



When the travees are laden, the squaws, bent 

 double under loads of wood sufficient to break a 

 porter's back, and calling to the dogs, which are 

 urged on by the buffalo-fed urchins in rear, lead 

 the line of march. The curs, taking advantage 

 of the helpless state of their mistresses, turn a 

 deaf ear to their coaxings, lying down every few 

 yards to rest, growling and fighting with each 

 other, in which encounters every cur joins the 

 melee, charging pell-mell into the yelping throng. 



