170 IN THE OLD WEST 



being adverse, he lost. He offered his breast to 

 his adversary. The Burnt-wood plunged his knife 

 into his heart to the very hilt; and, laden with 

 his spoils, returned to his village, and to this 

 day wears suspended from his ears his own and 

 his enemy's scalp. 



The village presented the usual scene of con- 

 fusion as long as the trade lasted. Fighting, 

 brawling, yelling, dancing, and all the concomi- 

 tants of intoxication, continued to the last drop 

 of the liquor-keg, when the reaction after such ex- 

 citement was almost worse than the evil itself. 

 During this time all the work devolved upon the 

 squaws, who, in tending the horses, and in pack- 

 ing wood and w^ater from a long distance, had 

 their time sufficiently occupied. As there was 

 little or no grass in the vicinity, the animals were 

 supported entirely on the bark of the cottonwood ; 

 and to procure this, the women were daily en- 

 gaged in felling huge trees, or climbing them fear- 

 lessly, chopping off the upper limbs — springing 

 like squirrels from branch to branch, which, in 

 their confined costume, appeared matter of con- 

 siderable difficulty. 



The most laughter-provoking scenes, however, 

 were, when a number of squaws sallied out to the 

 grove with their long-nosed wolfish-looking dogs 

 harnessed to their travees * or trabogans, on 

 which loads of cottonwood were piled. The dogs, 



*Travois. {Ed.) 



