FORT SMITH AND THE SOCIAL QUEEN 93 



the world were upon her. Once in the store she would 

 unhook the corsets and breathe comfortably till the 

 agonized triumphant return parade was in order. 



This, however, is aside; we are still in the home of 

 the queen. She continued to adduce new evidences. 

 "I am just like a white woman. I call my daughter 

 darrr-leeng." Then turning to a fat, black-looking 

 squaw by the fire, she said: "Darrr-leeng, go fetch a 

 pail of vaw-taire." 



But darling, if familiar with that form of address, 

 must have been slumbering, for she never turned or 

 moved a hair's-breadth or gave a symptom of intelli- 

 gence. 



Now, at length it transpired that the social leader 

 wished to see me professionally. 



"It is ze nairves," she explained. "Zere is too 

 much going on in this village. I am fatiguee, very 

 tired. I wish I could go away to some quiet place for 

 a long rest." 



It was difficult to think of a place, short of the silent 

 tomb, that would be obviously quieter than Fort Smith. 

 So I looked wise, worked on her faith with a pill, as- 

 sured her that she would soon feel much better, and 

 closed the blue door behind me. 



With Chief Squirrel, who had been close by in most 

 of this, I now walked back to my tent. He told me of 

 many sick folk and sad lodges that needed me. 



It seems that very few of these people are well. In 

 spite of their healthy forest lives they are far less 

 sound than an average white community. They 

 have their own troubles, with the white man's maladies 



