JAN. 20, 1906.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 


~—— mae 
[e 
per. Sorrel Horse and his woman were there, 
and with Berry and his madame, they made 
things interesting for us with their jokes, until 
Berry’s mother put a stop to it. We were a 
pretty shy couple for a long time, she especially. 
“Yes” and “no” were about all that I could 
get her to say. But my room underwent a 
wonderful transformation; everything was kept 
so neat and clean, my clothes were so nicely 
washed, and my “medicine” was carefully taken 
out every day and hung on a ttripod. I had 
purchased a war bonnet, shield and various 
other things which the Blackfeet regard as 
sacred, and I did not say to any one that I 
thought they were not so. I had them handled 
with due pomp and ceremony. 
As time passed this young woman _be- 
came more and more of a mystery to me. 
I wondered what she thought of me, and if she 
speculated upon what I might think of her. I 
had no fault to find, she was always neat, al- 
ways industrious about our little household af- 
fairs, quick to supply my wants. But that 
wasn’t enough. I wanted to know her, her 
thoughts and belief. I wanted her to talk and 
laugh with me, and tell stories, as I could often 
hear her doing in Madame Berry’s domicile. 
Instead of that, when I came around, the laugh 
died on her lips, and she seemed to freeze, to 
shrink within herself. The change came when 
I least expected it. I was down in the Piegan 
camp one afternoon and learned that a war 
party was being made up to raid the Crows. 
_ Talks-with-the-buffalo and Weasel Tail were go- 
ing, and asked me to go with them. I readily 
agreed, and returned to the post to prepare for 
the trip. “Nat-ah’-ki,” I said, bursting into our 
room, “give me all the moccasins I have, some 
‘ 
clean socks, some pemmican. Where is my 
little brown canvas bag? Where have you put 
my gun case? Where——” 
‘What are you going to do?” 
It was the first question she had ever asked 
me. 
“Do? I’m going to war; my friends are go- 
ing, they asked me to join them——” 
I stopped, for she suddenly arose and faced 
me, and her eyes were very bright. “You are 
going to war!” she exclaimed. “You, a white 
man, are going with a lot of Indians sneaking 
over the plains at night to steal horses, and 
perhaps kill some poor prairie people. You 
have no shame!’ 
“Why,” I said, rather faintly, I presume, “I 
thought you would be glad. Are not the Crows 
your enemies? I have promised, I must go.” 
“It is well for the Indians to do this,’ she 
went on, but not for a white man. You, you 
are rich; you have everything you want; those 
papers, that yellow hard rock (gold) you carry 
will buy anything you want; you should be 
ashamed to go sneaking over the plains like a 
coyote. None of your people ever did that.” 
“T must go,’ I reiterated. “I have given my 
promise to go.” 
Then Nat-ah’-ki began to cry, and she came 
nearer and grasped my sleeve. “Don’t go,” 
she pleaded, ‘for if you do, I know you will be 
killed, and I love you so much.” 
I was never so surprised, so taken back, as 
it were. All these weeks of silence, then, had 
been nothing but her natural shyness, a veil to 
cover her feelings. I was pleased and proud to 
know that she did care for me, but underlying 
that thought was another one: I had done 
wrong in taking this girl, in getting her to care 
tried to assume her reserve again. 


DANCE BY THE SAN JUAN PUEBLO INDIANS AT SAN JUAN, NEW MEXICO. 
Photo by A. D. McCandless. 
for me, when in a short time I must return her 
to her mother and leave for my own country. 
I readily promised not to accompany the war 
party, and then, her point gained, Nat-ah’-ki 
suddenly felt that she had been over bold and 
But I would 
not have it that way. I grasped her hand and 
made her sit down by my side, and pointed out 
to her that she was wrong; that to laugh, to 
joke, to be good friends and companions was 
better than to pass our days in silence, re- 
pressing all natural feeling. After that, the sun 
always shone. 
I don’t know that I have done right in putting 
all this on paper, yet I think that if Nat-ah’-ki 
what I have written she would 
“Oh, yes, tell it all; tell it just: 
could know 
smile and say: 
as it was.” 
For as you shall learn, it all came right in 
the end, all except the last, the very end. 
You who have read the book “Blackfoot 
Lodge Tales” will remember that it was not 
allowable for a Blackfoot to meet his mother- 
in-law. I fancy that there are many white men 
who would rejoice if such a custom prevailed 
in civilized society. Among the Blackfeet a 
man could never visit the lodge of his mother- 
in-law, she could not enter his lodge when he 
was at home, both were obliged to go far out 
of the way, to endure any discomfort, in order 
to avoid meeting at any time and place. As a 
natural consequence this. queer custom caused 
not a few ludicrous scenes. I once saw a tall 
and dignified chief fall backward behind a high 
counter as his mother-in-law appeared in the 
doorway of the store. I have seen a man drop 
by the side of a trail and cover himself with his 
robe; and once I saw one jump off a high cut 
