“He said that it … would have to be cut off.”CHAPTER THIRTEENLIVELY TIMES
“He said that it … would have to be cut off.”
“He said that it … would have to be cut off.”
“He said that it … would have to be cut off.”
After the trading party had been gone two days, the rest of our band moved down the creek to where it sank in the sand hills. Here three of the wounded Indians got so bad that we had to stop for some time; but we had the finest of grass for our horses, and the sage hens were as thick as could be.
One day I was out shooting chickens. I had killed four with arrows and was coming home, when, as I was passing a tepee, a dog jumped out and got me by the leg. He tore off quite a piece of my flesh and I shot him through with an arrow, leaving the feathers on one side of him and the spike sticking out of the other. As I was trying to catch the dog to get my arrow back, the old squaw that owned him ran up with a rope. She threw it over my head and jerked me along to her tepee. And there she held me while her girl tied my feet and hands. Then the angry old squaw grabbed a butcher knife and was going to cut my head off.
A sick Indian, who happened to be lying near by,jumped up and held the squaw while a little boy ran and told mother. Mother came in double quick time. She grabbed the knife from the squaw, cut the strap that she had tied me with, took me by the arm, and made me hike for my tepee. When she saw how the dog had bitten me, oh, she was mad. She went back to the squaw, with me following her, and said: “If you don’t kill that dog before sundown, I will kill you. Look here, see this poor boy with his leg nearly bitten off.”
The old Indians that had gathered around stopped the fracas, or I guess there would have been another camp fight.
Mother went for the medicine man. When he came he said that it was a very bad bite, and that we must be very careful or blood poison would set in. He said that the dog would have to be killed. I told him that I thought the dog would die if they let him alone.
“But he must be killed before he dies,” said the medicine man.
This made me laugh.
The cut in my leg was “V” shaped, and the piece of flesh hung only by the skin.
“Ouch!” I cried, when he tried to put it back in place.
“What did you say?” he asked.
“Ouch!”
“What is that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh,” he said, going on with his work of patching up my leg. He put the piece back where it belonged and tied it there with a piece of something; then he got some weeds, mashed them up and made a poultice and put it on the wound.
After this he went to have the dog killed. I told him to hurry up or the dog would be dead before he got there.
When the medicine man told any one to do anything, he had to do it. He sent a big boy to kill the dog, but when the boy got to the tepee, the old squaw and her girl pitched on to him and beat the poor fellow nearly to death. Then the medicine man sent two big Indians to see what they could do. When they reached the place, I could hear very loud talking, so I got up and went to the door to see the fun. One Indian had hold of the old squaw; the other had the girl and they were shaking them to beat time. I was glad of it. They deserved a good shaking.
Well, they killed the dog before he died, anyway.
When the camp had quieted down again, the medicine man came and changed the poultice on my leg. It had swollen very badly by this time. He told mother to boil sage leaves and with the tea to bathe my leg very often. I could hear mother crying while she was out gathering the sage, and when she came in I asked her what she was crying about. She said she was afraid that I should be lame all my life from the hurt. I told her that I should be well in a week, that a little thing like that would not make me lame very long; but my leg pained me so that I did not get much sleep that night.
The next morning the squaw and her girl and their tepee were gone, but the sick Indian was left lying there alone in his bed. I told mother to let him come into our tepee and stay until his squaw got back. She had gone with Washakie to sell her robes and skins, and had left her sister-in-law to take care of her wounded husband until she returned. Mother objected to taking care of him, but when I told her he had saved my life by keeping that old squaw from cutting my head off, she consented and asked him to come over to our tepee.
The poor old fellow was very sick and so weak he couldhardly walk. He had been shot three times with arrows—in the arm, in the leg, and in his side. The wound in his side was so bad that the medicine man had to take out part of his two ribs. It kept the medicine man busy tending to me and all of the wounded Indians.
Mother bathed my sore leg three times a day with sage tea; the swelling all went away, and I was getting along fine. In about a week I had mother get me some sticks and I made some crutches; then I could get around out of doors. When the other lame Indians saw how well I could move about, they had me make them crutches also, so that they could move about.
After staying here nearly two weeks, we had to move, for the wood was getting scarce close to camp. I hobbled around and helped mother pack up; then we went over through the sand hills and came to a good-sized stream which they called Tonobipa. The stream ran south through the sand hills and lava beds, and farther down it sank out of sight into the ground.
The sick Indians had a hard time while we were on the move, but I stood the trip very well. After staying in our new camp for four days, we packed up again and started for the place where we were to meet Washakie. That was five days’ travel away. We could not travel very fast on account of the sick Indians and we could not get a very early start because of having so many horses to pack, so it seemed a very long journey.
One day we had to make a twenty-five-mile ride to reach water. That day was too hard on our sick. We were obliged to leave two of them in the sand hills, while we pushed on to the Piupa. One old Indian carried water back to them. It was way after dark when we got to the river. Oh, how tired I was, and how my leg did hurt before that day’s travel was over. I was glad to get agood drink of water and to lie down to rest. My leg hurt so much that mother would not let me do a thing. She unpacked all the horses and put up the tepee alone.
The medicine man came to take care of my leg. When he unwrapped it to put on another poultice, he found that it had turned black. He said that it had begun to mortify and would have to be cut off. Then mother began to cry so hard that the whole camp heard her, and several Indians came up to see what was the matter. She told them that her poor boy must lose his leg.
“Not by a blame sight!” I said. Then I told the old medicine man to pike away to his tepee and not to come back any more. Mother cried harder and begged him not to go. She said that I was out of my head and did not know what I was saying.
“Yes, he does,” said the old rascal, “and I do not care if the little white devil does die.”
“I know you don’t,” I replied; “if you did, you would not want to cut my leg off. I know very well what I am saying,” I told him; “now you get, and mighty quick, too, or when Washakie comes I’ll have him cut both your legs off.”
Away he went as mad as fire. When he had gone mother said, “Now you have run the medicine man off, you will die.”
“Not half so quick as I would if he kept putting his poisoned poultices on my leg,” I said. “I should have been well long ago if he had left me alone. He has been trying to kill me ever since he began to doctor me. I am not going to let him do anything for me any more.”
Mother gathered more sage and bathed my leg. The poor old woman worked with me nearly all night, and the next morning my leg was better, but I could not move itwithout a great deal of pain. Mother said that we should not leave that place until I got well even if it took all winter. The next morning, when mother got up she said she dreamed that Washakie came and killed a sage hen and put the entrails on my leg and it cured it right away. I told her to keep right on with sage tea, and I thought it would be all right soon.
American Museum of Natural HistoryThe sage hen or sage grouse, a beautiful Western bird that should be saved.
American Museum of Natural HistoryThe sage hen or sage grouse, a beautiful Western bird that should be saved.
American Museum of Natural History
The sage hen or sage grouse, a beautiful Western bird that should be saved.
After we had been here a few days, some of the Indians wanted to go on to the place where we were to meet Washakie; but mother said she would not move until I got better, so five tepees stayed with us and the rest went on. Washakie and his party were at the rendezvous waiting for them. When they told him how I was, he started out, and in two days he reached our camp.
The chief was very angry when he saw my leg and wastold how I had been treated. It was bad enough, he said, to be bitten by a dog without having the squaw threaten to kill me. He said that she would have to leave the tribe. When I told him how the old medicine man had acted, he was angrier still.
The chief had left his things in bad shape; he wanted to go back as soon as I could be moved. I told him I thought I could travel, so the next morning we packed up for the start; but as I went to get on my horse it hurt my leg so much that I began to cry.
“Hold on,” said Washakie, “I will fix things so you can ride better.” Then he and some more Indians tied some tepee poles on each side of two horses and wove some rope between the poles, making a kind of litter. Several buffalo robes were thrown on the rope net and this made a fine bed. Mother led the front horse and away we went in first-class style. After we got going, Washakie came up and asked me whether they were traveling too fast.
“No,” I said, “you can run if you want to.”
He laughed and said that I was all right.
That day mother got some boys to shoot some sage hens for her. They killed three and when we camped she put the entrails on my sore leg. I slept well that night. It was the first good sleep I had had for more than a week. As we traveled along, mother took good care of my leg in this way and by the time we got to the main camp I could walk again on my crutches.
The next morning after we arrived here, Washakie told the War Chief to send down the river for the best medicine man in the tribe. I told Washakie that I would not let any more of his medicine men fool with my leg. He said that he only wanted him to see it. That day the good medicine man came, and when he saw my leg, he shook his head and said that it was a wonder I was alive, forthe old medicine man had been putting poison weeds on it, and if he had kept it up two days longer I would have been dead.
Washakie sent for the old medicine man. When he came the chief asked him, “What have you been doing with this boy?”
He said that he had been doing all he could for me.
“I don’t want any more of your lies,” said Washakie. “If this boy had died, I would have had you tied to the tail of a wild horse and let him kick and drag you to death. Now, go, and don’t let me see you any more, for you are hated by every Indian, squaw, and papoose in this camp.”
We stayed in this place till my leg got nearly well, then we moved on down the river to stop for the winter. Here the fishing was good, and the white-tailed deer, ducks, and rabbits were very plentiful.