Cogewea soon returned to the teepee in dry habiliments and with a show of her old gaiety. Seating herself on the vacant buffalo robe, she spoke:

“Well! my little Stemteemä, what is it to be⁠—praises or a scolding? The Shoyahpee did not know that turning the Swa-lah-kin would bring a storm and when I told him what he had done, he pitched the thing into the river hoping to stay the Sun’s anger.”

The aged woman made no reply but drew assiduously at the little stone pipe which Mary had filled for her. She continued in silence until the kinnikinnick was exhausted and then stowing the pipe away, she began impressively:

“My grandchildren! I am now old and cannot stay with you many more snows. The story I am telling is true and I want you to keep it after I am gone.

“Green-blanket Feet was my best friend and she told me this tale after she came back to our tribe from the Blackfeet. I remember her as a girl. How comely! how graceful. Eyes clear as the mountain stream; reflecting innocence and the dreamer. Cheeks blooming as the dusky wild flower of spring, with hair in two braids, reaching to her knees. Her feet were small and shapely. The pride of every Indian woman is the gift of a small foot. Hers was a generous heart and a confiding nature. But wayward, of adventures in the deep forest she had many. Her father and mother had died, leaving her no other protector but an old aunt, with whom she lived. This aunt could not compel her to stay in the teepee and sit on her feet like the other maidens of her tribe. She was trouble-free until she met her fate in the false Shoyahpee.

“My friend was at the spring in the woods, when she first saw the pale face. He carried a gun and had killed a deer. He spoke with a soft voice, but the tongue was strange. His words she could not understand, but the signs he made were pleasing. His eyes were afire with greed, but the young is ever blind. The buttons on his capo, blazed as the sun. She brought him to the lodge of the aunt, where he left the deer as a gift and then went away.

“The following sun the white man came to visit at the lodge near the spring, and many more sundowns was he there. He planned until the girl gave her heart to him. She soon deserted her aunt, her people for the Shoyahpee, who lived at the fort.

“Yes, my friend left her own kind to dwell with her white husband among the pale faces. After many moons, a papoose came, a girl. She was glad to see the little Shoyahpee, nearly as white as its father. A snow passed and another papoose came; this time a boy. The mother was now wearing the white man’s manner of clothing and was eating his food. She often longed for her people. She sometimes visited them in their lodges and her children kept warm her heart.

“The blow feel when her youngest child was two snows old. The white husband came to her while she was making moccasins for her little girl and said:

“ ‘Woman! listen well my words. I am called away; far towards the rising sun. It is from my Chief, whom I can not refuse. It is at his bidding that I go. If you want to care for our children, you can travel with me, but you may never see your own people again. You can stay here, but I will take the papooses and go. I am not coming back.’

“My friend’s head drooped and tears visited her eyes, the first since childhood. She now realized the true gravity of taking a man not of her own kind, what it really meant to her life. She must make choice between him and her own race, desert or cling to her own children. He was not good to her, but her little papooses! She could not let him take them from her. She would go with him as far as he would permit.

“It was only a few more sundowns when the Shoyahpee with his wife and papooses rode away accompanied by another pale face with a cayuse pack train. The woman had promised her people that she would never forget them, that some day she would return. Her voice trembled as she said goodbye, then she rode swiftly away. The youngest papoose Robert, was laced on his cradle-board and hung to the horn of the saddle. Kitty, the oldest, sat behind her mother, secure in the binding folds of a shawl. The names were those given the children by their white father. I saw this mother ride away without once looking back. It was many moons before I beheld her again and this is what she told me:

“ ‘When I went with my white man, I felt as if I were dying. Leaving my people was harder than had I let him go back alone to his kind. Only for my children did I go. I was heartsick! Every tree, every little bush spoke to me; every stone called to me as I passed the nooks where I had first met the Shoyahpee. The birds sang in tones of sadness and the water’s fret was wailing. But I clung to my little ones and followed my hated husband from sundown to sundown; camping on the trail. I watched closely and learned the country as we passed. I might come back to my people.

“ ‘We traveled till the big mountains were crossed and we reached the wide, flat lands where there are no trees and but little water. We were among strange tribes, enemies of the Okanogans. We saw buffalo roaming in great herds. There was other wild life which reminded me of the land of the Okanogans. Every sun, my mind grew heavier until I could hardly endure to go farther. But when I looked at my papooses, I could not leave them alone with their white father.

“ ‘The Shoyahpee grew meaner to me as we trailed. He beat me! kicked me out from the night camps. One sun I made my mind brave to turn back and I lingered behind the pack train. When he saw this, he called me to hurry! I thought: “What shall I do?” I whirled and rode hard back over the trail. I was flying to my people with my little ones. But not for long was the race. The pale face followed, shooting. My cayuse fell, shot through the body and killed. I pitched to the ground, stunned by the shock and unable to rise. The pale face came up and beat me with his quirt. He kicked me where I lay and called me vile names. This made me hate him as a reptile of the dust.

“ ‘I now had to walk, carrying my baby on my back. Kitty rode behind her father and sometimes slept, bedded and tied on one of the horse-packs. I was watched in every movement. I was made to walk ahead on the trail and at night do all the work about camp. A few sundowns more of this, when I determined to run away in the dark with my baby. I grieved to leave my little girl, but what else could I do! I had noticed the eye of the Shoyahpee and he meant thus to treat me after bringing me from my distant home. He intended killing me when near the journey’s end. Better to live with one of my children than die and leave them both. I could carry my baby.

“ ‘I remember the time! It was clear and hot, as we resumed our travel. Over the plain which seemed to have no end, we hurried. I was tired when the evening came. I was glad for the chance to rest.

“ ‘I have wondered if other than the squaw mother can know the heart ache and yearning for her young. I knew that this was to be my last sundown with my oldest child. I talked to my papooses, talked in our native tongue. Although Kitty, the oldest, had seen but three snows, she seemed to understand me. In her baby way, she cooed, nestling on my bosom. I tried to impress her that whatever might come in the snows ahead while with her white father, she should ever remember her Indian mother. I knew that it was not for me to attempt stealing her from the pale face. I never could carry both children back across those wide, desolate plains. I feared for him to keep me and the papooses. Bad tempered, he carried a gun and he slept but little at night. He forever watched until he thought I was asleep.

“ ‘I recall the night! The evening was starlight, no moon in the sky. I lingered long at the campfire, playing with my oldest child as a farewell. Kitty appeared to comprehend and clung to me as never before. I had settled my mind to take my youngest papoose no difference what might come. At last Kitty fell asleep from exhaustion and I sat holding her in my arms. Her father called to me angrily to bring her to bed which I did. I hugged her and kissed her brow, although this is not the custom of our race as with the whites. I whispered in her sleeping ear: “Oh! my little child! Life from my own being! do not forget your Indian mother.” Kitty murmured in her sleep; I could not catch the words. Was it a spirit’s voice? I gazed at her longingly for a moment, then went out from the tent; dropping the door-flap behind me.

“ ‘I walked to the fire where lay my youngest papoose, ready wrapped on his cradle-board. He was sleeping! Once more I turned hungrily to the white man’s tent⁠—not for him⁠—but for the child I loved as my life. But my people! They were calling! as I stood by the dying embers out there on the boundless plain. I could hear their voices coming to me from the Westland. I would go! for I was not wanted by the white man, who would sometime kill me if I stayed.

“ ‘I had some food tied in a handkerchief, a very small amount. I took up my papoose and walked slowly out from the dim fire light. When hidden by the shadows, I placed him on my back and threw my green blanket over him. Then I ran swiftly away. Halish, a wolf breed dog that we had with us, came to me from hunting on the prairie. I glanced back to see the two pale faces bounding from the tent, each with a gun. They made after me and the fright, I think, caused me to drop into a badger hole large enough to shield me from sight.31 The dog stopped over me and I pulled him down close to me. I was glad that he was the color of brown. Though half wild, he appeared to know, for he lay perfectly still. The two men passed by, cursing loudly. I could have reached out and touched my white husband, nor did he suspect my place of hiding. The Great Spirit must have favored me, for my papoose did not move nor make a sound. I think, too, that he was awake.

“ ‘The pursuing pale faces fired their guns into the night darkness and threatened me, but to no effect. Then they coaxed for me to come out from the shadows, but I was so afraid that I hardly breathed. Twice the wolf-dog showed his gleaming fangs, but he did not growl. I did not tremble, but I knew what it meant should my Shoyahpee husband find me. I had long known that he was keeping me only to care for our children and not that he had love for me. I was told by the other pale face, that he had a white squaw far away, who bore him no papooses. I had been lured from my own kind by this stranger with the voice of the wood-bird, but whose tongue, like that of the serpent, was forked and false.

“ ‘The two men kept stirring all night and it was nearly coming day before I dared move. The great dog still lay guarding me. My little papoose awoke at times, but I hushed him by taking him to breast and covering his head. I partly raised from my crouched position and looked towards the tent. The Shoyahpee father was sitting by the fire, rocking Kitty in his arms. Just then she put her little hand to her eyes and I knew that she was crying. I lifted myself and thought to go back to the camp. But as I drew near, I heard the mean words of the man, concerning me, what he meant to do should he ever catch me. I had lived with him long enough to understand his language in part, and to know what he was saying. I was afraid to go nearer.

“ ‘I gazed yearningly at the group, then turned to the sunset. I did not dare look back. I would fail, my heart would grow weak in the resolution to leave if I again saw my child crying. The grave, faithful Halish was with me as I tramped. The sun rose high and gleaming before I stopped to rest and watch back over the trail. The white men might follow me, I thought; but I never saw them more.

“ ‘I walked and camped for many sundowns, till I came to a small bush, where we had stopped before and where I knew to find water. I drank! as did the dog. It was so cooling from the hot sun. I determined to stay and rest for a while. I spread my blanket and stretched in the shade. I bathed my papoose and self in the water. I thanked the Great Spirit that He had protected me so far.

“ ‘But my food was gone. Ofttimes I was hungry and would have starved, had not Halish caught rabbits and brought them to me. I made sage brush fires by striking flints which I have found on the plain. At this bush camp, I was roasting a rabbit on a stick stuck in the ground by the fire, when suddenly the wolf dog jumped up and looked keenly in the direction that I was to go. That made me look also and I saw a thick cloud of dust coming towards me; a big cloud. As it drew near, I heard a deep rumbling roar like a storm and at once I knew my danger. Halish barked, then lifted his head and howled mournfully. I snatched up my papoose and ran out from the way of the stampeding buffaloes. My breath was almost gone before I cleared their way. With lowered heads they passed so close that I could have struck them with my hand. Halish, leaping ham-stung a young bull and soon had it killed. Amid the turmoil and dust, I saw the half naked Blackfeet riding hard upon the flanks of the herd; shooting and thrusting with the spear. I threw myself down quickly, but Halish, who stood snarling with the front feet on his kill, was seen. I prayed to the Great Spirit but He seemingly had forgotten me, for the Blackfeet came riding towards me. Halish sprang in front of me, his back bristling and teeth bared. The leader of the Blackfeet raised his gun but before he could fire, I was shielding the dog with my own body. The gun was lowered, when I had quieted my protector, and I was made prisoner. When my captors saw the young bull killed by the wolf-dog, they were pleased and this, I think, caused them to spare his life. I was surprised to see so many hunters. It was an annual hunt and their camp was not far away. They took me! and I rode one of the ponies. I could not understand their language. Their tongue was different from that of the Okanogans.

“ ‘I was brought to the Chief’s lodge, which was made of tanned buffalo skins, painted and decorated with tul-le-men.32 The Chief, an old man, had seven wives, the youngest a mere child of fourteen snows. He called his warriors and they had a council over me. This lasted for some time, but at last through signs, they made me to comprehend my fate. A prisoner for life, I was consigned to the Chief’s lodge to wait on all his wives and relations. I was a slave.

“ ‘I stayed with the Blackfeet one snow, till the sun shone warm again and the prairie grass was green. My papoose was now walking, running about the doorway of the lodge. He resembled his sister and I loved him the more for it. But I hated the memory of his white father, who had lured me from my people; who had brought me all this trouble. To think of him was bitter.

“ ‘I was treated badly by the women of the Blackfeet. A slave for all of them, ofttimes I had not enough to eat. I used to steal pemmican for my papoose, when he would be crying with hunger. Much of this hardship, I think, was because I had chosen a Shoyahpee husband instead of one of my own kind; that my child was half white. The Great Spirit must have been displeased with me.

“ ‘One sundown when my child was playing in the teepee, he fell into the fire. His clothing, which I had brought from the Okanogan country, was of the white man’s make and burned more quickly than buckskin. He fell! I ran to him but it was too late. His hair was blazing and his little moccasined feet were roasted as meat. For only one moment he clung to me, and then was gone forever.

“ ‘My heart was broken. I could have borne to live with the Blackfeet the rest of my life, if only my baby had been spared to cheer my days. For, were they not of the same race as myself? Though enemies of the Okanogans, they were Indians and far different from the hated Shoyahpee, whose very touch was taint to our blood. Then I reasoned that it was better that my child go, than to grow up a despised breed and a slave to an enemy tribe.

“ ‘Only a few sundowns passed after I had buried my papoose⁠—buried him alone under a clustering thorn⁠—when I determined to leave the Blackfeet. All the young warriors were out hunting the buffalo and only a few old men and women left in the village. There was one aged woman, the mother to the Chief’s favorite wife, who was very cross to me. She usually sat on the opposite side of the doorway from me. I saw my chance. The sun had passed the center of the sky, was on the downward trail and it was hot. All the women but this one were outside the lodge shading themselves while I worked. I noticed my old enemy sitting across the way. She was nodding in her sleep, a la-quhia33 in her hand. She had been eating dried meat soup. I glanced to the doorway before stepping around the fireplace in the center of the lodge. I slowly took the la-quhia as she held it. I picked up her pot of soup and ate as fast as I could. I was hungry! almost starving. Finally I left the la-quhia and drank from the pot. When it was empty, I replaced it at her side, leaving the la-quhia as if she had dropped it. I then went back to my own place.

“ ‘The old woman awoke to find her soup all gone. She looked at the pot, then at me; but she seemed not to understand what had become of the broth. Soon she was again nodding. I reached to the back of the lodge where was kept the Chief’s bows and arrows. His te-kee-sten34 hung by the side of the war pipe. I threw the te-kee-sten to the ground. I stepped on it! Then I drew one big breath through the sacred pipe, but left it hanging where it was. I took the bows and arrows for future use. Slinging the quiver over my back, I placed an arrow to the bowstring and came out of the teepee painted with the Chief’s own tul-le-men. I ran for the river, then deep, swift and muddy from heavy rains. I was a good swimmer and did not fear the water.

“ ‘The distance was not far and I heard the war whoops of the old warriors in pursuit and the women calling as they followed after. Even the dogs joined in the chase. Turning, I let fly an arrow at the foremost man, striking him in the shoulder. This checked the hunt and being a fleet runner, I kept well ahead of the enemy. I flew down the slope as light footed as the deer in our Okanogan forests. Gaining the river, I dashed into the flood. I was not afraid! Brush was overhanging the current under a low bluff and I made a hurried dive for it. My Spirit protector remembered me. I caught a limb and held there with the grip of renewed hope. I brought my head out of the water under the bushes for breath. Three Blackfeet were standing on the bank above me talking. I was now able to understand most of their language and I could hear them well. One said that I must be drowned, while another one thought that I was hiding under the bushes. He walked onto the bush, almost over me, but it bent to the water and he drew back. I do not know! Maybe he did not want to get his moccasins wet or was afraid of being drowned. He backed up the bluff where they all sat down and watched for me till the sun was hidden in darkness.

“ ‘I was glad when nightfall came to my rescue. My hands were numb and my limbs stiff from the chill of the water. My strength almost gave way but I called on my secret powers to aid me. I must reach my people⁠—calling to me from the land of the Okanogans. I drew myself from the flood by the bushes, but I lost the bow and arrows. I was defenceless as I started for home, guided by the stars. I was off the trail that I had followed with the Shoyahpee a snow before. I walked all night and all the next sun, before stopping to camp and rest. I traveled suns and suns over the great plain and was often very hungry. Losing the bow in the river, I could shoot no game.

“ ‘I wished for Halish, but the mighty wolf dog was dead. Some of the Blackfeet had gone far to hunt the woods-deer and took him with them. A mountain lion attacked a young hunter and the dog fought for him. Both dog and lion were killed, but the Blackfoot escaped, disabled for life. I missed my old companion’s help and watchful guard.

“ ‘It was too late for the eggs of the prairie birds, but I dug roots and sometimes found a few berries. Once I saw a great eagle swoop down and kill a young antelope not far from me, but could not fly with it. I fought the savage bird and took the fawn of goodly size. It furnished me with food for some days. My moccasins were worn out and I made new ones from the skin, cutting it with a sharpened stone. My awl was a pointed bone and the sinew was thread. But the hide was tender and the jagged rocks often passed over, cut them to pieces. I was now glad that I did not leave my green blanket behind when I escaped from the Blackfeet. I tore strips from it with which to wrap my feet. I passed the tribes of the Pend d’Oreilles, Kootenais and the Flatheads. All were good to me. They supplied me with dried berries and meat and I traveled on. I was going home!

“ ‘I was glad when I came in sight of the big river we love so well. I like the salmon better than I do the meat of the buffalo.35 I love the wooded mountains more than I do the treeless plains so endless. The land of the Blackfeet is not so fair as that of the Okanogans.

“ ‘But my heart is buried with my little papoose in the wakeless sleep; and I long for the child who went with her white father. But I am to blame! I preferred him to my own people and he drove me away. I pray to my Great Spirit to favor me in seeing my child again. I now have children of my own kind, but they do not take the place of my first born with its unknown fate.

“ ‘When I reached my people, they were all glad to see me. My feet were bare except for the worn strips of my once fine four-point36 Hudson Bay blanket. This is why I am called by my tribe, “Green-blanket Feet.” The name connects me with the false tongued Shoyahpee of other snows. It is the strong, clinging memory⁠—hated thing⁠—which recalls the face of the one I once loved; whose words I believed. The blanket was his gift when I first went to him. Let the maidens of my tribe shun the Shoyahpee. His words are poison! his touch is death.’ ”37

The Stemteemä’s story was finished; her audience had listened in rapt silence to the end. Several moments passed before she again spoke:

“Cogewea; you must be more careful of that Shoyahpee. I do not like to have you with him so much. You must quit going with him alone. It is against the rules of our race for a maiden to do so. You must stop it! He only seeks to harm you. The fate of Green-blanket Feet is for you; my grandchild unless you turn from him.38 Wisdom ever visions well.”

Cogewea’s ivory teeth closed firm and her tapering fingers dug into the shaggy buffalo robe before she ventured self defense:

“The wisdom of the Stemteemä is of the past. She does not understand the waning of ancient ideas. The young bird flies more sprightly than do the old. The Shoyahpee girls go out with their men friends and nobody cares.”

The grandmother was silent for long, before making solemn reply:

“Wisdom comes with the passing of the snows. My head has been frosted by the breath of time. The nestling knows not the wide trails of the air. Winged danger abounds where the hawk is abroad. The Shoyahpee women may cling to their ways. The Nation they bear speaks loudly of wrong.”

Then, after another interval of silence, she concluded gravely:

“The grandchild is not full Shoyahpee. She is only half! She must forget her white blood and follow after her Okanogan ancestors. To their women there came no shame.”

While Cogewea felt she should respect the words of her venerable monitor, she rebelled at the thought that she must not love the fair skinned Easterner too well.