The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1871-07-01
A Funeral, and its Baked Meats. y

shreks, ringing through the forest and com
ing back again in plaintive echoes from the
hills ALI about. Beyond description wild,
these walls Of violent grief follow ed each
other with regular cadence, dying away il
long. despairIug sobs. With marvellous
regularity they REQUIRED. never vary ing the
simple refrain. My curiosity was aroused
so far as to get me out Of my blankets, and
after hurried bath in an icystream, iUin-
ed my mouutaineer acquaintance, Jerry"
who was eli route 10 the rancheria, "to see,"
as he expressed it, Them tarheads howl"
1t seems my friend Buck" the Indian
chief, had the night before lost his wife,
sally the DID," and the shouts came from
professional mOurUers. hired by her family
to prepare the body and do the necessary
amount of grief. Old widows or superannu-
ated wives who had outived other forms IF
usfulness. gladly enter the singular profess
sion. They cut their hair sholt, and with
each new death, plaster on a fresh cap Of
pitch and ashes, daub the face with spots Of
tar, and in general array themselves as fu~
neral experts.
The Tancherla was astir when we arrived
1t was mere group of half dozen smoky
novels. built of pine bark propped upon cones
or poles, arranged IN a semiclrcle within the
edge OF the forest, fronting upon IA brook
and meadow. jerry and leaned our backs
against large tree and watched the group.
Bucks shanty was deserted. the body Of
his wife lying outside upon a blanket, being
prepared by two of these funeral hags.-
Buck himself was quietly stufliDg his stom
ach with a breakfast of veuison and acorps.
which were handed him at intervals by sew
eral sympathising squaws.
Turning to Jerry with countenauce of
stolid seriousness, he laconicaly remarked
My woman she die Very bad. Tonight,
sundown (pointing to the sun she burn up"
Meanwhile the tarheads rolled Sally the Old
over and over, all the while alternately
bowling the same dismal phrase. Indian
relatives anG fIlends, having general air of
animated rat-bags. arrived occasionally and
sat down at fire little removed from the
other DlggeTs, never once salutiug them.
As we walked back to our camp remark
ed on the Stolid, cruel expression of Bucks
face; but jerry, to my surprise, babe me
not judge too hastily. lie went en- to explain
that Indians had just as deep and tender at
tachmeuts, just as much good sense, and, to
wind up with, "as much human into 'eln as
we edicated white folks"
Lis own squaw had instilled this into
JerIy's naturally sentimental and credulous
beart, SO Teirained from expressing my con
victions concerning Indians, which | own
were formerly tinged with the most sapsuin-
ary Caucasian prejudice.
Jerry came for me by appointment lust
before sunset, and we walked leisuely over
the meadow, under lougtheniug pine shad-
ows, to the rancheria. No one was stirripu.
Buck, with the two vicariUus mourncrs. sat
III bis lodge door, mutteriug low, haif-audi-
bic groans. In the opening before the line
of huts, a low pile Of dry logs had been care
fully laid, upon which, outstretched and
wrapped in red blanket. lay the dead
form of Sally the Old. her face covered in
careful folds. Upon her heart was grass
woven Waterfowl and her last pappoose
basket.
Just as the sun sank to the horizon one
tarhead stepped out in front of the funeral
pile. llited up both hands, aud gazed stead
lily and silently into the sun. She might
have been hveIminutes in this statuesque po-
sition, her face full Of strange. half animal
Intensity Of expression, her eyes glittering,
the whole, hard figure glowing with a deep
bronze reflection. Suddenly she sprapg
back with the old wild shrek. seized a brand
from one Of the camp fires. and lighted the
funeral heap, when all the Indians came out
and grouped themselves in little knots
around it. The children Of Sally the Old
cIung about an ancient mummy of a squaw,
who squatted upon the ground and rocked
to and iro, making a low cry as of an ami
nal Ia pain. All the Indians looked serious:
a group, whom jerry said were relatives,
seemed stupiied with grief. Upon few
faces falling tears glistened in the light of
the fire, which now shot red tongues high
in the air, lighting up with weird distinct
ness every feature Of the whole company. |
Flames slowly Tapped over, consuming the |
blanket and caught the willow paupoose
basket. When Buck saw this. the tears
streamed from his eyes; be waved his hands
eoquentIy, locking up to heaven, and utter
Cd heart-broken sUbs. The papp0ose bas-
ket cracked for . moment, flashed into 2
blaze, and was gone The two old women
yelled their sharp death-Cry, dancing, post
uring, gesticuIating toward the FIRE. aud in
slow, measured chorus all the Indians in
toned in pathetic measure, "uimalaya
Himalaya" looking first at the nopnd of
fire, and then ont upon the fading sunset.
1t was indescFibably strange; monarch
pines standing in solemn ranks back far into
the dusky heat Of the forest, glowing and
frightening with pulsatipg reflections of
trellght; the ring Of Indians, crouching or
standing hxed like craven images, or sway
ing mechanically to and fro, each tattered
scarlet and white raS of their utterly squalid
garments, every expression of barbaric grief
or dull, brutal stolidity brought strongly
ont by the red flaming fire.
Buck watched with wet ewes that slow
consuming fire burn to ashes the wife of
many years, the mother of his group of poor
frightened children. Not a stoicaI savage.
but deSParing husband. stood before US.
ieit MN to 6e human. The body at last
sunk into bed of flames. which Shot nm
higher than ever with fountains of sparks
aud sucked together. hiding the remains
forever from view. AT this Buck sprung
to the front and threw himself at the fire'
but the TWO old women seized each a hand
and dragged him back to his children where
be fell in fit Of stupor.
As we walked home Jerry was quick TO
ask, Didn't tell you Injuns has feelings
inside of 'em 2''
My sleep was light, and sunrise found
me dressed, still listening. as under a kind
of spell. to the mOurDers uybc ,b,,,s1 -: