The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1875-11-18

the blazing wood-6re sound asleep. II
was the heavy sleep of exhaustion. The
woman's haEds were chapped and bleed.
ing, her pretty face was implanted and
all wasted BY hunger; her long hair. an
Indian woman's pride, hanging unplalsed
and tangled, the gay trappings and adorn-
ments Of her dress frayed and draggled
and torn. An empty cradle, made after
the curious 1adian pattern, rested
against the chimney place, and it was
plain by the deep mark Of the strap aeross
the wonan's brow that she hal carried the
heavy burden long distance.
By this mute token Mrs Kent knew
that the poor creature at her feet was
childless as well as cold and i'll; for it is O
custom among come of our western tribes
that when baby dies its mother shall
carry about with her for q year or more the
empty craddle for q badge Of MOI. ming.
On journeys or in camp, e: work or at rest
she keeps the cumbrous cradle near her.
often lavishirg upon this empty shell the
caresses and endearments she would give
her papose if it were alive to crow and
smile in answer.
With great pity in her heart, Mrs.
Kent knelt by the woman, smoothing back
the struggling hair and softly to arouse her
from her stupor. She stirred at the gentle
touch, muttered, stared wildly, and then
broke out into sobs and exclamations in a
curious jumble of languages. She pointed
to her shruuken empty breasts. to the cra-
die, out of the window-wrung her hands.
clasped Mrs, Kent waist, and cried "My
little papoose! | want; l no live, My
whole heart 60 if be No come back"
"Why, my poor DEAR said Mrs. Kent
frightened by her wild looks as gestures,
don't take on SO. 1.-THE Great Spirit, who
loves you, has taken away your child, you
know it can never come again. If you are
good you will see him up there in the sky
"No, no, no! l wake at night. So cold
my breast; he does not lie there. My pa
poose gone. cry, look. My man Lever
come. l walk many miles, many suns, |
come far. starve for to get to touch my
pretty boy. You good white squaw-know
heap, much money. Your man good to
poor Indian. Winona do big work for the
little, dear papoose."
'Wife," said the major, who had just
come in, this is Ba'tiste's mother, sure as
your born. Wen have to get her out Of
the way somehow. Do not let her see the
boy; better send him over to Thomas's
quarters for the day. Give her good
warm breakfast and then"
"And then?" said Mrs. Kent indignant
"
"Well--and then--I don't know
At this moment Batiste, fresh and sweet
from bis morning bath, came running into
the room. Wlnona. crouching on the floor
and seeming to see only her sorrow, shiver-
ed by the fire at his selfish tones. She turn
ed her face toward him. With a greedy
gaze her eyes wondered over his body, then,
with . bound like tigers and cry as
deep, she snatched him in her arms and
fell to kissing bis hair, eyes, lips, hands and
feet, murmuring over him thousand sof,
Indian names, and Baptiste nestled On her
bosom and laughed aloud as if once more
he had found his home.
wish could tell you the strange story
of her journey just as she told it to the ma
jor and his wife that morning.. But then
you might only smile at her queer way Of
talk ing, whereas they cried, for you could
not see her sad face as they did, nor bear
her voice nor understand how she put q
prayer and a sob into every word.
She told them that from the moment she
felt her arms empty and her child gone
without a kiss she had night and day one
thought; her life was narrowed to the simple
wish to leave the camp and her people and
to follow her papoose eastward, even though
she mrst walk to where "the sun rises ou,
of the big water" 1t was long before she
could escape. Her father, the chief of the
tribe, watched her suspiciously, and she
saw many times the stars fade, and the
dawn creep in, and the day darken again
before the moment came when she could
steal away upon her desperate journey. A,
length it happened that the stock of PRO
visions in the camp ran low, and the braves
painted their faces, mounted their swift
horses and rode upon three days hunt
leaving behind them only the women and
children, with few sleepy old men for pro
tectors. That night, when the camp was
still, Winona rose, packed into the cradle
her buffalo skin, with as much dried mea
as she could 6nd-it wasn't much took he1
bow and arrow, crept stealthily out of tht
wrgwam into the moonlight past the sleep
ing old men on guard, and by dayhreak wa.
many miles away upon the trackles,
prairie.
Sne knew tDat Tue ucdIcst pdlt-idC'
camp was Fort Levenworth, distant fror
Fort Kearney perhaps three hundred miles
| and that everyone going east passed through
this post. In her youth she had severa
times walked fifty miles between sunset ane
sunset, and she felt sure she could easily
| sravel three hundred miles 10 nine or ter
days, before the cold weather set in-Gnt
her chill at the post, or learn some tidjng,
| of him, and be helped on her search by tn,
kind pale-faces. So for the first three day
she walked gayly on, singing, ] think, hel
heart was 80 light and her courage SO high
Soon her ,canty supply of food gave out
there was nothing she might shoot SO sh'
lived upon the frost bitten rose tips ant
black haws which the birds had left OF
leahess boughs by the roadside, or she dui