The prison mirror. [volume] (Stillwater, Minn.) 1887-1894, 1890-01-23
An Indians Death Wall.

resembling. somewhat, the bowling of a
and leaving my office, which was then on
the frontier, L strolled out over the deserted
camp of our troOps-just left for a cam
paign against the savages-and proceeding
along in the darkness. followed the sound
toward a friendly Indian lodge near by.
where the women and children of the
scouts of the little army which was then
on its way to chastise the Indians for their
numerous miSdeedS, committed the year
before. Again came that horrible. thrill
ing sound, eectrfying my system and rails
ing the hair on my head; but kept on in
the direction from whence it emarated. un-
til ran against the bayOnet of one of our
guards and heard the sudden challenge.
''WhO goes there?" In the excitement of
the moment forgot where was. but soon
regaining consciousness made myself
known to the faithful soldier. passed the
lines, penetrated the almost impenetrable
darkness, entered dingy tepee, and then
confronted two SquawS. one of whom held
in her arms bundle aud was swaying to
and fro over the slowly burning emberS of
a few sticks of half consumed wood and
ever and anon sending up one of the most
mournful sounds ever heard from human
throat. 1t swept out into the beating storm
like the incoming of great wave from the
ocean. which, when it has reached given
point, breaks. and then subsidies into the ell
ement FROM which it came. Starting in
low. gurglng sound this death waiI' as
cended gradually higher and higher. until
at last it culrninated i'm Shrill break of a
female voice, and then, before the sound
had entirely ceased. it was taken up again
by another squaw; and so. during that long
and stormy night, it came, and broke. and
went again. above the raging tossing,
Soughing winds. the meanings of the In
dian mother and her friend. over the bones
of her little child. encased lin it's little
blanket that lay in its parents arms. Above
the raging elements could hear the follow
ing sOrrOwful wailOranslated from the In
diam:
"Swing. swing. little one, lullaby:
ThOu'rt not left alone to weep:
Mother cares for yOu-she is nigh:
Sleep. my little one, sweetly sleep,
Swing. swing, little one. lullaby;
Mother watches you-she is nigh.
Gently. gently, wee swing;
Gently. gently while L sing
Eve -wa-wa-lullaby:
Ewe-wa-wa-luaby.'
To morrow would see it pass awav from
sight forever! Her grief was simple, pure
deep, unaffected. Neither of these mourn
ers had noticed my intrusion. and SO, know
ing that L could ito them no good, | went
out again into the darkness, and threaded
my way to and passed the guard sought
any office and my couch. and dreamed all
might of golden haired little girl whom |
had left with her mother inside of the linn
ats of civilization. and whose imaginative
little prattle made me smile in my sleep. as
dreamed of home. of loved ones. and of
friends The Indians have peculiar and
very interesting custom of burying with
their children all their little trnkets and
playthingS, believing that they will want
them in the happy hunting ground beyond
the river of death. They also have Gus
tom of so preserving the bodies of their
children after death. that they will appear
natura! Tor some Time ana when this nat
uralness has disappeared, and the skin be-
comes drawn down tightly over the fea-
tnreS. then a night is set apart for the
death wall" and the next day tie little
one passes out of sight. and with it all it's
tiny earthly possessions, wrapped up to-
gether, sometimes the body to be elevated
an the air Oh poles. as a protection against
wild beasts. and sometimes to be buried in
the earth. beyond human view forever.
The morning after the occurrence to which
L have alluded, two lone Indian women
moved out from their humble wigwam, car
rylng the bones of the dead child and
chanting low. mOurnful sound slowly
wound up the hill on to the plateau, and i'm
PLAN sight of the whole camp. deposited in
the ground the body of their little darling,
and then, affectiOnately bending over the
wee mound. and leaving food for the nour-
sshment of the child on its journey, they
kissed the soil and wendell their way back
again to their lonely lodge to no longer
near the patter of the little feet, or the mu-
sic of the little voice. or the clasp of the lit
tie hand. or the touch of the little lin. but