The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1896-05-23
On Snow-shoes to the Barren
Grounds.
From Harper's Magazine.
IN A DoG-RIB INDIAN CAMP

IN DOG-RlB INDIAN CAMP.
To say that | was an object of curiosity
would be putting it mildly; was indeed
a stranger in a strange land The men
examined over and again every article
| possessed; the women stared me out
of countenance; the mothers used me
as a bugaboo to hush their crying babies;
and the dogs crowded about me so threat
eningly that [ never yentured outside the
lodge without my whip. | was the first
white man they had seen, and one and all
made the most of their opportunity. 1
was on exhibition with vengeance, only.
unlike other freaks, had no hours; the
show opened when [ arose in the morning,
and was still on when I rolled up in my
blankets at night And I, ON my part,
made most careful scrutiny of the curious
surroundings in which | found myself.
We were camped on top of u ridge COW
cred with small pines, where Beniah had
made his last stand to keep. up with the
caribou that were just beginning to work
out to the edge of the woods. There were
three lodges, all full, and, so long as | re-
mained, the occupants of the other two
spent the greater part of their time in
Beniah's s.
In times of prosperity these Indian
tepees are by no means unsightly. They
are of caribou-skin stretched around and
to within about three feet of the top of
poles, which number according to the size
of the lodge. The sides of the circle are
banked up with snow and pine brush, and
inside, the smallest brush makes clean
looking and pleasantly smelling floor The
opened fire occupies the centre; and above
it, stretched from side to side of the lodge,
are poles upon which the meat is placed
to thaw, and from which the kettles are
suspended
Around this fire the men and women
sit, tailor fashion, all day, jabbering in
cessantly in their cultural speech that is
impossible to describe in writing, and at
night they roll up in their blankets and
stretch out with their feet at the very fire 5
edge. I used to wonder what on earth
they found to talk about, for the clatter
never came to full stop, and when lay
down at times, trying in slumber to escape
the din, it seemed as though it must all
be hideous dream. But any such illu-
sion was speedily dispelled by the yelping
of dog that had worked its way into the
lodge, and was being dubbed until it
worked its way out again.
Domestic economics are dead letter
in the Indian household There is no
place for any particular thing, and nothing
is ever in any particular place. The back
part of the lodge, where it is too cold to
sit even when the fire blazes highest, ap-
pears to be the general store-room. Every
thing not in immediate use is thrown there
in indiscriminate confusion. If the squaw
has finished stripping caribou leg of its
meat, she tosses the bone over her shoulder
into the unknown behind her; if she has
completed the lacing of snow-shoe, it is
served similarly; the Indian hurls his knife
there when he is through with it, and the
children do the same with the bones or in
testines or bits of meat they may have
flched from the feasting, in which they
never share And when there is de-
mand for any article, such an overhauling
ensues as would put to shame May-day
house cleaning. Children are not much
in evidence in the Indian household They
rarely cry, for experience has taught them
that such outward expression of grief or
alarm or hurt meets with much personal
discomfort If they are in the moss bag
age, which usually ends at two, they are
put into sort of hammock within the
lodge and rocked at terrifying pace, TO
the accompaniment of grooming that
would strike terror to the heart of any
crying babe. If they are old enough to
toddle, they are turned out of doors to tell
their sorrows to the winds.
The Indian has no patience for the little
solicitudes of life, nor for its frivolities.
His amusements are few and simple. Out
side of something that resembles that
ancient pastime of button, button, who
has the button p and where the penalty
is a piece of tobacco, there are no games
to speak of, The dancing is exceedingly
awkward and crude-a shuffling about in
circle, varied by hopping up and down,
and the music confined to the monotony Of
the single e-headed drum, or mayhap an oc-
casional fiddle picked up at the post, which
in that case squeaks through medley OF
reels. Their dearest recreation is sleeping,
since most of their time is spent in pro-
curing food, and the balance in resting
from the toll required to obtain it.