Kootenay women wear their head-kerchiefs in this manner, tied in the back, whereas the prairie Indians (Blackfeet and Sioux) wear theirs demurely fastened beneath the chin. They cling to this old custom, as well as to their beaded robes and big shell ear-rings Susette wears a dress of black velvet, and has further followed her "civilized" sister by adorning it with imitation jewelry-shells that are "just as good" as the rare and valued elks' teeth. Her baby, however, is cradled in ancient fashion, in a papoose-case intri cately and beautifully beaded Squaw BY JOHN FARRAR Who am I? A hated thing, a squaw, Only to watch, to wait, to wonder here. When the great camp-fires touch the drooping stars, I to the watch, I to the mourners, go, Heavy in heart, weary in foot and womb, Why must I press my hand across my mouth Mountains and hills, you, too, lie passive here; And when the hunt goes rustling through the marsh, When the quick deer's brown eyes peer through the fern, I would go softly, I would go swiftly, too, Soft on the moss, swift and soft on the hills, Long stride, swift stride, strong stride, true stride, I the proud hunter, I the proud marksman, I, Bearer of bows and arrows, I to bring home the dappled doe to roast. When I have watched the red limbs gleam and pass, Dancing to madness in the open fire. Beat your drums, O war chiefs! beat your drums! Beat your drums, O war chiefs! beat your drums, O war chiefs! beat your drums, O war chief! beat your drums! Drums, drums, flames, flames, I, Foot to foot and naked breast to breast, Beating, struggling, fighting, dying, I, Braver than braves whose great hands dare the sun; I, the warrior, I the savior of tribes, I the hero of battles, equal of gods! But who am I? A hated thing, a squaw. So the sun sinks, And so must I return. Sink into stillness by the wigwam door. Why should I stay quiet through the years, O soul, O woman's soul, why must you dream and wait? Break from his hand! Go free! Go cast yourself before the ready wind! Let your loosed soul blow out on open ways! Down and down below the great rocks lie. I would go freely, freely to the winds, Down, down-one step Why should I wait and dream? Down, down-one step Why should I wonder here? Down, down-one step Down, down! Down-now, oh, hear! Hear on the path, Strongly and strongly there, Pound of great strides. How strong, how strong and brave! Back from the hunt he comes, O strong, O brave! Shall I turn humbly now to meet his arms? Down, down-one step No! no! There is no question, there is no waiting now; Only I know he is the life of me. Wars, hunts, souls, bodies, hearts, and gods. Are mingled in the burning of his eyes. Take me, beat me, crush me, Love me-so! Break me beneath the stone that grinds the corn! I am your field, I am your broken field. Take, then, the harvest; Take-while I forget. For who am I? A hated thing, a squaw. |