For a stranger, whom we know not!
Like a fire upon a hearth-stone
Is a neighbor’s homely daughter,
Like the starlight or the moonlight
Is the handsomest of strangers! Hiawatha
Cogewea sat squaw-fashion on the bearskin in Stemteemä’s teepee, her daily visit with hot food for the old grandparent. She was telling her of the riders; jokes played, of the horses and dogs, nor did she forget the children. She was awaiting Densmore, who was to join them for the promised story. At last he came and called:
“May I come in?”
“Is the door-flap fastened that the pale face must beg like a Blackfeet slave prisoner for entrance? None ever knocks at the teepee door. The Indian home is also the home of the peaceful stranger; nor is an enemy, when once within its walls, to be molested.”
Densmore recognized the voice, and lifting the blanket-shutter, stooped through the low entrance. Cogewea pointed to a worn buffalo robe and gravely motioned him to be seated, as she spoke:
“If you visit here in our wigwam, you must affect the role of a genuine ‘buck.’ Throw your veneered manners aside and be a real Injun. Command me to bring you water in a basket-cup, let me regale you on dried fish and meat; berries, camas and bitterroot. You must eat till you are completely filled and when you depart, take with you any remaining food and the robe on which you have rested. This, in recognition of the honored visit you have made us. Such was the custom among the tribes snows ago before we were ruined by an alien, rum-flavored civilization.”
“Were such the usages under all conditions of tribal life?”
“Sure! Carried away with you every robe that you may have used while visiting a neighbor, and gave likewise when receiving company. If this was olden times, I would have all of Stemteemä’s robes and blankets up at the house ere this. I am here at least three times a day and seldom miss sitting down for a few moments’ chat. You must excuse me,” she continued as she shifted position, “while I stretch my numbed limbs. I am a young squaw but I guess modern life has disqualified me for the ways of the teepee.”
Cogewea now reclined, head resting in her hand, elbow braced on the ground. The aged woman spoke scoldingly in her own tongue; the words coming quick and sharp, with impressive gesticulations. The girl’s reply was also in Okanogan, as she drew her feet under her skirts. Densmore listened with manifest uneasiness. He surmised that the grandmother was averse to his presence and that he was the object of the disquieting colloquy. From the intonation, he was very sure of this. Cogewea read his thoughts and addressed him:
“I beg your pardon for thus discoursing in an unfamiliar language. We are all only mortal and at times perhaps a little conceited with ourselves. I know about how you feel and I am speaking from experience. When people converse in a tongue that I do not understand, I always conjecture that I am the subject of conversation. Doubtless this is ofttimes a mistake. I was just receiving a calling down from this dear old soul. Some more of her ancient ideas. She was chiding me for exposing my ankles in your presence.”
“If her contravention is in deference to me, she is unnecessarily perturbed. I am not at all averse to—”
“It was the custom in other snows,” Cogewea broke in hastily, “before that—to us—misnomer civilization came, that a young unmarried woman must sit, if occasion demanded, on her feet in her parent’s teepee from morning until nightfall. Aside from her immediate relatives, no man must ever see her ankles. Should this at any time happen, the girl was given to the man for nothing. Considered of no future value, she became a reproach to her family. Conditions might exonerate the maiden from direct blame, but yet she was disgraced. Did a man take unwarranted advantage to thus embarrass a girl, dire results to himself would likely follow, unless her people could be placated by his taking her to wife.14 This is why Stemteemä was scolding me. She is fearful lest I lose my money-value, which I am afraid is not much.”
The teepee was rippling with the musical laughter of the “forward girl,” and again the chiding voice of the aged squaw gave warning of disapprobation; which caused Densmore to shake with suppressed merriment. Cogewea recovered her self composure and after conversing with her grandmother for a few moments, during which time the old woman appeared placated, she explained more fully that in tribal days the girls were bartered, going to the man who could produce the greater amount of wampum, ponies or other worldly goods; and that the daughter of a chief brought the most to her parents; because she was considered as a “princess.” The Stemteemä was at one time a winsome princess, trafficked to the wealthiest fighting man of the Arrow Lake tribe; a man who had reached middle life, while she loved a dashing young warrior of her own tribe, an Okanogan. The latter fell victim to the rage of the husband, when he found that the younger man held the affections of his comely wife. A husband had the right to kill any man who sought to take from him his wife, while on the other hand should a warrior desire the wife of another, they could duel for her.15 If the husband fell in the fray, the victor took his place at the teepee fireside among the papooses and the other squaws, when more than the one woman.
“If that was the manner of your people in past years,” observed Densmore, “and since we are trying to play true Indians, I can possess you without the price of beads and horses, for which I am thankful, living as I am on the charity of your brother-in-law.
