“Most assuredly!” was the answer, eyes twinkling, “but don’t try mounting a ‘bronc’ until you have learned to manage a gentle cayuse.”
“I certainly had my lesson that time!” was the retort with a tinge of bitterness. “I can ride an ordinary horse, but I had no idea that it was breaking untamed horses you were referring to when you asked me if I could ride. But after the mistake, I could not explain without your thinking me afraid and a coward. When the boys jeered me that day, to make affairs still worse, you laughed also. Then I didn’t care! I grew desperate and didn’t give a rap what happened. But let that go! How about that ankle usage? Can I not claim you on that score?”
“Oh! stop kidding!” was the rather piquant reply. “If we were to follow the old native idea, if you wanted me for your squaw, you would first have to humor my people, from Stemteemä down to uncles, aunts and cousins, including both parents if they were living. Then, if all were satisfied, the wedding would take place, but not after the manner of the whites, with swell dinners, wine and dancing; honeymooning and such baubles of fashion. No minister of the gospel would tie the ‘divine’ knot, to be broken later in the divorce courts. The ceremony would be:
“ ‘Here, warrior! take your wife. Support her! but let it be with her own help. Protect her! and if any man comes between you, you have the right to kill him.’
“That is all the ceremony there would be. No book-form invocation, no sacerdotal blessing of the ‘higher’ order. The ritual of my progenitors must enter into any marriage of mine.”
While the barbaric entered into this primitive conception of wedlock as explained by Cogewea, perhaps it was as near right in its essence—considering the educational status of the two peoples—as that of this Nation, with its double-standard of morals and its Reno hackle. It was in vogue the centuries; and there was no lost virtue among the tribes as now. No woman dared go wrong;16 and her bonds of matrimony were more sacred to her than if a halfscore Christian ministers had forged the mystic knot. In this day, it requires but a few dollars in some crafty lawyer’s pocket to sunder the “holy bonds” which unite as “one” in the sight of God and the angels. The casting of stones is at best precarious.
Cogewea was neither pagan nor heretical in her philosophic deductions. She believed in the one Divine Ruler, nor did she accept any substitute. But she was at a loss about the churches. There were so many of them! all differing in creed and all claiming to be in the right. Fighting each other! mauling with the gospel-club. Her people Roman Catholics, she was alone on the trail; having no choice of denominations. Where was the difference? All were trending towards the same goal—the same plain. The Great Spirit of her race and the God of the white man were the same Deity, only under different names. However, the Indian had the greater respect for his Divinity, never reproaching nor finding fault with Him. Her conviction was: “Let everyone choose their own path” and live true to their own concepts; for somewhere and somehow all traits converge to but one common channel. Life, as pertaining to this existence, is a mere chance, a potential gamble. Mingled sunshine and shadow—mostly shadow. Birdsong and wailing—mostly wailing. The finale: A leap into the dark! Impressive obsequies—provided you have left the price—and the bouquets you missed on the way.
A covetous light had come into Densmore’s eyes, which escaped the notice of Cogewea. But not so with Stemteemä, who sat opposite him. A close reader of character, it was not necessary that she comprehend any part of the conversation in determining the motives of her pale faced visitor. Apparently unheeding, she discerned and understood, as the Easterner again took up the topic in which he was now deeply engrossed:
“Cogewea, do you really mean what you say about the marriage ritual of your ancestors governing your union?”
“Why should I toy with the flames?”
Evidently puzzled by her enigmatic answer, Densmore hesitated long before venturing to reply:
“Perhaps you’re right, doubtless you are right! I don’t know. I am no student of theology, but we are agreed on the marriage question. That ankle process. It is great! Why not—”
“Sure!” was the coquettish interruption. “A peculiar world, this, with its varied peoples, rites and customs. Whether the consummation of bride-catching depends upon the consummate skill of a plains horseman and the superior fleetness of his mount; or the Bushman’s ability to surprise and knock out the two front teeth of the object of his affections with a club; or a tribesman’s fleeting glance at an exposed ankle; the nuptial bonds are perhaps as effective as those of the anthemed ceremony, law-invoked and ofttimes baptized with a Bacchanalian flow of wine. Whatever the mode of procedure, the primal objective is the same throughout all nature; the nesting birds of the air and the denning creatures of sea and land included. All must be equally guided and sanctioned by a Divine cause ruling universally. But seemingly, married people seldom get along harmoniously. They do not respect the solemn, codified altar vows; which, mayhap in cases are too exacting. Selfishness is at the bottom of all such troubles. I would prefer remaining an old maid, although the Indians do not approve of bachelor-girls running loose about the country.”
“Neither do I,” agreed Densmore with a laugh. “They look too lonesome! I have turned Injun and am ready to take you according to the ancient manner of your tribe. What do you say?”
“I have explained the
