The Arrow Lake Indians, as well as kindred tribes, manufactured robes or blankets from the fur of the rabbit and the soft fleecy hair of the wild mountain goat. The material was laboriously twisted into long, heavy strings or cords and woven in square mesh, making a very complete and warm wrap or covering. Of these examined—goat-hair—only two, comparatively modern and coming from British Columbia, showed any trace of artificial coloring. Commercially dyed wool yarn had been used, the designs knitted into the original fabric. One showed a wreath done in pale red, the other a center-field of blue. ↩
With but few exceptions the early traders, individual and incorporate, were not only inordinately immoral—marrying after the tribal custom native women only to abandon them at pleasure but they were, to all intents, scarce short of legalized banditti. When the Hudson Bay trading post at Old Fort Okanogan was at its height, the Indians came with loads of priceless furs which were piled equal in build to the object of their fancy, and it was called an “even swap!” Thus for a cheap, smooth-bored flinklock gun of the musket type—oftimes six or seven feet in length—the Company received a pack of the finest variety of skins stacked solidly the standing height of the worthless firearm. Into the hands of the simple minded natives came fabulously priced beads, cheap ornaments and gaudy cloth; blankets, weapons, ammunition and other articles of fancied or passing needs, including foods of doubtful quality, and into the coffers of the shrewd and unscrupulous traders poured the wealth of a nation. Nor has the looting ceased! The methods have only changed to suit the ever shifting conditions of the years. ↩
In the Stemteemä’s narrative of Green-blanket Feet, the author has purposely incorporated incidents connected with two or three different occurrences. The story as preserved by the immediate descendants of the unfortunate woman and as given me by her granddaughter, Mrs. Susan Winegarden, née Hunter, follows:
One of the traders sent to the Okanogan from St. Louis, was Robert Pelkey. To the Post came Sophie Antwine, a comely maiden of the Arrow Lake band. These Indians have always been noted for their light complexions and pleasing manners. Young Pelkey and Sophia became fast friends and later married in accordance to the tribal rite. This was nothing unusual. Adventurers, traders, and army men—especially officers—often took “wives” from among the natives. The women entered such unions in good faith, but with the men the “contracts” were to be ignored upon personal convenience. Military men who afterwards won international fame during the Civil War left progeny of mixed blood among some of the Columbia River tribes.
To the Pelkeys, two children were born: Robert and Kitty. On these pledges the Indian mother lavished all the love inherent with motherhood. But her happiness proved fleeting! The husband soon tired of his dusky wife, and planned secretly to desert her. Not wishing his children to grow up as Indians, he determined to steal them away and take them back to his old home to be educated. They were then about two and three years of age.
One day Sophia first missed her babies, and then her husband. She learned that he had left with the children by pack train for Fort Benton on the Missouri River. This frontier post was the nearest river embarkation for the East. The recreant spouse made the journey in safety and without encountering hardships other than usual to a trip of its kind in those days.
When the wife and mother realized the full extent of the blow, she became possessed with the sole thought of recovering her little ones. With no preparation and without any goodbyes, she immediately set out on foot; following the trail where, ever “just ahead” was being borne all that was dear and sacred of earth to her. Feeding on berries and roots, sometimes stopping with friendly tribesmen or at a settler’s cabin—but more often sleeping in the open—starving! she resolutely held to the long, lonely way.
But the wanderer fared well through this first part of her travels, as compared to what she was destined to endure. An enemy country must be crossed. The Blackfeet, Sioux, and other plains tribes were warring, killing or taking captive any who came their way. Having been warned by the friendlies, Sophia was ever alert to possible dangers; but at the cost of valuable time. On one occasion she found herself between two opposing war parties, and for three days was compelled to hide in nothing more than an abandoned badger-den. Often she sought refuge in the brush and timber along streams and “washouts”; but through it all she undauntedly pressed onward. Her moccasins worn to shreds, she tore strips from her blanket—green in color—with which to encase her feet. From this, she was subsequently sobriqueted by her tribe, “Green-blanket Feet.”
Weary and famished, the woman at last arrived at Fort Benton. Directed to the boat landing, she hurried there only to see the steamer just loosed from its moorings, backing into midstream. Standing on the deck with others, was her unfaithful husband with their two children. With outstretched arms, the wailing mother stood on the shore and watched her babies until they had faded in the distance. The relentless Missouri had aided in the consummation of another tragedy.
Sophia was now alone and friendless and far from home. She had fought a fearful fight and lost; and now, penniless and without a single backward glance, she faced the sunset on her long, dreary return tramp. Her lagging footsteps were no longer buoyed by the incentive of loved ones “just ahead.” The same fierce struggles were encountered, as empty-handed she plodded back to a broken home and her waiting
