They treated the
matter as though it were one of everyday occurrence.
Mary, the Indian nurse, however, did not regard the incident so calmly.
When the children were brought back dirty, greasy, bedaubed, and so tired
that they could hardly hold up their little heads, her indignation knew no
bounds, and as she was perfectly fearless she couched her sentiments in the
most vigorous phrases of the expressive Cree language.
The history of Indian Mary was very strange. Indeed there was an incident
in her life so sad that from the day of her recovery she was considered to
be under the special care of the Good Spirit, so that even the most
influential chiefs or hunters had a superstitious fear of showing any
temper, or making any bitter retort, no matter what she might say.
Years before this time Mary was the wife of a cruel pagan Indian who bore
the English name of Robinson. Although she was slight of figure, and never
very strong, he exacted from Mary a great deal of hard work and was vexed
and angry if, when heavily burdened with the game he had shot, she did not
move as rapidly along on the trail as he did, carrying only his gun and
ammunition.
Once, when they were out in the woods some miles from his wigwam, he shot a
full-grown deer and ordered her to bring it into the camp on her back.
Picking up his gun he started on ahead, and being a large, stalwart man,
and moving with the usual rapidity of the Indians on the homeward trail, he
soon reached his wigwam.
Pages:
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34