burst, and
yet heroically going forth to choke down a few mouthfuls more, lest he
offend some dusky convert.

At one house Cecil witnessed a painful yet comical scene. The
Willamettes were polygamists, each brave having as many wives as he
was able to buy; and Cecil was in a lodge where the brother of the
head man of that lodge brought home his second wife. At the entrance
of the second wife, all gay in Indian finery, the first did not
manifest the sisterly spirit proper for the occasion. After sitting
awhile in sullen silence, she arose and began to kick the fire about,
accompanying that performance with gutteral exclamations addressed to
no one in particular; she struck the dog, which chanced to be in the
way, sending it yelping from the wigwam; and then, having worked
herself into a rage, began to scold her husband, who listened grimly
but said nothing. At last she turned on her new-found sister, struck
her, and began to lay rending hands on the finery that their mutual
husband had given her. That was instantly resented; and in a few
moments the squaws were rolling on the floor, biting, scratching, and
pulling each other's hair with the fury of devils incarnate. The dogs,
attracted by the tumult, ran in and began to bark at them; the Indians
outside the hut gathered at the door, looking in and laughing; the
husband contemplated them as they rolled fighting at his feet, and
then looked at Cecil. It was undoubtedly trying to Indian dignity but
the warrior sustained his admirably. "Bad, very bad," was the only
comment he allowed himself to make. Cecil took his leave, and the
brave kept up his air of indifference until the white man had gone.
Then he quietly selected a cudgel from the heap of fire-wood by the
doorway, and in a short time peace reigned in the wigwam.

In a lodge not far away, Cecil witnessed another scene yet more
barbarous than this. He found a little blind boy sitting on the ground
near the fire, surrounded by a quantity of fish-bones which he had
been picking. He was made a subject for the taunting jibes and
laughter of a number of men and women squatting around him. His mother
sat by in the most cruel apathy and unconcern, and only smiled when
Cecil expressed commiseration for her unfortunate and peculiarly
unhappy child. It had been neglected and seemed almost starved. Those
around apparently took pleasure in tormenting it and rendering it
miserable, and vied with each other in applying to it insu