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The cradle is filled with the softest feathers, for the spirit rests more comfortably upon soft things hard things bruise it and all the papoose's old toys dangle from the crib, for the dead papoose may love to play even as the living papoose did. Of the many peculiar customs of the Indians in the long ago, perhaps the most unique was the annual "feast of Maidens."
As the light faded she saw three horizontal red streaks cut the obscurity and knew that one of her guards was in the midst of the rustlers, doing his single-handed best. The red splashes of answering shots showed on all sides of him. She tugged on her chaps and boots, slipped Papoose's picket rope and vaulted to his back. The scene was once more illuminated as she rode from the wagon.
Another thing mentioned by Dunkie, which has stuck in my memory, was his running across a papoose's grave in an Indian burying-ground at Pincer Creek, when he was surveying, where the Indian baby had been buried above-ground, of course in an old Saratoga trunk.
Indians believe that a baby's spirit cannot reach the spirit-land until the child, if living, would have been old enough and strong enough to walk. Until that time the little spirit hovers about its mother. And often it grows tired oh so very tired! So the tender mother carries a papoose's cradle on her back that the baby spirit may ride and rest when it will.
"Something more than twice the flight of an arrow," tranquilly answered the Indian "yes, much more. It used to be that she went short distances, but she now goes a papoose's journey of half a sun sometimes further." He viewed his impatient guest a moment with gravity, and added, "yes, much further." "And you trust her all alone?" "She is an Algonquin maiden. She fears nothing."
In Montezuma's castle, crumbling from roof to base The winds and rain of heaven ghosts of the past now chase. Where erstwhile the Great Spirit's children dwelt Forever hushed is the papoose's wail, and stilled the squaw's low-crooning lilt.
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