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Ear _ SMITHSONIAN INSTIGUTION 
ate BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY 
: BULLETIN 143 | 


ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 
AND irs CULTURAL BACKGROUND 


By So 
SISTER M. INEZ HILGER © 


SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION 


BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY 
BULLETIN 148 


ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 
AND ITS CULTURAL BACKGROUND 


By 
SISTER M. INEZ HILGER 


UNITED STATES 
GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE 
WASHINGTON : 1952 


For sale by the Superintendent of Documents, U. S. Government Printing Office 
Washington 25,D.C. - Price 75 cents 


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LETTER OF TRANSMITTAL 


SMITHSONIAN INsTITUTION 
Bureau or AmeRIcAN ETHNOLOGY, 
Washingion, D. C., June 1, 1950. 
Sir: I have the honor to transmit herewith a manuscript entitled 
“Arapaho Child Life and Its Cultural Background,” by Sister M. 
Inez Hilger, and to recommend that it be published as a bulletin of the 
Bureau of American Ethnology. 
Very respectfully yours, 
M. W. Srimurne, Director. 
Dr. ALEXANDER WETMORE, 
Secretary, Smithsonian Institution. 


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CONTENTS 


Page 

HetOracetaheteed 28 a aang watt wad hy XI 
LA JASER COME” TEA OY ONE CYC Gf Sey ase eee eet Ig UT ORES, TO XV 
inmtroduetions he Arapaho Indiansi. 922562 es Se eee on 1 
PCI UMM METI OC e wane os Yh EO os ee Cael Dyes Paula. ahah ele ops a 
RaneeanOm 26 oes ne et oa a ee eg ae py ond is 4 
REG ARSOCTULG Y= 22 2 ee ee eles Bien at 6 
HeimipaelonyancdesiZe\Oh ts matey 25 ey ee Ne ee 0 el eae eat 9 
RenroGnorseshatiome: <= acs e! crs ke eee Oi eet oo aie me ener e allies ayy 10 
ADOT TION Sees elec iting yn Scene elas Licdip Bp Sy te ay nay 2. by ota be yD pape 11 
Food and conduct taboos and prescriptions. _______________._-.__- 12 

BESS 10s Ineepenepen Sie iar aye a Ls hi A WL al La aac sd 15 
JPAGVETE) OLE Oy HOT a ok ee nen nA ea EN Rs Gi eg MY 2 re 15 
IPEYSONGSASSISUING (2 he ee Skah LN Se eae eg 15 
Birth: Position of mother, aids, attendants, navel, placenta________ 16 
ead shaping fontenals. —. . ..- .  _.— -pouaiiyaies - asian pe ae lg shee 20 
Chai Tee Es al eg cL Sead ea ead nas Sa 21 
HHstoeub lass ec ee Ne le eal ee eh Lars ed > eee 21 
Announcement of birth: 222.2) 2 32s ok pee ae ener aes a 21 
PrImIA Ol on ee ce i es ee ee a 22 

ING VelICOLGset a oe op eee el eee oe 0 ee 22 
orcunimliimeerests.... 222) e oslo bl dU ee seen lL So ees 24 
INGORE RGIEROUN G2 8 i ed a pees 24 
ISIC ROU Owe POE Neh i es oes Ll ae 24 
SMa peria:. CAlCUM POWGEr’ 222k Le 5 Lo ee 28 
Dirac nies tie te SURE ee ke 29 
pieammenartiag abies. oe ha eh ei le ie 38 
TRE ee Bre pe ene ee ey oe ei 2 Ue eh | ee 38 
Hirst suile;elenched fists): 2 222 asinjfece (2 eet on sly etl Sem ees 40 
Mane eU Ot st = Saree Ra a iy en cel lye een 40 
OnSiRn Pe te ee ee See ee ca te a. A lh han Be 4] 
LEDEGEO) S00 98 5S MR RN RIT RSI 7) ee gS ge CONOR ee mUOUEN Co eh TE A Sr 4] 
WIESE GLOGMOS, 10S Sa 5 ee ih es 8 OY he en poe ae eh 42 

1B SUT Ca1E 2570 A ie AE Le oe Rg me ean sn eS 43 
Dieesinip a Ween = So Se Se on sel ipa ee 44 
PIN 28 2 ch ph el al es hk nfo pert At ie eh a bells mi Ah eth: 44 
WEAN 2 eye dere 2 een Bes yo fe eee 3 elt aoa oi ig pede 46 

Mey PIC CGNGitions.. 59 ed eerie Sniepve iiaeane bie 46 
PUAMIS ADE UPONE ts Sa ee athe a geet aa Se aan 46 
Metormed babies -.< = ee ep Pa pend ae ea Bech yee 47 
Tne stele ed? oo he ene al gt Y pres iE Ban on pega yr We Ue El 48 

MMe orbits ey MEAG TCL yg ye ed i ea Seals RR MY ey poe 49 

A Gopylons, slaves, Serv alba” sate St ce Paks Ale Ee bike 50 
Sick babies: cure and prevention. 2.2. = a a 54 


vi CONTENTS 


Page 

TN, DEALS ALI ROR MIS EE RG Aa RP ape Races ag EE EEE oh 58 
Oriper0Or MAMIee oa 2 ee ee eee ee eee 58 
Reasons for giving or changing names-_--------------------------- 60 
arate m ebm. 3683 iss ee ee eee 61 
Shanord DAMEG. + 2. ee eee ee iho on en 62 
Sherman Sage’s account of Arapaho names. -_------------------- af 64 
Aranene NAMES... DS eae n oo ete ate eee eo} ee 66 
POTS ESET LC a ane ie ee RES ee REN Pb oe eS ee ee i 68 
Brother-sister relationship wad. Lcu.sbedeneseceeenceecst ek oe Eee 68 
Puberty... -<o nee neci sees cu cee cans sdeaveesee- n= eee ee 70 
Training children... ......2..-.42-.s2--<-ti5200s SO TELE th. eee 75 
Instructors and. method... i. - so.wdes ate ee et eos ue =e 75 
Rewards, corrections, punishments_-_....-.....-.-------.-2-L2LUL8 78 

A favored, childiicon. ss sedeltis eee eee oe ee 82 
Mental training..<.....---.=..-..-.-02--6).-<- Ue ee ee eee 83 
Time measurements----.---- ee eete eee eae ou wamee lh Se RREe Oe 83 
Counting and linear measurements-....--...-.--.-<-----.-Ji2LEue 88 
Interpretation of natural phenomena___---__-/_-_--_-_---------4-- 90 
Language- -- -- sicben ons webtaods hep temce deste rete ae en 94 
Signaling - -.....-s02-2s-4222s6enessse=de0esesacses~5 bee 96 
Training in: morals. ..<- =... .205.452..cscbeseceadsecso Ree ee 98 
Courtesy. 42m. 222 Su. SOSA SO 2a lon, be ee 98 
Hospitality,.generosity, kindness... ...2+...--2 vl oe ee 100 
Quarreling, talebearing 2522200454 55245 55 sse sons ois 2eeee ee 101 
Boasting, honesty, stealing... -2<2-6.<se42ee525252252225= 050 101 
Suicide,.murder,-cannibalism_2—===2-2-5-=-.--.-G)U0_4) sea 104 
Children’s diversions. .-\2 2.422. =ss222 set bocese oo lse soe eee 106 
Childrenis play: 2252222 5-=2252hSess5 a eee ee 106 

Poet animals... .2525252 9/50 s52'sedeuehesse sh esse 109 
Chums, early adolescence... 222.sss2de0scebecs222-555.0 110 

MG ATGOR sie x wns Sema a a plese lal ed el alt re Tt 
Visiting 2422 tobe ec atiies bee Se ee ee 115 
Bocial dances: 2... 2c is escdessd aes oe eae 117 
@eremonial age societies... ss -545252 0555-22252. .  ee 117 
PMA GOING oa ot ance oe owas a ee a 4s a oe 124 
“Medicine,” ‘“‘medicine bag,’’ medicine man, ‘‘making medicine’’_--___ 124 
Fasting for “medicine”? 25-42 s2Gs0 255s leo shoes +505 32 127 
sing “medisines’’. 255 bee soe sees soso sel sess eee 130 
Lt a oe nn pane ei CE EE 134 
Preventive measures of ill health... s bc os sass OS 134 
PUVA soo. DSoo ds hee or a ee ee os 135 
Herbs, roota, -barki.22 02 s2-0<0 25 sos ee a ee 136 
Sucking, bloodletting, burning, tattooing, sweating..__..___._.__--_- 139 
Personal sacrifice, fasting, material sacrifice, changing name__-____-- 141 
Religion and supernatural powers... -.===-_=-=2----2+-22222L22 1D00ny 142 
Supreme Being and minor deities... 2222522 s2s2s2220 Jee 144 
Ceremonial smoking, ceremonial sweat baths.____________________- 147 
Tribal religious ceremonial: The Sun Dance_____________-=-_-----+ 148 
Notes on the 1936 Northern Arapaho Sun Dance______-_________-- 151 
Notes on the 1940 Northern Arapaho Sun Dance__________--____-- 154 
Belief in life after-death.—. 2050 2 one OU 91d Jt So ee 160 
page aiher teatbh. ot A a” 160 
RIOD i aby etait os patie mie a hed kn ae Se ae 162 
AaterrenG ang wraves. 2/50)! oe 163 


CONTENTS 


UDESTEUYE STAD CYS "GLOpTTe Ce gue ay yc ga eR a seg ge en 
‘The buitalosebie® source of supplies. 2-2. *.2--- == 2222-22555-22. 
BR ee nna ye a i SE ae RE ee ek oe 
Pa UST ION ene ee ks 2 kt fe ak ee he ae a os 
Food andats preparation: -arye ot 4 sere ear. ee ee Lee 
ANo@ ole Se Sa ee a ee Se eee eee 
PTE STP 112 2 See Jc ee ed 
Ra renee ek, ds ed ee AG Oe SS lL 
TNE INCRE PES P01 oO PEN Pc Re aay Epp oe 
ribalaivisionso.— . Lees eee Ne ha Bp 13! 2 CL EA RR pn 


GENS pret ce) (RPO Ee ne pea eS STOR AT OEY Maye nena re 
Se SS a See oR a eo tt a i te a Si 
Types of marriages, exogamy, endogamy______--__--------------- 
Cross-cousin marriage, sororate, levirate___..--------------------- 
AGeandequanitiesiOl pari Merge). 2). yeu umes en eae pe eee 
PETER RARE eo ee es en ee ey ee ake 
MRTEIADEUCETEMAOIIRL: tye). 3 oo. ys ae Shee ed kd Sl Se 
MMe A Wet DOSE Sie aha ley alae ppg a I ee eg D8 a 
VIA TCLATIVOS <6 ns ei ORE A a ee ee a ee 
RIT IRs CU VORCCS 222 mee eal i oe eee ee ks ah ae 


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12. 


13. 


14. 
15. 


16. 


Lis. 


18. 


19. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 
PLATES 


(All plates follow page 240) 


. 1, 2, Sherman Sage; Northern Arapaho, 1940. 3, 4, Pete Lone Bear; Northern 


Arapaho, 1940. 


. 1,2, Old Lady Salt Friday; Northern Arapaho, 1940. 3,4, Martha Grosbeck; 


Northern Arapaho, 1940. 

1, Arnold Woolworth; Southern Arapaho, 1941. 2, Rose Arpan, daughter of 
Arnold Woolworth; Southern Arapaho, 1941. 

1, Agnes Yellow Plume; Northern Arapaho, 1942. 2, Ann Wolf; Northern 
Arapaho, 1942. 


. 1, Sherman Sage; Northern Arapaho, 1936. 2, Pete Lone Bear; Northern 


Arapaho, 1940. 

1, Sam Shot Gun, smoking ceremonially; Northern Arapaho, 1940. 2, Win- 
neshead Sharp Nose, Jerome Old Man and wife, Edna; Northern Arapaho, 
1936. 

1, 2, Arapaho cradles. 3, Sioux cradle. 

1, 2, Flora Dewey, transporting her baby; Northern Arapaho, 1936. 

1, 2, Old Lady Salt Friday, transporting her grandchild; Northern Arapaho, 
1940. 

1, Rose Moss, transporting her grandchild; Northern Arapaho, 1940. 2, Wife 
of Robert Friday and her baby; Northern Arapaho, 1940. 3, Agnes Yellow 
Plume and Ann Wolf, recalling lullabies sung by their grandmothers; 
Northern Arapaho, 1942. 

1, Clarice Jenkins, preparing to transport her baby on her back; Northern 
Arapaho, 1942. 2, Ready to swing baby onto back. 3, Swinging baby 
onto back. 4, Ready to place blanket over baby. 

1, Clarice Jenkins, throwing blanket over baby. 2, Ready to leave for home. 

1, Josephine Coyote and her baby; Southern Arapaho, 1941. 2, Relative of 
Pete Lone Bear and her baby; Northern Arapaho, 1940. 

Arapaho children’s moccasins. 

1, Agnes Yellow Plume, explaining to her grandchild the making of an 
Arapaho cradle from the photograph shown in plate 7; Northern Arapaho, 
1942. 2, Tending the baby. Children of Josephine Coyote; Northern 
Arapaho, 1941. 

1, A pailful of corn gathered and shucked by 9- and 12-year-old girls in 
helping their grandmother, Agnes Yellow Plume, prepare dinner; Northern 
Arapaho, 1942. 2, Playing house. Playhouse in background; Southern 
Arapaho and Southern Cheyenne children, 1941. Cheyenne-Arapaho 
Reservation. 

1, Alta Arpan, granddaughter of Arnold Woolworth; Southern Arapaho, 
1941. 2, Clayton Arpan, grandson of Arnold Woolworth, 1941. 

1, Jane Friday; Northern Arapaho, 1942. 2, A little girl on her way to school, 
too shy to tell her name; Southern Arapaho, 1941. 

1, Chums; Northern Arapaho, 1942. 2, Chums; Southern Arapaho, 1941. 


vir 


28. 


29. 


30. 
31. 
32. 
33. 
34, 


35. 


36. 


37. 
38. 
39. 
40. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 1D.¢ 


. 1, Teddy Friday; Northern Arapaho, 1942. 2, Helen Spotted Wolf’s son; 


Southern Arapaho, 1941. 


. Arapaho doll. 

. 1, Arapaho doll. 2, Arapaho doll removed from toy cradle shown in plate 23, 
. Arapaho doll cradle. 

. Arapaho shinny ball. 

. Participants attired for tribal social dances; Northern Arapaho, 1929: 1, 


Francis Lone Bear. 2, Leonard Warren. 


. Participants in tribal social dances; Northern Arapaho, 1929: 1, Old Man 


Wolf. 2, Red Pipe. 


. Attired for tribal social dances; Northern Arapaho, 1928: 1, Goes-in-Lodge, 


last of tribal chiefs, and Michael Goggles (Iron Eyes). 2, Regina Little 
Shield. 

Attired for tribal social dances; Northern Arapaho, 1929: 1, Samuel Wolf 
Ran, a tribal leader and member of the Arapaho Council for many years. 
2, Michael Arthur. 

Participants in tribal social dances: 1, Collie Judson; Northern Arapaho, 1929. 
2, James Lone Bear, judge for minor offenses on Wind River Reservation; 
Northern Arapaho, 1931. 

Northern Arapaho, 1942. 1, Just after bathing in the irrigation ditch. 2, 
Mother bathing her child in irrigation ditch. 

1, Sweat lodge framework; Northern Arapaho, 1936. 2, Camp circle; 1935 
Northern Arapaho Sun Dance. 

Southern Arapaho Sun Dance participant. 

Framework of Southern Arapaho Sun Dance lodge. 

1, Center pole; 1940 Northern Arapaho Sun Dance. 2, Sun shelter; Northern 
Arapaho, 1936. 

1940 Northern Arapaho Sun Dance. 1, Dancers and bundle containing 
sacred pipe. 2, Drummers. Children romping around. 3, Rest period. 
Sponsors of dancers seated at left. Several men making cherry water 
for dancers at right. 

1, Sun shelter at Sherman Sage’s home; Northern Arapaho, 1940. 2, Sun 
shelter near Rabbit Run’s home; Southern Arapaho, 1941. 3, Sun shelter; 
Northern Arapaho, 1936. 

1, Arapaho boy’s clothing. 2, Arapaho girl’s clothing. 

Left Hand and son; Southern Arapaho. 

Little Raven and daughter; Southern Arapaho. 

1, Friday; Northern Arapaho. 2, Yellow Bear and daughter, Ann. 


FIGURES PAGE 


1. Diagram showing the approximate positions of the center pole, the 


sacred pipe, ani of the persons present at the 1940 Northern Arapaho 
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PREFACE 


The purpose of the present study is to record the customs, beliefs, 
and traditions of the primitive Arapaho Indians of the United States 
as found in the development and training of the child. Childhood 
among the primitive Arapaho began with birth. It ended when the 
child was sufficiently mature to no longer need, or be subject to, 
parental protection and direction. “They were children as long 
as the father and the mother supplied their needs; clothed and fed 
them; saved their treasures and belongings for them; cared for their 
horses and their ponies; gave them advice and made them obey. In 
fact as long as they were under the general protection of the family.” 

A girl was considered mature after puberty. Her childhood ended 
then, or at least shortly afterward. She was of marriageable age after 
puberty. The end of a boy’s childhood was not so definite. In- 
formants thought it ended with puberty, but no one considered a boy 
mature then. ‘When a boy’s voice had changed—that happened when 
he was about 14, 15, 16, or 17 years old—he was no longer considered 
a child. But neither was he a man until he was about 20 years old.” 
At 15 a boy was eligible for membership in the Stars, the second and 
last of the boys’ societies. At 17 he was permitted to join the first 
of the men’s societies, the Tomahawks. 

Periods in a child’s life were designated by events in its mental and 
physical development. When asked, “How old is your child?” a 
mother might answer, “My child still sleeps. My child smiles. My 
child has teeth. My child walks. Mychildeatsalone. My child now 
goes to the toilet alone. My child speaks some words now. My child 
is already able to think [about 4 years old]. My child is able to learn 
[about 6 years old]. My girl knows our language well now [about 
10 years old]. My boy has his own mind now [about 15 years old].” 

No monograph dealing with Arapaho child life is now available. 
The brief exact studies of Michelson (1933 and 1934) and the longer 
accurate account of Mooney (1896), and Kroeber (1902) contain some 
excellent material related to child life. Attention is called to these in 
the present work, as well as to scattered items found in other sources. 
All sources are listed in the appended bibliography. 

The first 11 sections of the present study deal with the development 
and training of the child. Sections 12 through 19 tell of the milieu in 
which the child lived. Since phases of Arapaho life found in sections 
12 through 19 had been rather completely covered by earlier writers, 


xI 


‘jun 2 7 1952 


XII PREFACE 


especially by Culin, Mooney, Kroeber, Dorsey, and Carter,’ the pres- 
ent writer spent little time studying them. The material of these 
writers is of particular value, since much of it was gathered by them 
in the field when the Arapaho lived in more primitive ways than they 
do today. Also in some instances the authors were participants in 
tribal activities and, therefore, had first-hand information. Attention 
is called throughout this work to previous comprehensive studies. 
Furthermore, some of the earlier literature contains minute descrip- 
tions of traits by eyewitnesses—traits no longer found among the 
Arapaho nor as minutely remembered by old Arapaho. Quotations 
from the literature as recorded by participant eyewitnesses are, there- 
fore, inserted; the atmosphere caught by the author would be lost in 
digests. The early literature and more recent studies, then, have 
been drawn upon in order to describe the primitive Arapaho child’s 
environment. The latter part of this study, beginning with the section 
on Ceremonial Age Societies, does however, contain some new material. 

Variations in important items occur in a number of places in the 
present work. The writer made serious, but unsuccessful, attempts to 
clear them. She cannot give reasons for the variations unless it be 
the following: Sherman Sage, a Northern Arapaho nearly 100 years 
old, was considered by the Whites on the Wind River Reservation, 
Wyo., and by the Arapaho on both the Wind River Reservation and the 
Cheyenne-Arapaho Reservation, Okla., as the oldest, the best in- 
formed, and the most reliable Arapaho informant. The writer found 
this tobe true. It is his information, however, that often differs from 
that of most other informants. Sage was a generation older than 
most of the next oldest informants. It is possible that his early life 
was more typical of his tribe and less affected by intrusions than was 
that of other informants. Whenever it was difficult to decide which 
custom was institutional, the writer has quoted informants, especially 
Sherman Sage, at length. In fact quotations are freely used through- 
out the work. Many quotations contain shades of differences that 
may be of value in later comparative studies. Often, also, the age of an 
informant is given; age sometimes pigeonholes an informant in the 
period of acculturation. Since much information is personal, names 
are generally withheld. Informants wanted it so. Exceptions, in 
instances, are Sherman Sage, older than 97 years (pls. 1, 5) ; Old Lady 
Salt Friday, older than 81 years (pls. 2,9); Agnes Yellow Plume, 65 
years old (pls. 4, 10, 15) ; and Anne Wolf, 70 years old (pls. 4, 10)— 
all of the Northern Arapaho; Arnold Woolworth, older than 80 years 
(pl. 3) ; and Jessie Rowlodge, 57 years—both of the Southern Arapaho. 

Information in the work is not always as complete as the writer 
would wish it to be. The Arapaho believe that speaking or thinking 


1 Cf. Bibliography, pp. 233-240, of this work, 


CAO! « @ am 


PREFACE XIII 


of anything pertaining to prenatal life or to birth will cause pregnancy 
in one’s relationship. Since this was not desired, informants, as well 
as interpreters, hesitated to give information on these items. The 
same reserve was shown when health and death were discussed; such 
talk might cause ill health or death to someone in the tribe. Giving 
information on the Sun Dance, the tribal religion, savored of irrever- 
ence. Sharing knowledge of personal supernatural powers dimin- 
ished their efficacy. Plant usages, being closely associated with super- 
natural powers, must not be divulged. Persistence on the part of the 
writer in breaking down this reserve would have been discourteous, 
indeed ; consequently, some information is incomplete. 

The material for the present study was collected by the writer in 
the field during personal interviews with 15 Southern Arapaho on 
the Cheyenne-Arapaho Reservation in Oklahoma in the winter of 
1935 and the summer of 1941, and with 42 Northern Arapaho of the 
Wind River Reservation in Wyoming in the summers of 1936, 1940, 
and 1942. 

Informants and interpreters were selected with the council and 
advice of the personnel of the reservation agencies of the United 
States Bureau of Indian Affairs, of missionaries on the reservations, 
of intelligent Arapaho, and of Whites in towns where Arapaho trade. 
Great care was taken that all persons selected were honest, had relia- 
ble and clear memories, and were mentally alert. Commercial in- 
formants and interpreters, such as offered their services at set prices, 
were strictly avoided.” 

The appended bibliography lists sources on the Arapaho found by 
the writer in the Library of Congress, the libraries of the Universities 
of Minnesota, California, Southern California, and Pennsylvania; 
of Columbia University and Catholic University of America; of the 
historical societies of Minnesota, North Dakota, and Oklahoma; of 
the United States National Museum, the American Museum of Natural 
History, the University of Pennsylvania Museum, the Field Museum 
of Natural History, the Southwest Museum, the Henry E. Huntington 


2QOn both reservations informants and interpreters were acquainted with published 
works on the Arapaho. The day following an argument a Southern informant said: 
“You’re right on those navel cords and bags. Kroeber says the same as those old ladies 
told you yesterday. I was wrong. Do you know that most of the answers to the questions 
you are asking are not recorded in Mooney or Kroeber or Dorsey. I’m glad you are 
collecting these customs and recording them also.” A Northern man offered to let the 
writer see Carter’s study on the sacred pipe since it was the best available study, and ‘‘that 
will save you time, for there is no need doing things over again. I didn’t know that there 
was so much about our tribe that had not been recorded. They were telling me about 
your questions. Practically none are found in Mooney’s work nor in Kroeber’s.’”’ Lowie’s 
study (1916) on the Plains Indian age societies was recommended by a Southern man as 
the best authority on ceremonial age societies. “It deals with a good many buffalo Indian 
tribes. And it’s a good account. It tells you more than any Indian around here could 
give you on those societies. In fact, there was talk at one time about reviving these 
societies and it was Lowie’s book that we were going to use in doing so.’’ And the best 
information on Arapaho tribal bands is ‘‘the one you can find in Mooney’s account in the 
Fourteenth Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology.” 


XIV PREFACE 


Library, and the library of the United States Department of the 
Interior. The writer owes special thanks to the librarians for their 
generous and helpful assistance. 

Valuable information was gleaned from Arapaho exhibits in the 
Chicago Natural History Museum, the United States National Muse- 
um, the American Museum of Natural History, and the University 
of Pennsylvania Museum. The writer is grateful to the curators 
for assistance in locating Arapaho items in the museums. 

The writer wishes to express her appreciation to the late Rev. Dr. 
John M. Cooper, Head of the Department of Anthropology of Cath- 
olic University of America; to the late Dr. Truman Michelson, of 
the Bureau of American Ethnology; to Dr. Wilson D. Wallis, Head of 
the Department of Anthropology of the University of Minnesota; and 
to Dr. Matthew W. Stirling, Director of the Bureau of American 
Ethnology, Smithsonian Institution, for their interest, encouragement, 
and helpful suggestions in the present study. 

She is deeply indebted and sincerely grateful to both Arapaho in- 
formants and interpreters for their fine cooperation and intelligent 
help. The writer is keenly aware that without them the present work 
could not have been produced. She hopes, as they do, that their 
descendants will find in it a legacy. 

The writer is most appreciative, also, of the fine courtesies extended 
to her by the personnel of the local agencies of the United States 
Bureau of Indian Affairs on both the Wind River and the Arapaho- 
Cheyenne Reservations; to the missionaries on the reservations, both 
Catholic and Protestant; to her companions and field assistants, Sis- 
ters Marie Hilger, Immacula Roeder, Deodata Kaliher, Hieronyme 
Magyer, and Olivette Micho. 

The writer is obliged to her family for financial assistance in field 
work in 1935 and 1936, and museum research in 1941; to the Social 
Science Research Council for field work in 1940, 1941, and 1942; and 
to the American Council of Learned Societies for field work in 1941 
and research in libraries in 1942. 


St. Benedict’s Convent, Sister M. Inez Hilger, 
St. Joseph, Minnesota Benedictine Sister. 


LIST OF INFORMANTS 


Northern Arapaho, Wind River Reservation, Wyo.: 


Ida Bear Jerome Old Man 

Susan Behan Iron Piper 

Dorah Bitner Old Lady Red Pipe 

Rapheal Dewey Susan Run Behind 

Flora Dewey Sherman Sage 

Robert Friday and wife Ed Sage 

Ann Friday Odilia Sage 

Gertrude Goggles Old Lady Salt Friday 

Martha Grosbeck William Shakespeare 

Susan Hannah Winneshead Sharp Nose 

Fanny Harris Sam Shotgun 

Veronica Harris Alberta Sitting Hagle 

Jane Hungry Wolf Catherine Smith 

Clarice Jenkins Baron Trosper 

Little Ant Henry Lee Tylor 

Pete Lone Bear Cecelia Warren 

James Monroe and wife Hannah White Plume 

Alonzo Moss Mae White Plume 

Paul Moss Ann Wolf 

Jane One Bull Agnes Yellow Plume 
Southern Arapaho, Cheyenne-Arapaho Reservation, Okla.: 

Ada Addison Carl Sweezy 

Frank Addison Henry Rowlodge 

Rose Arpan Lucy Rowlodge 

Long Hair Jessie Rowlodge 

' Ana Mix Hair Arnold Woolworth 
Grace Sage Bark Charles Woolworth 
Nelson Sage Bark Susie Woolworth 


Helen Spotted Wolf 


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e gang's see MA | a Dame AG. 80 


ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE AND ITS CULTURAL 
BACKGROUND 


By Sister M. Inez Hi.crr 


INTRODUCTION: THE ARAPAHO INDIANS 


The place of origin of the Arapaho is not known. Arapaho tra- 
ditions tell that long ago, before there were any animals on the earth, 
all but one mountain was covered with water. Upon this mountain 
sat an Arapaho. “This Arapaho was a God. He had a pipe, and 
he gave it to the people. He showed them how to make bows and 
arrows, how to make fire by rubbing two sticks, how to talk with their 
hands; in fact, how to live” (Clark, 1885, p. 43). The Arapaho chief, 
Left Hand, said his people “originated in the north beyond the Mis- 
souri river” (Scott, 1907, p. 558). 

The name Arapaho is probably of White origin. Arapaho do not 
speak of themselves as Arapaho, nor do other Indians call them by 
that name. Clark (1885, p. 43) wrote: “I have been unable to ascer- 
tain why these Indians are called ‘Arapahoes.’ They can give no 
reason for it, and I have not been able to find a similar word in any of 
the languages of the surrounding tribes. . . . The Southern Arapaho 
call the Northern Arapaho ‘Red Eye,’ also ‘Sagebrush men’; the 
Northern Arapaho call the Southern Arapaho ‘South Men.’” The 
Sioux called the Arapaho Blue Cloud People; the Shoshonie, Dog 
Eaters (Mooney, 1896, p. 789; Burton, 1862, p.176). Lewis and Clark 
(1905, vol. 6, p. 90) called them Kanenavich in 1804; in 1819, Long 
(1904-7), vol. 17, p. 156) speaks of them as Arrapohoes. The Northern 
Arapaho are signed “mother people” in the sign language; the South- 
ern, “rubbed noses”; the Gros Ventres of the Prairie, who at one time 
were very closely allied to, and perhaps, part of the Arapaho proper, 
“belly people” (Mooney, 1896, p. 954). 

Linguistically, according to Michelson (1912), the Arapaho are one 
of the four major divisions of the Algonquian speaking peoples, the 
other three being the Blackfoot, the Cheyenne, and the Eastern-Cen- 
tral Algonquins. 

Culturally, the Arapaho, belong to the great Plains area of North 
America. Their ethnology has the earmarks of that culture: they sub- 


892644—52—_2 il 


2 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Buut., 148 


sisted largely on the buffalo, lived in tipis, expressed their religious 
convictions in the Sun Dance, maintained order by means of military 
organization generally called soldier bands or age societies, and used 
the horse for transportation in the hunt. 

The Arapaho are described in the literature of the nineteenth 
century as brave and fearless; intelligent; thrifty; ingenious; hos- 
pitable; kindly and accommodating; much given to ceremonial ob- 
servances; less easily discouraged than the Cheyenne, but correspond- 
ingly lacking the energy and determination of the Cheyenne; and 
having a standard of virtue for the women not nearly so high as that 
of either the Cheyenne or Sioux.2 In physique they are described as 
being distinguishable from the Dakota (Sioux) by their superior 
gauntness of person and boldness of look. (See Mooney, 1907 a, p. 73; 
Burton, 1862, p. 176; Farnham, 1904~7, p. 266; Miles, 18338, p. 61; 
Clark, 1885, p. 39.) 

In all sears the Arapaho at one time were a honeuleaeet 
village people. Not only their traditions but the literature as well 
would lead one to think so. Lewis and Clark believed them to have 
been a subdivision of the Paducas who resided in several villages on 
the head of the Kansas River in 1724.4 Mooney (1896, p. 957) mentions 
their traditions regarding agricultural life. Lowie infers village life 
from his study of Plains Indians age societies; Strong, from his arch- 
eological findings in Plains areas. (Cf. Lowie, 1916, p. 954; Strong, 
1935, pp. 298-299.) 

The time when the Arapaho turned from a horticultural village 
life to a nomadic life is not known. Old Arapaho men and women 
today say that they can remember their old people as always saying 
that the Arapaho moved to the plains from the valley of the Red 
River of the North, just north of what is now Minnesota, long before 
their time. Carter (1938, p. 75) writes that the Arapaho were in 
Minnesota several hundred years ago; Kroeber (1916, p. 73) believes 
that they have been separated from the Central and Eastern Algon- 
quins for more than a thousand years. 

The Arapaho were occupying what is now eastern N. arth ‘Dakota ne 
adjacent Manitoba in 1790, for Mackenzie found them occupying the 
plains from the north bend of the Missouri across the south:bend of 
the Assiniboin at that time. He thought they were then moving north- 
westward (Mooney, 1907 a, p. 372)., In 1837 they were residing at the 


*It is only fair to note here that Michelson (1938, p. 596) wrote regarding the contrast 
of Arapaho and Cheyenne women: “As far as the Arapaho are concerned, I am inclined 
to believe that thelr unfavorable reputation is due to the fact some institutional practices 
recorded by other writers and myself were observed and supposed to be of every day 
occurrence, whereas they are strictly circumscribed and do not justify the opinions ex- 
pressed.” Michelson expressed the same opinion to the writer in 1938. The big sae 
knowledge of Arapaho women substantiates Michelson’s observations. 

* Lewis and Clark based their location of the Paducas on Le Page du Pratz (1758, p.. 71). 
Referred to on p. 108 of vol. 6 of Lewis and Clark (1904-5). 


Hinerr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 3 


headwaters of the Arkansas River (Atkinson, 1838, p. 20). In 1839 
Farnham found them “south of the Snakes. They wander in the win- 
ter season over the country about the head of the Great Kenyon of the 
Colorado of the West, and to a considerable distance down that river; 
and in summer hunt the buffalo in the New Park, or ‘Bull Pen,’ in the 
‘Old Park’ on Grand River, and in ‘Boyou Salade,’ on the south 
fork of the Platte” (Farnham, 1904-7, p. 266). In 1862 they were 
living between the South Fork of the Platte and the Arkansas Rivers. 
They were bounded on the north by the Sioux, and hunted in the 
same grounds with the Cheyenne (Burton, 1862, p. 176). 

Just when the Cheyenne and Arapaho formed the close friendship 
that persists even at the present time is not known. A Northern 
woman informant of the present study remarked, “During Custer’s 
fight the Arapaho fought with Custer against the Sioux and the Chey- 
enne. That was the only time we were afraid of the Cheyenne. We 
feel as though we are related to the Cheyenne. Some Arapaho have 
even married Cheyenne.” Nor is the time known when the Gros 
Ventres, once a part of the main body of the Arapaho, separated from 
the Arapaho. Mackenzie wrote in 1802 that the Gros Ventres had 
lived near the falls of the Saskatschewan River. Maximilian found 
them in about the same area and noted in 1832 that they were roaming 
“about in all the prairies which border on the territory of the Black- 
feet and the Arapahos Indians” (Maximilian, 1904-7, p. 75). 

Nor is the time or the occasion for the separation of the main 
body into the Northern and the Southern Arapaho known. Left Hand 
(pl. 38), a chief of the Southern Arapaho, after telling of the separa- 
tion of the Gros Ventres said: 

After we came south to the Black hills we separated again because the North- 
ern Arapaho preferred to stay north and we preferred to come south. We did 
not do it on account of any quarrel or unpleasantness; we came south because 
there were more horses and a milder climate. The others preferred to stay 
in the north; they are our people; we often used to visit them and they us. 
We have lived since usually with the Southern Cheyenne. [Scott, 1907, pp. 
558-559. ] 

Enemies of the Northern Arapaho were the Utes, the Bannocks, and 
the Shoshonie; of the Southern Arapaho, the Osage and the Pawnees. 
“The Sioux and the Cheyenne were good friends of the Arapaho,” 
said a Northern informant of the present study. “The Sioux are 
good people. The Bannocks and the Shoshonie were our worst ene- 
mies. I have such a dislike for the Shoshonie even today that I won’t 
look at one.” 

Lewis and Clark (1904-5, p. 90) found the Arapaho—probably the 
Northern Arapaho—trading with the Mandans on the Missouri in 
1804, exchanging “horses and leather tents” for “arms, ammunition, 
axes, kettles and other articles of European manufacture.” The Man- 


4 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLL. 148 


dans had received the articles for trade by barter from British trad- 
ers and the Assiniboine, who had also gotten them in trade from 
the British. Long (1904-7, vol. 17, p. 156) found them—probably the 
Southern Arapaho—trading with Spaniards from Mexico in 1819, ex- 
changing “dressed bison-skins for blankets, wheat, flour, maize, ete.” 
At intervals, he writes, they held “a kind of fair on a tributary of the 
Platte, near the mountains (hence called Grand Camp creek), at 
which they obtained British merchandize from the Shiennes of Shi- 
enne river, who obtained the same at the Mandan village from the 
British traders that frequent that part of our territory.” 

At the present time the Arapaho reside on two reservations assigned 
to them by the United States Government.’ The Southern Arapaho 
were placed on the Cheyenne-Arapaho Reservation in Oklahoma in 
1867. They share the reservation with the Cheyenne. The Northern 
Arapaho were assigned to the Wind River Reservation in Wyoming in 
1876. The Shoshonie reside on the same reservation (Statistical sup- 
plement to Ann. Rep. Comm. Ind. Aff., 1940, pp. 12, 16; Mooney, 1907 
a, pp. 72-73). 

PRENATAL PERIOD 


CONCEPTION 


Arapaho believe that speaking of prenatal life or birth will cause a 
woman relative to become pregnant soon thereafter, a thing evidently 
not desired or not considered by men and woman informants of the 
present study one’s business to bring about. They gave information 
regarding prenatal life and birth reluctantly, or refused it entirely. 
Often both informants and interpreters sat in complete silence. One 
interpreter said: “These two old women do not want to say anything 
more about unborn babies. They are worried even now that one of 
their married granddaughters will be pregnant because they told you 
about rebirth (pp. 5-6).° They didn’t know when they agreed to 
tell you their old customs that you intended to ask them about babies; 
they prefer to tell you other things.” When women informants and 
interpreters did discuss such questions, it was done in low, subdued 
tones and with a certain amount of reverence, hands resting from sew- 
ing or beadwork. (Sewing and beadwork were often done while giv- 
ing information.) Women interpreters always hesitated, and usually 
refused, to ask information on prenatal life and birth from old men. 
If they did so, it was done in an abashed manner, and conversation on 
both sides was m subdued tones. “I should not like to ask the old 
man that question [When is the fetus considered to be a human be- 
ing?]. I do not think he would want to talk about it. Anyway I 


5 For the Northern Arapaho in the process of acculturation see Elkin (1940, pp. 207-258), 
® This notation and all similar ones refer to pages of the present work. 


HILerR] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 5 


would not know what words to use in asking him.” However, the 
following information was obtained. 

Informants were not agreed as to the time during gestation when 
the fetus became a human being. Some considered the fetus human 
from the moment of conception; others only when the woman felt 
quickening. Some gave an aborted fetus burial like that given adults, 
evidence, no doubt, that they believed the fetus to be a human being; 
others disposed of it in the same manner as the placenta, that is, they 
hung it in the crotch of a tree or buried it without ceremony (pp. 
17-18). For them it was not human. A Northern woman, in her 
eighties, believed the fetus was human from the moment of conception. 
“One time,” she said, “I saw a miscarriage that was 3 months old. It 
had a form, but its legs had not yet parted. But I considered it as a 
human being. We always regarded any fetus asa human being. This 
one was wrapped up and buried in the ground up in the hills. They 
did not throw it away. It was thought of as being a person.” A well- 
informed Southern Arapaho man, too, was certain that a fetus born 
prematurely was always given burial like an adult. Others in agree- 
ment with this idea said, “In less than two weeks after conception a 
woman knew that she was pregnant; this fetus was considered human. 
It was about this time that the mother was aware of her condition 
because, either in a dream at night or while she was around doing 
the work of the day, it seemed as if a third person were present. A 
fetus born prematurely was given burial like a person.” “A child was 
considered a human being from the moment of conception. No matter 
at what stage a spontaneous abortion occurred, the child was given 
the same burial as an adult. Whatever it was, the people considered 
it as one more life.” On the other hand a Southern woman, in her 
forties, knew of a 3-to-4-month old fetus that had been tied into 
a skin and hung in the crotch of a tree, as the placenta is hung. 
Another Southern women, in her sixties, knew of a 3-month-old fetus 
that was buried in a hole in the ground without any ceremony, and of 
an 8-month fetus that was given adult burial. She herself believed 
the fetus was human from the time that the mother felt its movements. 
So did two Northern women, one of whom remarked, “When it begins 
to move, it is considered a human being. That occurs usually during 
the sixth month of pregnancy. If a miscarriage occurs before the 
mother feels any movement, the fetus is wrapped in a diaper first, 
and then into a piece of canvas. It is buried in a hole, and dirt is 
placed over it. There is no ceremony connected with such a burial.” 

The Arapaho believe that reincarnation occurred in instances. The 
method involved was not known. “Yes, a child could be a reborn per- 
son. I don’t know how this happened, but when such a child was born, 
we used to say it came from the other world.” The belief of the 


6 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BULL 148 


Chippewa that the spirit of the deceased person came near the mother’s 
body and entered it, does not prevail among the Arapaho.’ “There 


is no belief that the spirit of the old person enters the mother’s body 
in any way; the person is just born again like other babies.” Most 
informants agreed that a baby born with teeth, or that one whose upper 
teeth developed before the lower ones, was reincarnated. So was 
a child born crippled or scarred or wrinkled, or one born with a patch 
of white hair, webbed toes, or webbed fingers. An infant that died 
was believed to return to earth and then live to be a very old person. 
A person who lived to be unusually old also returned to live again. 
Twins were not reborn. “I knew a very old man who married a young 
girl. The skin of their baby, a boy, was wrinkled like that of an old 
Indian. We thought he was an old Indian man come back to live 
again.” “TI knew a woman who, when quite old, gave birth to a baby 
girl whose skin was wrinkled. We said it was an old Indian come back 
to life again.” “A child born with snips out of its ears was also 
thought to be an old Indian reborn. The snips indicated pierced ears.” 
“T know a woman who lives about 10 miles from here who was born with 
two teeth. The women who were present at her birth said at once, 
‘Here is an old woman come back again to live,’ and they named her 
The-Woman-That-Was-Born-with-Two-Teeth.” “A baby born with 
two fingers or two toes grown together is said to have been shot when 
it lived the first time.” 

Most informants were agreed that an old man was reborn in a boy; 
an old woman, in a girl. “I knew a girl that was born with many 
scars on her neck, legs, and waistline. We knew she was an old 
woman come back to life. A baby girl always had been a woman; a 
baby boy, a man. My grandson was born with a scar on the under 
side of each ear-lobe. We knew that he was an old man born again. 
But we didn’t know who it was that had been reborn in him.” All 
informants were agreed that the reborn person was not identifiable. 


FERTILITY, STERILITY 


Certain Arapaho men and women, “only those who had knowledge 
of the treatment,” could produce both fertility and sterility in women ; 
in men, only fertility. | 


7 Cf. the writer’s Chippewa Child Life and Its Cultural Background, Bur. Amer. Ethnol. 
Bull. 146. All Chippewa customs referred to in the present work will be found in Chippewa 
Child Life, unless otherwise stated. 

’ Among the Cheyenne, fetal teeth, a patch of grey hair, scars on ears, polydactylism or 
syndactylism were signs of reincarnation. (Taken from the writer’s unpublished field 
notes collected among the Northern Cheyenne of Montana in 1936 and the Southern 
Cheyenne of Oklahoma in 1935 and 1940. All customs related to the Cheyenne found in 
‘the present work are from the same unpublished field notes, or her Notes on Cheyenne 
ebild life (Amer. Anthrop., n. s., vol. 48, pp. 60-69, 1946). 


Hitenk] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 7 


In men fertility was produced by treatment with fumes. In women 
both fertility and sterility were produced by treatment with fumes, by 
magic, and by herbs administered either orally in decoctions or by 
mastication. One informant had been given a potion of boiled root 
several months before she was married, in order that she be fertile.® 
Sherman Sage witnessed a treatment by fumes to produce fertility: 

I knew a couple, a good couple, that didn’t have any children. They went to 
a medicine man who made a smudge of herbs. This man took a handful of the 
smudge, and wafted it at the sole of one of the feet of the woman. Then he took 
another and spread it over the toes; and then with one handful he moved up 
the entire leg and over the front of the body to the neck. He did the same to 
the other leg and part of the body. Then he treated each hand and arm in the 
same way beginning at the finger tips. He did this once to each arm, each time 
bringing the smudge in his hand over the front of the body up to the neck. Then 
he scooped up a handful and had the woman inhale it. He also placed a little 
piece of the herbs used in making the smudge on the tip of the woman’s tongue. 
Sometimes it was the man’s fault that there were no children. If it was his 
fault, the medicine man treated him in the same way. 

Sage had no knowledge of how the medicine man could tell whether 
the man or the woman was sterile; “but these medicine men could tell,” 
he added. Two women informants gave names of several men who had 
cohabited with their (the men’s) granddaughters to discover whether 
the granddaughters or their husbands were sterile. “They cohabited 
with these women during a large gathering of the tribe. In every case 
that we know of the woman conceived, and we knew then that it was 
the man’s fault.” 

Sherman Sage said the same medicine man who had treated the 
woman with fumes described above had the ability to tell a woman 
that at a certain moon or at the next change of the moon, that is, at 
some designated time, she could conceive a child. “I know of an 
instance,” he added, “where he told a couple that they would have a 
boy, and that came true. Before any couple asked a medicine man 
to treat either one or both of them, they gave him a horse and brought 
things for him to eat.” Another Northern informant “knew a man 
who wished that a woman should not have any children; and this 
woman never had any. If he wanted a woman to have many children, 
he could wish her to have many. This was his ‘medicine’ (pp. 124— 
127). This man knew what was going to happen; that was his power.” 

Sage related of his own family: 

There were five in our family. I had two brothers and a sister older than 
myself and a sister younger than I. My mother had a hard time when her third 
baby was born. So my grandmother on my father’s side asked my mother if 


those were all the children she wanted. My mother said she wanted two more, 
a boy and girl. So then my grandmother Said, “All right, then I will not treat 


® When plants are not identified in this work, it was impossible to obtain the information. 
(Cf. Preface, p. XIII.) 


8 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLL, 148 


you.” After that I was born; and when I was 8 years old, my little sister was 
born. [The interpreter added] I remember that old lady . She had that “power.” 
She grew to be very old and died only a few years ago. Some of these old 
Indians gave “medicine” which was tied in a small circular container about the 
size of a bantam egg. ‘hese were worn by a woman attached to the inside 
of her belt if she did not wish to have any more children. These little bags 
were hard to get, but women who succeeded in getting them and who wore them 
didn’t have any more children. 


Another Northern informant told of sterility produced by fumi- 
gation. 


When a young woman was about to be married, [she said] either the man’s 
parents asked him to practice voluntary control, or the man and the woman 
agreed not to have any children by having the woman sterilized. If they decided 
that the woman was to be sterilized, the couple contacted a medicine man, pref- 
erably one not related to the woman. He might, however, be her grandfather, 
but not her uncle, brother, or cousin in Arapaho way. [Cf. pp. 194-195.] When 
all was agreed upon, the couple and the medicine man retired into a tent. The 
husband had to be present. A fire was built in the tent. The medicine man took 
hot coals from it, and laid herbs on these. The herbs were found near Lake 
Moran close to Yellowstone Park. He took the hot coals with the herbs to the 
west side of the fireplace. The medicine man sat in the center on the west side. 
That was his place always. He took some of the coals and pulverized them and 
boiled them in water to make a decoction. When this was done the girl removed 
her underclothing and stood with feet apart over the coals from which emitted 
the medicinal fumes. At the same time she drank as much of the hot decoction 
as she could. She endured this as long as possible. 


Sterility, the informant thought, probably resulted from the intense 
heat. A woman who had been thus fumigated once, never again bore 
children. “At least it was never known that she did,” she added. 
Several other women who were present at this interview relayed among 
themselves names of women who had been sterilized by this method. 

A Southern woman told of sterilization by fumes and magic com- 
bined : 


Long ago, before a girl was married, she might be sterilized. Old women knew 
how to do this. They used some medicine, probably an herb or a root, and made 
fumes with it. The girl stood over the fumes and had smoke rubbed all over 
her body. This was done once a month after menses, but it had to be done four 
successive months to be effective. She was also given a little of the medicine 
which she put into a little bundle and tied to her belt. She had to carry this all 
the time. I had an aunt who carried this medicine and while she carried it she 
had no children. She had one before she knew of the medicine; but it died. It 
was difficult to get this medicine from those who knew it. A woman who has this 
medicine gives it only to those she likes. Sometimes those who have this knowl- 
edge also have the power to treat women secretly when the women are not 
present; a woman so treated will know nothing about it. There seems to be one 
woman still who knows how to do this. 


1 The number 4 occurs in many Arapaho customs. Both 4 and 7 are sacred numbers 
according to Mooney (1896, p. 1000), Kroeber (1902, pp. 411-412), and Michelson (1938, 
p. 604). 


HILGER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 9 


Another informant knew a man whose “medicine” was a mental power 
by means of which he could produce both fertility and sterility in 
women. 

A similar account was related by another Southern woman. 

My mother, a medicine woman, asked us girls [her daughters] one day if we 
wanted any children after we were married. “If not,” she said, “I shall tell an 
old medicine man to come to our house.” If she had invited him we would have 
had to give him gifts for his services. Then he would have tied some of his 
“medicines” into a bag and we each would have had to wear the bag on our belt 
continuously, day and night. This medicine man began by praying to God to keep 
a woman from having children, and he also blessed her. Then he mixed herbs 
and put these on hot coals. The woman stood over this and allowed the fumes 
to come up her clothes. It seemed that those that had this done were childless. 
I have heard of some that had it done. I saw my mother do it to one of my 
sisters. Most of us were afraid that this was like murder; so we did not have 
it done. We were educated, too, and no longer lived the old Indian way. Noth- 
ing was done to sterilize men. 

Both Northern and Southern informants knew Arapaho men and 
women who, in recent times, had exercised their magic powers or used 
their knowledge to sterilize Arapaho. “My parents asked me if I 
wanted my wife to be sterile. They asked me this before I was mar- 
ried.” “I think that this is still practiced around here, for there are a 
good many women among us who are about 45 years of age who have 
no children.” “Recently an old Indian woman told a girl who has 
had a number of children that if the girl wanted it, she could make her 
sterile.” “Not long ago I saw an old man make a smudge on a shovel. 
He had a girl stand over this with feet on either side. This was done 
so that she would not have any more children; and she hasn’t had any 
since.” 

LIMITATION AND SIZE OF FAMILY 


Artificial contraceptive methods were probably not known to the 
Arapaho; willful control of coition was practiced. Children were 
spaced by natural control and by being nursed until 4 years of age or 
older. “It was a custom among the Arapaho that a mother have a 
child no oftener than every 4 years. To bring this about she nursed 
a child 4 years.” (Cf. also p. 45.) “Children were spaced by cou- 
ples keeping apart after a child was born. The husband would 
have relations with his other wives then.” No, not with just any 
woman. There was no prostitution in those days. Nowadays there 
is much prostitution and many women are suffering because of it. In 
the old days women stayed at home. Men, too, were always busy on the 
warpath then.” 

Families of informants and interpreters numbered from 1 to 10 
children. An informant in her nineties had had 10 children, 4 of 


The Cheyenne have the same custom. 


10 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLL. 148 


whom were living. Another in her seventies had also had 10 children; 
only 1, a son, was living. She remarked, “Had my oldest child, a 
girl, lived, she would be 50 years old this year. All my children had 
the same father.” An informant in her sixties had lost 9 of her 10 
children. Ten years had elapsed between her ninth and tenth child; 
her tenth, a son, was living. Of two interpreters, both in the fifties, 
one had five children; the other, six. Of two in the forties, one had 
six and the other two. One noted: 


Ordinarily families had only four or five children. However, I knew one couple 
that had 14 children. A couple that had only one child—and in such cases a 
daughter was preferred—was highly respected because it was said that the 
parents had restricted themselves. Men were anxious to marry the daughter of 
such a couple. A man doing so was expected to be well qualified (p. 198). Some 
families had only two children, sometimes of the same sex. Such families, 
too, were respected and were considered outstanding. Spacing children was 
usually done by the mother nursing a child three or four years and by keeping 
her husband away from her during this time. Mothers sometimes advised their 
married daughters to go swimming with their men, and this might be done every 
day; then they would have no children either. [The other added:] Mothers 
nursed their children as long as they could, so as not to have many children. A 
nursing mother never conceived. 


Quoting Sherman Sage: 

There were cases where couples wanted children but couldn’t have them. They 
didn’t like to be without children for they thought they hadn’t done right in the 
face of God, since they were not blessed with children. People used to say, “Now, 
they don’t have children. Looks like they ought to be tired being alone.” 
People used to tell us, “Now, those people are stingy ; they are no good.” 


PERIOD OF GESTATION 


No means by which the sex of the fetus could be affected was known 
to the Arapaho. A Southern informant believed that some medicine 
women long ago had had such knowledge. It was their “medicine,” 
and such knowledge had died with them. 

Parents had no desire to have either boys or girls exceed each other 
in numbers. Nor did they in general wish the first-born to be a boy 
or a girl. Mothers wanted some girls and fathers some boys, since 


these would help them in their respective work. Quoting several 
informants: 


Both father and mother were willing to take any child that was born to them; 
they had no preference. I never cared whether my children were boys or girls. 
I have two girls and one boy. I appreciate my son a great deal; he is my only 
son. ... The mother usually wished that there would be some girls; the father, 
that there would be some boys. . . . In the early days warriors were needed to 
defend the tribe and its rights. For this reason every family wanted some 
boys, but never to the exclusion of girls. . . . Families were proud of their boys 
when they were successful on the warpath. ... Parents were satisfied with 
whatever child was born, but the mother often wished for a girl and the father for 
a boy since these would help them in their work. . . . Some mothers preferred 


HILGER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 11 


the oldest child to be a girl, for a daughter would help her with the work. In 
early days women did most of the work. ... A family preferred to have both 
girls and boys. Our people used to think that a family of girls only was selfish 
and did not care to help protect other people. If a mother wanted a boy, she 
was told to pray to the Great Spirit to bless her with one; she had no other way 
of producing a boy. Some did not want to have any children at all, because they 
did not want to be bothered with them. I have four children and I am proud 
of them. Two are soldiers in the army (World War II), one works in town, 
and one is at home. I feel thankful for being a mother. I think some women 
realize only after they have grown too old to have children, or maybe in time 
of need, that they made a mistake in not having children. Also, when they get 
old, they are lonely and have no one to help them. 

Sex of the fetus was predicted by the contour of the mother’s body 
and by the location of the fetus. A Southern informant said, “If a 
pregnant mother’s body appeared pointed, she was carrying a boy, 
since the baby was sitting in a position in which men sit [on their 
haunches]. If the mother’s body was flat, she was carrying a girl.” 
A similar statement was made by a Northern woman: “If it is a girl 
that a woman is carrying, it can’t be noticed nearly so much on the 
mother as when she carries a boy. If she carries a boy, her body is 
pointed because a boy sits the same way inside his mother as does a 
man when he sits down. A man crosses his legs.” 

If the fetus rested low in the mother’s abdomen, she was carry- 
ing a boy; if it rested near the sternum, a girl. Twins were sometimes 
predicted correctly because the expectant mother was unusually large. 
They knew for certain that she was carrying twins when her only 
comfortable position, when lying down, was on her back with several 
pillows under her head. “She could not lie on her left or her right 
side and sleep.” ‘Twins could not be predicted by the hiccoughing of 
the fetus nor by a slightly depressed longitudinal line extending from 
navel to lower abdomen of the mother.” 


ABORTIONS 


All informants were agreed that abortions were not induced in 
the early days. A midwife in her eighties was emphatic in her state- 
ments. “Arapaho had no means of killing an unborn baby or of get- 
ting rid of it. On the contrary they did have, and still have, medicines 
that prevent mothers from having miscarriages which may occur 
when they work too hard, or when they get hurt. I know the plants 
to use, but I can’t give you any. When I need them I get them over 
there,” she concluded, pointing in the direction with her chin. 

Other informants remarked: 

No voluntary abortions were ever committed by our people. . . . I never heard 


of intentional abortions. If an expectant mother feared an abortion, she was 
given a decoction of medicine so that she wouldn’t lose the baby. This might 


Nae Chippewa predict twins in both ways; Cheyenne, only by the abdominal longitudinal 


12 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLL. 148 


happen if she got hurt. ...I know of one woman who had one pregnancy 
after another, but never gave birth to her children. The Indians believed that 
such a woman would eventually be killed by her own babies. They would come 
back to kill such a mother. Such a woman ought to get help so she would not 
lose her babies. . . . The Arapaho women knew that they could have something 
done to themselves so that they would not bear children; but once a child was 
conceived, it was always given birth. Nothing was ever done to get rid of the 
unborn child. I have heard of women of old times who feared that they would 
lose their children; but they really never lost them. Today there are people 
around here, some of them White doctors, who tell the Indians how to abort 
children. I don’t think it is right to do that, but I think it is all right for a 
woman to have treatments so that she will not have any children. 


FOOD AND CONDUCT TABOOS AND PRESCRIPTIONS 


Informants, both Northern and Southern, listed food taboos for 
both husband and wife during the wife’s pregnancy; just as many in 
each group—and these ranged from the forties to the eighties in age— 
said that they had never heard of any. Although those who denied 
the taboos seemed sincere in their denials, the writer is inclined to 
think that the fear of affecting pregnancy in a relative influenced 
their answers, for a denial was quickly made and no further interest 
was shown. Discussing the taboos and prescriptions was, after all, 
talking about prenatal life. 

The following contributions, however, were made by Northern men 
and women : 

An expectant mother may have any food she craves. If she wants her baby 
to have nice black eyes, black hair, and be good-looking, she should eat skunk. 
I never heard that any of our people believed that a baby would be good-looking 
if its mother, while she carried it, ate meat found back of the nose of cattle 
or buffalo, like you say the Blackfoot believes.” If an expectant mother drinks 
hot tea or hot water, birth will be difficult ; if she eats rabbits, her baby will have 
a rabbit mouth ; if she eats beaver, it will have arms and legs like a beaver’s. 

Both Northern and Southern informants were agreed that neither 
male nor female Arapaho should eat “twins” (tenderloins) of buf- 
falo—at the present time of cattle—from babyhood until the end of 
childbearing age, since eating tenderloin made them potential parents 
of twins." 

My parents-in-law may now eat them; they are past 50. If they had eaten 
“twins” before this time they might have expected to have twins. When twins 
are born on the reservation today, people say that the parents at one time must 
have eaten “twins.” ... All persons including children, but not old men and 
old woman, should not eat those two dark strips of meat of cows or sheep 


called “twins” for fear twins will be born to them when they are married. These 
“twins” lie near the spine of the animal. 


“From the writer’s unpublished field notes collected among the Blackfoot in 1936 and 
1937. 
4 A belief also held by the Cheyenne. 


HILcER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 13 


Quoting Sherman Sage: 

A woman must never eat, either while pregnant or at any other time, the two 
pieces of meat that lie opposite each other on either side of the backbone of a 
buffalo. They are round and long in shape. She will have twins, if she does. 
Today this holds true for eating the “twins” of cattle. The woman you saw 
yesterday was not able to come to the Sun Dance last week because she had 
twins. It would have been too hard to have moved camp with two babies. 
This woman decided she wanted twins; so she ate this meat. [To which the 
interpreter added] Iate that meat, but I didn’t have twins. 


Quoting one of the oldest Northern women: “Today many Arapaho 
have twins. I don’t know of any Indians that had twins in old times. 
We have a belief that if a woman eats the two pieces of meat that lie 
inside of the ribs of a cow or a buffalo, she will have twins. These 
Pieces are so wide [indicated 3-finger width] and so long [from tip 
of first finger to wrist]. The old Indians were careful never to eat 
these. If they did, they knew they would have twins.” Then with a 
good deal of emphasis and some disgust, she added, ““Those pieces are 
no good; we cut them out and throw them away.” Her friend, an- 
other old woman, added with some impatience and a bit of indigna- 
tion, “Our young Indians today go to Riverton [town near reserva- 
tion] and buy hamburger meat at the butcher shop. The butcher 
doesn’t care what he puts into that ground meat; he grinds up all 
kinds of meat for hamburgers, including ‘twins.’ Our young Indians 
eat these hamburgers and have twins; that’s why you see so many of 
them with twins!” 

Southern informants contributed the following: 


If the mother ate “twins” found in the back of a cow, she knew she would 
have twins. People used to eat them without knowing it; now they are careful 
so that they won’t eat them. Formerly there were few twins among the Ara- 
paho.. . . I heard of mothers who ate the “twins” of a buffalo or of a cow 
or of a calf, and then later gave birth to twins. My grandmother said you 
could eat anything else you wanted to eat but not “twins” when you were that 
way. [A young mother said] Taboos must be heeded even before the girl is 
married. If a girl eats rabbit meat, she can expect any of her babies to have 
a harelip. Hating ‘‘twins’—meat that lies near the spine of a beef—causes 
women to have twins. These taboos must be heeded from the time the girl is 
of childbearing age. After a boy reaches manhood, he, too, must abstain from 
eating “twins.” [A man had heard old women say to his pregnant wife] Don’t 
eat the double of anything, such as twin nuts, twin seeds, twin watermelons, in 
fact anything that is double, during the last 3 months of pregnancy. 


A Northern informant said: 


One of my children had a harelip when born. They held the lip together right 
after birth and it grew together. I had eaten rabbits. I heard of a colored 
woman who was married to an Oklahoma Indian [not an Arapaho]. A monkey 
was born to them. [She continued in a semiwhisper,] It had a tail and ears 
just like a monkey. When it was born, the midwife was afraid of it. It died. 
[Burial was like that of an adult human being.] This woman used to eat 


14 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Buuw, 148 


coconuts and that is what caused it. This woman is still living. A girl 
was told before she married not to eat cottontails since she might then give birth 
to a child with a harelip; not to wear anything tight, like a girdle, since 
it might clog her blood flow and injure the baby. 

To drink much pure water, even to rise at night to do so, was desirable 
since it kept body fluids normal and later helped to create a healthy 
flow of milk. 

An expectant mother was not “to hang around the stove or fire” 
since it would cause difficult birth and also cause the afterbirth to 
adhere. In order to maintain her vigor, strength, and health, she was 
to retire early and be up before sunrise walking around. ‘The baby, 
however, did not do its growing before sunrise.* Too much lying 
down or sitting up caused the baby to have a flat head; a thing not 
desired; moving about prevented this. Married women who associ- 
ated with a pregnant woman or borrowed clothing from her might 
also expect soon to become pregnant, for “they will catch it from her.” 

Looking at a dead person did not affect the baby, but “this younger 
generation today say that if they look at a dead pent the baby 
will be marked; this was not believed by the old people.” Nor did a 
woman cause birthmarks on her unborn child if she touched her own 
face with her berry-stained hands as is believed by the Chippewa. 
Blue marks on the baby were due to “bumps” the mother sustained 
while pregnant. “If a child was born with a birthmark, more par- 
ticularly a blue mark on the back, people said that the mother had 
worked hard and had carried heavy loads on her back while carrying 
the baby. This may be true, for babies born today no longer have 
these blue marks. Women today don’t carry loads on their backs.” 

An expectant mother must not look at a cripple nor a hunchback, 
nor must she be frightened; her unborn child will suffer from the ef- 
fects. “My husband scared me with a skunk while I was carrying a 
baby. It left the mark of a skunk on the baby’s leg.” “Not long ago 
a man was wrecked by a train and badly hurt. When his pregnant 
wife first saw him his head was tied up with bandages. She was 
frightened because of the bandages. When her baby was born, it was 
black all about the left eye, the same eye that had been bandaged on 
the father. People thought then that the baby had been marked 
because the mother had been frightened.” 

Birth was facilitated if the pregnant woman Heise or someone else, 
dropped a young skunk between the front of her body and the clothing 
she wore when pregnant. “Her dress was pulled away from her 
body at the neck and the little skunk dropped down right close to her 
body, letting it fall to the ground. Skunks give birth easily.” 

If the pregnant woman did not exercise sufficiently, or if she turned 
over in bed without sitting up, the navel cord wound about the baby’ 8 


A belief held by both Chippewa and Cheyenne. 


Hiterr)} ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 15 


neck. The same happened if she peeked through holes in the tent 
cover ; put her head, but not her body, out-of-doors to look around; or if 
she stepped out-of-doors and returned walking backward. “None of 
my children had cords around the neck when born, but one of my 
granddaughters had three children born that way. But young people 
today no longer listen to advice that we older Indians give them.” 

A husband was not to step over any part of his pregnant wife’s 
body, “not even over her feet”; it would make birth difficult. 


BIRTH 


PLACE OF BIRTH 


A special lodge was seldom erected for the birth of a child; generally 
babies were born in the home tipi. If the people happened to be en 
route, the baby was born either in the open or in the tipi occupied as 
the home tipi at the time. 

“Medicine” bags (pp. 125-126) were removed from the tipi before 
a birth. If inadvertently they were left in the tipi, they had to be 
removed within a day after the birth and purified by being fumigated ; 
merely being close to the lochia lessened their powers. They were 
taken to a sweat lodge where they were hung over fumes made by 
placing bits of beaver testes on hot coals. Also any object or any 
person that came in contact with the lochia was considered unclean. 
It was also believed that if a person who had assisted at a birth 
passed directly from the tipi in which the birth had occurred to a 
sick person, the sick person would die. 


PERSONS ASSISTING 


It was probably not conventional for the husband to be present at 
the delivery of his wife.” Several informants, however, said their 
husbands had been present when several of their children were born. 
A few had been present at the birth of all their children. Some in- 
formants were abashed, others amused, when asked the question. 
Those who denied it were emphatic in doing so. “He is not allowed 
around then.” “My husband was present at the birth of all of his ten 
children. He would fix me up and tell me what todo. He knew my 
ways and could help me best. Husbands don’t have to be present, if 
they don’t want to.” 

Neither could the husband give magical assistance at birth, by con- 
tinuously walking around, or by doing certain work.* “My husband 
busied himself chopping wood or working in the field. He didn’t do 
this to help me; he did it to keep himself from worrying.” 

18 Chippewa and Cheyenne hold the same belief. 


7 Husbands were not present at birth among the Chippewa and the Cheyenne. 
7 A custom found among the Chippewa, but not among the Cheyenne. 


16 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BULL, 148 


The woman’s father and mother were usually present. “I think 
fathers sometimes worried about their daughters; that is why they 
were present.” ‘The mother and two or three old women assisted at 
the delivery. At least one of the old women was a professional mid- 
wife; the others might be medicine women. Medicine men who were 
herbalists also attended the birth. It was their duty to make decoc- 
tions of herbs and roots which the mother drank. 


BIRTH : POSITION OF MOTHER, AIDS, ATTENDANTS, NAVEL, PLACENTA 


A woman knelt when giving birth.” She braced herself by clutch- 
ing a horizontal rod with both hands. The rod rested in crotches of 
two upright poles that had been firmly planted in the ground, the 
floor of the tipi. The distance between the vertical poles was a little 
greater than the width of the woman’s body. The height of the rod 
was such that the kneeling woman could reach it with arms out- 
stretched full length, over her head. Her grasp was with palms 
toward earth. Her knees rested on something soft, such as a bed of 
hay or a burlap bag filled with soft grass or a roll of canvas. In the 
early days a worn-out hide was placed underneath the woman to 
receive the secundines; more recently, an old quilt or an old piece of 
canvas has been used. An Arapaho woman never pulled on a rope 
attached to the junction of the tipi poles. Chippewa women some- 
times pulled on a strip of moose hide, a pack strap, or basswood fiber 
tied to the trunk or limb of a tree or to the framework of the wigwam. 

When labor pains began, the woman was given a potion. One 
informant knew it was made of the peppermint plant which was 
“gathered in the North; povcd,* the Arapaho call it.” Another said 
it was made by boiling roots of a plant that grows in water. This 
plant is gathered by men, since it must be pulled by the roots, and this 
is difficult work. 

When the time of birth arrived, one of the attending women sat 
directly in front of the kneeling woman to receive the baby. While 
waiting for the birth, she forced the tip of a feather down the throat 
of the woman making her gag. Gagging helped to bring about 
delivery. 

Another woman sat behind the delivering woman. She placed her 
knees against the woman’s buttocks and her hands upon the woman’s 
abdomen. A third woman sat to one side in order to be close at hand 
in case she was needed. | 

Immediately after the delivery one of the women attendants, but 
not the one who had received the baby, forced the fluid of the navel 

So did the Chippewa and Cheyenne women. 


* The transcription of Arapaho words contributed by informants and interpreters of 
the present study is based on the Phonetic Transcription of Indian Languages (1916). 


HitenR]} ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 17 


cord away from the baby’s body, using her thumb and first finger. 
Then placing the tip of her first finger near the navel, she measured 
its distance to her wrist and cut it at this point with a movement away 
from the baby. Some women measured off two hand lengths. When 
cutting she took a position so that the cutting movement was also away 
from herself. The knife, or scissors more recently used in cutting, 
was to be anew one. The end of the cord near the baby was tightly 
bound with sinew. If a woman gave birth when alone—this might 
happen when en route—she herself cut the cord. Some women 
greased the cord with lard, coiled it, placed it over the navel, covered 
it with a clean rag, and then wound a band of cloth about the baby in 
order to hold the cord in position. Others placed a generous amount 
of finely powdered horse or, preferably, buffalo manure about the 
navel, coiled the cord, placed it on the manure, and then placed a 
thick layer of manure over this. A cloth was then bound around the 
baby to hold all in place. The manure had previously been rubbed to 
powder between palms of hands and sifted to remove little sticks by 
being shaken either in hands with fingers spread or through window 
screening. “If manure was used the cord dropped off in 8 days; if 
grease was used, it took a week or 10 days.” “I used buffalo manure 
on all my grandchildren’s navels; on this baby’s too (2 weeks old). i 
got the buffalo manure for this baby from the Crow Indians in Mon- 
tana.” * The interpreter added that one of her babies, a girl, had been 
treated with cow manure. 

Immediately after the child was born, while the mother was still 
kneeling, the woman in front again gagged the mother by pushing 
a feather down her throat. This assisted the woman in passing the 
placenta.” Feathers used in gagging, both before and after delivery, 
were not to be those of buzzard, owl, turkey, chicken, or any domes- 
ticated fowl. The ones generally used were those of eagle wings, 
of hawk, grouse, pheasant, or magpie. If the placenta adhered, the 
midwife removed it with her hands. “I saw a woman who lives 
close by here do that not so long ago. She washed her hands in lard 
and then inserted her right hand into the uterus and worked it until 
the afterbirth came. This woman is a midwife.” 

The material upon which the mother had knelt was folded, so as to 
encase the secundines, and tied together by one of the attending women. 
Care was taken not to touch any of it with the hands. Sometimes 
the placenta was included in the bundle; sometimes it was wrapped 
separately. Informants varied regarding the disposal of the bundle. 


21The United States Government maintains a herd of buffalo on the Crow Reservation, 
Mont. 

22 Cheyenne women used feathers or fingers to produce gagging, for the same purpose. 

28 Certain Chippewa midwives used the same procedure. 


892644—51——_3 


18 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Buxu. 148 


All informants agreed that nothing used at the birth was ever burnt. 
They differed in that some insisted that the bundle was buried; others, 
that it was hung in a tree. Most of the very oldest informants said 
that in the early days both the secundines and all materials upon which 
the mother had rested were buried, and that they were never hung 
in trees. Old Lady Salt Friday insisted on burial as the custom. 
Quoting her: “Today some Arapaho are no good, for they hang 
them in trees. I keep the trees around the river down there clear. 
I won’t let any hang in the trees.” A woman in her seventies insisted 
that they were always put in trees and that only when there were 
no trees in the area, as might happen on the Great Plains, was burial 
permitted. She herself had always tied the secundines in a clean 
cloth, put them into a burlap bag, taken them away, and hung them 
in a crotch of a tree. She added, “We never burnt or buried them; 
that was against our rules. The one that put them away in the tree 
prayed to the Heavenly Father to cause this child to grow up to be 
a good man or a good woman. Only when no trees could be seen 
anywhere, did we bury them in a hole in the ground. ‘This was 
always some distance from the home.” Another informant had 
always climbed up into a tree herself and placed the bundle in a 
crotch where it would rot away, and where no dog could reach it. 
“Tt is never burnt or buried,” she said, “because it comes with the 
baby, and should, therefore, be respected.” One informant had 
seen some buried in hollow trees. 

Mothers usually returned to work within a few days after birth. 
“T sat around and cared for the baby, and did just a little work for 
about 6 days. One time it was 10 days; but I wasn’t feeling well 
then.” Informants knew women who had died at childbirth. Several 
knew of stillbirths. 

The following accounts were given by Arapaho: 

a. I have three children. They were all born in the Indian way. My mother 
died when I was about 10 years old, and so one of her sisters became my mother. 
But it was my husband’s mother who took care of me when each one of my 
babies was born. Now I’m going to tell you just the way it was when my 
first baby was born: I had pains in my back, and cried about it. ‘“What’s the 
matter,’ said my aunt. But she knew at once what it was. We had built a 
little tipi outside. In the north side of it she fixed my place. A woman could 
have a special tipi for the birth of her child, if she wanted one. She put some 
tall grass like hay under two poles, so high [4 feet]. Across the top of the 
poles she had tied a bar. On top of this coarse hay, she put softer hay. Soon 
I felt very sick. There were three women there. One of them was an Indian 
doctor. They told me to stand on my knees on the pile of hay and to hold 
on to the bar. I had a very hard time. I was about 26 years old when this 
first baby was born. My aunt said that that was why I was having a hard 
time. I tried for 4 days to give birth. My hands were sore from hanging 


* The Cheyenne burnt the secundines but never the placenta; burning it would cause 
the child’s death. 


HienR] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 19 


onto the rod, and I had blisters on my knees. On the fourth day I said, 
“Y’m tired, I can’t help myself any more.” I told my man to go after his 
mother. His mother was a very good doctor. She understood everything 
about pregnancy and birth. She could examine a woman while she was carrying 
a baby and tell her about the date of birth. Well, she laid me on my stomach 
and pressed on my back. She made a potion for me which I drank, and I 
had more pains. She certainly was a good woman. She said to me, “The 
baby will come pretty soon now. Try to help us. Now stand up on your 
feet.” I stood up then, and she blew medicine on my shoulders, on my sides 
at the loins, and on top of my head.” Then she made me walk around the 
bed. I called, “I’m going to lose my baby.” “Sit down on your knees,” 
she called. I did. She was behind me and another woman in front, and then 
the baby came. I had been married 6 years before we had any children. After 
the baby came, my husband’s mother said, “It’s a little girl.” Then she drained 
the cord [she motioned away from the baby] and tied it with sinew. Then 
she cut it about 8 inches from the baby. She greased it well with lard and 
curled it up near the navel. Then she put a soft clean rag over it all and 
placed a strip torn from a burlap sack on it and tied the strip all around the 
baby. My mother-in-law took a look at the navel every other day until the 
cord finally fell off. It takes about 4 or 5 days for the cord to drop off. After 
the mother is all cleaned up and is lying down resting, and has her baby wrapped 
up and with her, her husband is called. My man was glad to see the baby. 
He took it and held it. No men were present at the birth. When I first took 
sick a medicine man came in and rattled his bells, hoping to stop my pains. 
But when my mother-in-law came, she sent him out. She said, “There is no 
sense in making so much noise. A woman should have it quiet when a baby 
is being born.’ No other men, except medicine men were ever allowed in. 
When my aunt, the one that was mother to me, heard that the child was born. 
she came running in. 

b. When the first labor pains occur, the mother must conceal them. She must 
not become excited or worried or unnecessarily alarmed. When the second pains 
occur, she tells her own mother or her aunt or her grandmother; or if these are 
not living, her older sister; or if none of these is around, her father or husband. 
If it is her father or husband, he will go at once to the midwife’s tipi and ask 
the midwife to come. A place for the birth is prepared to one side inside the 
home tipi, near the bed. The bed is on the ground. Two poles, probably 3 or 
4 feet high, with a crossbar over the top have already been erected. A worn-out 
canvas or cloth, like an old curtain, is placed under the cross pole. This is the 
place where the child is to be born. The mother and grandmother, and some of 
the woman’s sisters and aunts assist the midwife. Usually there are four in all 
and these four stay there in case they are needed. Men are not present; this is 
strictly a woman’s affair. Occasionally, however, a man doctor was a midwife 
also, and, in that case, he might assist. The husband and the woman’s father 
may be around the place, but they are not present in the tipi. The husband walks 
around nervously, maybe wondering if it will be a boy or a girl; but he can in 
no way assiSt magically. A tea is made from some herb. Midwives know which 
herb; I do not. The woman is given this tea to drink. It eases the pain. The 
midwife tickles the woman’s throat with the wing feather of an eagle, hawk, 
grouse, or magpie; never of a turkey, buzzard, owl, hen, or any domesticated 
fowl. This makes her vomit; vomiting assists the birth. The woman gives 
birth standing on her knees, holding on to the crossbar of the rack. The midwife 


°° Kroeber (1902, p. 439) found a globular concretion, hollow inside, in one Arapaho 
family which “was kept to be dipped into water containing medicine, then to be put on 
the head of a woman about to give birth to a child, in order to ease her delivery.” 


20 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLL, 148 


receives the baby into her two hands. One of the women who is present cuts the 
cord about a foot from the baby’s body. The cord is folded over and laid upon 
the baby and then kept in position by wrappings that are placed around the baby. 

c. Babies were born in the home tipi. All my children were born at home. 
My mother died before any of them were born; but my mother’s sister attended 
me. An older woman who knew how to take care of babies was always present. 
She did not need to be related to the mother. When my babies were born, there 
were also other women there besides this old woman and my aunt. My husband 
was present whenever a baby came. He would fix me up and tell me what to do. 
He knew my ways and could help me the best. Husbands don’t have to be there, 
if they don’t wish to. Children are not to be present on account of the noise 
they make. Girls about 20 could be around, but we did not want young men to 
be around. A husband can’t help in any way, like walking around out-of-doors. 
Indian men dectors were present, but they don’t beat drums like you say the 
Chippewa do. They come to give the mother medicine. There are many kinds 
of Indian medicines. These old Indian men and women doctors know which 
kinds to use; we don’t know them. The kind they give to a woman when she 
is in labor is gotten from water. Men usually get it because it has to be pulled 
up by the roots. These plants are dried before using them. If the mother takes 
this Indian medicine, she won’t have a hard time delivering the baby. I knelt 
giving the birth. One of the women knelt behind me, and placed her knees 
against my buttocks and her hands about my abdomen. She did not press my 
abdomen but merely held it with both hands. I braced myself by grasping [with 
palms toward earth] a rod that rested [horizontally] in two crotched sticks. 
The height of the rod depends on the mother’s height. Arapaho women never 
grasped a rope which hung down from the top of the tipi, like you say the 
Chippewa do. Right after birth, while I was still kneeling, the woman who 
knelt in front of me pushed a feather down my throat as far as she could. The 
gagging brought the afterbirth. After this everything pertaining to birth, in- 
cluding the afterbirth, along with the old curtain on which I knelt was folded 
together. The woman was careful not to touch any of it with her hands. She 
rolled it into a bundle. Then one of the women took this down towards the river 
where there are two trees. Such a bundle is placed in a crotch of a tree where 
it will rot away, and where no animals can reach it. It is never buried or burnt 
because it comes with the baby and we didn’t like to burn or bury it. It was 
always placed in a tree. 


HEADSHAPING, FONTANELS 


Immediately after the baby was cleaned, either the midwife or one 
of the old women present at the birth, warmed a piece of cloth, about a 
hand-length square, over embers. She placed this on the baby’s head 
and using both hands molded the head into a round ball. Women who 
did not use a cloth, warmed the hands before molding. Heads not 
shaped usually became “queer shaped heads.” No other part of the 
body was shaped. 

The fontanels were not given any treatment, nor was any belief as- 
sociated with them. “We never did anything about them; every child 
had them. We were careful not to exert presswre on them. When the 
child grew older, the spaces closed.” “We didn’t give the fontanels 
any treatment. When they began to close up my grandmother would 
say, ‘That baby will soon begin to talk and have a little sense.’ ” 


HILGER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE pea | 
CAUL 


No significance was attached to the caul. It was disposed of with 
the secundines. A consistent reply was, “It was considered part of the 
afterbirth.” “I suppose anyone born with it couldn’t help it. But it 
had no meaning.” “My mother was a midwife. She told of children 
born with their faces covered; but we had no belief about it. I am 
certain our tribe never dried that skin and sewed it into a little bag and 
saved it for good luck, as you say the Chippewa did. We did dry the 
navel cord, and we saved it’? (pp. 22-24). 


FIRST BATH 


A baby’s first bath consisted of handfuls of cool water dashed on the 
back. “Water from which the chill had been taken, but not lukewarm 
water, was used.” “The water was poured into a bowl made by cary- 
ing out a large branch of a tree.” No herbal decoction was used. 
The bath was usually given by the grandmother who rested the baby 
on her knees with face down. Sometimes the midwife gave the bath. 
<t was given immediately after the navel cord was severed. The baby 
was bathed in the same way each day until its navel cord dropped 
off. From then on until it was able to walk the daily dashes were of 
cold water. “Especially is the baby’s back dashed with cold water. 
This is done every morning, even in winter. The baby jumps because 
of it. Doing this, and also trying to hold its head up so as to get its 
back away from the water, makes its body strong.” ‘This made chil- 
dren healthy. It was the Indian way of living.” 

After its bath, the baby’s entire body, including its head, was rubbed 
with “war paint.” The ointment was made of red earth mixed 
with lard or tallow. “The Northern Cheyenne can give you a better 
idea of what it is made and where to get it. We get it from them.” 

After the child was able to walk, its mother took it daily to the river 
and gave it a bath whenever she took her own (p. 185). 


ANNOUNCEMENT OF BIRTH 


Birth was not announced ceremonially or celebrated with a feast. 
The midwife announced the sex of the baby and then the baby’s aunt or 
grandmother passed the news on by word of mouth. No crier an- 
nounced it in the camp, nor was it announced by gun shots or drum 
beats. “People in the next tipi told it to others. These in turn to 
others, and so the news passed on.” 

As soon as the mother was resting and the baby cared for, the baby’s 
father was called in. Persons meeting the father congratulated him. 


246 Cheyenne and Chippewa babies’ first bath was in an herbal decoction. 


22 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLL. 148 
PURIFICATION 


The mother, but not the baby, was purified by fumigation on the 
day the child was born—immediately after birth, if the mother was 
strong enough. Either a medicine man or medicine woman, usually 
one of the attending medicine women, prepared the fumes by placing 
beaver testes on hot coals. If beaver testes were not at hand, cedar, 
sage, or certain medicinal herbs or roots were substituted. If the 
mother had strength enough to stand, she stood over the fumes; if not, 
she sat and stooped over them; or if she was not able to sit up, she 
lay down, facing the fumes. A blanket covered both her and the fumes. 
She inhaled fumes and wafted handfuls over her entire body, especially 
about legs and abdomen. “This will cause the woman to regain her 
strength soon, and will keep the baby well, also.” “I was fumigated 
after my babies were born, After all the blood had passed, I stood 
over a pan in which they had placed cedar. They would have used 
beaver testes to make a smoke if they had had some. I had a blanket 
over me and placed my dress around the pan. This also helped to 
eliminate the odors of the birth.” The informant, a Southern woman, 
showed us two beaver testes which she had purchased from Northern 
Arapaho. One was intact; from the other she had cut a portion as 
large as the tip her thumb, the amount used for fumigation. 

A Northern interpreter said: 

I had that done with my oldest daughter. These old women [two informants 
present] asked me if they could do it, and I let them. I didn’t like to disappoint 
them. ... The medicine man put some roots [interpreter had no knowledge 
regarding which kind] on a little charcoal which he took from the fire. The 
midwife could have done it, too. He told me to sit right close to the fumes and 
put my shawl over myself and the fumes. He told me to inhale the fumes and 
take handfuls of it and rub it on my chest and arms, and especially around my 
waist line. I wore all my clothes. This was done to build up the mother and 


help her to become strong quickly. There was no further ceremony about it. 
No, I did not hold the baby. 


NAVEL CORD 


Navel cords of both boys and girls were saved. After the cord 
dropped off, the mother put it away todry. When thoroughly dry, she 
either rolled it into a ball or into a coil around the tip of a finger, 
or she folded it back and forth to form a little layer about 114 inches 
in length. Then she packed either sage or soil tightly around it and 
rolled it between hands, usually elongating it. Sometimes she made a 
ball of it. Then she slipped this into a previously made beaded case of 
tanned buckskin or deerhide. This was nearly always a narrow 
rhomboid in shape with either fringes of buckskin or strings of beads 
attached to one acute angle and both obtuse ones. According to 
Kroeber (1908, p..167; 1902, pp. 54-58), the ornamented strings hang- 
ing from the corners of the rhomboid represented limbs and tail. 


HILenR] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 23 


Sometimes the amulet represented a turtle, frog, or horned toad. 
According to a very old informant, only rhomboids were used in early 
days. Black and blue beads, in those days, decorated the boy’s amulet ; 
red and yellow, the girl’s. But neither design nor color were sig- 
nificant. Occasionally, also, in the early days according to the same 
informant, the navel cord was placed into a porcupine tail used by the 
owner of the cord in combing his hair. Today boys’ and girls’ amulets 
are alike. Old women agreed that “nobody can tell whether the bag 
is a girl’s or a boy’s except the one who knows whose cord is inside.” 

Usually both sides of the amulet were covered with beads; occasion- 
ally, only one side or only a few places, “here and there.” Beadwork 
was of geometric design. 

Several amulets were seen in the field. A Southern woman’s was 
turtle-shaped. One side of the trunk was beaded; the other was merely 
tanned buckskin. Head, legs, and tail were not beaded. Beadwork 
consisted of squares of white beads alternating with squares of other 
colors. The amulet measured 4 inches from tip of head to tip of tail; 
21% inches across the trunk. Another amulet, a diamond-shaped one, 
was treasured by the mother of a deceased Northern Arapaho woman. 
It was 5 inches long and 38 inches around at obtuse angles. A loop of 
buckskin was attached to one of the acute angles; buckskin fringes to 
the remaining angles. The beaded design was geometric. A Southern 
woman’s bag was also diamond-shaped. She had sewed her daugh- 
ter’s into a similar one. “Some sewed them into turtle-shaped bags,” 
she added. “The cords of all babies are saved and can be sewed into 
any shaped bag.” Her husband added, “Mine was merely tied up ina 
piece of buckskin. My mother was an old woman when I was born, and 
was too tired to bead a bag.” 

A Northern woman demonstrated the exact size she usually used in 
making a diamond-shaped container. Using a dry twig picked from 
the ground to guide her pencil in straight lines, she marked off, by 
eye, on paper a diamond exactly 5 inches long and exactly 214 inches 
wide. She drew the lower left-hand side first; then, moving clock- 
wise, the other three sides. “Here,” she noted, pointing to one of the 
acute angles, “I sew a string of buckskin with which to tie the bag to 
the belt ; here and here and here [remaining three angles] I sew fringes 
of buckskin or strings of beads. This shape of bag may be used for 
elther a boy’s or a girl’s cord.” 

The navel cord was usually saved during the life of its owner. De- 
stroying it in babyhood was believed to cause its owner to search for it, 
“and, they say, such a person will even take other people’s things while 
searching for it.” Saving it through childhood caused boys and girls 
to grow up to be men and women. 

During babyhood the amulet was attached to the outside of the 
cradle, on either side at shoulder level. 


94 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Buny, 148 


Very old informants said that formerly after a girl outgrew her 
cradle, her mother sewed the girl’s navel bag to the back of the girl’s 
dress, at the shoulder-blade. That of a boy who had out-grown his 
cradle was sewed to his shirt; later, to his belt or leggings. Grinnell 
(1923, vol. 2, pp. 110-111) also notes that the little deerskin charms, 
often of the shape of a lizard or turtle containing the fragments of the 
umbilical cord, were tied to the clothing of Arapaho children up to 
the age of 6 or 7 years. When a girl was old enough to wear a belt, 
that is at puberty, her mother usually sewed the bag to the belt at 
the left side. Sometimes the girl, but never the boy, wore the amulet 
suspended from the neck. In more recent times a boy’s was tucked 
away by his mother “in her trunk or suitcase or box among sweet 
scented grass” and was never worn by him or by her. Often a mother 
tied her daughter’s to her own (mother’s) belt, “just to indicate to 
others that she was happy that her own daughter was now growing 
myoi?? 

It was customary to bury the amulet with its owner. “I buried the 
navel bag with each one of my children, except two. Some of my chil- 
dren died as babies, some as grown-up men.” The cord was never 
burnt. “I was just going to throw my brother’s navel bag into the fire 
when my mother called, ‘Never burn anything like that! Go, throw 
it into the manure pile!’ I don’t know why the manure pile; she 
probably thought it was a better place than the ground.” 


POSTNATAL INTERESTS 


NOSE PIERCING 


The Arapaho did not pierce noses. “Another tribe does that,” said 
Sage; and he signed in the sign language, “pierced nose” (Nez 
Percés). Then added, “TI never heard of Arapaho wearing nose rings; 
at least, our old people never talked about it.” 


EAR PIERCING 


It was customary for the Arapaho to have two piercings in each ear. 
Each ear was pierced once, ceremonially, in childhood—“parents never 
neglected to do this, if they truly loved a child and wanted it to grow 
up to be something”—and again, unceremonially, in adulthood, that 
is, if an adult wished to have a second set of piercings. The second 
set of piercings could be made by anyone at any time. It was usually 
done in the home of the one who was having his ears pierced. 

One informant had had her ears pierced on the day of birth; another, 
when 2 years of age; one, at 5; one, when in boarding school, where 
one of her friends pierced one ear and another, the other; and one 
informant, only after being a grandmother. 


HiterR] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 25 


A child’s ears were pierced either at a large gathering of the tribe, 
most often at the Sun Dance, or at a smaller gathering, and then 
generally in its home.” According to one of Dorsey’s informants, 
the Arapaho had acquired the custom of piercing a child’s ears at the 
Sun Dance from the Cheyenne. Formerly, the informant said, the 
Arapaho child’s ears were pierced by a medicine man “always in the 
privacy of the lodge, and irrespective of the season of the year” (Dor- 
sey, 1903, pp.179-182). Sage doubted that this was correct. He main- 
tained both customs prevailed; so did other informants of the present 
study. Michelson (1933, p. 601), too, was of the opinion that any 
public gathering or dance was preferably the proper place to pierce an 
Arapaho child’s ears. According to Kroeber (1902, p. 18), also, a 
child’s ears were pierced while it was small, either during the Sun 
Dance or some other dance. Sage said, 


In old days when a child, either a boy or a girl, got its first tooth, the parents 
cooked a good deal of food and invited people to come to eat it. Now, if the 
child’s ears had not already been pierced, they made certain to invite one man 
who had been in many wars. This one pierced the child’s ears, and the child’s 
parents gave this man a nice horse. [And then he added] A child’s ears were 
also pierced at dances, such as the Sun Dance or other dances or celebrations for 
which a large crowd had come together. If the parents had saved enough 
things to be given away as gifts for the ear piercing of their child, the mother 
might, at such a gathering, step up to a man in a group and ask him to pierce 
her child’s ears. This man would then relate one of his deeds of bravery, such as 
killing a man, and after that he would pierce the child’s ears. 


Sage had pierced a child’s ears in the child’s home. 


Parents [he said] that wanted to do right by their children, and who had a child 
that both father and mother thought well of, got together blankets, buffalo robes, 
horses, dried meat, and food of various kinds. When they had eollected these 
things they called on an old man, if the child was a boy, or on an old woman 
if the child was a girl, to pierce the child’s ears. The parents supplied the ear 
rings. Parents who did that were those who wanted to do right by their children. 
I pierced ears. The parents cooked for me. One little boy was about 4 years 
old. Before I pierced his ears, I related an experience of my life, a deed that 
I had done, and I prayed so that the child would be good and grow to be old. 
This is the deed that I related: At one time I went alone by myself away from 
the general camp. This was years back when I was young. I came to a hill, 
and I thought I saw a horse following a man. I rode farther on and then I saw 
a Blackfoot Indian leading a horse packed with “stuff.” I took my spear, ran 
up to the man, and pierced him from the back. I said this is the way I am going 
to pierce that boy’s ears, so he will live long. I took a porcupine quill and 
pierced the ears. I had prepared a little stick for each ear, carved and pointed, 
and I put one into each piercing. Then I greased the place with buffalo fat. 
These little sticks were made large or small in size to fit the hole in the ear. 
Each day they were pulled out or moved around so they wouldn’t grow fast to 
the ear. Each day, too, the piercings were greased. 


27 Cf. Dorsey, 1903, pp. 179-182, for piercing of ears at Sun Dance. 


26 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [ BULL, 148 


Anyone invited by parents for the purpose of piercing a child’s 
ears might do so; usually the invited person was an old man who 
had been in many wars and who had pierced anenemy. An old woman 
might do the piercing, provided she had pierced an enemy. Sometimes 
the father did the piercing. “My father pierced my ears right at 
home on the day I was born.” According to Kroeber (1902, p. 19), it 
was a greater honor to have one’s ears pierced by a member of another 
tribe than by an Arapaho, even if the piercer was from a former 
enemy tribe. 

Preparations for the event, which consisted mostly of preparing 
gifts, were made when it was known that there would be a tribal 
gathering, more especially one at which warriors from another tribe 
were to attend. Gifts of parents to the piercer were generally a horse 
or two, some clothing, a blanket or two, and money, “or anything the 
parents valued; gifts indicated how much the parents loved the child.” 
The father of one of Michelson’s informants gave the Sioux who 
pierced the informant’s ears “his best riding pony, a pack of several 
robes, goods, and a silver bridle.” ‘The Sioux had pierced her ears at 
a Sun Dance when she was small. He had told of his war experiences. 
Michelson (1933, p. 601) notes that it was customary to give gifts of 
robes, other valuables, and a pony when a child’s ears were pierced. 
Kroeber (1902, pp. 18-19) says that the father gave the piercer gener- 
ally his best horse, as well as other gifts. 

The child whose ears were to be pierced was seated upon a blanket 
or, more appropriately, on an Arapaho bed (p. 182) which was spread 
in the open where all could see it. The gifts for the piercer were laid 
along one side of the blanket or bed. After this was done the parents 
asked the camp crier to announce to the tribe that the ears of the child 
would be pierced. Quoting Jessie Rowlodge, a Southern informant: 

Any old man might call out and invite people to a meal. But for ceremonial 
occasions or when there was a complete camp (p. 192), there were professional 
criers. The camp had a crier and so did each of the men’s lodges. The one 
for each lodge would call out announcements only for his lodge. An errand boy 
was never a crier; nor were young men. [The crier in the case of an ear piercing 
called the name of the man who was to do the piercing, telling him to come for- 
ward to pierce the child’s ears.] Sometimes the piercer was a visiting Indian, 
maybe a Sioux or a Cheyenne, but never a Shoshonie.* The piercer walked to 
where the child was, but before piercing its ears, he related a war story. He 
would tell how he had fought, and, maybe, killed an enemy. He would never tell 
anything like cutting up an enemy, however. Then he prayed to God that the 
child would grow up to be a strong man (or woman), that it would not be 
afflicted with sickness; that it would lead a good life, the same as he had done 
and was still doing. Then he pierced the child’s ear with wire, or something 
similar. Ears pierced this way were never sore, nor did they bleed. Generally 


only men pierced ears. Women could do so if they could tell war stories which 
they had experienced. 


28 The Shoshonie were considered their worst enemy. (See p. 3.) 


Hinczr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 27 


According to Kroeber (1902, p. 18) also, piercing children’s ears 
made children grow to maturity in health. Much crying during the 
piercing gave evidence that suffering and hardship was being endured. 
It was a good sign: it predicted that the child would grow to maturity. 

In the old days piercings were generally made with porcupine quills. 
According to Kroeber (1902, p. 19), a sewing awl was used unless the 
piercer had cut or slashed an enemy or cut a scalp, in which case he 
used a knife. The awl symbolized a spear; the hole pierced, a wound; 
the drippings, ear ornaments. Today a darning needle sterilized in 
flame is most generally used. Occasionally, the two ends of a piece 
of lead, elongated by being rolled between hands, are forced through 
the lobe until ends meet. As formerly, a little stick is still inserted 
into each lobe and kept there until the piercing has healed. At inter- 
vals it is moved back and forth in the piercing in order to keep it open. 

Jessie Rowlodge related the following: 

A pretention at ear piercing—really false motions—was usually done when 
the tribe was gathered at a big dance, generally the Sun Dance. If the father 
of the child was a prominent man in the tribe, he would want to see his child’s 
ears pierced at such a gathering. He would bring two ponies, his wife’s nice 
dresses, and bundles containing gifts, inside the Sun Dance circle. [P.156.] The 
mother would bring the child. The father would then fetch his old uncle or 
some old relative to where the child was. This old man would say, “All right. 
I want that man now.” He meant the warrior, a man who had actually pierced 
an enemy. This person might be a woman provided she had actually been a 
warrior who had pierced a person. Well, this old man called to the warrior 
and told him to come up and pierce the child’s ears. The drummers then sang 
the war song for the one who was to do the piercing. The piercer danced, and 
sang, and then related his coups. While doing so he charged toward each ear 
of the child as he had done when piercing the enemy, but he used a stick instead 
of a spear, and he only touched the ears of the child; he did not pierce them. 
When the parents arrived home later, they really pierced the child’s ears. This 
was usually done with an awl; sometimes with a porcupine quill. The parents 
did not want the child to feel pain without making sacrifices for it; that is 
why this ceremony was carried out. Both boys and girls were treated this way. 
This could be done any time from birth to about the age of 2 years. This 
woman here [pointing at a woman in her forties], who is a relative of mine, 


had her ears pierced that way. 

According to a Northern woman, parents who loved their children 
much had each child’s ears pierced at an Indian dance when it was 
2to 5 years of age. Parents gave away as gifts calico, new bedding, and 
similar valuable things, among them usually an Arapaho back rest, 
such as was used as a bed. “Some parents even gave away a horse. 
But the horse was not brought into the dance circle. They would tell 
the man [piercer] that there was a horse out there for him.” 

Michelson gives interesting details of the piercing ceremonial: 

Before a warrior even begins to pierce the ears of a child, the drummers im- 


mnediately start singing a spirited song; the same songs are used before charging 
the enemy in actual battle; while the singing is going on the piercer dances, 


28 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Buv. 148 


whoops, and yells as if ready to charge; when the song ceases he begins to tell 
the drummers a certain noted experience of his own in warfare, to which the 
drummers respond with quick sharp raps on the drum at every important refer- 
ence of the narrator, the shrill screams from the women indicating their approval ; 
at the end of which he says that he means well by his truth, then approaches 
the child and either actually pierces the child’s ears, or he makes pretended mo- 
tions with a small stick, vesting the authority in some relative of the child later 
to pierce its ears. [Michelson, 1938, pp. 601-602. ] 

According to Dorsey, it was the custom that all children born since 
the erection of the last Sun Dance lodge, or who for any reason had 
not had their ears pierced since, were brought by mothers and fathers 
on the afternoon of the third day of the Sun Dance to the east of and 
near the center pole, where their ears were pierced with a porcupine 
quill, generally by the priest or by others, who because of their position 
were permitted to do so. Piercing of ears typified the child being 
struck by a lightning bolt, and thereafter the child was supposed to 
be proof against arrows of the enemy in times of war. During the 
1902 Southern Arapaho Sun Dance, children were brought to the cen- 
ter pole by parents for the piercing ceremonial. Parents brought 
calico or a pony to give to the piercer. The piercer came up and 
taking the ear of the child made the motion as if to pierce it. (Dorsey, 
1903, 179-182). 

Earrings worn “a long time ago” were made of sea shells sewed at 
intervals to strips of buckskin. “They began with one shell at the ear; 
then a piece of buckskin; then two shells and a piece of buckskin after 
each; and then four shells that dangled like fringes. Those of the 
women sometimes reached below the collar bone. Those of the men 
increased in numbers until there were eight at the fringes. The men’s 
sometimes reached below the waistline. They were certainly pretty.” 


“DIAPERS,” “TALCUM POWDER” 


Buffalo manure, finely ground, was used as “diapers.” Some 
women ground the manure between palms of hands, rotating hands in 
opposite directions. Others rotated the fist of one hand in the palm of 
the other. “Formerly we gathered large piles of buffalo chips that had 
aged. The buffalo chews his food well; so it is as good as any manure. 
It is precious today; there are so few buffalo now. I got some buffalo 
chips from the Crow Indians (Montana) before this baby was born 
[2 weeks old]. Some use pony manure.” ”° 

When in its cradle the powdered manure was placed underneath the 
baby, between its legs, and over it from waistline down. It was held 
in position by the manner in which the cradle was covered and laced 


** Michelson (1933, p. 598) also notes that both buffalo and horse manures were used by 
Arapaho women. 


HILGER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 29 


(pp. 81-32). When the baby was taken from the cradle its “diaper” 
was changed. If it contained no feces, it was aired, dried, powdered, 
and again used. 

The child was trained in correct toilet habits by the time it was 
able to walk. “Just as soon as my children were able to sit up, and 
especially when they began to crawl, I sat them on a can whenever I 
noticed their bowels were going to move. They were supposed to be 
broken by the time they walked alone.” Another old woman present 
at the interview said she had done the same thing, and added, “The 
children can then go without a diaper. These younger women won't 
take the trouble to train their children; they let them wear diapers 
a long time.” 

Since buffalo manure prevented chafing, it was often placed in the 
baby’s armpits. When chafing occurred, mothers used ointment made 
of thoroughly dried red clay mixed with grease or tallow. Red clay 
was found under the ground in the hills or was brought in from the 
mountains. Sometimes it was gotten “from Indians in the North.” 
“This red grease is better than the store powder [talcum powder] 
which is used today. Istill have a little of the red clay and used it on 
my grandchild yesterday [1940]. Every mother had a supply of red 
clay on hand.” A missionary remarked that Arapaho babies brought 
for baptism were often nearly completely covered with red grease. 


CRADLES 


During the period of the present study no Arapaho, either Northern 
or Southern, or White person closely associated with them knew of a 
cradle that was either in use or in the possession of an Arapaho. “We 
sold the last ones to the Whites quite a while ago. A White man used 
to come around here and buy up all the old Indian ‘stuff’.” “I made 
three cradles for White people that live at Jackson Hole [Wyoming] 
long after we weren’t using them any more. They asked me to make 
them. I used willows for the framework.” 

Museum specimens, however, were available for study. Collectors 
have deposited in museums two types of cradles ascribed to the 
Arapaho: one, a framework of wood covered with ornamented canvas 
(pl. 7, 1)*°; the other, an all-beaded buckskin band sewed to a piece of 


30 Arapaho cradles of ornamented canvas over willow framework are deposited in the 
following museums—all but Kroeber’s are listed as having been collected among the North- 
ern Arapaho; field notations do not tell where his was collected: (A) Chicago Natural His- 
tory Museum: (a) Cat. No. 57798. Collector, Norman A. Hoefeld, 1908. (b) Cat. No. 
61470. Collector, G. A. Dorsey, 1900. (c) Cat. No. 61384. Collector, Cleaver Warden and 
G. A. Dorsey, 1900. (B) United States National Museum. Cat. No. 30031 (pl. 7,2). (C) 
University of Pennsylvania Museum. Cat. No. 36926. Collector, Stewart Culin, 1900. 
(D) American Museum of Natural History. Three specimens: Nos. 50/958, 50/1050, 
50/1079. Collector, A. L. Kroeber, 1900. 


30 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BULL 148 


rawhide, the rawhide serving as a back without an inner framework, 
but made to be attached to an outer one (pl. 7, 2). 

Parts of the cradle of the first type (pl. 7, 7) are: (a) a U-shaped 
framework; (6) a symbolically ornamented cover of tanned buck- 
skin, more recently of canvas; (c) lashings; and (d) a carrying strap. 

The framework was made by bending a branch of willow, choke- 
cherry, or sumac, about one inch in diameter, into a U position, and 
holding it in position by means of a transversely attached stick, or by 
one or two strips of tanned buckskin. The attachments were generally 
made near the open end of the U. The framework was placed inside 
the cover, and tied to it. 

In length, the framework of museum specimens varied from 27 to 
34 inches; in greatest width (near head end), from 9 to 10 inches; in 
narrowest width (the open end of U, the foot end), from 31% to 5 
inches. 


31 Arapaho all-beaded cradles are deposited at (A) United States National Museum. Cat. 
No. 200741, (pl. 7, 2). Collector, Emile Granier. Wild River Reservation. Collected 
previous to 1890. (B) University of Pennsylvania Museum. Cat. No. N. A. 3502. Col- 
lector, Gen. P. H. Ray, “‘very old collection.” (C@) American Museum of Natural History. 
Cat. No. 50/930, Collector, A. L. Kroeber, 1900. 

There is doubt in the writer’s mind that the all-beaded cradles assigned by collectors to 
the Arapaho are of Arapaho make. Northern Arapaho women who had assisted in making 
cradles of the first type—willow framework covered with ornamented canvas—among 
them, Ann Wolf, a recognized ceremonial leader in cradle making, were emphatic in saying 
that the all-beaded cradle was not an Arapaho but a Sioux cradle. The writer had taken 
photographs (United States National Museum Negs. 17671-B and 30031) into the field 
(1942). These cradle makers, after careful scrutiny of the picture of the canvas-covered 
eradle (30031), declared it to be exactly correct in all details. They were emphatic in 
declaring, too, that their tribe had only one type of cradle; that any others found among 
them at any time were gifts from other tribes. Explanations that specimens of the all- 
beaded cradle were found in noted museums, that they were labeled Arapaho and had 
been collected by reliable collectors from among their people, brought more emphasis in the 
denial that their tribe had made them. They were Sioux cradles, they insisted, and must 
have been gifts to Arapaho. Agnes Yellow Plume said: “My oldest daughter had three 
Sioux cradles, all beaded, just like the ones you are showing us. My husband had been 
adopted by a Sioux woman and it was this woman that made the cradles and gave them to 
my daughter. We never used these cradles for our babies; they were only gifts. My 
daughter sold all three of them to a White man.” Ann Wolf said: “A Sioux gave me one 
of those all-beaded cradles for my son. The Arapaho accepted these cradles as gifts ; but we 
never used them for our babies.’”’ Several informants took it upon themselves to interview 
other old women between the writer’s visits in order further to assure the writer that they 
were correct. Informants also declared the bead design Sioux. The writer is inclined 
to believe the truth of these statements, while at the same time recognizing that such men 
as Granier and Kroeber were careful and trustworthy collectors. Cradle making for the 
Arapaho was a ceremonial act; quill work on a cradle was highly symbolic. The cradle 
was to bring blessings upon the child, and mothers seldom neglected to obtain one for a 
child. Hence, it does not seem very probable that an all-beaded cradle to which no sig- 
nificance was attached, and which was not used for cradling Arapaho babies, should be of 
Arapaho make. During October 1943 the writer showed the photographs to several Sioux 
Indians of the Standing Rock Reservation of the Dakotas, among them Joe Has Horn 
(78 years of age), Elizabeth Chasing Hawk (70 years), and Oscar One Bull (93 years). 
All were in agreement that cradles, United States National Museum Nos. 200741 and 
315094 (pl. 7), were Sioux, and that they were usually attached to a framework and hung 
on the mother’s saddle when she was traveling. Kroeber (1902, p. 69), after writing of an 
all-beaded Arapaho cradle (AMNH, Cat. No. 50/930), notes: “A Sioux cradle in the 
American Museum of Natural History bears a resemblance to this one that is very re- 
markable. Nothing is known of the symbolism attached to this cradle by the Sioux.” 


HILcrE] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 31 


To make a cover, a plain piece of buckskin or canvas was folded 
lengthwise and stitched together along one of the shorter ends. This 
end formed the hood end of the cover; the opposite end, the one left 
open, was the foot end; the open end served as the opening of the cover. 
The depth of the cover measured along the hood seam, therefore the 
depth of the cradles, varied from 18 to 15 inches in the different spec- 
imens. The cover was longer than the framework since it had to be 
brought up over the child’s feet. Covers of museum specimens were 
from 10 to 12 inches longer. 

Ornaments were prepared separately and then sewed to the cover. 
Both natural and dyed porcupine quills were used in making them. 
Ornaments consisted of a disk, a band, and pendants—an oblong orna- 
ment replaced the disk on one specimen (AMNH, Cat. No. 50/1079). 
The disk was sewed directly over the hood seam of the cover. The band 
was sewed to the opening of the cover about the face. It consisted of 
two strips of tanned buckskin to each of which was sewed one of the 
ends of a number of quill-wrapped bars. Informants said bars should 
number at least 90; more than 90, however, even 100, were quite desir- 
able. According to museum catalogues, bars indicated the number of 
years the maker hoped the child would live. Informants of the pres- 
ent study were not of the same opinion. Pendants were made either 
of plain buckskin strips or of quill-wrapped ones with small bells or 
deer claws attached to them. 

Lashings were generally of quill-wrapped strips of buckskin. The 
carrying strap was a narrow band of strong buckskin and was attached 
to the back of the cradle. It served as a shoulder strap if the mother 
carried the cradle on her back, or as a means of fastening the cradle to 
her saddle when she was riding horseback. 

According to Kroeber, there were only two chief lines of symbolism 
connected with the ornamentation of an Arapaho cradle: according to 
one, the ornaments represented the child that was in the cradle; ac- 
cording to the other, the parts of a tent. The child when grown up 
would occupy its own tent as it now occupied its cradle. The symbol- 
isms, therefore, expressed the wish that the child would reach manhood 
or womanhood.” 

The second type of cradle ascribed to the Arapaho consists of a 
cover nearly completely beaded, an oblong pendant attached to the back 
over the head, ties used in bringing the front edges of the cover to- 
gether, and a strap probably used in tying the cradle to the saddle. 

The following descriptions are of specimens the writer studied in 
museums: 


(a) The framework of a specimen of the first type of cradle (Chicago Natural 
History Museum, No. 57798), collected among the Northern Arapaho in 1908, con- 


= Kroeber, 1902, p. 66. Cf. also Kroeber, 1900 b, pp. 69-86, and 1901, pp. 308-336, for 
further reading on Arapaho decorative symbolism. 


32 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLy. 148 


sists of a willow sapling, about 1 inch in diameter, bent to an inverted U. The 
width between the ends of the U is 5 inches; that of the closed end, the head end, 
is 914. Its length is30 inches. It is held in shape by a transversely attached stick, 
one end of which is fastened exactly to one end of the U and the other, 714 inches 
from the other end. 

The covering of the cradle is a single piece of white canvas cloth, 41 inches long 
and 33 inches wide, folded lengthwise and sewed together at one of the shorter 
ends. This end is the head end. The cover is lined with red flannel striped in 
black. The opening of the cover is finished off with a hem approximately 244 
inches in width. The bottom end is unfinished. The depth of the cradle is ap- 
proximately 13 inches. The covering is attached to the framework from the inside 
at 10 places with buckskin strips. Spacings between ties are irregular. Begin- 
ning at the left and following the framework clockwise, they are 6, 5, 5, 3, 8, 12, 4, 
6, and 8 inches apart. 

Lashings consist of eight quill-wrapped buckskin loops each 2 inches wide and 
8 inches deep, fastened to the outside of the framework at places at which the 
framework is attached on the inside. Three of the loops are attached to each 
side of the framework and two at the foot end. Quills are white, yellow, and 
purple. Arapaho women said that after the child was in the cradle, the loops 
were brought forward and laced tautly by means of a strip of buckskin, beginning 
just below the child’s face. As each loop was picked up, a secure knot was made. 
When all loops were laced and knotted, the strip of buckskin was brought to the 
back of the cradle and tied to two buckskin strips, in this instance 10 inches from 
the top of the cradle. The two buckskin strips had previously been fastened to 
the framework directly above the child’s head. 

The ornamentations on this cradle, all of quill work, are a disk over the head 
of the child, a 2-inch-wide band attached to the opening about the face, five sets 
of two pendants each, and an additional single pendant. The disk consists of a 
center circle, % inch in diameter and nine rings each % inch wide. Quills are 
red, white, and yellow. The yellow ones predominate, the outer ring being en- 
tirely of yellow. The rings are crossed by two sets of radii, four to a set. One 
set is in the direction of the child’s face; the other, toward its back. These are of 
purple quills. 

The 2-inch-wide band is sewed to the opening of the cover 12 inches down each 
side. The remainder of the band hangs unattached in even lengths on each side. 
The band was made by fastening 111 114-inch-wide quill-wrapped bars trans- 
versely to two strips of buckskin each 48 inches in length. Half of each har, 
the portion nearest the opening, is of yellow quills; the other half, of purple and 
white quills. 

Pendants of two quill-wrapped loops and two small commercial bells are at- 
tached symmetrically on both sides to the band 4 inches from the hood seam. 
Identical sets appear on both sides 4 inches lower. Three additional sets each 
consisting of three quill-wrapped loops and one small commercial bell are at- 
tached not to the band but to the sides of the cover, 4 inches toward the back from 
the opening. When measured from head seam, sets are attached at points 14 
inches, 18 inches, and 191% inches from it. A single decoration of 10 quill- 
wrapped loops, 214 inches deep, is fastened back of the disk where the overhead 
seam is encased in a folded piece of buckskin. Each loop is fastened by means 
of a strip of buckskin. Hither a small commercial bell or a dew claw is attached 
alternately at each place of tying. 

(6) A second specimen (Chicago Natural History Museum, No. 61470), col- 
lected by Dorsey among the Northern Arapaho on the Wind River Reservation 
in 1900, is almost identical with the one described above. The framework is of 


HILGER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 33 


willow; the cover, of white cotton cloth. The Museum catalogue records the 
following regarding it: 


This cradle, both in form and decoration, is typical of the Northern Arapaho. 
The disk over the head symbolizes the sun, also the crown of the child’s head, and 
its intelligence. The red and yellow sectors of the disk, meeting at right angles, 
form a cross, symbolizing the Morning Star or a woman. The white sectors repre- 
sent the four corners of the earth; the yellow, the light of the sun; the red, its 
heat; and the black, night. The rattles at the top of the cradle symbolize the 
hearing of the child. The loops on the ends of these and other pendants symbolize 
the sun. The band of quill work around the opening represents the hair of the 
child; the four pendants attached to it, the four corners of the world, four old 
men, important in mythology, and the four periods of life. The cross-bars of 
the band represent the years which it is hoped the child will live. The color 
symbolism is the same as in the disk. The long strips around the lower part of 
the cradle symbolize the child’s ribs; the long pendant with bells, its energy and 
movements. 


(c) An American Museum of Natural History specimen (No. 50/958), a frame- 
covered cradle collected by Kroeber in 1900, is 34 inches in length and 10 inches 
in greatest width, near head end. Its cover is canvas. Its decorations are a 
7-inch diameter disk over the head and a band of 111 quill-wrapped crossbars 
sewed to 2 long pieces of hide fastened to the opening. Lashings are eight quill- 
covered loops, three on each side and two at the foot end. Regarding the 
symbolism of this cradle, Kroeber wrote: 


The round ornament near the top of the cradle, situated over the top of the 
child’s head, represents the head or skull of the child. The long ornament, 
consisting of two strips of hide connected by red, black, and white quill-wrapped 
strips, represents the child’s hair. The smooth, slippery quills denote the greasy 
hair of the child. At the lower part of the cradle the long quill-covered thongs 
represent ribs. The lowest pair, however, are the legs. Of the three colors 
in the embroidery, red represents blood; black, the hair [of youth and middle 
age]; white, [the hair of] old age. Of the sticks forming the framework inside 
the cradle, one is unpeeled, the other peeled. The unpeeled one denotes that 
the child is as yet helpless and dirty in its cradle; the peeled stick represents its 
subsequent more cleanly condition. 

The round ornament at the top of this cradle, besides denoting the head 
of the child, represents also a tent-ornament, which indeed it closely resembles. 
The tent-ornament signifies that the child, when it has grown up, will have 
a tent. Above the round ornament are pendants having small hoofs and quill- 
wrapped loops at their ends. These represent the pendants or rattles above 
the door of the tent. Still higher up than these on the cradle, are two quill- 
wound strips lying parallel to each other. These represent man and woman, 
since a man and a woman own a tent together. On the ornament representing 
hair are several pairs of pendants having loops at their ends. These loops 
represent the holes in the bottom of the tent through which the tent-pegs pass. 
The whole cradle, owing to its shape and the fact of its being stretched on a 
framework of sticks, resembles a tent-door, and therefore represents it. 

Both of these extensive symbolic interpretations were given by one and the 
same person to the ornamentation of one cradle. [Kroeber, 1902, pp. 66-68.] 


(d) A University of Pennsylvania Museum specimen (No. N. A. 36926) was 
collected by Culin on the Wind River Reservation in 1900. Its U-shaped frame- 
work of unpeeled willow is 27 inches in length, 9 inches in width near head end, 
and 3% inches in width at foot end. A crossbar of willow tied to the foot end 


892644—51——4 


34 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [But 148 


and two strands of sinew tied farther toward head end hold the frame in 
position. The cover of unbleached muslin is 13 inches deep and 40 inches 
long. Ornaments are of quill work on buckskin. A 6-inch diameter disk over- 
head consists of 10 rings of quill work each of either white or red or black quills. 
A pendant, 2% inches wide, fastened back of the disk consists of two horizontal 
bars of quill work to which is attached a row of danglers in sets of two. Each 
dangler is a quill-covered strip of buckskin tipped off with a dew claw. The 
band, consisting of 90 quill-covered bars which are attached transversely to 2 
buckskin strips, is sewed to the cover 18 inches down each side of the opening. 
Sets of pendants are sewed to both sides of the cover at the back edge of the 
band. One set is 4 inches from the hood seam; the other, 7 inches lower. 

(e) Another American Museum of Natural History specimen (No. 50/1079), 
also collected by Kroeber in 1900, is 31 inches long and 9 inches at greatest width. 
The framework is of unpeeled willow; the cover, of canvas. The band has 96 
erossbars. The loops used in holding the child in the cradle are seven in number. 
The usual disk over the head is here replaced by an oblong piece, 7% by 434 
inches, worked in red and white quills and edged in yellow beads. The pendant 
to the back of this consists of 10 quill-covered danglers, each tipped off with a 
buffalo toe nail. Four pendants placed at intervals decorate the opening about 
the face. 

(f) A specimen of the all-beaded type of Arapaho cradle (U. S. Nat. Mus. No. 
200741) (pl. 7) was collected by Granier previous to 1890 on the Wind River 
Reservation. It is 33 inches long. A bent twig found inside the cradle to hold 
it in position is probably not part of the conventional cradle. 

(g) A similarly all-beaded cradle collected by Kroeber in 1900 (Amer. Mus. 
Nat. His. No. 50/980) is 2714 inches in length and 12 inches in width. Itisa 
solidly beaded band 55 inches long and 10 inches wide sewed to the two long 
edges and one short edge of a piece of buckskin 23 inches long and 5 inches wide. 
The foot end is open. Attached to the back of the hood is a 4-by-4%-ineh all 
beaded oblong piece not unlike the one seen in plate 7. One of the 4-inch edges 
of the oblong is sewed to the cradle cover. To the unattached corners of the 
oblong are fastened the two upper ends of a Y-shaped string of beads. The 
lower end of the Y is attached to the canopy of the cover. This arrangement 
prevented the canopy from falling on the child’s face. Fourteen strings of beads, 
varying in number from two to nineteen, and five pieces of red grogram ribbon 
are also sewed to the unattached edge of the oblong. Three balls made of little 
circular pieces of calico filled with crushed herbs are fastened 1% inches from 
the opening: one directly over the face; the other two, 7 inches lower on each 
side. The balls are approximately 3% inches in diameter. The cover is tied 
at the opening by four sets of buckskin strips; one set is sewed near the lower 
end of the cover, the others, at intervals of 4 inches, 51% inches, and 51% inches. 
A strong strip of rawhide, probably used in tying the cradle to the saddle 
or possibly to a cradleboard, is fastened in two places on the back of the cradle. 
Fastenings are 15 inches from the lower end and 8 inches from either edge. 
The cradle weighs 2 pounds and 4 ounces. Beads are red, green, yellow, and 
two shades of blue. The beadwork is in geometric design. 

(h) A similarly beaded buckskin cradle, also ascribed to the Arapaho and 
deposited in the University of Pennsylvania Museum (No. N. A. 3502), is un- 
dated. It is considered a very old specimen by the museum curators. . The col- 
lector was Gen. P. H. Ray. The band of buckskin used in making the cradle 
cover is 11% inches wide, 91% inches of which is solidly beaded, chiefly in white 
beads. Other colors are red, green, and two shades of blue. The beaded sec- 
tion forms the sides and canopy of the cradle. The remaining 2 inches of the 
band are sewed over the two long edges and one short edge of a piece of raw- 


Hinenr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 35 


hide, 514 inches in width, this width forming the back of the cradle. At the 
back of the canopy where beaded and unbeaded sections meet is attached an 
oblong of rawhide, 4% x 514 inches, covered with beaded buckskin. One end 
of each of two strings of beads is fastened to the unattached corners of the 
oblong; the other ends, to the hood part of the canopy. One set of ties used 
in lashing are fastened to the lower corners of the beaded cover, and others, 
above these at intervals of 4 inches, 5 inches, and 11 inches. The beaded design 
is geometric. The weight of the cradle is 334 pounds. 

According to informants of the present study, cradle making was 
a woman’s work. Conventionally, a cradle was made for each Ara- 
paho child sometime while its mother was carrying it. Usually the 
man’s mother sponsored the making of it. If she was dead, another 
old woman relative did so. Occasionally the man’s sister or some 
other young woman relative sponsored it. Always it was a relative 
of the man who did so. 

The cradle was made by several women jointly, sometimes by as 
many assix. According to some informants, the cradle was given to 
the expectant mother as soon as it was made; others said only after 
the child was born. In the early days no parts of a cradle were used 
for another child; in more recent years the ornaments were again 
used. This was done because it was diflicult to get quill workers, and 
“anyway the younger people didn’t believe much in the old ways of 
doing things, or in the blessings of a cradle.” Some informants knew 
of entire cradles that had been used for several successive children. 
Some knew of cradles that had been used by several families. But this 
was not the conventional way of doing. 

Kroeber records the following regarding Arapaho cradle making: 

If a man is married, his sister may want to make a cradle for his child. She 
provides food for a number of old people, shows them her materials, and asks how 
she is to make the cradle. The old people tell her how to make it, and show 
her the designs with which it is to be decorated. Then they all pray in turn 
that the child’s cradle may be made perfectly, and that it may be for the good 
cf the child. After the woman has finished the cradle, she repeats her invita- 
tion to the old people. Then the child is put into the cradle and taken to its 
father. He receives it, and makes a gift to the maker. [Kroeber, 1902, p. 16.] 

The following observations, which end with this section, were made 
by Agnes Yellow Plume and Ann Wolf while they together examined 
the photograph shown in plate 7, 7. They though the cradle shown 
in plate 7, 7—‘‘baby’s bed,” they called it—was well made; no mistake 
had been made in the making of it. They counted all parts and ex- 
amined the quill work. The framework of a baby’s cradle was made 
of willow “wrapped around with soft buckskin.” It was always placed 
inside the cover, and never was it attached to the outside. After the 
framework had been placed in the cover, thongs of buckskin were 
crisscrossed over the framework. The ends of the thongs were brought 
out through slits in the cover and left long enough so that they could 


36 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BULL 148 


be brought around the shoulders of the mother when she carried the 
baby on her back. 

Tn old days the cover of the cradle was of buckskin. Its width was 
a hand-stretch, measured from tip of thumb to tip of long finger, plus 
the length obtained by holding the tip of the long finger in position 
and laying the hand backward until the knuckles touched the buckskin. 
The material was cut where the knuckles rested. The rest of the 
measurements were based on guess and experience. “If you were in 
doubt, you went to the old women who knew the measurements, and 
asked them.” A pillow was placed under the baby’s head when it was 
in the cradle. 

Cradles were made before the arrival of the baby and each baby 
had its own. “I had three daughters and each had her own cradle,” 
remarked Yellow Plume. Wolf continued, “When I decided to make a 
cradle for her [Yellow Plume’s] daughter, I asked two of my great- 
grandmothers to show me how to make it. I brought buckskin and 
rawhide and quills to her. I had to sit for many days working on the 
quills, my great-grandmother directing me.” The disk over the head 
of the child was always to be 10 successive rings of quill work, counting 
the center piece as one. No measurements of diameter or circum- 
ference were followed; only rings were counted. All rings were alike 
in width. The band which was attached over the face of the child 
and which reached down the sides of the cradle cover was to have 
100 crossbars of quill work. Some makers made fewer, but bands 
that contained 100 were prettier. Each crossbar was to be as wide as 
the maker’s thumbnail is long. The length of the crossbar was from 
the tip of the first finger to just beyond the second knuckle of the same 
finger. The strips of quill work that crossed each other over the baby’s 
body were there to hold the baby in the cradle. 

Ten pendants were to be attached over the head and toward the 
back of the child, and to be tipped off with antelope toenails. These 
were to be rattled for the child’s amusement. Four other pendants, 
two on each side of the cradle, also served as rattles. Informants did 
not think the number four had any association with the four men of 
the spiritual world who cared for the sacred pipe (pp. 145, 147). 
They did not know why certain numbers were used. ‘The numbers 
we gave you are those that the old people taught us to use. No, my 
(Wolf’s) great-grandmothers never associated the hundred crossbars 
with one hundred years of life that the child should live.” 

Quills were used in making ornaments for cradles, even when beads 
were available. Beads were used only when quills were not available. 
“Quills were much prettier than beads.” After the White man came, 
they bought artificial dyes from him. Before that they had used black 
currants in dying quills black and a root gotten in the swamps, in 
making purple dye. ‘These were the only two colors used, unless red 


Hicnr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 37 


was wanted, in which case red cloth was used, which was gotten by 
trading with other Indians. The quills to be dyed were wrapped in 
cloth with either the black currants or the root of the swamps, and 
boiled. If red quills were wanted, they were wrapped in red cloth 
and boiled. In order to set the dye, the skin of the beaver tail was 
boiled in the same container with the bundle containing the quills. 
“My [Wolf’s] aunt, who was a noted quill dyer, did that.” Neither 
color nor design indicated that the cradle was a boy’s or a girl’s. “No 
one knew what the child was going to be, whether a boy or a girl.” 
After the cradle was completed, the maker stored it. 

After the child was born the maker invited many old women to 
her own large tipi or to a borrowed one, if she owned no large one. 
Younger women relatives were invited, but these stayed outside the 
tipi. The mother of the baby for whom the cradle had been made 
brought the baby into the tipi and gave it to the maker of the cradle. 
Before the baby was tied into the cradle, the hood of the cradie was 
incensed by being held over a smudge. If the baby was a boy, the 
smudge was made of sweet smelling grass, called néya@hu,; if a girl, 
of a turnip-shaped root of a plant, called nidda@’, found in the moun- 
tains. While the hood was being incensed, the maker prayed that 
everything would go well with the child. The maker then tied the 
baby in the cradle and prayed to God “to spare the child, to have it 
grow up to be a strong man (or woman), to let no sickness come upon 
it, and to let it be good. One of those for whom I [Wolf] made a 
cradle and for whom [J said this prayer is a successful man now with 
a good-sized family.” A similar prayer was said by the woman who 
took the cradle apart after the baby outgrew it. Only one of the 
women prayed; the others bowed their heads and listened. Holding 
the baby in an upright position, the maker next walked toward the 
four corners of the earth within the tipi: first, to the door, the east; 
then towards the south; next, west; then north. Then the mother 
was called in and the cradle with the baby in it was given to her. 
Then all ate: the old women, within the tipi; the mother and the 
younger women, outside the tipi. “I [Wolf] made four cradles 
and cooked four times for the old women who helped to make 
the cradle and for as many old women as could get into the tipi. 
The daughters and daughters-in-law of these old women waited out- 
side and the food was taken out to them. I usually cooked a pot of 
coffee, made tea, prepared meat I had bought in town, served water- 
melon, rice gravy, grease bread, doughnuts, and cinnamon rolls. 
When we built a tipi, the same thing was done.” 

In the old days when the baby had outgrown the cradle, the cradle 
was ceremonially dismantled. 


My [Wolf’s] brother had a cradle that he outgrew. My oldest grandmother 
called together as many old women as she could get to come. Then she her- 


38 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [ BULL, 148 


self prayed that my brother to whom the cradle had belonged would grow up 
to be a man. She chewed roots, drew some water into her mouth, and then 
blew the mouthful on the cradle. Then she said some more prayers and took 
the quill work off the cover. She rolled the quill work into a little bundle and 
kept it as a souvenir. It was not again used. The canvas cover she tore to 
pieces. Whenever I tore up a cradle, I prayed. I prayed to God and the old 
ladies who started the making of the cradles and to all to whom the old Indians 
used to pray, like the sun and stars that gave us light and to the moon, telling 
them that the baby was big now and didn’t need the cradle any more; that we 
were thankful that the cradle had done its service. Then I tore the cradle 
apart and saved the quill work as a keepsake. 


A cradle was set against a tree when the mother was busy. When 
she traveled on foot, she carried it on her back, putting the thongs 
attached to the back of the cradle across her chest and upper arms. 
When she rode horseback, she hung the cradle on her saddle horn by 
means of the same thongs. “My [Yellow Plume’s] mother told me 
that once when she had me hanging on her saddle horn in my cradle, 
I wouldn’t stop crying. So she handed me to my father. He didn’t 
like my crying and dropped me to the ground. It knocked me sense- 
less.” 

TRANSPORTING BABIES 


If a mother walked she carried her baby in its cradle by means of 
a buckskin band which she placed across her chest and upper arms, 
as noted previously. If she rode horseback, she hung the cradle on 
her saddle with the same band of buckskin. But when the tribe 
moved camp, the baby in its cradle was placed in a willow basket 
attached to a travois.* 

A six- or seven-month’s old baby, that is, one that had outgrown 
its cradle, was carried on its mother’s back seated in a blanket. 
Mothers and grandmothers transported babies in this way during 
the period of the present study (pls. 8-12). In several instances 
crying babies were thus carried around the yard near the home by 
grandmothers who sang lullabies to them. 


LULLABIES 


Lullabies, called “sleep songs” by informants, were sung to lull 
babies to sleep, to entertain them, to quiet crying ones, and “for no 
reason except that I’m holding my grandchild and like to sing to 
it.” Babies were sung to, most frequently, by the mother or grand- 
mother; however, any woman might sing a lullaby to anyone’s child. 
When sung to, a child might be in its cradle, lie on a blanket or bed, 

™ This is in agreement with Michelson’s informant who said that both children and old 
women rode in travois when the Arapaho moved from place to place. When his informant’s 
mother was merely out riding she strapped the cradle with the baby in it to her saddle 


(Michelson, 1933, pp. 597, 598). Quoting Kroeber (1902, p. 24) : “The Arapaho had light 
cages of willows in which children were transported on travois.” 


Hitcre] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 39 


be packed on the woman’s back, or be held in her arms while she 
squatted. Men never sang lullabies. 

Informants were heard singing both nonsense-syllabled lullabies 
and conventional ones of burdened syllables. Older informants, in- 
cluding Sage, said that formerly only burdened-syllabled lullabies 
were sung. In addition to conventional lullabies older women sang, 
as lullabies, songs of traditional dances, such as the Sun Dance and 
those of the social dances (pp. 117, 157). The songs of the Buffalo 
Dance, a woman’s ceremonial organization (p.119) were never sung as 
lullabies, not even by members. Those of the Sun Dance were sung 
especially for a sick child. Northern women were singing the songs of 
“the new dance that has come here from Oklahoma, the Forty-nine 
Dance.” #4 

An 80-year-old Northern woman sang “Go to sleep” to a quick, 
staccato rhythm, and then continued humming for a long time. Quot- 
ing a Southern informant in her fifties: “I used to put my babies to 
sleep by singing to them ‘Baby go to sleep.” ‘My baby go to sleep.’ 
I repeated this, rocking the baby back and forth like this [ horizontally, 
holding it in both arms]. I put her [daughter then 18 years old] to 
sleep that way when she was a baby. I always sang words in my 
lullabies.” 

Ann Wolf had put her babies to sleep either by nursing them or 
by singing lullabies to them while swinging them to and fro in her 
arms or pushing them back and forth in a hammock. “I had a 
feeling that you would ask me to sing some ‘sleep songs’ for you,” 
she remarked (pl. 10,3). “Here are some. They surely put a child 
to sleep. My great-grandmother taught them to me. Here is one: 
‘May, may! May, may!’ [three repetitions, each succeeding pair of 
words in a higher pitch, but to the same melody]. And here is an- 
other: ‘Child go to sleep’ [repeated an indefinite number of times]. 
Another one that my great-grandmother taught me was ‘Little girl 
(little boy) go tosleep !’ [also repeated an indefinite number of times ].” 
The informant then sang songs of the Sun Dance, one as sung by the 
Crow Indians and one sung by the Arapaho, and several songs of 
the Rabbit and the Squaw Dances, all of which she had used as lulla- 
bies. She did not want translations of these recorded. “Anyway they 
would not mean much to you since you probably don’t understand 
these dances.” Agnes Yellow Plume, who had listened to the above 
songs, said that she herself had used all of them as lullabies. 

A Northern woman listening in to information given by her sister 
quieted a grandchild which she was holding in her arms by moving 
the child to-and-fro horizontally and singing a nonsense-syllabled 

% The Chippewa of Wisconsin were also dancing the Forty-nine Dance in 1935. Chip- 
pewa informants thought the dance originated either among themselves, the Winnebagos 


or the Sioux. Fifty Indians went to World WarlI. Only 49 returned and these originated 
the song and rhythm of the dance. 


40 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [ BULL, 148 


lullaby of “Hss.” Later she jerked her knees up and down rather 
gently, singing repeatedly, “Go to sleep.” Later still, “Go to sleep. 
May-hay.” And still later only, “May-hay.” She, too, used the 
songs of the Sun Dance, the Squaw Dance, and the Rabbit Dance as 
lullabies on occasions. “Women don’t make up new songs; they use 
the ones that everybody uses.” 

Sherman Sage said, “Yes, our people had lullabies, even long ago. 
Mothers sang them; never fathers. When a baby was crying the 
mother took it in her arms, moved it back and forth [indicated hori- 
zontally in little jerks] to the rhythm of her song. Here is one song: 
‘Little girl you had better go to sleep’—‘Little boy’ was used if it was 
a little boy—I am going to make moccasins, or I am going to tan 
hides, or I am going to dry meat, or whatever she was going to do. 
Now, look what I am going to do.’ And he added: “She would re- 
peat these lines over and over again, using the same melody. The 
child would go to sleep before long.” Then, in a somewhat chiding 
manner, he remarked to the interpreter, “You younger generation sing 
to your babies, but you don’t even put sensible words to it.” 

Burlin records a lullaby as sung by four Arapaho. Her free trans- 
lation is: “Go to sleep. Baby dear, slumber. Baby, sleep. Sleep, 
baby, sleep. Baby dear, slumber. Baby, sleep. Sleep, sleep. Baby, 
sleep. Sleep, baby,sleep. Baby dear,slumber. Baby,sleep.” (Bur- 
lin, 1935, pp. 301, 311; Curtis, 1921, pp. 553-554). 


FIRST SMILE, CLENCHED FISTS 


The Arapaho attached no significance to a baby’s first smile or 
to its clenched fists or if it touched fingers of one hand with those 
of the other.* Chippewa prevented a baby from touching fingers, 
for doing so was like counting the number of days it had still to live. 


FIRST TOOTH 


According to Sage, the appearance of a child’s first tooth, in the 
early days, was celebrated as an event. Its parents invited persons 
to a feast. Among those invited was always at least one old man 
who had been in many wars. He was to pierce the baby’s ears, if they 
had not already been pierced. In return for his services the child’s 
parents gave him one of their best horses. Most informants agreed 
that the arrival of a child’s first tooth had not been celebrated in 
recent years. Parents merely took pride in the fact that their child 
now had its first tooth, and would say, “Now it is ready to eat.” 


* The first smile of a Navaho child is significant for from then on the child is considered 
to be a human being. The event is celebrated. (From writer’s unpublished field notes 
collected on the Navaho Reservation of Arizona in 1941.) 


HILGER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE Al 


A teething baby was given either rind of bacon, a piece of gristle, 
or a small bag of cloth filled with sugar upon which to bite. A mother 
sometimes rubbed the baby’s gums with her fingers after dipping them 
into an herbal decoction. Occasionally a mother caught a house mouse, 
skinned it, roasted it by holding it over a fire, and then rubbed the 
meat about the baby’s teething gums. ‘Two informants themselves had 
done this, and “it certainly helped !” 

The first tooth that loosened itself from the child’s gums was hidden 
in the child’s hair at the crown until it fell off and was lost. The 
belief was that this would cause another tooth to grow soon. “My 
mother put mine in my hair, and said, ‘Now, there, that tooth is going 
to grow again’.” “When I lost my first tooth my grandmother told 
me to put it in my hair up here [crown of head] for then another tooth 
would begin to come at once. She told me to do this with every tooth 
that fell from my upper jaw. ‘Those from my lower jaw she told 
me to throw under the bed; and I did that.” “Yes, I did the same 
thing. I threw all my lower teeth under the bed.” 


FIRST STEP 


A child’s first step was not celebrated. Its first walk was. Parents 
gave a feast on that occasion to which they invited old men and old 
women. The event was celebrated in the child’s home unless it had 
walked to another’s home, “probably its brother’s or its mother’s 
brother,” in which case the celebration took place in that home, for 
it had gone visiting there. The child’s mother cooked the food in 
her own tipi and carried it to the tipi to which the child had walked, 
where it was eaten. 

In more recent years the occasion was not celebrated, but it was still 
noted as an event in the child’s life. “We did not have a feast, but 
we were glad to see the child walk. We knew from it that the child 
was developing normally and we were thankful for that.” “Whoever 
saw a child take its first step remembered it and would tell it to the 
child; this was remembered all during life. My sister who died not 
long ago was old. Every once in a while she would tell me that she 
was the first one to see me take my first walk.” 


FIRST WORDS 


An Arapaho child whose fontenals were beginning to harden— 
“one that was just old enough to talk”—was fed cooked meat and 
boiled eggs of meadow lark. The belief was that a child so fed would 
talk early and have knowledge of things. “Meadow larks, you know, 
talk Arapaho. They say, ‘Somebody is coming.’ The meadow lark 
says a number of thingsin Arapaho, Another is ‘Go, cook.’ Children 


42 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLb. 148 


surely talked much when they were fed meadow lark when babies.” * 

Any person might kill the meadow lark that was to be fed to a 
child; usually the child’s maternal uncle did so. The child’s mother 
skinned the bird, cooked it, and fed it to the child. Moving the meadow 
lark’s bill back and forth between the child’s lips was also thought 
to make it talk. “I did that to one of my grandchildren. I also fed 
it meadow lark eggs, and now I have a hard time making it keep 
still!” Crows, it is believed, also talk Arapaho. “But no one ever 
eats crow meat. Arapaho sometimes catch a crow and raise it; they 
like to have it around to hear it talk. A crow can say in Arapaho, 
‘Grandma, bread,’ and ‘Come here.’ ” 

In the early days parents gave a feast—“it was a big meal”—after 
a child had spoken its first words. Old men and old women were 
invited and told, “This child is inviting you people to come in so 
you will pray for it. That is the way it was formerly. But now 
parents don’t do that any more.” Sixty-year-old informants had not 
celebrated their children’s first words. Interpreters, in several in- 
stances, were surprised to hear old informants tell about the custom. 
“Today parents are pleased when a child speaks its first words and 
they tell others about it. No one celebrates the event.” 


FIRST CLOTHES 


A child’s first clothing was made of the hide of a fetal buffalo, or 
of a very young one, tanned on flesh side only. “This hide was as 
soft as plush.” After birth the child was rolled in it with the 
hairy side toward its body. If the child was to be put into its cradle, 
it might be wrapped in several of these hides, one laid over the other. 

In cold weather the child was placed into a furry bag made of a 
complete reversed hide of a tiger cat or of any wildcat. The flesh 
side of the hide, therefore the outside of the bag, was tanned, includ- 
ing head and legs. The belly incision which formed the opening was 
nearly completely sewed up. When the child was slipped into the 
furry bag, its head was fitted into the head of the hide and its hands 
and feet, into the legs. “The fur of the tiger cat’s head was like a cap 
on the baby’s head. Yes, they put the baby right in there, and it was 
cozy and warm all during the cold weather.” 

If the baby was at the creeping stage when the weather was cool, 
it was dressed in a little shirt made of very softly tanned deer hide; 
in warm weather it wore no clothing. It was usually given its first 
moccasins when it was able to sit up alone; sometimes not until it 
was ready to walk. No hole was cut in the sole of a child’s first 


%6 Kroeber (1902, pp. 317-318) records the Arapaho words for the meadow lark song, and 
their translation as ‘‘a person is crawling toward you.” According to his informants, the 
song of the meadow lark is evil; children are forbidden to imitate it. Sometimes the song 
is interpreted as obscene. 


HILcER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 43 


moccasins as is done by the Chippewa, the belief of the Chippewa 
being that the child will then be a good worker. All moccasins shown 
in plate 14 were identified by Arapaho informants as Arapaho, ex- 
cept the all-beaded ones; these were Sioux, informants agreed. One 
informant was storing away in a parfleche case, as keepsakes, a little 
moccasin and a small buckskin shirt which had been worn by her son 
when he was a baby. She was also saving two locks of hair, the first 
ones cut from the heads of the son and of a daughter. Both were 
still living. 

The child’s next clothing was made of tanned deer hide in accord- 
ance with the standard pattern of clothing worn by adults (pl. 37). 


HAIRCUTTING 


Arapaho contributors to the present study insisted that cutting the 
hair of a child was not traditionally their custom; that their people 
never cut a child’s hair until the White man forced them to do so; 
that the United States Government obliged parents to send their 
children to boarding schools, and that once the children were in 
the schools, the Whites cut their hair. “The Agent said they were 
doing this for sanitary purposes and to teach the children to live like 
White people do. Usually a girl’s hair was not cut very short; but a 
boy’s was.” Informants still resented the cutting of their children’s 
hair and also whippings that their children received in the schools 
of Whites. Once the Arapaho were convinced that their children’s 
hair would be cut when the children were away at school, they them- 
selves cut it at some large gathering of the people. To some extent 
they imitated the ceremony used when piercing a child’s ears (pp. 
24-28). Kroeber (1902, p. 18) records that both cutting the hair of 
a child over the forehead and also on one side were two of the semi- 
ceremonial practices of the Arapaho. LEar piercing he lists as a 
third, and notes that it counted for more than the other two. These 
practices brought honor and reward on the performer and were sup- 
posed to be for the good of the child upon whom they were performed. 

Quoting informants of the present study: 

Our people had a boy’s hair cut before he went to a White school. They 
wanted him to have his hair cut by his own people; they were to be the ones to 


do it for the first time, not the Whites. At any tribal gathering pretenses might 
be made at cutting the boy’s braids, and presents were given by the parents. 


Sometimes a braid was actually cut, but only one braid. ... Children’s hair 
was never cut. The old people thought it was something awful to have a 
child’s hair cut. Adults cut their haid only when someone died. ... A child’s 


hair was never cut in old times. Adults in mourning cut the hair either to 
just below the ear or to just above it. Everybody knew then that relatives of 
these persons had been killed, or died, maybe on the warpath. People were sad- 
dened when they looked at such a person. That is why children’s hair was 
never cut. The old Indian medicine men also forbade it, for it would affect 


44 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Buxu. 148 


horses. In some way it made them sick or lame. ... No one’s hair was cut 
in the early days except those in mourning, and even during mourning, children 
did not have their hair cut. My daughter there [8 years old] doesn’t want her 
hair eut (pl. 18). She begins to ery every time I say that I will cut her hair. 
She will say: “Grandma said to me, ‘Never have your hair cut.’” My mother 
used to say that it was terrible to cut a child’s hair, because Indians never did 
that except when mourning. 


NURSING AND WEANING 
NURSING 


An Arapaho child was not nursed by its mother for 2 days, at times 
not for 3 or 4 days, following birth; the colostrum was considered 
unhealthy. Until the mother’s milk was fit, her breasts were suckled 
either by her husband, by the midwife who had attended her at birth, 
or by one of the women who had assisted at the birth. If none of these 
were available, “by anyone who may be around.” A nursing child 
of another family sometimes did so, if it was old enough to know that it 
must not swallow the colostrum. The extracted fluid was spat out; 
it was never swallowed. The baby, in the meantime, was nursed by 
another nursing woman. It was taken to her, for the first time, when 
it cried; after that, every time it fussed. “Anyone can take the 
baby back and forth to the woman. Its mother nurses it as soon as 
her milk is fit.” 

If the mother had a greater amount of milk than the baby would 
take, or if the baby was thought to be ill from its mother’s milk, the 
mother’s breasts were suckled by a nursing pup or raccoon. “I have 
often heard of mothers being nursed by puppies and raccoons that 
were so little that they were still nursing. In fact, I nursed a puppy 
while nursing my first baby. The baby refused to nurse; my breasts 
were full and hard. My aunt brought the puppy and said, ‘Now, 
you nurse this puppy.’ That is how we got rid of extra milk. The 
pup or raccoon had to be healthy though. I always washed the pu’s 
mouth before letting him suckle. I also washed my nipples before I 
let the baby nurse.” ** A mother did not wear straps to support 
breasts. 

A child was nursed at any time, not at set intervals. It nursed as 
long as it wished; usually, until it fell asleep. “I nursed my baby 
whenever it cried, or when I wasn’t busy doing something else.” After 
the child grew older, “it was up to the child to nurse whenever it 
wanted to.” There was no custom regarding nursing from either 
breast. 

A nursing mother stimulated her milk-flow or increased it by 
drinking broth or a decoction made from a certain bark or a “milk- 
weed” called biaxen’ajon. “This ‘milkweed’ is a wild plant with no 


87 For a similar note see Kroeber (1902, p. 16). 


HILGER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE ~ 45 


leases or flowers, but only straight stems.” If a woman continued 
having an insufficient supply of milk after using the above remedies, 
she took her baby to another nursing woman who might be, but was not 
necessarily, a relative. The baby might be taken to a different woman 
each day. The same was done for an infant whose mother had died 
(Kroeber, 1902, p. 16). 

A nursing mother was not to drink coffee. Drinking coffee, Kroeber 
(idem) notes, “burns or cooks the milk.” She was to keep her breasts 
cool. “Even today she is advised to place a diaper or some cloth over 
her breasts to keep the heat of the sun or of the fire from them.” <Ac- 
cording to Kroeber (idem), she was to protect not only her breasts 
but sometimes her back also from the heat; both were to be thickly 
padded. 

An infant nursed while being held in its mother’s arms or while laced 
into its cradle, resting on its mother’s lap. When it was older, until 
about 4 years of age, it sat in its mother’s lap. Children older than 4 
usually stood at the side of the mother. ‘These old Indians are great 
ones these days, at telling us younger women to sit up to nurse our 
babies, and not to lie down in bed so lazily doing it.” 

Conventionally, children were nursed until they were 4 years old. 
However, mothers did not refuse to allow children to nurse until they 
were 5, 6, 7, or even 8 years old. “This was done to make the child 
grow strong and also to prevent the mother from having another 
child so soon.” “I think the age at which most babies were weaned 
was 6 or 7. I was about 6 years old when I was still nursing on my 
grandmother. Ihad an aunt who was also nursing on my grandmother 
at the same time. She was a few years older than I. I remember 
this well because I used to get into ‘scraps’ with her about nursing.” 
“Children nursed until they were 6 or 7 years old. Some nursed when 
12 years old. I have seen them play around at that age and stop play- 
ing to go to their mothers to nurse. In old days Arapaho didn’t have 
big families; probably this long nursing had something to do with it.” 
The informant then remarked to the interpreter, “Even you must 
remember a girl that nursed when she was 10 or 11 years old.” The 
interpreter remembered : “Yes, I remember well. That girl was about 
my age. We used to play together. We would be playing. Then 
suddenly she would leave us and run as fast as she could to her 
mother. If her mother was busy, she made her stop work; she would 
throw her mother’s arms down so that she could nurse. That, of 
course, was unusual.” “My husband nursed when he was 6 years old. 
I saw him; he already had his hair braided.” 

A pregnant woman did not nurse a child. Only rarely did a woman 
nurse two children of different ages. A child once weaned was not 
again nursed. 


46 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLL, 148 


Infants were sometimes given warm water or an herbal decoction 
to drink. An occasional mother gave her baby meat broth. No nip-' 
ples were made by filling the bladder of an animal with porridge. 
When a child was old enough to sit up, “it might be sitting where the 
others were eating,” some one gave it a strip of meat to suck. This was 
usually done to keep it quiet, although the child was also thought to 
derive nourishment from it. It helped teething too. A child that 
was a little older than a year was conventionally given meat, broth, 
and bread. 

A baby was not to be fed tenderloin or the portion of the buffalo 
stomach called hi’yat. Eating tenderloin made the baby, when grown 
to maturity, a potential parent of twins. Eating hi’yat caused horses 
to be afflicted with a disease of the ankles called “rings.” These food 
taboos ended only when the end of child bearing age was reached. 
“Men and women at about 50 or so may eat them.” 


WEANING 


A child was weaned in several ways: (a) By the mother’s refusal 
to nurse it, “that is weaning it just like animals wean their young.” 
(b) By having the child drink fluids, “like soups, coffee, or tea,” every 
time it asked to nurse. (c) By repelling it with a bitter substance 
applied to nipples. “Pulverized mule-tail leaves were mixed with 
tallow and smeared over the mother’s breasts. The taste is very 
bitter. The child tasted this when attempting to nurse, and moved 
away. The mother would coax the child to come back to nurse, but 
it would no longer want to.” The child was not frightened by char- 
coal-blackened nipples or by fur-covered breasts. (d) By children 
of their own volition discontinuing to nurse; they became interested 
in other things. “My son weaned himself at four. He was too busy 
playing to be bothered with nursing.” “My grandmother happened 
to visit us and wanted my daughter [7 years old] to go home with her 
to help her. When my daughter returned, she didn’t ask to nurse 
any more.” (e) By separating the child from its mother. “That 
little girl you just saw [nearly 5 years old] was brought to us when 
my wife was still living. She was weaned that way. When my wife 
died, the girl’s mother took her back. She comes in here now and 
takes care of my bed. She brushes off sand and dust that she finds 
on it and she rolls back the bedding. She does other little things for 
me too.” “If grandmothers were still living, one of them usually 
took the child.” 

ATYPICAL CONDITIONS 


TWINS, TRIPLETS 


Twins were not desired. It was feared that the mother would die 
giving them birth. Once they were born, they were well treated. 


HILenR] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 47 


“The mother and the grandmother were glad then to have them and 
everybody felt sorry for the mother if one of them died.” “Twins 
were welcome once they were born, and there was no distinction made 
between them and other children. They were humans and were ac- 
cepted. People, however, preferred not to have twins.” In order 
that twins would not be conceived, both men and women refrained 
from eating tenderloin from babyhood to the end of child bearing age 
(pp. 12-18). 

Both the community and the parents of twins were interested in 
twins while they were growing up, and even after they reached 
adulthood. “Twins were pointed out to those who did not know that 
they were twins.” Neither twins nor their parents were shown 
special respect by the community. In all probability, it was not 
institutional to ascribe supernatural power to twins. 

Most informants agreed that it was not conventional to show pref- 
erence or dislike for one of twins, or to treat twins differently from 
other siblings in the family. Twins of the same sex, too, they said 
were not preferred to those of opposite sex. Sage, on the contrary, 
was certain that twins of the same sex were liked but that twins of 
opposite sex were not appreciated. One Southern woman, in her 
forties, said that the first-born was preferred, but that the second- 
born was feared, since he was thought to have some secret power. 
“The people feared his admonitions or predictions when he was old 
enough to give them,” she added. “They did not care for him, but 
they treated him well because they feared something would happen 
if they did not.” 

Triplets were decidedly not wanted. They were considered freaks. 
No Southern informant had ever heard of triplets born to the South- 
ern Arapaho. One set was known by both Southern and Northern 
groups to have been born among the Northern group. “AII the old 
Indians were terribly surprised to see three babies. They had never 
heard of anything like it. All three babies died before they were 
many months old, and everybody felt relieved. The last born had 
short arms shaped like a bird’s wings. The mother, too, died. No 
one thought the mother was punished. People just couldn’t ex- 
plain it.” 

DEFORMED BABIES 


A mother who did not heed the prenatal food or conduct taboos 
might expect to affect thereby the physique of her unborn child. 
Eating rabbit caused a harelip; insufficient exercise, a flat head ; look- 
ing at a deformed person, like a hunchback, a crippled child.* 

*8Some informants denied that the Arapaho had any prenatal food or conduct taboos. 


This denial may have been made merely to prevent further questioning regarding prenatal 
life (p. 12). 


48 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [But 148 


A child that was born badly deformed was generally believed to be 
the offspring of its mother and some animal with whom she had had 
coition, or as the effect of “medicine” exercised upon the mother dur- 
ing pregnancy. ‘Two Northern informants knew of a woman “whose 
baby was born with an oversized head. No one in the whole tribe of 
Indians ever saw the baby’s head; the mother always kept the head 
covered.” “If a child had a head like an animal or a mouth like a 
bird, the old Indians would say that either the mother had been led 
into temptation to have husband and wife relationship with an ani- 
mal, or a spirit had used ‘medicine’ on her before the baby was born.” 


INCEST 


In order to understand the Arapaho definition for incest—here 
defined as coition between parent and child or brother and sister—one 
needs to know who was included under these terms. A girl’s father 
was the man whose offspring she was; but so were also her father’s 
brothers and the husbands of her mother’s sisters. A boy’s mothers 
included the woman who gave him birth, her sisters, and the wives 
of her husband’s brothers. In the event that the child’s father was 
a polygynist, all his wives were the child’s mothers also. A child’s 
brothers and sisters were all the offspring of the above-named persons 
and also all cousins, no matter how far removed. Cross cousins, 
therefore, were considered brother and sister, and marriage between 
them was prohibited (p. 195). 

Having the above relationship in mind, one case of incest among 
the Arapaho was known. “I knew of only one man that married his 
sister. The old people of long time ago didn’t approve of such mar- 
riages. They don’t approve of them today. But these two persons 
didn’t care. But the people didn’t like them. The people used to 
cal] that man ‘Skunk.’ That is what they named him. This marriage 
was between a woman’s son and her brother’s daughter. They called 
them brother and sister because they had one grandfather and one 
grandmother. Yes, they stayed together and lived together.” 
“Brothers and sisters had to respect each other. They were not even 
allowed to talk to each other” (pp. 68-69). “Such conduct was 
strictly forbidden among the Indians and nobody would have a child 
around born of such mating. Our brothers and fathers tried to have 
their sisters and their daughters be good women, so that some good 
man would want to marry them” (p. 198). 

Coition between grandfather and granddaughter in order to prove 
the sterility of the granddaughter’s husband was probably institu- 
tional; at least it met with approval. “This happened even after 
the granddaughter was 30 or 40 years old. This seems to have oc- 


HILcnR] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 49 


curred only, however, if her husband was thought to be sterile” (p. 7). 

In very recent times, several cases of coition between a stepfather 
and his stepdaughter occurred. Informants disapproved of this con- 
duct. “That is a disgrace.” “That boy that you have seen running 
around here is such a child. He knows it, and so do the boys that 
play with him. But we tell these boys never to let him feel it or to 
talk to him about it. It isn’t his fault. There are several such cases 
on the reservation.” 


ILLEGITIMACY, INFANTICIDE 


A child conceived out of wedlock or by parents, one of whom was 
in wedlock and the other a paramour, was generally spoken of as 
“sweetheart child” or “love child,” because “it was conceived of parents 
who were merely keeping company and were not married.” It was 
also called “stolen child” or “night child” (bv’iddsonyd) because “that 
child is a child stolen by the mother from another man, and that 
usually at night.” Sometimes it was called “a child without a father.” 

Neither paramour nor partner was respected in the community nor 
in their families. The child, even when grown to maturity, was spoken 
of as a “sweetheart child,” but no one shunned it. No punishment 
was dealt out to the couple. If the couple was unmarried, either the 
woman’s brothers or her mother’s brothers or her parents urged the 
marriage of the couple. Such a woman was seldom wanted as wife 
by other men (p. 198). If she did not marry the man, she was taken 
into her parental home, where she gave birth to her child and 
reared it. 

Old Indians never liked a girl that did such a thing. Neither the mother nor 
the child was respected by the tribe. No one wanted anything to do with such 
a girl; but her parents took her in. They might be angry with her, but they kept 
both her and the child in the family. The man was treated in the same way. 
The tribe didn’t respect him, and he knew it, too. ... Such a child was treated 
like other children, and was given a name the same as they. In old times such 
children were taken care of in the girl’s own home. People didn’t respect the 
mother like they did other women. Men wanted nothing more to do with her. 
She stayed with her folks. ... Such a child is labeled all through its life, 
and people will say, even after it is an old man or old woman, “That is a sweetheart 
child.” They speak of certain men and women on this reservation today (1940) 
as a “sweetheart child.” The mother is considered as having done wrong. She 
wasn’t punished for this usually, but sometimes her parents said, “Go away from 
home, and stay away from here.’’ The mother then went to any relative who took 
her in. Nothing was done to the man, except that both his parents and the girl’s 
parents tried to have him marry the woman. The child was never killed. It is 


not a custom of the tribe to kill a child. ... We didn’t like it. We didn’t talk 
much to that man and girl. We tried to get the man to marry the girl. 


892644—52—_5 


50 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BULL. 148 


If the unmarried father and mother married according to the tradi- 
tional marriage customs (pp. 202-208), they retained their status. 
Sage noted: 


There were very few cases like that. But if there was one, the parents asked 
who the father of the child was and the girl would tell them. Then these 
parents went to the parents of the man and told them they had better talk 
to this man. The parents of the man would talk to the man about marrying the 
girl. In every case that I know of, the man married the girl ; sometimes, before 
the child was born, sometimes, after. After the parents had discussed the matter 
and the couple was willing to marry, the parents of both parties got busy with 
preparations for the marriage and everything was done just the same as ata 
regular marriage ceremonial. A tipi was built and everything that was needed 
for the tipi was provided. The girl’s brothers exchanged horses with the man’s 
brothers, and old people were invited. If the baby had already been born, 
they named it right there. They did not look down on such a couple any more. 
And they never pointed at the child, and never made it to feel it in any way. 
Among themselves the people would say that it was a “stolen child” or “love 
child,” the Arapaho word for such a child. 


Tf the woman concerned was a married woman, her husband either 
divorced her, sent her to her paramour, or sent the child to him after 
it was born. 

They didn’t like these things to happen in the old days. Sometimes a married 
woman conceived a “sweetheart child.” When this child was born, its father 
took it. They brought it to him, and that man’s wife was expected to take that 
child. Sometimes if a woman carried a “sweetheart child,” her husband gave 
her with her unborn child to the sweetheart, but kept his own children. If his 
oldest child was not old enough to care for his family, his parents took the 
children. 


Infanticide was not practiced by the Arapaho. No case of infanti- 
cide was known. Clark made special inquiries— 
as to whether white half-breed babies were killed by the mothers, as is done by 
some tribes, but could find no evidence that such was the case. . . . They could 
not explain why it was that there were no half-breed whites and Arapahoes, and 
insisted that they did not kill the young. At this point they sent out for one, and 
a little tangle-haired ragged boy of about eight years came into the lodge. He 
could not speak English, and was looked upon as a curiosity. He had Ute blood, 
however, in his veins, as Sharp Nose said, “One-third Arapaho, one-third white, 
one-third Ute!” [Clark, 1885, pp. 40, 42.] 


ADOPTIONS, SLAVES, SERVANTS 


Both children and adults were adopted. They were adopted either 
because they resembled a departed child of the adopting parents or 
because they were chums of a departed child. In addition children 
were also adopted because they were orphaned, or because their parents 
were unable to rear them, due to the mother’s ill health or to a broken 
home. Sometimes a child was adopted by its grandparents as a com- 
panion, or “just out of love for it.” 


HILGER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 51 


My mother died when I was young and the wife of my father’s brother took 
me and raised me until I was able to take care of myself. ... My aunt [Agnes 
Yellow Plume] took my little girl when she was only 5 days old. I had blood- 
poisoning and was not able to care for her. Almost immediately after her birth, 
I became blind. The little girl is now nearly 12 years old. She has never left 
my aunt. She calls her grandmother. She never really knew me until this 
year, although we live right over there (quarter of a mile away). This spring 
there was a bull snake in our house, and after that I was afraid to stay in the 
house for fear there might be others and I’d be bitten, since I don’t see. So we 
moved up here with my aunt and now My little girl has learnt to know me. My 
aunt told her that I lost my sight when she was born, and now she often comes 
to me and puts her arms around my neck and says, “My poor mama! I'll always 
try to be a good girl and so make your life easier !” 

It was not necessary that the adopted person be a relative of the 
adopting parents, but he should be an Arapaho. Although there was 
no prohibition to adopt a member of another tribe, it was seldom done. 

The adoption of a child was announced at some large gathering of 
the tribe, such as the Sun Dance, Wolf Dance, War-bonnet Dance, 
Rabbit Dance, Owl Dance, Dog Dance, Crazy-man Dance, Fox Dance, 
or any dance. “It was necessary that there be a crowd, so that a large 
number of people heard the announcement and knew the child was now 
adopted.” A man, usually the adopting father, did the announcing; 
it was never done by a woman. Gifts of value, such as horses and 
blankets, were given by both of the adopting parents to visitors of 
other tribes who happened to be present at the gathering. None were 
given to the parents of the adopted child. 

The adopted child might go to the home of its adopted parents or 
it might stay in its own home, paying occasional long visits to its 
adopted home. If it lived in its adopted home, it was treated as one of 
the children in it; if it did not live there, it was given gifts occa- 
sionally by the adopting parents. 

In old days parents felt honored when one of their children was 
adopted, and they never refused a request for the adoption of a child. 
In more recent times, and at present, parents often object since the 
child, in all probability, will be expected to live in the adopted home. 
Persons adopting children today are nearly always old people and do 
so for the sake of companionship. The homes of older persons are 
often more primitive than the child’s own home. Living in it, parents 
feel, will handicap the child as it matures. Adoptions at the present 
time, too, must receive the approval of and be recorded by the local 
agency of the United States Office of Indian Affairs. 

Mature persons were not adopted publicly; nor was an announce- 
ment made of the adoption. “You just treated a grown-up well, but 
you never announced his adoption to the tribe.” 


52 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY (BULL. 148 


Sage related the following: 


There might be a couple who wanted children, but couldn’t have any. Now, 
a certain girl might remind them of one of their relatives; she would make them 
think of her. ‘The couple might go to the parents of the girl and say, “This one 
looks like my relatives, or like my girl, or boy, the one that I lost. I would 
like to adopt this girl.” They would give the parents horses, or something 
valuable. Always the parents were glad, thanked these people, and appreciated 
them. They would allow their daughter or son to stay at times with these 
people. These people would then treat this girl well, and invite her to their 
tipi, cook for her, and have her with them often. If there was an orphaned 
child, relatives generally took it and reared it. But if there were no close 
relatives interested in the child, again a childless couple took it. They didn’t 
like to be without children; they thought they hadn’t done right in the face 
of God since they themselves were not blessed with children. When such people 
adopted a child, they too, went to the relatives, or a parent if one was still 
living, and gave a horse and asked for that child. Sometimes a couple took two 
or three children, in order to have a family of their own. When the couple 
became old, these children took care of them. I had my own children, so I 
never adopted any. Sometimes people adopted a grown-up person, if the person 
reminded them of somebody in their own family. 


Jessie Rowlodge, who frequently represented his tribe in heirship 
cases in Oklahoma probate courts, summarized the customs of adop- 
tion among his people as four types: 


Here is one form of adoption: If I had had a son and he had died, and in my 
visit to any tribe, I saw a boy whose features were similar to my son’s, I would 
say, “He is my son.” JI would talk it over with my wife, and she would make 
it a point to see the boy, too. She would say, “Yes, he looks like my boy.” This 
boy would be of the same age as our dead son. Then, before the next large 
meeting of the Arapaho—this might be the Sun Dance, or a group meeting as 
at a feast, or any dance—this boy and his parents would be notified that they 
should be present since we wished to adopt their son. I would make prepara- 
tions with my family for the adoption of the boy. At the dance I would an- 
nounce—the man always does the announcing, never his wife—that the boy 
was my son, that my folks were his, that the boy should tell me his worries and 
his pains, that my ponies and saddles or anything in my possession was his. 
I would give away a horse; my wife would give away blankets to anyone who 
was visiting, but not to the boy’s immediate father and mother. If it was a girl 
that we were adopting, my wife would say that she was glad to adopt so-and-so. 
However, the man would always make the announcement. The boy’s or girl’s 
family never objected; they were flattered. This adopted son could come and 
live with me if he wanted to, but he was not obliged to do so. His relation- 
ship to me was the same as my son’s. The adopted child could be of any age 
or of any tribe. He had to have great similarity to the departed child, how- 
ever. This is still done today. Another form of adoption was the following: 
If my son or daughter died, I would adopt his or her chum no matter of what 
tribe he or she might be. The same ceremonies were performed as at the first 
type of adoption [the one discussed above]. In this instance, however, a feast 
was also given. Another type of adoption: If my brother died, I would adopt 
his son as my own through pity and sympathy. I would support him. If my 
wife’s sister died, we would adopt her children. The ceremonies would be the 
same as described for the first type. These children could either stay with us 
or go back to the surviving parent, but I would help to support them. A fourth 


HitaER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 53 


type: I may see a child from time to time that has no parents. I am not related 
to it, or at least only distantly so. It must be an Arapaho child, however. I 
talk to my wife about it. We both feel sorry for this child. It may really be 
in need. So I have a tender heart for this child—I was taught to sympathize 
with this class of people; that was the way I was trained. So we adopt that 
child and it lives with us. The ceremony of adoption is the same as for the first 
type. We cannot, however, call this child son or daughter if it is the child 
of a cousin. [Pp. 194-195.] 


An informant in her seventies had adopted two girls, both adult 
women at the time of this study. Her account follows: 


I adopted one not long ago because she was the same age as my daughter when 
she died years ago. The girl’s mother died this year. The girl is only 20 years 
old now. She comes and stays with me sometimes. I give her things and treat 
her well. When I was young, I adopted a little girl who was 3 or 4 years old. 
She belonged to a big family. Her mother died. Her grandmother (maternal) 
asked me to take this child for she herself already had two to care for. This 
little girl was the same age as my oldest daughter; they were like twins. I kept 
her until she began to go to school. I gave her things, too. When she was 5 
years old, I adopted her publicly at a squaw dance. It was like this: This little 
girl and my little girl and I danced together. Weall wore war bonnets. And they 
wore moccasins and buckskin dresses that I had sewed for them. The Sioux were 
visiting us at that time. When the dance was over, I had an old man invite the 
Sioux in a loud voice to come and see my daughter, the child I was raising. I 
then told the Sioux in the sign language—I can’t speak their language—that I 
was giving them a cow. We used to give a horse on such occasions, formerly. 
After the dance was over the Sioux came to my place to get the cow. They killed 
it and took the meat home. They were all glad, for it was a good cow. The girl 
is now a big woman with a large family. When she was married, I fixed up a 
tent for her and put into it a bed, stove, and table and all the things she needed. 
I even allowed her husband to use my horses. Adoptions can take place today 
wherever a crowd is dancing, even at the Sun Dance. None was adopted at 
the Sun Dance this year [1942]. 


The Arapaho did not enslave persons, nor did they have servants. 
A person from another tribe who lived among the Arapaho was at- 
tached to an Arapaho family. Here he was made to feel at home and 
was treated justly, but he was expected to do his share toward the sup- 
port of the household. 


Men of other tribes sometimes stayed with the Arapaho. They were not 
servants. They merely went out with them to look for buffalo or for horses that 
had strayed away, just like the other men did.... I know of two persons 
from other tribes that lived among the Arapaho: one a Ute boy and the other a 
young Crow Indian girl. The Ute was treated by the family with whom he 
lived as its own members were, but they kept an eye on him to keep him from 
escaping.” He was never treated badly. The Ute boy came to us like this: The 


89 Tt appears as though the Ute boy did make an escape, for a letter from the Secretary 
of the Board of Indian Commissioners, dated, Washington, D. C., March 1, 1873, to the 
Indian Agent of Southern Arapaho reads: “About fifteen years ago Friday of the Northern 
Arrapahoes captured a Ute boy, who, he says, is now with Big Mouth. Would you be kind 
enough to ascertain whether there is such an Indian amongst the Southern Arraphoes, and 
inform me. The Indian referred to is about twenty years of age and has been with Friday 
until a couple of years ago.” 


54 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY (But. 148 


Arapaho were on the warpath and wanted to drive the Utes out of their camp 
The Utes sent out three or four scouts who noticed that the Arapaho camp was 
located in a certain place. The Ute scouts returned to their tribe and told them 
the Arapaho were right behind them. The Utes broke camp and left behind them 
in the camp a little 8- or 9-year-old boy. We never found out why he was left 
behind; maybe he was an orphan. The Arapaho came up to the Ute camp and 
peeked about to see if the Utes were still there. They saw this little boy left 
behind and took him. Afterwards Sleeping Bear [Arapaho] took him and 
brought him up. The Crow Indian girl came to us in this way: The Arapaho 
women had tanned many buffalo hides and went to Stingy House to sell them. 
[Stingy House was a trading post near Douglas, Wyo. The Arapaho dubbed it 
“Stingy House” because the owner refused to give them things for which they 
asked.] Here they found a Crow woman. She was staying with White men 
working for them. The Arapaho women traded their buffalo robes for sugar 
and other things. The Whites told them to take this Crow woman with them. 
She was willing to go with them. An Arapaho man took her as his wife. They 
were back at camp just 3 days when her baby arrived. This Arapaho man was 
glad to have the baby because now his little boy had a little sister; this man had 
two wives. This Crow woman got along very well with the man, but not with his 
other wife who was quick-tempered. She left this man and died soon after. Both 
the Ute and the Crow woman became accustomed to the Arapaho people and 
refused to go back to their own tribes. Both married Arapaho. The Crow girl’s 
people came for her one time, but she refused to go. We always noticed that the 
baby born to this Crow woman did not look much like its mother; she looked 
more like the Whites. 


SICK BABIES: CURE AND PREVENTION 


Since Arapaho believe that speaking of sickness or of death may 
cause either illness or death in the family or in the tribe, it was diffi- 
cult to obtain details on the treatment of sick babies. Many old 
informants hesitated to give even scanty information; interpreters 
usually ended by saying, “The old ladies say that they don’t want to 
talk about sickness any more, nor about death either, for some one 
might take sick and die.” “No, I never made teas for my sick babies. 
I did as my aunt told me: I took them to the medicine man, an Indian 
doctor ; he made the teas, and that is all I want to say about sick babies.” 
Women in their fifties and sixties were less reticent. ‘We have gone 
to school and don’t have the same faith in their customs that these 
old women have.” 

Curative treatments given sick babies were herbal decoctions, inha- 
lations, fumigations, vapor-bathing, anointings, suctions, reciting of 
prayers, tactile contact with Sun Dancers, the bestowal of a name, 
and the making of sacrificial offerings. 

Indian herbalists, usually medicine men and medicine women whose 
particular “medicine” was to cure illnesses, had exclusive knowledge 
of the medicinal value and remedial use of certain herbs, roots, and 
barks (pp. 135-139). Such physicians are found among both North- 
ern and Southern Arapaho at the present time. No doctor treated 
his own child. 


HILcER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 55 


Before an Indian doctor began his treatment, payments were made 
to him. Payments consisted of a meal, such as “making coffee for 
him, baking bread for him, and giving him berries and such things,” 
and of some valuable gifts, such as “horses, shirts, pants, and dishes.” 
“T called an Indian doctor for my daughter there [12 years old] when 
she was 4 years old [1934]. She had a high fever and would not open 
her eyes. I gave the doctor a horse and two dollars and something 
to eat before he even began to treat her. He doctored her for 4 days. 
He made tea for her and sucked her head and sang.” 

Gentian (Gentiana lutea), ginseng (Panax quinquefolium), angelica 
(Angelica), and golden seal (Hydrastis canadensis) were used in mak- 
ing decoctions. Other plants were also used ; informants preferred not 
to identify these. “I know what roots to use but it is part of my ‘medi- 
cine’ and I don’t like to talk about it. We have our own medicines, 
and our own ways.” A White physician had been present when 
Arapaho children were given a decoction of cedar bark to drink and 
finely chopped bark of cedar to chew. 

If the mother’s milk was suspected of making the child sick, the 
mother was given an herbal decoction and was suckled by someone 
other than the child. 

They gave the mother tea made of herbs to clear her milk. I knew of a very 
young baby, one that was not yet eating anything except its mother’s milk, that 
was cured that way. ... Mothers were given very careful attention so that 
their nursing babies remained healthy. If the child was to be nourished properly, 
the mother’s milk had to be pure and normal. If a nursing child was not doing 
well, then the woman’s mother or the father of the child would go out to find a 
young raccoon that was still nursing. The grandparents on either side might 
do so, too. They would catch two, preferably, and bring them to the mother. 
These raccoons would nurse the child’s mother and thereby purify her milk. 
Since the child and the raccoon nursed on the same mother, it usually happened 
that the child and the raccoon became attached to each other. I have often seen. 
this. I saw a child and a raccoon that slept together, and walked and played 
around together. A child’s health would soon improve after the mother had 
been suckled this way. This was usually done when the child was constipated. 
There was no magic transfer from the ’coon to the child. 

Quoting Michelson’s informant : “Whenever any of my children be- 
came sickly my mother would get an older person, either a man or a 
woman, to suckle my breasts to clean out all the bad milk that made 
my child sick; and in addition she would make some tea of some weeds 
for me to drink” (Michelson, 1933, p. 606). Kroeber records that 
since children’s diarrhea was thought to be caused by bad milk, the 
mother was suckled and given an herbal decoction called begenetcaanan, 
“breast liquid.” 

This plant grows a foot or two feet high, has round leafless stems, and con- 
tains an abundance of white, thickish juice, which no doubt has been the cause of 


its use for this purpose. The woman drinks the medicine when stooping on her 
knees, so that it may run into her breasts. A mouthful of the decoction may alsa 


56 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLL. 148 


be sprinkled over the child by the medicine man in order to cool it. [Kroeber, 
1902, p. 438.] 

When making curative fumes the Arapaho doctor placed cedar twigs 
or roots of some plants, but never sage, on hot coals. He wafted hand- 
fuls of the fumes over all parts of the child’s body, but a greater amount 
on the sick part. Often he also carried fumes in the hollow of his 
hands, joined in bowl shape, to the baby, holding the hands so the 
baby would inhale the fumes. “This cleared its little head.” It was 
thought best, however, to have the fumes “penetrate” the child’s body. 
To do this a woman, generally its mother, held the child in her arms 
or on her lap under a tanned hide or blanket which completely covered 
both herself and the child. Hot coals covered with herbs were shoved 
under thecover. The child was thus obliged to inhale the fumes which 
soon filled the enclosed space. In place of fumes a vapor was some- 
times produced by slowly dripping an herbal decoction on the hot 
coals. Babies were never held over fumes, nor were they taken into 
sweat lodges (p. 148). “That was certainly not the place for a baby; 
it was too hot!” 

One of the ointments used in anointing babies and small children 
was made by thoroughly mixing pulverized ginseng (Panax quinque- 
folitwum) with fresh tallow. One most commonly used consisted of 
finely powdered red clay mixed with tallow. “We call it red paint or 
war paint.” “You can ask the Northern Cheyenne about the red clay. 
They can give you a better idea of what it is and where to get it. We 
get it from them.” In applying ointment, the doctor smeared his 
hands well with it, heated them over hot coals, and then rubbed the 
entire body of the child. 

Medicine men also sucked a sick baby’s forehead and chest, in fact 
any part of its body that was thought to be sick. After the sucking, 
the medicine man rubbed “some kind of medicine” on the sucked parts. 

A 70-year-old medicine man said: “When I doctor, I don’t use herbs 
or roots. Isay old Arapaho prayers. I don’t do anything else. No- 
body taught these prayers to me, I know them. [I learnt them by 
myself.” When asked to recite one of the prayers, he halted as though 
he were recollecting himself, took off his hat and placed one hand over 
the other at the waistline. His wife and the interpreter also took 
reverend attitudes. Then he hesitated and said, “I say the prayers 
only when a baby is sick. I really can’t say them at any other time.” 
He then took a little bundle from his inner vest pocket, unfolded it 
(a lady’s handkerchief), and untied one corner from which he removed 
some compressed sage, in size as large as a medium hen’s egg. He 
remarked: “It is the Owner of the sage, the One that made the sage, 
that helps me to cure a sick baby. It is only a certain kind of sage 
that I use in my bundles, It is gathered in the mountains.” He did 


HILGER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 57 


not wish to give away any of it. Wild sage, he said, was never used 
in making decoctions or fumes. 

At the close of the Northern Arapaho Sun Dance of August 1940 
several mothers and grandmothers brought sickly and crippled chil- 
dren to the dancers. Each dancer laid his hands on the head of the 
child, raised his eyes heavenward and prayed for the recovery of the 
child. Several rubbed the affected parts of the child’s body (p. 160). 

Children were often given the name of a person grown old in good 
health, the belief being that such a name assured the blessings of good 
health and a long life (p. 59). Both children and adults were believed 
to have had health restored by change of name (p. 60-63). 

Culin writes of sacrificial offerings made for the restoration of chil- 
dren’s health at the Sun Dance given by the Northern Arapaho in 1901: 

On the road we stopped for a time at the Arapaho Sun Dance lodge. This re- 
markable structure, which I infer to be used year after year, consists of a great 
central pole, surrounded with a circle of sixteen posts, each with a projecting 
beam to the center and connecting timbers, like the framework of a huge tent, 
the enclosure being some fifty feet in diameter. The posts were hung with 
quantities of children’s clothing, beaded moccasins, leggings and calico dresses. 
On the ground within was a painted buffalo skull, in a kind of shrine made by 
driving small willow stakes and hoops on either side. The clothes were offerings 
by parents to secure the health of their children. [Culin, 1901, p. 19.] 

Preventive measures were taken to insure the health of children. 
The one thought most effective was to refrain from talking about sick 
babies and sick children. Giving children a potion of peppermint 
plant boiled in water kept them healthy. Sometimes an old medicine 
man, at the invitation of the family, rubbed “war paint” on the child’s 
face, hands, and feet while praying that it be spared from sickness 
and allowed to grow to maturity. In this instance not only the physi- 
cian but all his relatives were feasted on the best that the family could 
provide. The anointing of the child and prayers preceded the feast. 
When a medicine man treated a sick child he was feasted first also. 
Piercing a child’s ears was believed to help it to grow to maturity in 
good health and to prevent sickness (p. 26). One informant told of 
a preventive treatment given her by her grandmother: 

When I was a little baby our camp was traveling from Casper to Rock Spring 
[Wyoming]. My mother was on horseback; I was on the travois of her horse. 
Some of the men had gone ahead and killed buffalo and left puddles of blood in 
the place. Everybody passed that place. My grandmother stopped there and 
unwrapped me. Then she held me under the arms and had me paddle my feet in 
the blood puddle. She told me later that she had done this to keep my feet from 


perspiring, to keep me well, and to have me grow up to be a strong woman. And 
it surely helped me. 


58 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BULL,. 148 


NAMES 
ORIGIN OF NAMES 


Arapaho names originated in the unusual or in any activity asso- 
ciated with war. The unusual might be a brave or a charitable deed or 
a siege of endurance, especially such as warriors experienced. It might 
be a freak of nature, such as a white squirrel, a yellow bear, a white 
hawk. It might be a mysterious event or object, or a vision during a 
fast (pp. 64-66). It might be associated with an individual’s 
“medicine,” or with an atypical physical trait noticed at birth. Some 
informants used names that had their origin in dreams; whether 
this was conventional or not was difficult to determine. Most 
informants, among them several in their seventies, denied dreams as 
the origin of Arapaho names and said they had not even heard of it; 
others, among them also persons in their seventies, had heard of the 
custom but knew no details. They advised that Sherman Sage be 
conferred with for “he knows all the old customs and can be relied on.” 
Sherman Sage and two other very old informants had used names of 
dream origin. 

The following accounts tell of origin of names: 


My oldest daughter’s name is First-Killer. This name was taken from a scout 
who did his part so well that he not only scouted but was the first one to kill an 
enemy. (We had men who scouted for the enemy in early days.) My own name 
[feminine] is Good-Killer. Some Indians went on the warpath and had good 
luck. That’s how my name originated. A woman living a short distance from 
here when born had two teeth. So they called her The-Woman-Born-with-Two- 
Teeth. . . . A baby born with teeth is called Old-Man or Old-Woman, and keeps 
that name all through life. . . . I named a child so that it would live long on 
this earth. I gave it the name of an ancestor, one of my relatives who had been a 
good person and had lived along time. . . . He [old informant sitting near] 
named my child after his ancestor. Some named children after good deeds which 
they themselves had performed; some, after their “medicine.” . . . The name 
given me when I was a baby was Mysterious-Magpie. My uncle, that is, my 
mother’s sister’s husband, named me. The name originated in this way: When 
the Arapaho were on the warpath somewhere in northern Colorado—there were 
about 15 or 20 in one party—they noticed that for 2 days a magpie was always 
fiying on ahead of them. They camped one day and the magpie stayed there, 
too; and again the next day the magpie flew on ahead of them. When the party 
got to a certain place, some of the warriors wanted to turn south. ‘“Let’s go in 
the direction of the magpie,” said the others, “there must be something in this.” 
Some went south; the others followed the magpie. After some time the magpie 
disappeared. Those that followed the magpie were the victorious ones; those that 
went south were defeated. My uncle kept this experience in his mind for years. 
When I came into the world, he said, “Here’s Mysterious-Magpie.”’ Most of my 
brothers, aunts, women cousins, and my mother’s brothers were named by my 
mother’s grandfather. He based the names he gave them on his war experiences, 
brave deeds, and coups. Some of the names were Striking-at-Night, Striker, 
Strike-in-the-Middle, Man-Going-Ahead, Woman-Going-Ahead, Killing-Ahead, 
Striking-First, and Traveling-Behind. My mother’s girlhood name was Going- 
Through-Already. My granddaughter has that name now. The name originated 


HILGER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 59 


in this way: The enemy set up a blockade. But our people went through it. My 
grandfather, my mother’s father, participated in this war and going through the 
blockade was his share in the party’s work. So he used this name to name his 
‘daughter, my mother. My grandfather named one of his boys Heap-of-Elks. 
Here is how that happened: When my grandfather was still young, he took his 
oldest boy, then 14 years old, with him on a warpath to make a brave warrior of 
him. We were having a combat with our enemy, the Ute Indians, at that time. 
During the fight the boy showed himself to be a promising warrior. After the 
Utes had retreated, a group of our main war chiefs said, “Let’s go over here and 
relax and compare experiences so that when we report back to camp we may be 
able to tell our coups just exactly as they occurred.” They went a little ways from 
the place where the fighting had been done to a grove of timber. On the way 
over they all remarked that they had noticed that the boy had done well and was 
giving promise of becoming a good warrior. Just as they entered the timber, elks 
jumped out and scattered, and went up over the hill, away from the timber. 
(This was evidently a grove where these elks had a habit of gathering.) Now, 
usually when a warrior exhibited bravery, his brother, his father, or his mother’s 
brother gave him a new name, indicating his bravery. This boy’s father stopped 
the group and said, “From henceforth my son shall be named Heap-of-Elks.” 
Here was a double event: the bravery of his son and the unusual event of the elks. 
It is a custom, too, that the first name a man acquires as a warrior is taken from 
him by his nephew, when that nephew grows up and shows he is a warrior. 

Once a name existed among the Arapaho it was usually retained 
by relatives. This was especially true if the person who bore the name 
grew old in good health and in the esteem of the tribe. The tribe 
esteemed men and women of exemplary conduct and of courageous 
or charitable deeds. 

Children were given both new names and used names. Adults were 
generally given used names. Used names given to children were 
in the main those of relatives, especially of relatives that had grown 
old in good health, since it was believed that such a name carried with 
it blessings of good health and a long life. “I was named Cut-Nose 
when a baby. My grandmother named me. The name belonged to 
her father’s mother. She lived to be an old woman. It was given 
to meso that I, too, would grow to be an old woman.” 

A grandfather’s or grandmother’s name was often used after the 
grandparent died. “I named my grandchildren by giving them my 
grandparents’ names. One I named Walking-Woman and one Sing- 
ing-Woman. “My name is Little-Woman. That was my father’s 
mother’s name. My father gave it to me as soon as I was born. All 
my grandparents died when they were very old, and all were gone 
when their names were given out.” ‘“Medicine-Bag-Woman is my 
name.” 

Used names generally had had their origin in the Arapaho tribe; 
occasionally a used name from another tribe was taken. “My father 
was a Crow; but my mother was an Arapaho. My wife is an Ara- 
paho also. My father named me Singing when I was a baby. I 
kept this name until my father died when I took his name, Night- 


60 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLL. 148 


Horse. Last Christmas a Southern Arapaho couple had a child born 
on this reservation. They asked me if they might name it Night- 
Horse. I granted permission and then I took my uncle’s name, 
Big-Track.” 

REASONS FOR GIVING OR CHANGING NAMES 


Every Arapaho was given a name either on his birthday or soon 
after. Most Arapaho, however, did not retain this name. During 
adolescence or as adults both men and women either changed their 
name by their own volition or had a new name forced upon them. 
Kroeber (1902, p. 18) says Arapaho changed their names frequently. 
Several informants had had four or five names. “Powder-Face 
changed his name four times when he was a very old man and that 
near the end of his life.” One informant had never changed his name. 

It was not conventiona] to change a child’s name, unless the child 
was sick. The new name was given to the sick child by a person grown 
old in good health, and, according to Sage, the name usually had had 
its origin in a dream. “When a man fasted on the hills, he might 
have a dream. When he was old enough to give a name, he might 
go to the home of a sick child, be fed there, pray to God, and give 
that childa new name. The father may be told two names from which 
he chooses one.” One child had had its birthday name changed 
because it was thought to show dislike for the name; it cried when- 
ever it was called by the name. 

An adolescent or adult might change his name by assuming a new 
one or by having a new one imposed on him. Sometimes a person 
was forced to take a new name because some one took his name from 
him; just as often, a person gave permission for his name to be taken 
by the one who asked for it. Each person was known only by one 
name. When a new name was given or taken, the person was known 
by it. His former name was no longer his. “My uncle, Black- 
Bucket, named me Bear-Walks-Uphill when I was a small child. 
When I was about 26 years old, the same uncle gave the same name 
to another boy. Then another uncle, my mother’s brother, named 
me Red-Willow.” 

Both men and women changed their names conventionally after 
the performance of an extraordinary deed; during serious illness or 
upon recovery ; after their name was taken by someone else; and upon 
the death of a much loved member of the family. A man always 
changed his name after killing or striking an enemy on the warpath. 
Occasionally he changed his name after a successful fast for “medi- 


cine,” but this was very rarely done. A boy’s name was not changed 
after his first successful hunt. 


HILexR] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 61 
NAMING A CHILD 


A person of either sex named a child of either sex, Formerly the 
namer of a child was always an old person, usually one in the eighties; 
more recently and at present, it is often a person in the fifties. “My 
girl as a baby was named Hollows-Lost [echoes lost] by my sister 
who was then about 50 years old.. That man there [56 years old] is 
old enough to name a baby; other people his age do so. The old 
people say that in old times only persons over 80 were ever asked 
to name a child.” 


Blood relationship did not need to exist between the child and its 
namer. However, the namer was generally a relative; occasionally, 
the child’s father; more rarely, its mother. Usually the namer was 
chosen by the parents; sometimes he announced himself. “My Indian 
name is Greasy. When I was a baby, an old man walked into our 
home and said he was going to name me and he gave me that name.” 

A child was frequently given a name immediately after birth, “that 
is if they had a name ready”; just as frequently it was not named 
until several days later. It could be given a name at any time after 
birth. Most informants had been named during their first year; 
several, not until they were 2 and 3 years old; one, not until she was 
nearly 10 years of age. 


I had no name until I was about 10 years old. My great-grandfather then 
gave me the name of Flying-Woman.... An old woman asked me last sum- 
mer if my grandchild [3 years old] had an Indian name. When I said “No,” 
she took the girl in her arms and named her First-Bird-Singing-in-the-Morning. 
[The five children of one informant had all been named on day of birth.] My 
first child, a girl, was named Beaver-Woman by my grandmother [maternal] ; 
the second child, a girl also, Short-Woman by her own father; the third, a boy, 
No-Good-Face, by an old woman, my husband’s sister; the fourth, a girl, 
Straggling-Night, by an old man not related to us; and the fifth, a girl, Pretty- 
Woman, by an old woman not related to us. Pretty-Woman died when she was 
about a year old. . . . My first child, a boy, was named Biter by an old man who 
stayed at our place. This man said before the baby was born, “If it is a boy, 
I’m going to name him Biter.” He, therefore, really named him before he was 
born. My second child, a boy, was named White-Hawk by an old man. I 
[mother] named my third child, a boy, Comanche, when he was a day old. That 
was my father’s name, and he was dead. My fourth child, was named Running- 
Fast by my cousin. My fifth child was given my father’s brother’s name, 
Black-Feather. ... An old man named my little grandson, Black-Fox, the day 
he was born. JI think he dreamed the name. He held him in his arms when 
naming him, telling him that he would grow up to be a big boy. When about 
2 years old, the little boy’s grandfather gave him a new name, Yellow-Crow. 
That is his name now. He received the new name because when called Black- 
Fox he cried and seemed to object to it.” 


If the parents decided to have a child named at a feast, they invited 
5 to 10 old men and old women to the home tipi. One of these persons 
had been asked to name the child. They sat in a circle around the 


62 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BULL. 148 


tipi, the namer sitting to the left of the door as one entered. The 
mother handed the child to the namer while the father addressed 
the group asking all to pray for the child so it would grow up to be 
a good person. The namer then called the child by the name he was 
giving it, held it in his arms, prayed for it, sometimes breathed on 
it and stroked it, and then passed it to the person at his left. The 
child was thus passed clockwise around the circle, each person holding 
it, praying for it, pronouncing its name, and possibly breathing on 
it and stroking it. The person at the right of the door, the last one 
to hold the child, handed it to its mother. Then all present were 
feasted. No gifts were given. Arnold Woolworth, an 80-year-old 
Southern Arapaho, recounted the naming of his children: 

When a child was to be named, old men and old women were invited. These 
sat around on the ground in the tipi. The mother handed the baby to the person 
who was to name it. The father addressed the old people and asked them to 
pray so that the child would do right. The one naming it held the baby first, 
prayed, and gave it its name. It was then passed around the circle always to 
the left, each old man and old woman holding the baby and praying for it. Then 
the men smoked; not the women. In those days women did not smoke. The 
namer did not have to be related to the child. And the names did not have to 
be taken from the relationship either. My oldest boy was named Red-Magpie. 
I asked Old-Lady-Hawk, my adopted grandmother, to name him on the day he 
was born. We gave her a good meal that day. My next child was Rose. She 
was named Medicine-Root-Woman by Old-Lady-Digging. I asked her to name 
Rose. This woman was a medicine woman. Our next child, Charles, was 
named Yellow-Plume. This name is taken from the appearance of the sky 
which looks a hazy yellow just as the sun comes up. Old-Man-Calf-Head 
named him. He was an old medicine man. The next child, Edward, was named 
White-Clay. He was named by Old-Lady-Gun who was a very old woman. The 
next child, Jess, was named Broken-Cup. That was the name of my father 
who was already dead when Jess was born. The midwife named him. 

Children who were named some time after birth were often also 
named when only a few persons were present; at times only the namer 
was present. Today many children are named without a festive cele- 
bration. A woman in her thirties said: “My uncle named my three 
children. Ihadtogivehima feast each time. I prepared such things 
as coffee, choke cherry gravy, and fried bread for him.” “I named 
my adopted grandchild Ground-Woman after my own grandmother. 
There was no ceremony connected with it. I simply gave her the 
name, Ground- Woman.” 


CHANGING NAMES 


A change of name was made either in private or in public. If im 
public, it was announced, or at least made known, to the crowd that. 
had gathered for some public function, usually the Sun Dance, a social. 
dance, or for some other social event. 


“ Cf. Dorsey (1903, p. 137) for name-changing ceremony at the Sun Dance. 


HILGER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 63 


The occasions for assuming or for the bestowal of a new name in 
private were serious illness, the death of a loved one, and occasionally 
a successful vision quest. An informant took her maternal grand- 
mother’s name, Old-Woman, during a long siege of illness. She was in 
her sixties then. It washer first changeofname. “That was 10 years 
ago [1932]. No one gave me the name. I took it so that I would 
recover and live to be an old woman. When my niece came to wait 
on me, I told her that I was getting better; but that I was now no 
longer Cut-Nose but Old-Woman.” The niece added, “Since that time 
she has never been sick except for minor ailments, such as nausea.” 
“Tf a very sick person recovers, his mother will ask an old person to 
come to the home to change his name.” “My grandfather gave me the 
name Flying-Woman when I was a child. Two years ago [when 
nearly seventy] my aunt died and I took her name, Killing-Enemy- 
Far-Away. No one gave me the name. I just took it, and then told 
my family about it.” 

A name was changed in public after an extraordinary deed per- 
formed in war or otherwise, and when replacing a name taken by 
someone else. Quoting informants: 


When a man has done a great deed, he may change his name in the presence of 
a large gathering of people. Some old man will probably give him the name. 
His folks give away gifts to anyone who is present, especially to those in 
need. . . . Although the Arapaho have not yet accepted my new name [a prom- 
inent uncle’s name] many call me by it. If I maintain my good character and 
reputation, I will eventually have the name because that is the custom of our 
people. Those that object to my having this name say that I have not yet earned 
it. But I tell them that I think I have, for I have done much for my tribe. 
I have been in Washington many times in the interests of the Arapaho, and 
I have represented our people in court cases. . . . My first name, my baby 
name, was Growing-Boy. I changed my name when I was about 30 years old. 
We were with some Ute Indians in Utah, and all the Utes were sitting there. I 
asked one old man his name. His name was Yellow-Stone. I told my people I 
would take this old man’s name. So I took the old man and threw him down 
on the ground, and said, “I am going to take your name down to Oklahoma.” 
So now my name is Yellow-Stone. This old man then took the name Arapaho- 
Chief. . . . If a girl has a brother whom she likes very much, she may take his 
name. This is sometimes done now at the Christmas dance given near the Mis- 
sion. Her brother’s name is, as it were, in the dirt. She grabs at it as though 
she were getting it out of the dirt. All at once someone calls her by her 
brother’s name. Then an old man stands behind her and strokes her head with 
sage brush, and repeats the name three times. . . .I have had two Indian names. 
When I was born, I was given the name Ponca-Woman. When a niece of mine 
was born, her grandfather—he was my cousin—took my name and gave it to 
her. I was 16 years old at the time. Then my old father—he was a medicine 
man—gave me the name of Mountain-Woman. When another niece was born, 
they took my name Mountain-Woman and gave it to her. They didn’t ask to 
take the name but just gave it to the child. It isn’t customary to ask. Taking 
an older person’s name and giving it to a baby is done, I think, because they 
don’t like to forget the names of relatives. Giving names to babies this way 
helps to continue them. on. in the relationship.. I haven’t any name now. If I. 


64 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLL. 148 


want one, I shall have to go to an old medicine man, like Chief Ute, and ask 
him for a name. He will pronounce several names, and Ill choose one that 
I like. Then at some meeting of the tribe, I’ll come all dressed up in my best 
clothes, and bring a pony. I’ll pack gifts on the pony. Then I’ll announce my 
name in this way: Let us say that I take the name of Flying-Woman—I’ll take 
a gift and hand it to someone and says, ‘“Here’s your gift. Come and see Flying 
Woman.” This person comes and takes the gift, and says, “Thank you, Flying- 
Woman.” I pronounce my name and so does the one that receives the gift. 
I do this with all the gifts. When I received my last name, the one my father 
gave me, I pronounced it at a war dance given by Chief Left Hand’s Camp. 


Densmore records an incident of a change of name following the 
First World War. A Southern Arapaho, Brett-Rising-Bear, a partici- 
pant in the battles of St. Michel, Verdun, and Aurignon (1917-18), 
was wounded in the left leg. Densmore writes: 


A great gathering was held at his house to celebrate the return of the sol- 
diers.... About 200 persons were present at this gathering, and all the 
soldiers were in uniform. First, they had a victory dance for the soldiers, in 
which two women carried German helmets aloft on lances, as scalps were carried 
in the old days. This was followed by other victory dances and a Gift dance. 
At this celebration he was given the name of Yellow Horse, the name of an old 
and famous warrior, this being in accordance with an ancient custom when 
young men returned successful from a war expedition. He and the other 
soldiers were required to relate their experiences in the war. [Densmore, 1936, 
p. 50.] 


SHERMAN SAGE’S ACCOUNT OF ARAPAHO NAMES 


Arapaho names were sometimes new names; sometimes names that had been 
used over and over again, because they were good names, that is, they were 
or had been names of good people. In the old days children were generally given 
new names, because we had plenty of occasions to coin new names of real value. 
Today we don’t live in the old way any more and so we have no opportunities to 
coin new names. 

Names originated in scalping or tomahawking an enemy; in shooting an 
enemy; in fact, in any activity associated with a battle. For example a man 
might fight two men at the same time. That might be the origin of a name. 
The name Tomahawk might originate in such a battle. One day I killed a Crow 
Indian in the dark. From this I chose the name Hit-in-the-Dark and gave it to 
a newborn baby. Hit-in-the-Dark is a big boy now. One day while riding a 
Pinto horse, I tomahawked an enemy. From that I named a baby boy Pinto- 
Horse. This little girl you see around here, I named after a deed I did. One 
time I killed a Shoshoni man out in an open space. So I called this girl Out-in- 
the-Open-Girl. Everytime I call her by this name, she comes and waits on me. 
She brings me what I want. My uncle named me Sage because he had killed a 
man in a large sagebrush. Some years ago my nephew took my name Sage 
away from me, so I took the name Owl. My grandfather’s name was Owl. I 
took most of the names I have given to children from the wars I was in. I 
was in many wars, wars with the Shoshoni and the Crows, the Sioux and the 
Bannocks. J went into a Crow camp one night and killed a Crow Indian. So 
I named a child Captured-at-Night. I had a right to do this because of my 
deed. 

Sometimes names originated in dreams. There was an old woman here whose 
one side was paralyzed, even her tongue. I changed her name and called her 


HILcER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 65 


Thunder-Sound-Comes-Down. She recovered, but limps. I dreamed that I heard 
the sound of thunder swoop down upon the earth. And so I called her after 
that. When I was a little boy, I dreamed something about that thunder, but I 
never dreamed it clearly. When I was 19, I went out to the hills to fast. I 
fasted 5 days that time and didn’t get it straight even then. When I was 23, 
I fasted 7 days. On the fifth day it all came to me. On that day I got all the 
information by which I now live. When I fasted I neither ate nor drank 
anything, not even water. I went out to fast many times, but it was the second 
time I fasted that I learned all the things by which I now live. [The interpreter 
remarked that he had told us a little about his ‘‘medicine”’ dream at which she 
was surprised. ‘He is not supposed to go into his ‘medicine’ too much, you know. 
That was a good deal of information he volunteered. I don’t like to ask him 
about it.’’] 

If parents had gathered enough food and gifts before the child was born, 
so that it could be named immediately after birth, the father invited all the old 
men and old women of the tribe to his tipi. Here is what would be said to 
them, that is how they were invited: “Come on over; a son has come to visit us’ ; 
or “‘Come on over; a daughter has come to visit us.” We never said, ‘‘A son is 
born,” or “A daughter is born.” Sometimes the mother’s parents had helped to 
collect the things; sometimes they had collected all of them. When all the old 
men and old women had arrived, they ate; and then the old people were asked 
to pray for the child. Then one of these old people, the one who was thought to 
have strong ‘medicine,’ was asked to name the child and to pray for it especially. 
The prayer of the old people was directed to God, the Arapaho call Him Every- 
body’s Father. Besides praying to Everybody’s Father, they prayed to the four 
men who live in the spiritual world and who are taking care of the four sacred 
pipes. The old Arapaho have in their minds that these old men can help the 
child, and so they pray to these men that they should help the child. They also 
pray to their own “medicine.” They get their power from some animal or bird, 
and they pray to that power. That power is found in their “medicines.” 

This celebration did not necessarily have to follow the birth immediately. 
The father called the old people together whenever they had collected enough 
food to feast them. They saved food and stored it away until they had enough. 
The child was supposed to be given its name at this feast. 

I named many children. They are grown up now and have children and grand- 
children. When the parents wanted me to name a child, they cooked a feast 
and called me to their tent. AJll those invited sat in a circle and I sat at the 
left of the parents who stood in the doorway. The namer always sits at the 
left of the doorway. When we were seated, the parents told me they wanted me 
to name their child. I would then give them four names and they would decide 
by which name they wanted the child called. This name would then be the one 
that was given to the child. After that I prayed and named the child. Then I 
handed the child to the person sitting at my left. The child was then passed 
from one person to the next one at the left in the circle. Each person called 
the child by its name saying, “Come here, so-and-so.” While the person held 
the child, he pressed it to himself, patted it and prayed for it. After the last 
one in the circle had prayed for it, he handed it to its mother. The baby was 
then taken out. There is no burning of incense, nor was the baby held over 
fumes, nor was it raised up and down. It wasn’t good to lift a baby up 
and down. The Arapaho were afraid to throw a baby up and down. Today 
the young people throw their babies in all directions. [When asked what prayer 
was spoken by him in naming the children, he replied:] My “medicine” does 
not allow me to give you the prayer. However, I shall tell you a little about it, 


892644—52—_6 


66 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BULL 148 


I had to say my own prayer. I prayed for the people and called upon Every- 
body’s Father [God] and on the old men belonging to the pipe [the spiritual men 
caring for the pipes]. I called on my “medicine” to help the child grow up. 
I called upon Everybody’s Father again to make the water clear in the river, 
and to tell them to make the food good that the child would eat in order to grow 
up. I prayed that the old men of the pipe should watch over the child. I prayed 
that the child would follow my path and my life as I had tried to live it. I 
prayed to have a good day. [Here Sage spoke to the interpreter, instructing 
her to tell us what the prayer was about but not to translate the prayer itself. 
He smoked his pipe now, and then continued by saying his prayer. He said it 
with a great deal of devotion, respect, and sincerity. The prayer was the one 
that had come to him when he received his “medicine.” It was addressed pri- 
marily to the old men who had taken care of the sacred pipe for generations 
back, who had died and were now somewhere in a spiritual world. He spoke 
of them as coming down in single file indicating thereby that the oldest man 
from way, way back who had taken care of the pipe while on earth was fol- 
lowed by the next one, and the next one, and the next one, and so on.] 

A person receives his first name when a baby. Then he grows up to be a 
man. It may happen then that his sister or a relative has a child. This sister 
or relative will name the child after this man; that is if the man has always 
been strong and healthy. In this event this man must take another name. He 
chooses one from among those of his ancestors—from his uncle or grandfather 
or from a relative as old as I now am [in nineties]. This is considered a won- 
derful thing. It is one of the ways in which a person can change his name. 

When a man assumes a new name, it is generally done at a dance. My name 
was formerly Sage. It is no longer Sage. A nephew of mine took this name 
from me one time at a lodge meeting which was something like the Sun Dance. 
My nephew gave away horses because he took this name. The name that I 
took then at the same dance was Good-to-Look-At. My grandfather, my mother’s 
father, had this name. He became an old man. This grandfather wanted all of 
his children to grow up to be like himself: he wanted their path to be clear, and 
the children to be good to look at [to lead clean and honest lives]. When I as- 
sumed this name, I gave a horse to an old man. My grandfather was an old man, 
and I have reached old age too. I took this name about thirty years ago. My 
name now is Old-Owl. About seven years ago a young man came to me and asked 
to take my name, Good-to-Look-At, so that he could go straight. He was in 
many difficulties and did not lead a good life. He lied a good deal. I waited 
until we had a dance, and then in public I said that I was giving this boy my 
name so that he could go straight and be a good man; so that he would be kind 
to old people and to orphans, if there were any; that he would no longer steal 
or lie. He lived up to it. This happened about seven years ago. The young 
man died about two years ago.” The interpreter added, “This boy announced 
at that meeting that he wanted to be as good as Old-Man-Sage. He certainly 
did well after he took this old man’s name. 


ARAPAHO NAMES 


No gender existed for Arapaho names. Anyone might at any time, 
however, add the word “woman” to the name by which a woman was 
known, nor was there any difference in the structure of the name 
given in infancy or thereafter; nor in those bestowed or assumed. 


HiLcnr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 67 


The following names, collected from the present study, belonged to 
men: Old-Man, Night-Horse, Yellow-Plume, Mysterious-Magpie, Hit- 
in-the-Dark, Pinto-Horse, Captured-at-Night, Fur-Moccasins, Bear- 
Walks-Uphill, No-Good-Face, Biter, White-Hawk, Comanche, Red- 
Magpie, White-Clay, Broken-Cup, Black-Fox, Yellow-Crow, Mystical- 
Magpie, Growing-Boy, Black-Wolf, My-Comanche-People, Sage, Old- 
Owl, Good-to-Look-At, Red-Willow, Heap-of-Elks, Yellow-Stone, 
Buffalo-Cow, White Hawk, Old-Man-Calf-Head, Powder-Face. 

Names belonging to women mentioned in the present work are: Old- 
Woman, Kills-Two, Born-with-Two-Teeth-Woman, Good-Killer, 
First-Killer, Flying-Woman, Cut-Nose, Walking-on-the-Prairie, Hol- 
lows-Lost, Singing-Woman, First-Bird-Singing-in-the-Morning, Out- 
in-the-Open-Girl, Little-Woman, Medicine-Bag-Woman, Walking 
Woman, Greasy, Beaver-Woman, Short-Woman, Straggling-Night, 
Pretty-Woman, Medicine-Root-Woman, Going-Through-Already, 
Ponca-Woman, Killing-Enemy-Far-Away, Hollowing, Thunder- 
Sound-Comes-Down, Mountain-Woman, Old-Lady-Hawk, Old-Lady- 
Digging, Old-Lady-Gun, Ground-Woman. 

Names used by informants, but not identified by writer as belonging 
either to men or women are: Eagle-Feather, Walking-Buffalo, Walk- 
ing-Along-the-Bank, Black Antelope, Lone-Antelope, Captured-at- 
Night, Striking-at-Night, Striker, Strike-in-the-Middle, Man-Going- 
Ahead, Running-Fast. 

Names of outstanding Arapaho chiefs, scouts, signers of treaties, 
and others recorded in the literature are: Eagle’s-Head, Tempest, Fri- 
day (Chittendon and Richardson, 1905, vol. 2, p. 688), Medicine-Man, 
Sharp-Nose, Bear-That-Don’t-Run (Daniels, 1872, p. 267), Little- 
Raven, Ute, Little-Chief, Left-Hand, Red-Wolfe, Circle, Starving- 
Elk, Brave-Bull, Coming-Behind, Buffalo-Bull, Medicine,“ Black- 
Coal, Plenty-Bear, Old-Man Elk, Eagle-Head, Tallow (Fosher, 1893, 
pp. 3850-851), Yellow-Bear, Crow-Chief, Yellow-Eyes, Tall-Bull, 
Bear’s-Head, White-Man, Flint, Striking-First, David-Big-Head,* 
Spotted-Wolf, Storm-Chief, Tall-Bearer,* Left-Hand, Bird-Chief, 
Big-Mouth, Cut-Finger, Yellow-Horse, White-Crow (Perry, 1982, p. 
577), Powder-Face, Tall-Bear (Seger, 1933, p. 859). It is interesting 
to note that the above names are not found among Arapaho today. It 
is possible that living up to the outstanding deeds and exemplary lives 
of these men is difficult to do and that therefore their names have not 
been chosen or imposed. It is possible, too, that persons feared to 
choose these names since the tribe might consider the act presumptious. 

“In unpublished letter dated 1885, Okla. Hist. Soc., Indian Archives. 

“Tn unpublished petition dated February 1906, signed at Watonga, Okla. Okla. Hist. 
Soc., Indian Archives. 


43 Indian treaties and councils affecting Kansas. Kansas Hist. Coll., 1923-25, vol. 16, 
pp. 768-771). 


68 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BULL. 148 
ADOLESCENCE 
BROTHER-SISTER RELATIONSHIP 


Among the Arapaho the terms brother and sister include others 
than offspring of the same parents. Quoting Sherman Sage: 

Among the Arapaho your mother’s sister [both mother and sister being off- 
spring of same parents] is your mother also; her children are your brothers and 
sisters. Your mother’s brother [both mother and brother being offspring of same 
parents] is your uncle; but, his children are your brothers and sisters. Your 
father’s brother [both father and brother being offspring of same parents] is your 
father; his children are your brothers and sisters. Your father’s sister [both 
father and sister being offspring of same parents] is your aunt; but her children 
are your brothers and sisters.“ 

All cousins “to the nth degree” were brothers and sisters.* 

During the early years of childhood, brothers and sisters (using 
these terms in the Arapaho way) played together, romped together, 
swam and bathed together, teasing each other, and quarreled with 
each other. At the onset of puberty, that is when secondary physical 
sex characteristics began to develop, both boys and girls were taught 
to be reserved in each other’s presence. “They were taught to respect 
each other. It was then that they began to realize that they were 
brothers and sisters, and that they were different.” 48 

When puberty was reached, brothers and sisters no longer spoke to 
each other unless it was absolutely necessary, and then only in a quiet 
respectful way, the sister keeping her eyes cast down. “Sisters from 
then on were not allowed to look at their brothers.” During the years 
of the present study teachers in boarding schools on the Arapaho res- 
ervations related instances in which either a boy asked to see his sister 
or a git] her brother in the parlor of the school in order to give the 
other a message from home, such as telling that their parents were 
coming to take them home for a funeral or for vacation. The girl 
did not raise her eyes on these occasions to look at her brother, and 
no more words were spoken than were required in giving the message. 
These children played in separate parts of the same playground daily 
during school recesses and hours of evening recreation and could 
easily have relayed messages there. The writer saw several instances, 
during outdoor play when a younger brother or sister was given a 
message and sent to relay it to an older brother or sister. On a num- 

“ Kroeber (1902, p. 10) records similar terminology for the Gros Ventres: “Among the 
Gros Ventres, the father’s brother is called ‘father’; the mother’s sister, ‘mother’; so that 
the terms for ‘uncle’ and ‘aunt’ are used only for mother’s brother and father’s sister. 
The same is true of ‘nephew’ and ‘niece’; a man calls his brother’s children ‘son and daugh- 
ter,’ but his sister’s children ‘nephew and niece’; conversely with a woman. Even a cousin’s 
or a second cousin’s children are called ‘son and daughter’ instead of ‘nephew and niece,’ 
if the cousin is of the same sex as the speaker.’ On p. 150 (loc. cit.) he; writesicv.. 
Pe a system is identical with that of the Gros Ventres.” (Cf. also Hggan, 1937, 


* Cf. Kroeber, 1902, p. 10, for a similar statement. 
46 Cf. Hggan, 1937, pp. 50-51, for a similar statement. 


HILcER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 69 


ber of occasions the writer sent a boy in early adolescence with titbits 
to his sister of about the same age, at the same time asking him to 
return an answer to a question asked of his sister. The titbit was 
always delivered, but in all but one instance by a younger brother 
or sister who was commissioned by the older brother to do so. In the 
one instance the boy brought a return answer, and then the grand- 
mother reprimanded the girl for speaking to her brother. 

The restrictions on brother-sister relationship continued into old 
age. Quoting Sherman Sage: “Brothers and sisters never talked to 
each other. However, when people were very old they did so. That 
was the custom for years; even way back; and even before that time 
it was that way. Now all young people mix together. They even 
take paper and write letters to each other.” The brothers of an in- 
terpreter in her forties talked with her but only because she was blind. 

Quoting other informants: 


Brothers and sisters did not speak to each other. When my brother arranged 
for my marriage, he told my mother to tell me. Today some brothers and sisters 
of my age [45] talk together; but the old Indian women will not talk to their 
brothers nor the old men to their sisters except when absolutely necessary... . 
Sisters have deep respect for their brothers and never speak to them unless neces- 
sary, and then all talking is done in a very serious way. They never joke with 
them or tease them. .. . A brother and a sister never talk to each other unless 
necessary. It may be necessary to ask where someone is. In speaking to her 
brother a girl will cast her eyes down and will not look at him. A brother and 
a sister never stay in the same room; the sister will be the one to leave or not 
to enter. ... When we were small, we were allowed to play with our little 
brothers; but we were not to talk to them when we got to be about 10 years old. 
I was told not to talk to my brothers when we were that old, but I had to; my 
mother died and I had to wash for my brothers and be with them. I couldn’t 
keep from talking to them. But I didn’t say bad words to them or joke with 
them. Nor was I allowed to play with them. When I talked to them, I talked 
to them in a respectful [reserved] way. ... A brother and a sister were not 
allowed to talk to each other from the time that they were about 13 years old to 
the end of their lives. The reason was that girls in that way showed respect 
toward their brothers. From 18 on, the girls stayed rather close to their grand- 
mothers. My brothers were very strict with their sisters. They even gave orders 
to our grandmother to get us up early in the morning. .. . I’m 90 years old but 
I never speak to my brother. I get someone else who happens to be around, or a 
small child, to relay my words to him. Brothers and sisters may, however, eat 
with each other. . . . Even today brothers and sisters in some families do not 
talk to each other unless it is necessary. A girl might have to call her brother 
to a meal, and necessary words would then be, “It’s time to eat,” or “It’s break- 
fast time,” or “It’s time to get up and come for breakfast.” Mothers told their 
sons that they could not talk to their sisters when they were old enough to have 
respect for them, that is when they were about 10 or 12 years old, or when they 
stopped playing together. They also told their girls not to talk to their brothers. 
My mother’s sisters’ children are my brothers and sisters too, and I was not 
allowed to talk to those boys either. They told them not to say bad words in 
each other’s presence. We were not allowed to talk to the boy friends of our 
brothers either. 


70 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Bun 148 


The eldest brother in the family was called “Oldest Brother,” by 
all the family and not by his given Indian name. It was the eldest 
brother who conventionally felt a responsibility for his sisters. It 
was he who gave advice as to their conduct and gave consent to their 
marriages. His adviser was his mother’s (woman who gave him 
birth) brother, usually the eldest one. The eldest daughter in the 
family was generally called “Oldest Sister” by all; the youngest son, 
the “Youngest Brother”; and the youngest daughter, the “Youngest 
Sister.” All children between the eldest and the youngest were called 
by their Indian names. A woman in her nineties said, “It was always 
our custom that the oldest brother have charge of his sisters.” 

Exchange of gifts between brothers and sisters was institutional. 
Quoting Old Lady Salt Friday: “If a sister did a brother a favor, he 
might give her a tent or a horse. My brother offered me that choice 
one time, but I thought it would be selfish to take his horse; so I 
chose the tent.” Kroeber writes of the same custom: 

When a woman, especially a young girl, wishes a present, she cooks a puppy 
and takes it to her brother or some other male relative or friend. If he wishes 
to distinguish himself before those who are present, he gives her a horse or a 
tent. Sometimes he gives her less. If he gives a tent, it is left standing when 
the camp-circle breaks up; then, in the sight of all, the new owners take it down. 
This custom is practised when the whole tribe is encamped together (the special 
time for ceremonials). When no pup is available, the woman makes a gift of 
other food. [Kroeber, 1902, p. 18.] 

A Northern woman in her eighties had sacrificed the first joint of 
the little finger of her left hand when she was 16 years old so that her 
brother might be released from jail. She herself had severed the 
joint. “That happened when we left Oklahoma. Two years later 
my brother came home.” 


PUBERTY 


Prepuberty fasts, such as were customary among the Chippewa, did 
not exist among the Arapaho. Nor was a boy’s or a girl’s puberty 
marked by rites or fasts. 

Regarding boys of puberty age informants made the following 
statements : 


A boy at that age was taught to refrain from talking too much to anybody. He 
was taught to have respect for others. He was told not to notice the attractions 
of girls, and not to talk to his sisters any more than was necessary. A boy was 
instructed by anyone who had a direct interest in him, like an uncle, a brother, a 
grandfather, or a father—I’m using Arapaho terms.—The mother or sister or 
grandmother on either side occasionally did so. . . . We recognized the fact 
that the boy’s voice was changing, but we did nothing about it. . . . People 
would remark when a boy was that age, “That boy is growing up to be a man 
now.” But we had no custom that called for such a boy to fast and to be 
feasted. . . . Nothing whatever was done when a boy’s voice began to change. 

Boys never fasted, but men went out alone to fast. . . . Whena boy’s 


HILGER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 71 


voice changed, he was warned of certain things regarding women and his rela- 
tions with women. The father might instruct his son; but the mother usually 
did so. The father generally left it to his wife to do so. 

Boys were permitted to fast only when they had given evidence of 
mature judgment, something which informants said happened rarely 
when boys were in their teens. If it did happen, a boy was always 
older than 17 years (p. 128). “A boy whose voice was only changing 
was too young to be fast. He had to be older than that to do so; 
he had to be older than 15 or 16 years. He had tobe aman. It was 
only when he reached maturity, that is, when he had sense, that he 
could fast. Occasionally a boy had sense when he was 17 or 18 
years old. Well, such a boy could go out to fast then for the first 
time. He probably fasted four days or maybe only three days.” 

Informants were agreed that the Arapaho had no puberty customs 
for girls. They knew that other tribes did. The Southern Arapaho 
had witnessed puberty rites for years among the Southern Cheyenne. 
The Northern Arapaho had seen them among the Shoshonie. “The 
Shoshonie can tell you about that. They build a tipi and stay in it 
during these days. We don’t.” Wolf Moccasin, an Arapaho, told 
Clark (1885, p. 42) regarding the Arapaho: “They did not have any 
ceremony when a girl had her first menses.” Kroeber (1902, p. 15) 
wrote: “There is no practice or ceremony connected with a girl’s first 
menstruation.” 

Informants showed great reserve when speaking of a girl’s puberty 
or of a woman’s menses. A Northern interpreter in her forties hesi- 
tated to ask old informants any questions regarding them, and added, 
“That is one thing the Indians never talked about. In my mother’s 
family there were seven girls. My mother told me that neither her 
grandmother nor her mother ever discussed it with any of them, nor 
did the girls discuss it among themselves. That was something of 
which they were ashamed to talk. I learned about it while I was at 
boarding school. I was helping a girl in the dining room and she 
told me. That was the first time I heard of it. My mother said she 
was glad I knew about it, but she didn’t want to talk about it.” A 
Northern interpreter in her sixties remarked, “It’s very difficult to 
ask those questions because I don’t seem to know the correct words 
to use. I believe I don’t know the words, for I never heard any 
Arapaho speak much of those things. In fact, I dislike to talk about 
them myself. It isn’t that we think it brings bad luck or that it is 
too sacred to talk about. We are ashamed of it; that’s all.” “Arapaho 
women do not like to talk about menstruation to anyone. Very few 
give instructions to their daughters about it. No one speaks of her 
menstruation unless she is taking care of a sick person and must 
tell it, so that someone else will wait on the sick person. You know 
if a menstruating woman enters a sickroom, it will kill the sick person.” 


72 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BULL 148 


Michelson found the same reserve. His 77-year-old Southern in- 
formant said: “I have refrained from mentioning private personal 
experiences both during the time I was single and also married, solely 
out of respect to my brothers and male cousins.” None of her brothers 
were living and there is no evidence in the narrative that any male 
counsins were. Michelson (1983, p. 609), adds, “This respect is 
institutional.” 

Girls, then, were not isolated in a separate tipi during first menses, 
nor during any succeeding ones. They remained in the home tipi, 
where they were expected however, to stay apart from others and be 
more or less alone. They were to be especially careful not to come 
near men or sick persons. The odor, informants believed, might cause 
a sick person to die. Quoting Kroeber (1902, p. 15): “The smell of 
the discharge would enter the body of the patient and make him 
worse.” One informant of the present study said menses is called 
ba’ataana, that is “medicine” or “supernatural.” Also according to 
Kroeber (ibid.) a menstruating woman was not to enter the peyote 
tent. She was to help with the work about the tipi, cook for others, 
and was allowed to eat with them. Her dishes were not used by her 
exclusively nor were they stored separately. She changed her clothes 
every day and washed herself also. 

Some informants had been instructed by their mothers or grand- 
mothers regarding puberty; many had not. “No one ever told me 
when I was young about menstruation or what marriage meant. I 
have a daughter already married, but I have never spoken to her about 
those things.” “A mother or sister or grandmother on either side 
sometimes instructed a girl.” 

Informants varied regarding the manner in which women dressed 
after puberty. Two Southern informants, a man in his fifties *7 and 
his niece in her forties were interviewed jointly regarding the custom. 

The woman noted that when a girl showed signs of physical devel- 
opment—this might be 2 years before her first menses—she was given 
a wide belt to wear. The belt was decorated with beadwork or/and 
silver decorations. At times, too, the girl’s navel bag was attached to 
the belt. The man remarked: “When the girl first wore her belt, her 
navel cord was attached to it along with a beaded knife case, beaded 
awl case, beaded bouncing ball, and probably a little turtle. These 
little turtles were caught and killed and placed on an ant heap so the 
ants would eat all the meat, leaving the shell and the loose inner bones 
to form a rattle. The mother or brother usually found the turtle. 

47 The writer contacted this informant in 1942 in order to check the information the late 
Truman Michelson had received from him in 1932 and had transmitted to the writer in 


1936. The informant is considered one of the best informed Southern Arapaho. Both 
Michelson and the present writer respected his truthfulness and intelligence. 


HILanR] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE ta 


These decorations were attached at intervals around the belt. After 
the girl entered puberty, these things were taken off. They were 
usually saved by the mother who later passed them on to a child of 
the girl’s brother or toa cousin. The girl, however, retained her own 
navel-cord bag.” “I wore such a belt until my first menses,” the 
woman added. 

According to these informants the belt was discarded at first menses 
and a “shawllike-thing”—this might be a flour sack—was tied care- 
lessly about the waistline and hips. Kroeber’s informant may have 
referred to the same custom, for Kroeber (1902, p. 15) writes regard- 
ing menstruating women, “They wrap their clothes tightly about the 


waist.” 

The man informant after having been told that others of his tribe 
were insistent that puberty made no change in the manner in which 
women dressed gave the following account, the woman informant 
agreeing : 

When the girl] reached her twelfth or thirteenth year, that is, when she showed 
signs of physical development, she had to wear a belt over her dress. She wore 
this belt for about 2 years, that is, until she reached puberty. During the time 
of wearing the belt a girl’s freedom was somewhat restricted. She had to wear 
some apparel when swimming. Although she could still play with boys, she 
had to be in when the sun went down; she could play only in the daytime; 
there was to be no playing at night. She had to come to where her mother, 
her aunt, or whoever was guarding her, lived. She had to learn now also to 
attend to duties similar to those of her mother, aunt, or whoever the person 
might be with whom she lived. She had to take lessons in caring for and prepar- 
ing food, tanning hides, making moccasins, and porcupine-quill decorations. 
Porcupine quills were used in decorations on buckskin shirts, tobacco pouches, 
moccasins and other wearing apparel, and on the ends of feathers used for 
decorating the head. From now on she had to make the decorations for her 
own clothes. When a girl reached puberty she gave care and attention to her 
hair. She wore a wrapping about her body called to’jéhet [informant’s trans- 
lation, “apron’’], wore a blanket over her body and head so that it covered her 
eyes to some extent. The apron and blanket were to conceal the direct form of 
her body. Dresses had to be longer, and arms were not to show. Hspecially 
was the girl not to throw her arms around so as to show them. The apron was 
undecorated. The belt which she now discarded was the one that had been 
decorated with silver decorations or beadwork. She commenced now to obey 
all the orders of her mother or whoever cared for her. She did not cast careless 
glances around, nor giggle when she was among people. She was continually 
reminded not to be quick in her actions; not to be silly in order to draw attention 
upon herself. She also avoided noticing the movement of people around her. 
From now on she respected her brother. She talked to him only when it was 
necessary. She excused herself if she said vile words in front of her male rela- 
tives. Now she was permitted to express her thoughts on the death of a near rela- 
tive. When a boy’s voice began to change, notice was taken of it, but it was given 
no particular attention. A boy was really no different than before in his exterior 
appearance, but a girl had to wear a shawl. 


74 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Buuu, 148 


On the contrary, both Southern and Northern women were very 
certain that the custom described above did not exist among their 
people. Quoting Southern informants: 


My mother died: so my aunt was mother to me. When I was about 12 years 
old, she told me to stay away from men, not to let any man fool me or ask for 
favors. She said this could not be done unless you were married to him. But 
she did not tell me what would happen to me, nor did she tell me about menstrua- 
tion. When it happened, I was frightened. I cried all day long. My aunt said, 
“What are you crying for?” I said to her, “I think I have hemorrhages. That 
is what I am crying for.” My aunt said, “All women have to go through that, 
and you will have to go through more when you have babies.” I was about 
12 or 13 years old then. Nothing was done about it. We didn’t build a tipi like 
I have seen the Shoshonie women do. I didn’t dress differently after that, and 
I continued to play like I did before. No, I did not wear a scarf around my 
waistline after that. Women do that when they are carrying a baby. Nor did 
I discontinue wearing my belt. I can remember wearing a little string around 
my waist when I was a little girl, and later wearing a belt. It was a fancy belt 
of leather with silver and beaded decorations. But I have worn belts ever since. 
I’m telling you the way I know it. . . . No Arapaho women were ever isolated at 
first menses. No, we didn’t comb our hair differently after that, nor did we put 
paint on our faces. Wearing a shawl around the waist was no sign either, for 
even little girls wore shawls around the waist sometimes. Mothers sometimes 
tied a child’s shawl around the child’s waist while visiting somewhere, so it 
wouldn’t be lost. There was nothing done in any way to indicate that a girl 
had reached puberty or had passed it. Nothing at all was done! ... The 
mother, not the father, instructed the girls. The father could instruct his sons, 
but usually he left it to the mother to do so. A girl was not isolated at her first 
menses. I have never heard of a girl wearing a belt when she began developing 
physically, and a broad band of cloth about her loins at first menstruation. We 
didn’t dress differently than before in any way. I did not wear a belt or apron, 
and never heard of anyone doing so. My aunt merely showed me how to take 
care of myself. The blankets that women wrapped around their loins served no 
other purpose than having them at hand and knowing where the blanket was; 
sometimes there was no place to lay it, and so you kept it tied around yourself. 
I never heard that a blanket wrapped around a woman’s waist served to disguise 
a pregnant woman’s form. 


Northern women in their fifties, sixties, and seventies contributed 
the following, in both instances two informants collaborating. Infor- 
mation was given in a quiet manner and reticently. In almost a 
a whisper two women discussed the matter and then replied just as 
reservedly : 


No tipi was erected for a girl at her first menstruation. Nor did anybody take 
any notice of it. We never heard about a girl wearing a belt or an apron at that 
time. Mothers used to tell their girls that they would be that way and that it 
would occur at certain times; that they were not to run around and go with boys 
any more, nor play with them. Girls behaved in those days. And girls didn’t 
talk about such things among themselves. [Two other older women listened curi- 
ously and almost reverently to the relating of the Chippewa puberty rite for girls, 
and then replied in subdued tones :] We don’t have anything like that when a girl 
first has it. We tell a girl about it beforehand and tell her how to take care of 
herself, and how to behave herself. Mothers hold on to their daughters after 


HILGER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 75 


that happens to them, until they marry. There was absolutely no change in the 
way of dressing, like wearing a belt or apron or in combing the hair. No one 
could have told that the girl was having her first time. Nor could anyone tell 
after that that she had been that way. Women tried to keep this knowledge 
away from men. In a way the women were ashamed of it; and for this reason 
they kept the girls dressed just like always so the men wouldn’t know. Men 
around the place shouldn’t know anything about it. We think that the smell of 
€& woman when she is that way may cause sickness. So her mother will burn 
sweet smelling grass, néyaa’hu, and a root, nidda’, on burning charcoal taken 
from the fireplace. The girl is told to inhale the fumes and to stand alongside 
the dish emitting them so that the fumes will pass up her clothes. The mother 
takes the dish through the house also, fanning the fumes all around. The girl is 
told also to burn any clothes she uses and not to let them lie around; someone 
might become sick if she did. Both of us were instructed by our grandmothers. 
Our grandmothers kept us at home then and watched us so no harm could come 
to us. 
TRAINING CHILDREN 


INSTRUCTORS AND METHOD 


Although the Arapaho child was attached to its family, much of its 
life was spent with relatives. (Cf. pp. 68 and 194-195 for members of 
“my relatives.”) Within the extended family, or “its relatives,” the 
Arapaho child to a large degree learned the moral, mental, familial, 
religious, economic, and political norms of its own tribe. 

Formal education given by paid tutors or teachers during specific 
hours of the day in a designated place was not administered to the 
Arapaho child. The Arapaho child, in general, learnt as the occasion 
arose. It was lectured to, was taught to imitate in play the activities 
of elders, learned by observation, was given explanations and demon- 
strations, and was permitted and encouraged to assist or to participate 
in adult activities. 

Instructors of the child, except in religion, were members of its 
family, especially its grandparents. Religion was always taught for- 
mally by the old men of the tribe, especially by those of the two high- 
est men’s lodges (pp. 118, 143). 

These old women just told me [said an interpreter] that they think they are 
eapable of telling us how children should be brought up because they were 
taught by their grandmothers how to live, and that they have lived as they were 
taught. They say they have never forgotten what they were told; that they now 
teach their grandchildren as they were taught and try to rear them accordingly. 
[Quoting other informants:] Both grandmothers and grandfathers lectured 
grandchildren. ...My grandmother would gather together all the children 
that were related to her up to about 14 years of age and talk to them. My 
grandfather talked to us also. He would tell us to be good and to listen to our 
parents. 

When I was a boy [Sage said], my father used to tell me not to be like a certain 
person in the camp who might be doing wrong. He might be a thief stealing 


dried meat from old people. Or he might be stealing hides. He would say, 
“Look at him. He is talked about. I don’t want you to do that. You have a 


76 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Buu. 148 


father and a mother and a good home, everything you want. There is no need 
of your going out and doing things like that.” If a boy was “crazy,” no children 
wanted to go near him. They didn’t want him to play around with them. They 
pushed him to one side. A “crazy” boy was one who made a child cry, one 
that would not listen to parents. Parents usually talked to their children and 
told them what was right and wrong. A “crazy” boy was mean. He was a bully. 
Children were trained by being talked to as soon as they were old enough to be 
talked to. I talked to them any time during the day or night, whenever I had the 
opportunity. Sometimes in the evening all would be around in the tipi and I'd 
start to talk to the children. Instructions were given to children at any time 
of the year or at any time of the day or night. There were no regularly assigned 
persons who instructed children. It was up to the parents to instruct their 
children. Sometimes parents called in an old man of the tribe who had made 
a success of his own life. The mother would cook a meal of meat and bread, 
call him in to her tipi, feed him and ask him to tell the boy his experiences ; 
to tell him how he might be good, ete. A man might also instruct a girl. Parents 
might also call in and old woman to talk to the girl. These old people would 
say a prayer in the presence of the boy or girl as well as talk to them. That is 
why very few Indians were really mean. The child was guided and talked to up 
to the time he was married. He was not talked to any more after that. 


Quoting Southern informants: 


Indians had order in their homes. The older people were greatly respected. 
They were the ones that esteemed our religion. They taught the younger ones 
how to live and how to have good homes. This was done verbally. Until they 
were 18, 19, 20, and 21 years of age, boys and girls listened to these old people. 
The old people would say to them, “Don’t do this,” “Don’t say that,” “Don’t quar- 
rel,” “Respect people from other tribes.” They talked to children and corrected 
them at every opportunity. If there were bade people around, children were told 
to stay away from them, to go elsewhere to play. I know this because I was 
taught this way. ... Inorder to develop strong will power in children, they were 
talked to and instructed during all the years that they were growing up.... Ifa 
boy does not wish to listen to the advice and lecture that is being given, his father 
may make him sit down and compel him to take advice. The father knows that if 
his son grows up without training, the tribe won’t want him; he will be consid- 
ered undesirable and will not be welcome anywhere. The boy will be told this, 
too. Should it happen, however, that he gets into trouble, his parents will be too 
tenderhearted to refuse to have anything to do with him. They will assist him 
in getting out of his trouble. My nephew’s mother died when he was two weeks 
old. He has lived with us since. He is ten years old now. We guard him very 
closely. Sometimes he comes home and uses vulgar words that he has learned 
from others. I talk to him then, 


Michelson’s informant said: 


My mother would talk to me for quite a while regarding my behavior. She 
would tell me not to glance around in public places, not to laugh out loud, not to 
peep at young men whenever they were near our tepee, and not to respond to the 
flashes of mirrors held by young men at a distance, as these indications would 
govern young men’s opinions of the character of a girl. [Michelson, 1983, p. 601.] 

A mother’s sisters (the girl’s mothers, in Arapaho way) and the 
father’s sisters (the girl’s aunts, in Arapaho way) were especially in- 
terested in the girls of prepuberty age of their own relationship. Mi- 
chelson also notes— 


HILGER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE FAT! 


Ordinarily an Arapaho mother hasn’t (or conventionally hasn’t) much time 
to lecture her daughters regarding their conduct. A girl’s paternal aunts take it 
upon themselves to instruct their nieces, and see that they have the right train- 
ing so as to be respectable for the sake of their (the nieces’) brothers and male 
cousins. [Michelson, 1933, p. 601.] 


Maternal uncles instructed nephews and took a particular interest in 


them. 

As the child approached puberty, the mother or, in the event she had 
died, the woman taking her place instructed the child in the custom 
regarding brother-sister relationship (pp. 68-70). 


In the old days brothers and sisters did not speak to each other, that is, from 
the time that they were old enough to know that they are brothers and sisters. 
They were about 12 years of age then. Anybody ought to know that much at 
about that age. The mother says to the girl, “This is your brother and that is 
your brother,” pointing them out to her.—Some of them are really first cousins in 
the American way.—The mother does the same to the boy when he reaches that 
age. The parents know when their children are old enough to be told. The 
mother tells the boys, too; not the father. 


_ Instruction regarding puberty or marital relations was not institu- 

tional. If a girl received any instruction, it was usually given by her 
own mother; but any of her mothers (mother’s sisters) or grand- 
mothers, or aunts (father’s sisters) might also do so. Occasionally a 
mother (one who gave him birth) instructed her son in personal mat- 
ters; sometimes his uncle (mother’s brother) did so; but usually his 
father or grandfather. 


Mothers train girls and fathers usually train boys in the things pertaining 
peculiarly to their natures. Both boys and girls should have their own mind at 
15 and know how to reason things out by then. They ought to be able to be on 
their own soon after that. A sensible father will take the boy at that age and 
teach him every evening the things he needs to know to be a man. ... He will 
take his son, usually in the evening after supper when he has some leisure, and 
talk to him. This talk may last as long as two hours. The father may do this 
until the boy is 20 years of age. He will say to the boy that he takes it for 
granted now that he can take care of himself, do his own thinking, support him- 
self, and be self-reliant. He tells him about life and what he should do in the 
days of his manhood. He instructs him in fatherhood and teaches him what the 
tribe expects of him in manners and how he must establish his own reputation. 
My father used to tell me to be very patient, have great endurance, have consid- 
eration and respect for old people, be kind to the young and the old. These things 
were taught to both boys and girls. The teaching was very emphatic and was to 
be strictly followed. The father taught the son; the mother, the daughter. In 
the days when our people were still a warring tribe, the boy was given addi- 
tional training. He was told to go without food for several days at intervals to 
expose himself to the cold, to be considerate of enemy prisoners, especially those 
that were older than he. We were not to be cruel to prisoners. 


Brothers took particular interest in sisters after puberty. Since con- 
ventionally sisters and brothers did not speak to each other, a brother’s 
instructions and advice to his sister was relayed either through pre- 
puberty siblings or through mothers or other relatives. 


78 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLn, 148 


When children are about 4 or 5 years old, men played with boys and 
women with girls, mimicking adult life. 


The parents followed their routine of work. But the mother, whenever she 
had time, played with the little girl, teaching her to treat her doll as if it were a 
baby.“ The mother does this until the girl is old enough to play with the doll in 
the same way by herself. The girl learns in this way to do the things a woman 
does. When a mother is cutting meat to dry on a rack, the little girl will be given 
a piece of meat to cut, and will also have a little rack on which to dry it. The 
boy will sit near his father and learn by watching him braid ropes from rawhide 
or make bows and arrows. Boys also learnt how to make silver ornaments by 
watching their fathers. Arapaho men used Mexican money or German silver 
bought in sheets in making ornaments. They made ornaments for dresses, brace- 
lets, rings, earrings and decorations for belts. The Navaho use turquoise in their 
silver work, but the Arapaho work is plain and without turquoise. . . . When we 
were children we used to do what we saw our elders do. We would take tin 
cans and sticks and beat them like the drums we saw the old men beat. We 
would hear them sing songs and we would mimic their singing. Sometimes older 
men sat down with us and taught us how to drum and sing . . . I learned about 
animals from older boys who knew better than I did. I also learned from an 
older boy how to make horses, persons, buffalo, and elk of clay. Fathers some- 
times showed their children how to make things. . . . Boys from 8 to 10 years 
old were taught how to shoot arrows, how to aim at buffalo, how to ride 
horseback and how to care for horses.—Horses were their best possessions in 
those days.—When a little older they went out to hunt with older men, especially 
with fathers or grandfathers. They learned from them how to hunt. 


Both boys and girls listened to older persons telling the traditions of 
the tribe. 


The tribal traditions were related from the first snowfall until the grass began 
to grow. ... All other things were told all the year around. The stories that 
have come down to us by tradition—those told by our old people to younger ones 
of each generation—are sacred. They are almost like the Bible. They are never 
told in the summer, but only in the winter. Only old people relate them. And 
you can’t go to sleep while they are being told; you must stay awake. If you go 
to sleep while they are being told; you will be told, “Sit up there, and listen!’ 
Then you have to sit up and listen until all is finished. 


REWARDS, CORRECTIONS, PUNISHMENTS 


Most parents did not use much coercion in training the child. A 
child was brought up “the easiest way,” that is, it was directed to 
conform through advice and conference. If it failed to do So, it was 
either brought into conformity by parents telling it that they were 
hurt because of its conduct or by ignoring it until it conformed. Chil- 
dren were seldom whipped. 

Ome time another boy and I were riding on a pony each. We met two girls who 
were walking to a place to ask a man to lend their parents a horse.—While their 
parents were visiting, one of their horses had walked away; and they did not 


know where it was.—Well, these girls were walking along. We boys, caught up 
to them and said, “Here’s a horse. You ride double on this horse and we'll do 


“It is doubtful that this was done by many mothers. (See pp. 107-108.) 


HILGER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 79 


the same on that horse.” And that’s what we did. But some man spread the 
report that we boys had taken two girls away. This report came to my folks. 
They felt badly. They didn’t scold me, but they said to me, “Son, you made us 
feel badly. We feel badly because of the report we heard about you and those 
girls.” I said, “I didn’t do anything wrong.” That is all I said. But because of 
the way I said it, they believed me. 


Occasionally a child was praised. Sometimes it was rewarded. 


Children were sometimes rewarded for doing a praiseworthy act. They might 
be given fried bread then. Sometimes they were promised this ahead of time. 
.. . A mother might promise a child something if it would be a good child. A 
mother might reward a little girl by buying her a little shawl. . . . Children 
were usually not rewarded. But if I should be visiting my uncle, or my brother, 
or my mother’s sister, or any immediate relative, they might give me a present. 
Children were praised sometimes, however, for alertness, for good judgment, 
and for worth-while activities. They were praised, too, if they volunteered to 
run an errand, or if they took a rope to a pasture or a moccasin away from a 
dog, or if they put out sparks of fire. They might be told, “That’s good,” or 
“There you used good judgment,” or “You have a good mind.” . . . Children were 
not rewarded ordinarily but it was made known that parents were pleased with 
them. It’s just like this: I had a brother older than I. He killed a bird with 
an arrow and brought it home and showed it to my father. My father took the 
bird—the arrow was still in it—and then announced that he would give away 
a horse. The man to whom he gave the horse was about as old as my father. 
Another man called to this man that my father’s son had killed a bird and that 
my father would give him a horse. This was announced at my home; not in a 
large gathering. The man came and got the horse and was grateful. The bird 
was thrown away. It was not eaten. [Sage said:] If a boy was good, his aunts 
[his father’s sisters] or his grandmother on either side prepared a special dish 
for him. She split the large bones of an animal, took out the marrow, mixed it 
with dried chokecherry, and took it to the boy, and said: ‘This is for you. I am 
surely proud of you. You are good to your parents. You behave well and we all 
like you.” He would have to be good after such praise! If little girls deserved 
being rewarded, their aunts made them moccasins and little robes to throw 
around their shoulders. Children’s uncles might go out on hunting trips or war 
parties or on parties catching horses. Such an uncle would bring back 
something to a nephew or a niece who had been especially good. 


Sometimes children were scolded. Hurting expressions and ones 
that usually brought conformity, were “You’re crazy,” and “You’re 
a ghost!” Quoting a Northern informant: “‘He’s crazy’ is the 
worst expression the Arapaho used. Even today if a stranger comes 
around here and does something out of the way and the people don’t 
want us to talk to him, they’ll say, ‘He’s crazy !’ and that classifies him 
for everybody. Everybody ignores him then.” According to a South- 
ern informant, “You ghost” or “You cadaver” or “You dead skeleton” 
were the worst words an Arapaho could be called. “The expression, 
‘Youw’re crazy,’ ” he said, “is very widely used. It originated this way: 
There are certain moths that will fly into the flame of a candle and come 
back into it again and again and be burnt. This animal is called 
haha’ka, meaning ‘crazies.’ Now a person who knowingly goes into 
danger is called haha’ka. When we use this expression there must be 


80 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Buuy. 148 


reasons for doing so. It might be said to a child that is running ahead 
so fast that it will obviously push over a bucket of water; or to a small 
child that is running into a hole of mud which it can see with its own 
two eyes but does not see in its mind. This can be said to any small 
child to whom one is related but should not be said to a strange one. 
A man can also say it to an older boy who acts mischievously, but he 
cannot say it toa girl.” “My mother said ‘You’re crazy’ to a child that 
wasn’t doing a sensible thing, like spilling food or stumbling over 
something.” “A boy who was mean,” Sage said, “was told, ‘You act as 
though, you had a hole in your head’.” The worst expression adults 
could fling at each other, according to Sage, were, “You vulture” or 
“You are eating flesh.” “It is said to persons who have a sharp 
tongue,” he noted. “If anyone would have no pity on other people, 
you could say to him, ‘You have no heart’.”. Another hurting expres- 
sion was “You bear!” The expression, “You buffalo,” was never 
used. The Arapaho had no curse words. 

Children were sometimes frightened into obeying by such expres- 
sions as these: “If you don’t mind ‘the boogerman’ will get you and 
put you into his big sack.” “The owl [or a furry blanket or a bearhide 
or an animal with tusks] will get you if you’re not good.” Favorite 
expressions of Sage were: “You’d better be quiet and go to sleep. If 
not, the owl will hear you!” or “The coyote in the bush is looking this 
way !” or “There is a man with a long nose who will come here if you 
don’t mind!” Grandparents used the above expressions more than 
parents. 

Often children were frightened into staying with a group by being 
told something “would get them” in the place for which they were 
heading. “My mother called to my children or to any of her grand- 
children who tried to run away from her, ‘Come back here. Someone 
will come out of the brush there and take you. Maybe a ghost will 
come out of the brush and take you.’ The children would look at their 
grandmother half scared and believe her. I remember her saying 
that to us when we were children. We never knew what the ghost 
looked like. Sometimes she scared us by saying, ‘A man will come 
at night with a big sack and throw you into it and never bring you 
back again.’ She would also say when the children were noisy, “Che 
owl will hear you!” ‘Even after being told the reasons for not going 
to a certain place children might still want to gothere. An old person 
would then say, ‘Don’t go over there. Someone over there catches 
children and punishesthem. There may bea ghost over there.” Sage 
did not think children should be threatened with ghosts— 

They didn’t scare children by telling them that ghosts would get them. I 
remember when I was about 5 or 6 years old, and we were in camp somewhere, 


a mother taking her 38-year-old child who had been fed but wanted more food— 
the mother thought it was eating too much—and saying to the child, “I am going 


Hien] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 81 


to throw you out there. There is a woman out there with a sack on her back 
waiting to get you.” She took the child and pushed it out and said, “Here now, 
you with the sack on your back, take this child.” A voice out there said, “Yes, 
I will take her.” The child screamed. The child died that same night. Since 
that time I have never heard people scare children with ghost stories. They do 
seare them with owls and coyotes. . . . If children began to wander too far into 
the woods or went too close to the river, they were told, “Stay away from there; 
there is a big bear over there.” 

When children had already gone to a forbidden place, parents 
frightened them away by having someone covered with a bearskin 
sneak into the place and come unexpectedly upon the children. Some- 
times disobedient children throughout the camp were frightened by 
an adult who was disguised by a covering of blanket or hide. 

Very rarely were children whipped. The occasion for a whipping 
was repeated refusals to obey. When children were whipped, accord- 
ing to Sage, they were hit lightly on legs, “anywhere from hips to 
ankles, or across shoulders; they were never to be hit anywhere else.” 
The hand or a rawhide rope was used. After a child was whipped, 
the one who had administered the whipping sat down with the child 
and talked to it telling it not to do the thing again for which it had 
been punished. If it repeated the act, its ears would be pulled, Sage 
remarked, and it would be spoken to thus: “What have you ears for? 
Why don’t you listen with them and obey?” or “You hear and still 
you want to go ahead and do mean and disobedient things!” 

Parents resented anyone whipping their child. Informants ex- 
pressed particular resentment because children had been whipped in 
the schools of the Whites. 

Since we knew our childen would be whipped by the Whites, parents took their 
children to a dance or a large gathering of the people before sending them away 
to school. They gave away presents to anyone that was there. Then they made 
pretentions at Switching the child with a little stick. After that they would 
say, “All right, my child! You can go to school now and be whipped.” ... 
Children were seldom punished. I never slapped my children and never made 
them go without food. I reared them the easy way. ... My mother “paddled” 
us anywhere on legs or buttocks or back. One time I ran into mud with my 
beaded moccasins and leggings. I didn’t want to go home that way so I ran 
into the brush and took them off. I intended to leave them there. But my 
mother found me doing that and took the moccasins and bit me with them. . . 
Since older children had the right to make younger children mind, younger ones 
were made to mind even if they had to be whipped. We whipped the legs or 
buttocks. 

A child was not sent to bed early nor was it refused food as punish- 
ment. Sage had several times seen a bucket of water poured on a 
childasa punishment. Another informant said, “Whoever was trying 
to make a 2- or 38-year-old child mind poured a cup of water on its 
head. If it didn’t mind after the first cupful, the person pretended 
to get another, and that scared the child into doing what was right.” 


892644—52—_7 


82 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLn. 148 


Informants who were grandparents were not in sympathy with 
present-day methods of rearing children. 


Today children need punishment for they act “crazy.” They have too much 
freedom. They won’t stand being reared the way we are. My mother would 
not permit her girls to leave her sight. Mothers would always be with their 
girls, even if the girls only went for water.... Old timers believed much in 
praising children. This encouraged the children in good ways. I was not 
punished very often; I was never whipped. My parents talked to us; some- 
times scolded us if we did wrong. They would say, “Don’t do that any more,” 
but they never whipped us like parents whip children today. ... Neither small 
children nor older ones were whipped. Most children had sense enough to obey 
when they were told what to do. But this younger generation of mothers today 
slap their children. We notice a great difference in the training children are 
given now and that which they were given in our time. In the old days we 
corrected a child in the easiest way we could. This slapping and scolding makes 
a child worse, we think. I had a daughter whom I raised “in the easiest way.” 
When the girl grew older she rewarded me for being good to her by giving me 
things. I also rewarded her daughter for being obedient while she was young 
by getting her things that she wanted, like shawls and other things. No, the 
other children were not jealous of her for getting these things. They were 
just children and didn’t realize.... An Arapaho boy around here recently 
was doing wrong things. So older people talked to him explaining things to 
him. They told him he was doing wrong. But he wouldn’t listen. Finally 
he was caught stealing and put into jail. In the old days they had no use for 
a child that stole things when he was as old as this boy is. They never liked 
a child after it did “crazy” things like this boy did. They kept such a boy 
in the tribe, but they had no use for him. Some children improved themselves 
when they realized that no one had any use for them; but some didn’t care. 
In the old days the grandmother would do much for her grandchildren; then 
the grandchildren would want to do something for the grandmother. 


A FAVORED CHILD 


Favoring a child was probably not institutional; but neither was 
it a rare thing. A grandparent often took particular interest in 
one grandchild and gave it much attention. “Most grandparents 
have a pet grandchild.” Occasionally a parent did so. “My father 
thought more of me than he did of my two brothers; I was the only 
girl.” Favoring a child did not mean, however, neglecting other 
children. “I was my mother’s pet,” said a Northern woman. “She 
favored me always; even after I had sense. She gave me the best 
of anything she had. She gave me more, too, than she gave my two 
sisters. [To which her sister remarked, “We were jealous of her, 
too.”| Both of my sisters made me suffer for it. Mother never 
spanked, but she scolded much. But she never scolded me. After 
I was married, she favored my sister’s eldest son. This boy always 
sat near his grandmother or played near her. If his grandfather 
was there, he would sit next to him and play. His grandfather 
always treated him better than he treated other children. The other 
children were jealous of this boy. ‘The boy was never scolded. He 


O32 


HiLcER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 8 


was a quiet boy. When his grandparents went to Hollywood with 
other Arapaho Indians to act in ‘The Covered Wagon’ and in ‘The 
Tron Horse,’ they took this boy with them. My mother still favors 
him, and me also; he is 22 now. She never corrects him; but, instead, 
defends him. She never orders him around.” 


MENTAL TRAINING 
TIME MEASUREMENTS 


The day’s activity for the Arapaho began with the rise of the 
morning star and ended with the appearance of the Pleiades. Time 
of day was measured from three positions of the sun: The sun at 
45° in the east, at zenith, and at 45° in the west. ‘The time from 
sunrise until the sun was at an angle of 45° was spoken of as “It’s 
still morning”; from 45° to midday, as “It’s going toward noon”; 
at midday, as “The sun is right overhead”; from midday to 45° 
toward the setting sun, as “It’s still early”; from 45° toward sunset, 
as “It’s getting late.” 

The Arapaho made no sundials. A rather accurate position of 
the sun was determined by the angle at which shadows fell. “It is 
easiest to tell noon, for then our shadows are closest to us.” An 
informant, busy preparing to leave for the Sun Dance (July 31, 1942), 
remarked after glancing toward the sun, “I have a washing to do 
still, but I think I can talk with you for a little while.” Then she 
called to her small daughter who was playing nearby, “Stand up 
straight there, and get out into the sun so I can see your shadow.” 
And then remarked, “Yes, I can tell you some things; it’s only just 
past midday.” The girl then turned around to look at her shadow 
and remarked, “That’s right!” After some hours the informant said, 
“It’s going toward evening; the sun is getting low [about 45°] and 
I must get my washing done.” 

Time of night was told by the position of the stars, such as the 
morning star, the Pleiades, Orion, and the Big Dipper. “When the 
‘buffaloes’ (the Pleiades) appeared in the evening, we’d say, ‘It’s time 
for sleep now.’ When they were overhead, it was midnight; when 
they had traveled close to the mountains [Rocky Mountains, west of 
informant], it was morning.” Sage related an identical account, and 
ended by saying: “People rose early in those old days. They couldn’t 
afford to sleep late. They had to be on the alert all the time. They 
had to look out for the enemy; bring in their horses, carry in water. 
Everybody would have had breakfast and then only the sun would 
be coming up.” The interpreter added: “All the old people still get 
up before sunrise. I remember well how early everybody got up when 
T was a child.” 


84. BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Bury 148 


Arapaho had no names for days nor did they group days into weeks. 
When it was necessary to keep count of days, notches were made in 
a piece of wood, often a twig. An instance is recorded by Mallery: 

When a war party encamps for a night or a day or more, a piece of wood is 
stuck into the ground, pointing in the direction pursued, with a number of cuts, 
notehes, or marks corresponding to the number of days which the party spent 
after leaving the last camp until leaving the present camp, serving to show to 
the recruits to the main party the course to be followed, and the distance. [Mal- 
lery, 1881, p. 543. ] 

Changes of the moon were taken notice of, but moons (lunar 
months) were not used as time counts. Most moons were unnamed. 
“We had no names for moons like we have today for calendar months. 
We took notice of the moon as it grew larger or smaller, but we gave 
no names to these moons like some Indians do.” 

The first sign of new moon was spoken of as “The moon is coming.” 
When it looked “like the end of the nail on your left thumb” it was 
“Another moon hung up” or “Just about ready for another moon.” 
Full moon was “A complete moon” or “A moon complete in size now.” 
The last quarter was spoken of as “The moon is dying” or “A portion 
is taken off the moon.” Very old people spoke of the last quarter as 
“The mouse has already cut up the moon.” 

Lunar months, as noted previously, were not given names by the 
Arapaho. But certain natural phenomena which recurred annually 
during a specific moon were associated with a definite lunar month. 
Only two such phenomena were consistently given by informants. 
They were the warm spell in late January, or early February, and the 
appearance of new grass in the spring. Old Northern women counted 
moons from the beginning of winter to the appearance of new 
grass. Winter, they said, began when the leaves fell. First there 
were three moons,” they agreed; “then came the fourth one, the mid- 
winter one, the one like our December is today; then the fifth, the 
sixth, and the seventh. The seventh led into the summer months. 
‘That’s correct, a year had seven months.” The interpreter asked at 
this point how the other 5 moons were accounted for since a year had 
12 moons. They answered: “We didn’t think much of the other five 
moons. We have explained the best we can. We learnt this from 
our grandmother. That is what she used to say, and she used no names 
for moons. We merely observed things as they happened during 
these months and we could tell by them what time of year it was. For 
example, when these mountains [Bighorn Ridge in Wyoming] can 
hardly be seen because of haziness it is time to pick chokecherries.” 
Informants viewed the mountains, discussed the matter between them- 
selves and continued: “Chokecherries are ripe now [August]. See 
the haziness. I know this is true, for one time my grandmother, I, 
my grandfather, my brother and cousin went toward Thermopolis 


Hitcer] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 85 


[Wyoming] to the Bighorn Mountains when it was hazy like it is 
now, to see if the chokecherries were ripe.—That was before we had 
cars.—We all rode horseback. We got to the place where my grand- 
mother knew chokecherries were plentiful. And sure enough, they 


were ripe.” 
Sherman Sage was certain that the Arapaho did not have names 


for all the moons. He said: 


We took notice of the moon during which the cherries ripened. For it was 
the moon that followed this one from which we could predict the winter weather. 
We spoke of it as “The moon during which the sun is getting shorter!” <A large 
ring around that moon forecast a cold winter; a small ring a short winter. Dur- 
ing the next moons it got cold. The cold caused the ground to crack sometimes. 
The buffaio tracks became fewer gradually. Then for several moons every- 
thing lay quiet. The last moon was the one during which everything turned 
green. It’s called “The moon during which the things come out from under 
the ground.” And after that we’d be on the alert for the chirp of a certain 
bird. As soon as it returned, we knew the buffalo were fat and had come out 
into the open. It was a sign for us to be out getting buffalo meat. 


Arnold Woolworth remarked, “Not all the moons have names. Only 
four were named: There is the ‘Winter moon,’ our January of today ; 
‘Middle winter moon,’ sometimes called ‘Spring-and-winter moon,’ 
February of today; ‘Windy moon,’ March of today; and ‘Midsum- 
mer moon,’ July of today.” 

Jessie Rowlodge gave the following account: 


In midwinter, following the coldest days, come warm days, in either Janu- 
ary or February. This period was called ‘Split moon” or “Broken-limb moon” 
by the Southern Arapaho. The Northern Arapaho call the last part of Febru- 
ary, the 2 weeks of warm weather that occur at that time, ‘“Extinguishing-fire 
moon.” They could afford to let the fire in the tipis go out then. The follow- 
ing names for months are probably recent names since they were not used 
by Arapaho in old days. I don’t know where or how they originated. Maybe 
it was because our people in dealing with the Whites had to reckon time in 
months. But most of our people had no calendars used by the Whites from 
which to reckon time. Here are the names: “Broken-limb mocn” or “Split 
moon” (January) ; “Kruitless-chase moon” or “Failure-to-make-successful hunt 
moon” (February) ; “New-grass moon” (March) ; “Thunder moon’ and, for the 
last 40 years, “Colored-egg moon” (April) ; “When-leaves-begin-to-mature moon” 
or “Partly-matured-leaf moon” (May) ; “Summer moon” (June) ; ‘Racing moon” 
(July )—probably so named because races were conducted on July 4th. At least 
this is the name used for the last 60 years. Some months have changed their 
names since we have had contact with the Whites. ‘Lodge moon’ (August) 
[The Sun Dance ceremonial was held during this moon. It is hottest of all 
the months and possibly the Sun Dance was held during it so as to give the 
sun dancers an opportunity to endure not only the tortures coincident with the 
dance but also the heat of the sun]; “Yellow-leaf moon” (September) ; “Fallen- 
leaf moon” (October) ; “Slow-warm-drizzling-rain moon’ (November [A literal 
translation of the Arapaho word is “Shelter-rain moon.” For the past 50 or 60 
years it has been called “Thanksgiving moon’]; “Winter moon” (December). 
For the past 50 or 60 years it has been called “Hanging moon” or “Suspending 
moon” or “Christmas moon.” 


86 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Burn 148 


A 40-year-old Southern woman and her husband, in the sixties, 
knew of only four names for moons: “Winter moon” (January) ; 
“Split moon” (February) ; “Color-egg moon” based on a custom of 
dying eggs for Easter (April) ; and “Clean-up-grave moon,” based 
on May 30, Decoration Day (May). The last two were undoubtedly 
American intrusions. 

Although the Arapaho language has names for four seasons, most 
old informants thought that in old days, the Arapaho spoke only of 
two seasons, namely, winter and summer. Winter began when the 
leaves began to fall or when the Big Dipper was in the west some 
hours after dark. Summer began when green grass appeared. 
Younger informants thought there must have been four seasons since 
there are four Arapaho words for seasons and none lend themselves 
to translation. Winter, called ja’jéné’néi, began when trees are nearly 
bare of leaves. Spring, called ba’néixwi’néi, began when new blades 
of grass were seen. Summer, bé’néjoa, began when leaves on trees 
had completely unfolded. Fall, ta’y6néi, began when berries, young 
birds, and young animals had matured. 

Years were not numbered. Significant tribal and personal events 
were recorded in pictograph. Certain old people also stored in their 
minds a sequence of outstanding tribal events. Their memory was 
thought of as being phenomenal. One such man was mentioned.— 

Just a few years ago, an old man known around here as Blindy, because he was 
blind, died. His real name was Old Bear. He had retained in his memory 
consecutive events of at least 60 years. He was 75 years old when he died. I 
knew this man well. He was as fine-looking an Arapaho man as ever lived. He 
had led several Sun Dances, and was highly respected in the tribe. It is 
possible that his senses, especially his sense of recoliection, had become keener 
because of the loss of his sight. He was an authority on events as they occurred 
from year to year. My folks used to say that I would have a good memory, 
too, because I could describe in detail the tortures of Sun Dancers that I had 
seen when I was 3 years old. The dancers jerked themselves away from the 
center-pole to which they had been tied by thongs passed underneath their skin. 
My sister carried me on her back at that Sun Dance. Well, this old blind man 
recorded events mentally. I heard him relate them. Supposing a man wanted 
to know his age, or that of his wife or son, Old Bear would say, “You sit down 
here near me. Well, you were a child at such and such a time, because such 
and such a thing happened then. Do you remember that?” The one making 
the inquiry would then recall the event, and thereby a certain year. “Well, 
the following spring, or year, this happened.” It might be another event, and the 
person would refresh his memory on that event. That old man would keep on 


telling events that happened each year for 60 years past. These events were such 
as were known to the whole tribe. I have heard him do this. 


Pictographs were engraved on hides, preferably buffalo hides. One 
informant, when a small boy, had seen his grandfather’s pictograph of 
personal events, which his grandfather said was an accurate account. 
It depicted mostly men on horseback. “Do you recall the story I told 
you in which a boy was named Heaps-of-Elks?” the informant con- 


HiteER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 87 


tinued (pp. 58-59). “Well, if a picture had been made of the event, 
it should have shown warriors on horseback approaching timber from 
which elk were running away. But usually only war events were pic- 
tured on hides.” 

Hall classifies Plains Indians’ realistic drawings on buffalo robes 
into three groups— 


time counts or calendars in which remarkable events of successive Seasons, winter 
and summer, were represented in a series of drawings by which the succession 
of these periods was marked for the remembrance of posterity in a particular 
tribe or group; personal records, or biographies, commonly autobiographies .. .; 
and the imaginative records of visions. [Hall, 1926, p. 5.] 

A person’s age was counted by “snows” (winters). “An old person 
today will say he has lived so many snows, if you ask him his age. My 
grandmother always does that.” The ages of all the children were 
recorded by the mother on the antler of an elk or deer, usually on one 
that she used as a hide scraper.*® Each winter, beginning with the first 
one after the child’s birth, the mother or grandmother either punc- 
tured a hole or cut a notch or filed an incision in it. Incisions were 
the length of the mother’s thumb nail and were made parallel to the 
open end of the horn. Each mother possessed an antler so marked. 
The rows of markings ran parallel to each other. The markings for 
each child began at the open end of the horn and proceeded two-thirds 
of the distance toward the closed end, bringing the last mark practi- 
cally to finger-tips-to-wrist distance from the end. If more space was 
needed for markings the next incision was made opposite to the last 
one and all succeeding ones were made parallel to this one, but toward 
the open end of the horn. Anyone reading the ages could tell at once 
that the markings were additional ones and not the beginnings for 
another child. Sometimes a sign which was symbolic of the child 
whose record it was, was engraved ahead of the first mark. An occa- 
sional mother kept age counts of her children beyond childhood. 

Informants gave the following accounts: 

In early days the mother marked the age of her child as 1 year old the winter 
after it was born. A child born now [May] would be 1 year old after the leaves 
begin to fall this coming winter. Each winter a hole was added to each 
child’s age. My mother bored holes in her elk horn. By counting the holes 
she could tell the age of each of her children . . . This is how ages were kept 
count of: on a hide scraper of elk horn the mother made rows of lines like this 
[indicated lengthwise indentions], one row for each child. Some bored dots. 
Each row of lines or dots was headed with a symbol indicating the name of the 
child. For example, if the child’s name was Fire-Wolf, there might be a picture 
of a wolf with a fire over it. Soon after the child was delivered the picture 
might be made. The mother would tell her husband or her mother to do it. 
If a child died, the mother made no more dots. That indicated its death. ... 
My mother had an elk horn, so long [from second joint of fingers to elbow] on 
which she marked the ages of her children. She started at the open end and 


Cf. Kroeber (1902, p. 26) for a similar statement. 


88 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Buxn, 148 


made short successive lines about a quarter of an inch long. Some women made 
little holes instead of lines. One day my mother showed me my age on an elk 
horn. I was 18 years old then. My father said, “From now on you can mark 
your own age. You are old enough now.” My mother gave the horn to my 
youngest sister. In old times the youngest daughter often got the horn. The 
one I have in my home was given to me by my husband’s mother. It shows 
my husband’s age. The one that belonged to my mother was taken by someone 
when my sister died [p. 183]. My mother-in-law gave me hers along with her 
whole tanning outfit when she heard that I was learning to tan hides. Some 
horns had as many as 50 or 60 marks recorded. If they needed a longer line 
than from the opening of the horn to about so far [from fingertip to wrist] 
from the closed end of the horn, they made marks downward toward the 
opening. The mark was made the winter after the child was born. If a child 
was born in winter a mark was made at that time. The second mark was made 
when the child was another year old, or the next winter. When speaking of 
the child’s age the mother would say, “This child has passed one wirter, or so 
many winters.” We didn’t have dates and years like they have today... . 
Old Lady Salt Friday showed me the horn on which her age was marked. The 
last mark was made when she was 28 years old. ... Not every child had its 
own horn. Only the mother or the grandmother had one. If the mother didn’t 
mark the ages, the grandmother did. The ages of both boys and girls were 
marked on the same horn; there was just one horn to a family. When the 
space was all taken up, no more markings were made. My husband’s mother 
marked my husband’s age until he was 30 years old. ; 


COUNTING AND LINEAR MEASUREMENTS 


The Arapaho counted in the following way: one, two, .. . nine 
ten, ten and one (11), ten and two (12), ten and three (13), ... ten 
and nine (19), two times (20), two times and one (21), two times and 
two (22), two times and three (23), . . . two times and nine (29), 
three times (30), three times and one (31), three times and two (32), 
three times and three (33), ... three times and nine (39), four 
times (40),... five times (50), etc., to ten times (100). When 100 
was reached, a notation was made, and the counter began again at 
one. Counting could thus be carried on to 1,000 or more if necessary. 
A record of each 100 counts was made by means of anything at hand 
that could be used to indicate units, such as drawing lines in the sand 
or other surface, or by piling up small stones or little sticks. 

When counts needed to be remembered over a period of time, in- 
cisions were made either on a stick of wood or a horn of an animal. 
Informants recorded ages of their children on an antler of elk or 
deer as previously stated (p. 87). One of Kroeber’s informants re- 
membered the number of buffalo hides that she had dressed by 26 
scratches which she had made on her elk-horn scraper; the 40 skins 
of other animals that she had worked she recorded by 40 small brass 
nails driven into the back of the instrument, at the bend. Another 
woman had cut 30 notches on a small stick to represent 30 robes she 
had made (Kroeber, 1902, pp. 26, 29). 


HineEr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 89 


On every occasion during the present study where counting was 
done, informants did so on fingers beginning with the little finger of 
the left hand. If 10 were counted, the counting ended with the little 
finger on the right hand. As each finger was counted it was either 
folded into the palm of the hand or pushed into that position by the 
index finger of the other hand. <A half was indicated by drawing a 
line with index finger across the inner side of a finger. An informant, 
unable to speak English, wanted to verify the writer’s leaving the 
reservation after 314 days. She signed night in the sign language by 
placing her right hand on the right side of her head and bending her 
head slightly to the right, then folded the little finger of her left hand 
into the palin of the left hand; then the fourth finger; next, the middle 
finger; and then, pointing toward the sun, ran the index finger of the 
right hand across the middle of index finger of the left hand. 

Both the hand and the forearm were tools for measuring. Hand 
stretches extended from the tip of the thumb to the tip of the index 
finger or the middle finger. When more than one hand stretch was 
needed for a measurement, the thumb was glided into the position of 
the other finger (index or middle) and that finger was then moved on 
to another hand stretch. This was repeated as often as necessary. 
If only a little more than a hand stretch was needed, the finger (index 
or middle) was turned on its back to the first or the second joint or to 
the knuckle. A baby’s navel cord was cut at a point that measured from 
the tip of the middle finger to the wrist from the baby’s body. ‘The 
measure for the square piece of cloth laid on a baby’s head when shap- 
ing it was a hand stretch plus the distance to the wrist. Sage used a 
hand stretch reaching from the tip of the thumb to the tip of the index 
finger to show the size of birds and small animals. “We said they 
were so many hand measures long on the back and so many broad,” 
he explained. “Badgers were measured in the same way; so were 
rabbits. Badgers were usually three hand measures long and two 
and one-hali wide. We needed to know this in recent years when we 
sold skins to the Whites. Deer and elk and large animals were not 
measured in any way.” 

A forearm’s length extended from the tip of the middle finger to 
the elbow; sometimes from the knuckle or the wrist to the elbow. A 
watermelon to which an informant had treated cradle makers was 
from the tip of the hand to the elbow in length. The width of buck- 
skin used in making a cradle was a hand stretch reaching from the 
thumb to the tip of the middle finger, plus the length of the middle 
finger from its tip to the second knuckle. In measuring it the inform- 
ant took the hand stretch and then keeping the tip of the middle 
finger in position and using it as a pivot, she folded the hand over on 
its back. All other measurements of the cradle were guesswork based 
on experience, she remarked. 


90 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BULL 148 


To draw a circle the fingers of a hand were spread in fanlike position 
and a dot made off the end of each finger. The dots were then joined 
with a curved line and the diagram folded on a line that connected the 
dot made at the tip of the little finger, with the one made at the thumb. 
The worker then cut as perfectly as possible through both parts of the 
folded material along the semicircumference line. When the diagram 
was unfolded it served as a pattern fora circle. Beadworkers or quill 
workers sometimes needed a circular pattern. 

If a man wished to tell the height of a horse, he stood near it and 
said, “It is as high as my chest,” or “It is so much higher than my 
chest.” Ground was measured by being stepped off. An informant 
demonstrated by taking steps as long as he conveniently could. 

The length and width of a buckskin dress was measured by placing a 
tanned hide against the body of the person for whom it was intended. 
“The maker then cut it so as to be the right length and the shape that 
fitted the person.” 

Moccasins were fitted to the foot. The one who was to wear them 
stood on a piece of rawhide or, more recently, cardboard, while the 
maker drew a line with charcoal around the foot. One informant 
had measured her husband’s foot by using the hand-stretch measure 
since she had nothing in her house on which to mark off his foot, “not 
even the sides of a corn flakes box.” 'To measure the top piece of the 
moccasin, a piece of tanned buckskin was placed over the foot and 
the approximate measurements indicated with charcoal. The stand- 
ard pattern for the top piece was then placed over the one that indi- 
cated approximate measurements and cut accordingly. 

The length of a belt was determined by measuring the waistline of 
the one who was to wear it with a rawhide rope or thong. 


INTERPRETATION OF NATURAL PHENOMENA 


Thunder was the sound made by the wings of the thunderbird “as 
he flew around chasing up the rain.” ‘The blinking of his eyes caused 
lightning. When thunder was heard, cedar was burnt on the fire- 
place. “We were told that the rising fumes would let the thunder 
know that an Indian lived in that place and that he had better move 
on and do no harm.” Standing in water was thought to draw light- 
ning upon one. Mooney (1896, p. 969) wrote that with the Arapaho, 
and also the Cheyenne, the thunder is a large bird with a brood of 
little ones, the large bird carrying in its talons arrows with which 
it strikes the victim with lightning. 

The rainbow indicated a cessation of rain. It was interpreted as 
a fishing line used by an animal that lived in water. Kroeber (1902, 
p. 817, says it is a fishing line for a water monster. Lightning, he 
writes, that struck water was thought to be aimed at the same monster. 


Hsienr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE Oi 


An informant of the present study said: “Some animal in the water 
is using the rainbow in fishing for a bird in the sky, maybe an eagle 
or the thunderbird. The eyes of the animal cause the color in the 
rainbow.” And then she substantiated her belief in the power of eyes 
of certain animals by telling the following: 

My father told this story: He and some men started on a homeward journey 
to the reservation. On their way they saw a place where a big rock stood. 
They stopped to examine the place a little. While doing so they came upon a 
spring that was flowing from the rock. One man went close to the spring to 
see how it came out of the rock. He saw something like the reflection of glass 
come from the water. The men were frightened. They ran and hid in the 
brush. They talked about what they had seen. They thought the reflection 
to be the eyes of an animal that lives in the water. Shortly after they had 
returned home to their own reservation, the man that had seen the glare that 
looked like shining glass in the water died. The men that didn’t see the glare 
lived. They thought it was the eyes of the animal that lived in the water that 
caused the man to die. That is why Arapaho think the animal in the water has 
some kind of power.” 

Other informants said: “When the rainbow appears, the thunder- 
bird has taken to fishing for alligators in the clouds.” “The rain- 
bow is a fishing line, one end of which is held by a man while the 
other end is catching a fish.” “Pointing at the rainbow will make one’s 
finger sore.” 

A total eclipse of the sun predicted an event that would affect all 
the people unfavorably, such as an epidemic of sickness. Quoting 
Sage: 

Formerly, in very old times, when someone announced that it looked as though 
the sun and the moon were exchanging places, the Arapaho men took their 
arrows and stood outside the tipis waiting for the sun to turn things reddish. 
That occurred just as the sun and the moon exchanged places. Sometimes 
things did not turn reddish. That occurred when the sun and moon only met 
and did not exchange places. But if they exchanged places, it meant sickness 
was coming to the tribe and all the men then shot their arrows directly at the 
eclipse. All the other Indians during this time sat in their tipis, singing and 
making fumes by burning cedar. 

Ann Wolf had been told by her grandmother of an eclipse of the 
sun that occurred when the Arapaho first settled in Wyoming. “The 
sun disappeared entirely,” her grandmother said. “It was dark like 
dusk. They could hardly see anything. They wondered what would 
happen if the sun would be gone forever. Old men wondered how 
they would get buffalo then. But in a few hours the sun was back 
again. My grandmother also told me that when I was 2 years old, 
we had a partial eclipse. The people were frightened. Some went 
to ask a White man if he thought the sun would stay away always 
now. He told them not to worry; it would come back. And it did 
come back.” Ann Wolf had never heard the old people discuss an 
eclipse of the moon. 


® For a similar account see Kroeber (1902, p. 317). 


92 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLy. 148 


A comet was thought to be a star with a tail. The three stars in 
linear position in Orion were thought to be “three buffaloes in a row.” 
Dawn was near when they were in the west. 

Sage said no significance was attached to northern lights; accord- 
ing to several other informants, they predicted a storm. Ann Wolf 
had been told by her grandmother that they threatened sickness. ‘The 
grandmother had told Ann’s mother to burn sweet-smelling grass 
(néyaa’hi) and the turnip-shaped roots (niada’) day and night until 
the lights no longer appeared. This, she said, would keep away 
sickness. Other informants said that formerly men shot with guns 
at the northern lights to prevent sickness from overtaking them. 
“Even today, when I see the lights, I fear sickness, like colds, will 
come on us and on the Whites, and I burn sweet-smelling grass and 
roots. This custom comes from way back. I don’t know what causes 
the lights.” Southern informants believed that “way up north, land 
was burning and that this caused them.” One informant said they 
were sun rays reflected from icebergs. 

Regarding Arapaho beliefs related to the sun and the moon, Mooney 
(1896, p. 1006) wrote, “With the Arapaho, as with many other tribes, 
the moon is masculine, and the sun is feminine. In mythology the 
two are brother and sister. There are various myths to account for 
the spots on the moon’s surface, some discerning in them a large 
frog, while to others they bear a likeness to a kettle hung over the fire. 
The Arapaho name for the moon, b?’gushish, means literally ‘night 
sun,’ the sun itself being called hishinishish, ‘day sun.’” Regarding the 
morning star, Mooney (1896, p. 1011) wrote: “With all the prairie 
tribes the morning star is held in great reverence and is the subject 
of much mythological belief and ceremony. It is universally repre- 
sented in their pictographs as a cross, usually of the Maltese pattern.” 

The Arapaho interpreted some phenomena of nature as forecasting 
weather. Generally, however, they relied on weather prophets, men 
who had “medicine” to forecast weather. “There was always one old 
man on the reservation who was consulted when we needed to know a 
weather forecast. His predictions always seemed to come true.” “An 
old man called Fur Hat was the only one who could foretell such 
things as weather, and the whereabouts of elk and buffalo.” Sage 
knew of no ways of foretelling weather. “It used to be the old men 
who knew,” he noted. “I don’t know whether or not they dreamed that 
power. They could even predict snowfalls.” 

Some forecasts based on natural phenomena were general knowl- 
edge: When birds flew south, winter was on the way. Very certainly 
was cold weather on the way when cranes flew south. Cranes could 
not easily be seen for they flew very high; but they could be heard. 
When they returned, warm weather was soon to follow. “The first 


Hiverr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 93 


storm preceding warm weather came right behind them.” A ring 
around the sun or moon predicted a storm; so did northern lights. 
“Weather was best predicted by the color of clouds. Rain clouds are 
dark black; snow clouds, greyish white; hail clouds, white. I don’t 
know what causes hail.” Sun dogs forecast cold winters. “Old 
Indians said the sun had campfires on each side, and consequently the 
Indians prepared for a very cold winter.” Cold weather was also 
predicted by aimless and unprovoked stampeding of horses or by the 
senseless chasing of dogs. ‘When horses chased each other round 
and round or when they stampeded like wild horses, we knew there 
was a snowstorm on the way and that the winter would be cold. In- 
dians would say to each other that they had better prepare for a cold 
winter. Theold men would tell their wives to weight down the edge of 
the tipis with plenty of rocks to keep the tipi covers down and thereby 
the cold out. The same thing was said when dogs chased each other 
round and round.” 

Throwing rabbitskins into fire did not produce a storm, but “if 
a child twirled a button or the top of a tin can or anything round and 
flat by pulling two strings that had been run through the middle of it, 
the old people took it away saying that twirling it would cause high 
wind.” Mooney describes a similar hummer and also a “bull-roarer”: 


The hitiku’tha, or hummer, is used by the boys of the prairie tribes as our boys 
used the “cut-water”’, a circular tin disk, suspended on two strings passed 
through holes in the middle, and set in rapid revolution, so as to produce a hum- 
ming sound, by alternately twisting the strings upon each other and allowing 
them to untwist again. One of these which I examined consists of a bone from 
a buffalo hoof, painted in different colors, with four buckskin strings tied around 
the middle and running out on each side and fastened at each end to a small 
peg, so as to be more firmly grasped by the fingers. It was carried in the dance 
in 1890 by an old Arapaho named Tali Bear, who had had it in his possession 
for twenty years. Another specimen, ... now in possession of the National 
Museum, is similar in construction, but with only one string on each side. 

A kindred toy—it can hardly be considered a musical instrument—is that known 
among the Whites as the “‘bull-roarer.” It is found among most of the western 
tribes, as well aS among our own children and primitive peoples all over the 
world. It is usually a simple flat piece of wood, about 6 inches long, sometimes 
notched on the edges and fancifully painted, attached to a sinew or buckskin 
string of convenient length. It is held in one hand, and when twirled rapidly 
in the air produces a sound not unlike the roaring of a bull or of distant thunder. 
With most tribes it is simply a child’s toy, but among the Hopi, according to 
Fewkes, and the Apache, according to Bourke, it has a sacred use to assist the 
prayers of the medicine man in bringing on the storm clouds and the rain. 
[Mooney, 1896, p. 975.] 


Rain could be expected “if two persons like us [65- and 75-year-old 
women] tussled, pulled and pushed, and teased each other, and one 
would throw the other into that irrigation ditch. Also, if one person 
would throw a bucketful or a basinful or a cupful of water on the 


94 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLL. 148 


other, rain would follow.” Handling the sacred pipe incorrectly also 
caused rain. ‘The appearance of the rainbow ended the rain. “We'll 
have no more rain or storm after that.” 


LANGUAGE 


When a child’s fontenals showed signs of closing, the Arapaho would 
say, “That child will soon begin to talk and to have a little sense.” 
In order to hasten its ability to talk, it would be fed the meat and, 
at times, the eggs of meadow lark, for meadow larks were thought to 
speak Arapaho. Anyone could kill the meadow lark, but usually the 
maternal uncle of the child did so. “But anyone could do so. The 
mother skinned the bird, cooked it, and fed it to the child. Children 
certainly talk much when you feed them meadow lark” (pp. 41-42). 

A child was taught words by being directed to concentrate and then 
to repeat the names of articles. “I taught my children that way. Td 
say, ‘Here!’ and get a child’s attention. Then I’d show it an article 
and have it pronounce the name after me.” During the period of the 
present study children of both Northern and Southern groups, more 
especially of the Northern group, spoke in Arapaho more frequently 
than in English. In several instances preschool children spoke only 
Arapaho, but understood English. Two groups of boys and girls— 
one group of 10, of two families, and another of 5, of two families—all 
spoke English fluently but used Arapaho exclusively while working 
and later while playing and swimming. Most informants over 60 
spoke no English. 

No dictionary of the Arapaho language is now available. Neither 
has the language been recorded to any extent."* In 1862 Burton wrote 
regarding the Arapaho language that it possessed a very scant vocabu- 
lary and was pronounced in a quasi-unintelligible way, and that the 
Arapaho could hardly converse with one another in the dark. 

Bourke, who did not agree with Burton, wrote in 1890: 

It took a very small examination to satisfy me that the Arapahoe tongue was 
copious, and, if deprived of its guttural and nasal modulation, would not be 
without beauty and softness. [Bourke also wrote:] I was not ignorant enough 
to give the slightest credit to the sensational story set afloat by Burton, the 
Wnglish traveller, to the effect that the Arapahoe dialect was so meagre that 
for purposes of conversation the members of that tribe had to rely upon the 
“Sign Language.” This statement had been quoted by KE. B. Tylor in his “Harly 
History of Mankind,” a work I had with me, and it was therefore proper to 
verify or refute it." 


Cf. The Gospel According to Saint Luke written in Arapaho and published by the 
American Bible Society, New York, 1908. 

™ Burton, 1862, p. 151. Cf. Kroeber, 1916, for a study of the Arapaho language. 

58 MacKenzie’s last fight with the Cheyennes (Bourke, 1890, p. 218). 


Hiner] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 95 


Clark, too, noted the richness of the Arapaho vocabulary. He wrote 
in 1885: 

Their vocal language is entirely different from any other I have ever heard, 
and it is almost an impossibility for a white man to learn to speak it. They 
are known as among the best in gesture speech, and used it to such an extent that, 
until recently, it was supposed their vocal language was so poor as to make it 
necessary; in fact, some people had stated that to such a degree were they 
dependent on signs that they could not carry on a conversation in the dark. 
Their vocal language, however, has a rich vocabulary. [Clark, 1885, p. 39.] 

Mooney, who recorded some Arapaho script and a brief vocabulary 
in the 1890s, wrote that the Arapaho language was eminently vocalic; 
that almost every syllable ended in a vowel; that there were almost no 
double consonant sounds; that in some instances there were com- 
binations of several vowel sounds without any intervening consonant; 
that the language lacked the 7 and 7; that g frequently approximated 
k, and d, ¢; that 6 became v in the standard dialect of the Northern 
Arapaho; and that the language had a guttural g not found in the 
English language. Michelson told the present writer in 1936 that 
glottal stops are extremely common in Arapaho and that scarcely any 
nasalities occur. 


Fewkes, commenting on Michelson’s studies of 1926-27, says: 

It can not be denied that Algonquian elements occur in both the vocabulary 
and grammar of the language, even though the phonetic shifts are highly com- 
plex. But certain lexical elements, as well as certain morphological traits, 
must apparently be derived from other sources. From these preliminary studies 
it may be said that Arapaho might almost be called a stock in the making. The 
circumstances render an exhaustive study of the language highly desirable. 
[Fewkes, 1928, p. 4.] 

The sign language, a system of pantomimic gestures used by the 
Plains Indian Tribes of various linguistic stocks as a means of inter- 
communication, was learnt by the Arapho child both by observing 
persons using it and by being taught formally how to make the signs. 
“All Arapaho children had to learn to use the sign language, for it 
was the only way in which our people could tallx with other tribes. 
Children learned many of the signs by observing older persons using 
them. But grandfathers or fathers often took aside a child, or several 
children, both boys and girls, and taught them how to make the signs. 
We don’t know how the signs originated.” “I learned the signs by 
observing people use them. No one taught them to me. All the old 
men and women used the sign language when I was a boy [now 80 years 
old]. I was 10 or 11 years old when I began to learn the signs. I 
can’t sign Chippewa, but Blackfoot is signed by touching something 
black and then touching the foot.” 


“4 Mooney, 1896, p. 1012. 


96 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLu. 148 


A sample of the sign language may be found in the various signs 
that indicated Arapaho Indians. Mallery gleaned them from the 
literature in 1879-80; one sign was to touch the chest in different 
places with one hand, thereby indicating tattooing. Tattooing the 
chest was an Arapaho custom (p. 140). Another sign was to seize 
the nose between thumb and index finger. This indicated “Smellers,” 
a name given to the Arapaho by some tribes. A third sign was to rub 
the right side of the nose with the extended index finger of the right 
hand or merely to pass the finger upward alongside the right side of 
the nose. It is possible that this sign was used only for the Southern 
Arapaho. A fourth way was to touch the left breast. This imphed 
“Good Hearts,” a name by which the Arapaho called themselves. 
This sign may have applied only to the Northern Arapaho. (Cf. 
Mallery, 1881, pp. 542-48; cf. also Blackmore, 1869, p. 310; Tomkins, 
1926; Hadley, 1893; and Harrington, 1938.) 

The Arapaho pictographed tribal events, personal calendars, and 
vision quests (pp. 86-87). (Cf. Mallery, 1886, 1893; Ewers, 1939, 
pp. 68-64; Kroeber, 1902, pp. 428-434; Hoffmann, 1897.) Only adults 
made these. 

SIGNALING 


The Arapaho used long-distance signaling to make known their 
whereabouts and also to communicate the sighting of an enemy or of 
a herd of buffalo. They signaled through physical activities, such as 
the use of the voice and bodily actions; through the use of (ee ects; and 
by means of strategem. 

Sage related the following regarding signaling by voice: 


When our tribe was ready to move camp, two or three men were sent ahead 
as a scouting party. The older men would say to the scouts, “There is a place 
ahead where we want to camp. Go and look around up there.’ I was sent 
with such scouting parties. I recall one time when we got to a place where we 
eould look across an area, we saw Utes camped at a distance. Now, the Utes 
were our enemies. In such instances we signaled to our people. We did this 
in different ways. If we were at quite some distance from the enemy’s camp, 
we sent out a sound like this, ‘“Whooooo!” all in one high note. Those who were 
back in our camp would hear that, and they would know that we had seen the 
enemy. When the enemy was much nearer than that we made a sound like this, 
“Pur-r-r-r-r!” This would let our people know that the enemy was very near.— 
There is a bird that makes a sound like that, a bird that flies round and round 
and looks down.—This sound was made more especially when we came to a high 
elevation and noticed the enemy just below on the other side. Our people 
farther back would let us know that they had heard our signal by singing, “They 
have seen the enemy close by.” If it looked as though it were going to be late 
evening before we could arrive at our camping place, the old men would send the 
scouts ahead to find the place. It would have to be a place where there would 
be water and berries. Sometimes it happened that we would find other Indians 
already camped there. We would then signal back to our camp with this sound: 
[Informant made unsuccessful attempts to imitate a call note of a bird.] I can’t 


HILcER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 97 


make the sound because my lower front teeth are missing [he said]. Our peo- 
ple would then camp where they were, but they would rise early the next morn- 
ing and raid the others. 

The Arapaho did not signal by successive emissions of smoke, which 
was done by making a smudge and covering it with a hide so as to en- 
case the smoke. When enough smoke had been collected the hide was 
lifted to let the smoke rise. Immediately the hide was dropped again 
and when a sufficient amount of smoke had collected, it was raised and 
the smoke allowed to rise to give a second signal, followed by a third, 
a fourth, etc. They did, however, build a fire and then stifle it with 
grass, allowing the smoke to rise just once. ‘The fire was quickly ex- 
tinguished by throwing handfuls of dirt on it. This type of signal- 
ing was customarily repeated at intervals on the homeward journey 
after a successful raiding expedition, one in which no man had been 
lost. “Our people would see the smoke, know that we had been suc- 
cessful in the raid, and also know that there had been no bloodshed.” 

A Northern woman told of smoke signaling: 


It might happen that part of a camp, when moving, dragged on behind while 
the main body made headway. The ones ahead would not stop to wait for the 
laggers. Nor would they stop to signal because they could easily follow the 
tracks made by the dragging tipi poles, and finally come to camp also. But it 
sometimes happened that men were not able to keep up because of difficulties 
in keeping the horses corralled, and so got lost. If the camp thought these 
men were lost, it built a big fire so that the lost men, seeing the smoke, could 
tell where the camp was. We never signaled by sending up successive puifs of 
smoke nor by riding on horseback back and forth or in circles on a hilltop. 


Nor did the Arapaho throw up handfuls of soil to signal by means of 
dust. 

Mallery recorded the following information which he obtained from 
the Southern Cheyenne, Bobtail and Big Horse, and the Southern 
Arapaho, Little Raven and Left Hand, in 1880: 


A party of Indians going on the War-path leave camp, announcing their 
project to the remaining individuals and informing neighboring friends by 
sending runners. A party is not systematically organized until several days 
away from its headquarters, unless circumstances should require immediate 
action. The pine-bearers are appointed, who precede the party while on the 
march, carrying the pipes, and no one is allowed to cross ahead of these indi- 
viduals, or to join the party by riding up before the head of the column, as it 
would endanger the success of the expedition. All new arrivals fall in from 
either side or the rear. Upon coming in sight of any elevations of land likely 
to afford a good view of the surrounding country the warriors come to a halt and 
secrete themselves as much as possible. The scouts who have already been 
selected, advance just before daybreak to within a moderate distance of the 
elevation to ascertain if any of the enemy has preceded them. This is only 
discovered by carefully watching the summit to see if any objects are in motion; 
if not, the flight of birds is observed, and if any should alight upon the hill or 
butte it would indicate the absence of anything that might ordinarily scare 


892644—52 8 


98 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Bunu. 148 


them away. Should a large bird, as a raven, crow, or eagle, fly toward the 
hilltop and make a sudden swerve to either side and disappear, it would indicate 
the presence of something sufficient to require further examination. When it 
is learned that there is reason to suspect an enemy the scout, who hag all the 
time been closely watched by the party in the rear, makes a signal for them to 
lie still, signifying danger or caution. It is made by grasping the blanket with 
the right hand and waving it earthward from a position in front of and as high 
as the shoulder. This is nearly the same as civilized Americans use the hand for 
a similar purpose in battle or hunting to direct the “lie quiet.” 

Should the hill, however, be clear of any one, the Indian will ascend, slowly 
and under cover as much as possible, and gain a view of the country. If there 
is no one to be seen, the blanket is grasped and waved horizontally from right 
to left and back again repeatedly, showing a clear surface. If the enemy is 
discovered, the scout will give the alarm by running down the hill, upon a side 
visible to the watchers, in a zigzag manner, which communicates the state of 
affairs. 

Should any expedition or advance be attempted at night, the same signals 
as are made with the blanket are made with a firebrand, which is constructed 
of a bunch of grass tied to a short pole... . 

A hunting party in advancing takes the same precautions as a war party, so 
as not to be surprised by an enemy. If a scout ascends a prominent elevation 
and discovers no game, the blanket is grasped and waved horizontally from 
side to side at the height of the shoulders or head; and if game is discovered 
the Indian rides back and forth [from left to right] a short distance so that 
the distant observers can view the maneuver. Ifa large herd of buffalo is found, 
the extent traveled over in going to and fro increases in proportion to the size 
of the herd. A quicker gait is traveled when the herd is very large or haste on 
the part of the hunters is desired. 

It is stated that these Indians also use mirrors to signal from one elevation 
to another, but the system could not be learned, as they say they have no longer 
use for it, having ceased warfare (7). [Mallery, 1881, pp. 452-453.] 


TRAINING IN MORALS 


COURTESY 


The Arapaho are a friendly people. Once the visitor is accepted 
every courtesy is shown him. Many do not come forward, however, 
to become acquainted. Many are reserved, too, but this is in accord- 
ance with Arapaho courtesy. Arapaho women who instructed the 
writer in the technique of first contacts with their people told her not 
to be surprised if informants acted aloof all during the first interview. 

The writer was advised to follow the courtesy custom of distribut- 
ing her gifts almost immediately after meeting the people. She her- 
self and not her companion should do so, since it was she who would 
do the interviewing. Among gifts smoking tobacco was an indispen- 
sable one. It was to be given to men and women and postadolescent 
boys and girls alike. Favorite tobacco was Bull Durham, “the tobacco 
that has the tissue paper on the side of the package and that, therefore, 
can be rolled by the person himself. We like cigarettes but we usually 
do not have enough money to buy them. We therefore buy Bull 


HILGER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 99 


Durham, and we all like it well.” Plug tobacco was to be given only 
to old people. These used it as an ingredient in herbal medicinal 
prescriptions. Noone chewed it for sheer pleasure. “Only old people 
know how to use herbs and roots and tobacco as medicines.” Eatables 
and clothing were to be distributed to all alike, old and young. Candy 
was to be given, preferably, to old men and women. Children seldom 
ate candy. In several instances, 3- and 4-year-old children had never 
eaten candy. All-day suckers were used by some as hammers! 

As soon as gifts were accepted, one was made to feel one belonged to 
the family. Since interviewing was usually done out-of-doors, clean 
canvas or blankets were spread on the grass or ground. Chairs or 
boxes or benches were set on these. Often, too, a table was brought for 
the convenience of writing. 

The acceptance of tobacco by the older people carried with it an 
obligation to comply with the writer’s requests. Courtesy must now 
most certainly beshown by them. Ifthe tobacco was refused, she knew 
that her time would be wasted attempting an interview; in fact, she 
might be discourteous if she did not depart, for such is the custom. 
One such instance occurred. Being most anxious to interview a 
Southern Arapaho who had been recommended as one of the best 
informed men and one entirely reliable, the writer placed several pack- 
ages of smoking tobacco and a few squares of chewing tobacco into his 
cap which he was holding in his hands. He listened to her request 
but remained silent. More tobacco was added; still no response. She 
told of the money she was in a position to pay, in his case a double 
amount since he spoke English well and no interpreter was needed. 
He sat in silence for a few minutes longer seeming to think. Then he 
rose and emptied all the tobacco into the writer’s lap. Insistence that 
he keep at least some of it as a gift brought the response: “No, ma’am. 
Thank you. I'll keep none of it for I do not want to be under any 
obligations of telling you any of our customs.” 

Greeting at meeting is traditional among the Arapaho. Once rap- 
port was established, informants and members of their household, as 
well as friends who dropped in, shook hands at each interview with 
the writer and her companion. Small children also did so; if they 
failed to do so, they were reminded by elders. Old people called out 
greetings to each other when meeting. On several occasions they were 
seen to kiss when first meeting. A 70-year-old woman remarked on 
such an occasion, “In old days when chums or members of a family had 
been separated for a long time and they met again, they kissed each 
other. They were so glad to meet each other. But brothers and sis- 
ters never kissed; they had too much respect for each other. They 
just shook hands.” Upon the word of Wolf Moccasin, a 74-year-old 
Arapaho, Clark (1885, p. 41) recorded that, “In shaking hands they 
rub the palm of the hand over the arm and body immediately after- 


100 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLL. 148 


wards, if they have great confidence in and respect for the person 
whom they were saluting. Their custom was to embrace before meet- 
ing the whites.” Arapaho chiefs threw arms around necks and em- 
braced Fremont and his party who came upon their village in 1848. 
Fremont (in Bushnell, 1922, p. 37) thought that probably strangers 
were always so received when respect and regard was being shown 
them. 
HOSPITALITY, GENEROSITY, KINDNESS 


Arapaho children were taught early in life to extend hospitality to 
strangers; to be generous to everybody, especially visitors; to be kind 
to the physically handicapped, to orphaned children, and to the aged. 

Jessie Rowlodge told of the instructions received from his father: 


My father told me and her [his niece] the following, and I have heard her 
father tell her also: ‘“‘Watch the four ridges. Watch for visitors or strangers 
that may come over the hill. Watch for them so that you can be of service to 
them. Try to be the first one to give food to the man that comes over the hill. 
If barefooted, give him a pair of new moccasins, or give him the old pair off your 
own feet if you have no new ones. If a dog comes into your tipi wagging his 
tail as if hungry, give him food even if it is out of your own mouth. If someone 
wants to strike you, let him strike you. You will hurt him more by letting him 
strike you than by striking him. Be sure to have fat horses, no matter how 
poor your saddle. Don’t try to dress attractively except in good moccasins and 
a fine head dress, but have a well formed body’. I’ll never forget these words 
of advice of my father. [His niece remarked,] Yes, my old father told me just 
about the same things. 


Sage said any man or woman without pity for other people was told, 
“You have no heart!” And then continued: 


My mother often told me to follow my father’s example. “Now look at your 
father here. He is brave, truthful, kind to everybody. Do like your father has 
been doing.” My father instructed me to be kind. He would say, “If any people 
come to your tipi, give them food to eat immediately. Be kind to orphans. Have 
pity on them and always be good to them. After I am gone always bear this in 
mind: God will give you good luck if you are kind to orphaned children. If you 
have a friend or see a boy who is poor and who needs clothing, and you have 
extra blankets and moccasins stored away, help him out. Don’t be afraid to take 
off the moccasins you are wearing and give them to him or give him those that 
you have put away. There will always bemore. Be especially kind to old people.” 
When we went to look for our horses, my father would say to me, “If you are out 
like this and there is an old man looking for his horses, tell him to sit down. 
Then you find his horses and bring them to him. Treat an old woman in the 
same way. If you see her going for water, take the bucket and get her some 
water. If she is carrying water or wood, you carry it for her. Call old people 
grandfather and grandmother, even if they are not your grandfather and grand- 
mother.” 


Treating the aged with courtesy and respect was institutional. Chil- 
dren were taught to do so. Relatives considered it a duty to care for 


their aged. “Our old people were taken care of by their children. 
Wherever old people wished to go, that’s where they were taken in.” 


HIncEr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 101 


“My father was blind. When I was a little boy, I was always near 
him. When I grew older, I supported him and clothed him. I lived 
with him until he died.” 

Sage had never heard of any means by which an Arapaho parent 
could discover a righteous child. The Chippewa way of offering a 
child both charcoal and food and judging it to give promise of becom- 
ing a worth-while person if it chose charcoal was not known to the 
Arapaho. 

QUARRELING, TALEBEARING 


If children of the same family quarreled, parents interfered. “I 
would make them stop quarreling. I had no child that I couldn’t 
handle by telling it what I wanted it to do.” 

Parents disliked children to quarrel with neighboring children. 
Such quarreling usually caused misunderstandings between parents of 
families, for parents often took the part of their own children and cor- 
rected the neighbor’s. “Mothers of quarreling children usually started 
a quarrel between themselves. But if one of the women was a good 
woman, she would say to the other, ‘Iam glad I have someone else than 
myself to correct my children.’ But if both were quick-tempered, a 
quarrel resulted. A woman with sense would tell her children to get 
along with others.” Children were taught to leave the place in which 
quarreling was going on. 

Talebearing was discouraged. Children were told when they 
brought a tale that such action was undesirable. A child was taught 
as early as possible not to be a talebearer or a rumor carrier, or to 
indulge in gossip, or to fight back in case of a dispute. If there was a 
dispute, it was to leave the place. Girls were taught to be friendly 
with other girls. “Children were carefully trained in all this.” 
“Nothing was done to children who bore tales; they were merely told 
not todoso. If children came to tell on others who had been fighting, 
they were told to stop talking.” ‘Older people tried not to give 
children an occasion to listen in when things were being discussed 
that they did not wish to have repeated. If two older persons were 
talking, and a child was seen coming, one would say to the other, ‘So 
and so is coming now.’ Both persons would simply not talk while 
the child was there, and consequently the child would leave.” “A 
talebearing child is scolded and told not to carry tales back and 
forth. We just keep after it until it stops.” 


BOASTING, HONESTY, STEALING 


Boasting was discouraged. Children were made to give evidence of 
the matter of their boasting. If facts regarding the thing boasted 
about. could be produced, they were demanded. If it was an ability 
that the child was boasting about, an opportunity to discover the true 


102 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Buut. 148 


worth and difficulties of the action was created for the child. The 
child was made to demonstrate the ability. Children usually avoided 
a boasting child. “Children didn’t boast very much. But if an 
Arapaho child came home and said, ‘I caught a fish,’ or ‘I found a 
turtle,’ the mother or father would go to see if it were true. If a boy 
said he caught a rabbit, the father or mother would go to look at it. 
Tf it was his first rabbit, the father would take a stick and break it— 
the stick represented a pony—and call some person by name to come 
to see the rabbit. This person might not be present, but the announce- 
ment that the parent had made would eventually travel as news to 
the proper person. This person would then come to the child’s house 
to get the horse. It might happen that the boy caught his first rabbit 
while a visitor from another tribe was present. In that event the 
horse was given to the visitor. This might happen when a boy was 3 
or 4 years old. This was the first important event in the child’s life 
of which he spoke the truth, and much was made of it. It had proven 
to be the truth.” Sage’s father said to him, “Try to be good. Learn 
to do things before you boast about them.” After instructing him not 
to boast, his father took him along on his next hunting trip. He 
wanted to teach him how difficult things really were. “That,” he 
added, “usually quieted a boy down. I knew a boy who told younger 
children—he didn’t go to boys of his own age to say this—‘I am good 
looking. I can do this and that.’ Parents couldn’t do anything about 
that, but usually other children didn’t have much to do with such a 
child.” 

Taking anything from a member of an enemy tribe, including his 
life, was considered honorable. Success in stealing horses from an 
enemy tribe was the height of achievement. Children were not part 
of raiding expeditions; boys well in their teens were. Sometimes 
such boys, more or less secretly, formed a marauding gang to try their 
success in stealing horses. Stealing was done at any time from dusk to 
dawn ; occasionally in daylight. A successful daylight expedition was 
a legitimate boast. De Smet in writing of the Pawnees in 1859 tells 
of Arapaho stealing their horses: 


A great number of Pawnee Indians were encamped at a little distance from 
the Fort. I came near witnessing a battle between them and a war party of 
Arapahoes, who, favored by the night, had succeeded in approaching the camp 
unseen almost forty strong. The Pawnees had just let their horses loose at 
break of day, when the enemy, with loud cries, rushed into the drove, and 
carried away many hundreds with them at full gallop. The alarm immediately 
spread throughout the camp. The Pawnees, indifferently armed and almost 
naked, rushed to the pursuit of the Arapahoes, caught up with them, and a 
combat more noisy than bloody took place. A young Pawnee chief, the most 
impetuous of his band, was killed and three of his companions wounded. The 
Arapahoes lost one killed and many wounded. Desirous to stop the combat, I 
hurried to the scene of the battle with an aid-de-camp of the general, but all was 
over when we arrived ; the Pawnees were returning with their dead and wounded 


HitcER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 103 


and all the stolen horses. On their return to camp, nothing was heard but 
cries of sorrow, rage, and despair, with threats and vociferations against their 
enemies. It was a harrowing scene. The deceased warrior was decorated and 
painted with all the marks of distinction ofa great brave, and loaded with his 
finest ornaments. They placed him in the grave amid the acclamations and 
lamentations of the whole tribe. [De Smet, 1865, pp. 73-74.] 

Arapaho children were taught in a formal way that honesty was to 
be shown to fellow Arapaho. They were told during periods of in- 
structions not to lie or to steal. Persons in the community who were 
known to have lied or stolen were held up as persons whose deeds were 
not to be imitated. 

Younger children who had in their possession stolen articles were 
made to return them; older ones were punished for such possessions 
and received no sympathy. 

A very small child may take a pair of moccasins from a neighbor’s place. 
If it hasn’t enough sense to know what it has done and what it means to steal, 
there is no use telling it to put them back. If a child is very smart—sometimes 
a child is that smart at three—it will put them back where it got them when 
told to do so. Just as soon as it has sense enough to know, it can be made 
to put them back. To teach a child you may have to take it by the hand and 
walk to the place from which it took the moccasins and make it put them back. 
If the child is about 11 years old, I’d tell it to take them back and I’d make 
certain it did take them back. I wouldn’t whip it like the young generation does 
today ; but I would see to it that the child put them back. I might have to go 
with the child to see that it did so; but I’d see to it that the child would put 
them back. If a boy 14 or 15 years old stole, he would have to take his punish- 
ment and go to jail. He is old enough to know. We told you about such a boy 
(p. 82). We'd have nothing to say; we’d just let him take his punishment. ... 
My aunt [father’s sister] told us not to steal, for if we did many warts would 
grow on our hands. 


Sage’s father and mother both instructed him. 


But my father more than my mother [he said.] When I was about 10 years old, 
my father said, “Don’t ever steal or tell lies. Don’t ever steal! If you find 
something around here, don’t keep it.” The two things my father talked to me 
about especially were not to steal and not to lie. When a young man where we 
lived would lie, my father would say to me, “That man lies. He steals too. 
Don’t ever do that.” 

When an informant was asked to tell about time counts on elk 
horns that she had seen other women keep, she remarked, “I have never 
cared to take notice of other people’s things; they don’t belong to me. 
I don’t consider it honest to be curious about other people’s belong- 
ings.” “My parents always trusted me, and I have always tried to 
live up to that trust,” said her friend. 

If public affirmation of the truth was required, a man was offered 
a ceremonial pipe to smoke. The Plains Indian ceremonial pipe, ac- 
cording to Mooney (1896, p. 1063) was made of catlinite, a red stone 
found in the pipestone quarries of Minnesota, the former Sioux 
country. “Smoking this pipe was like taking an oath.” The same 


104 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Buxn. 148 


pipe was smoked when treaties were ratified to impress upon all that 
the treaty was made with full deliberation and was binding. 


SUICIDE, MURDER, CANNIBALISM 


Suicide was a rare event among the Arapaho. A person who com- 
mitted suicide, it was believed, would not enter the same place in 
life after death as did other Arapaho. “That’s what they claimed” 
(p. 161). Informants spoke of a Northern man guilty of rape who 
committed suicide to escape a jail sentence. “When he saw two In- 
dian policemen coming to take him, he sat down on a spot near his 
mother’s home where his brother had died, placed his gun to his heart, 
and shot himself. I saw it.” 

A Southern woman hung herself in a tree by means of a rope be- 
cause her father-in-law had scolded her. “I know this to be true for 
she was my sister. A father-in-law was not to talk to his daughter-in- 
law. If he did, the daughter-in-law was much grieved.” A South- 
ern man “worried and worried about himself. He was always a sick 
man. Finally he stuck a butcher knife into his heart.” 

In the early days very old people sometimes asked to be left be- 
hind to die when camp moved. If the old person had only distant 
relatives, the wish was sometimes granted; near relatives were never 
known to do so. A Southern informant related one such instance: 


Our old people tell how persons who were a hundred years or older would 
ask to be left to die when camp was moving. They tell of a woman who was 
left like that at her own request at a place in Wyoming, now called Hell’s Half 
Acre [east of Casper, between Casper and Hudson]. We were still with the 
Northern Arapabo at this time. On the following morning when the men went to 
look for her, she could not be found. She had disappeared. There were no tracks 
of her own or of any beasts to be found. It was thought that maybe a beast had 
devoured her. She was never heard of again. It was after that that the peculiar 
formations in the cave at Hell’s Half Acre began to be formed. 


A 70-year-old Northern woman related a forced suicide: 


One time we camped on the other side of the railroad bridge. The people had 
just gotten rations. My mother had prepared dinner and called her sister. 
Her sister’s husband held something against his wife but no one knew what. 
While the woman was sitting outdoors, her husband was sneaking around, 
coming closer to her. Just as she stooped over to get up to come to dinner, he 
shot her. My grandfather and other men searched all through the brush for 
this man. They caught him. My grandfather grabbed him and said to him, 
“Hither you kill yourself or I will kill you.” 'The man took his knife and cut 
his own throat then and there. Nobody cared to have anything to do with the 
body. He had an old grandmother. She dragged it a short distance from the 
eamp. Then with some sticks she dug a hole deep enough for his body, rolled 
him into this hole, and covered him up with dirt. 


An Arapaho who either murdered or accidentally killed a person 
of his own tribe or of a friendly tribe was treated as an outcast by his 


55 For similar statements see Mooney, 1896 ; Kroeber, 1902, p. 319; and Scott, 1907, D. 558. 


HILGER] . ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 105 


own people. “Warriors would not listen to his dreams. They would 
not eat of the same food with him, or sleep with him, or chum with 
him, or listen to any advice given by him.” 

Kroeber says that for a murder or accidental killing, horses had 
to be given to the relatives of the dead; that the murderer had no 
influence or position, and was shunned. He could participate in the 
tribal affairs, camp in the camp circle, and enter dances. ‘“Every- 
thing that he ate was supposed to taste bad to him” (Kroeber, 1902, 
p. 17). Informants of the present study said a murderer’s children 
would never be healthy. 

Sage knew of two murders among the Arapaho due to jealousies: 

I remember one instance in which a man killed another because of a woman. 
There were two women married to one of these men. These women were not 
sisters and were very jealous of each other. One woman made up stories about 
the other and told them to their husband. She tried in this way to make bim 
like her more than the other woman. The other woman discovered this and the 
two women got into a quarrel. The mother of the woman who was being talked 
about came over and took the part of her daughter. By now her daughter had 
the other woman down and the mother stuck a knife into her [the accuser’s] back. 
I know of another case. The woman liked a man better than her husband, and 
her husband liked her less than the other man did. So she asked her husband 
if she couldn’t go to this man. He answered, “Yes, if he likes you and you like 
him, you can go to him.” So she went to him. The husband never bothered 
them. But the woman’s father, for some reason, killed the first husband with 
a bow and arrow. This woman had been good enough to teli her husband this 
man wanted her, and her husband didn’t even become angry. I don’t know why 
her father should have killed the man. 

One informant insisted that in very early days an Arapaho murderer 
could regain his status by doing the following to a member of an 
enemy tribe who had been killed by an Arapaho: He had to crush the 
skull of a dead enemy, eat a pinch of his brain, taste his blood, break 
a bone and taste the marrow, taste his flesh, taste a tip of the liver and 
a little of the heart, and some fat from around the heart. He had to 
do this before an eyewitness. 

If the above is correct, it is the only instance in which human flesh 
was eaten. Cannabalism was not practiced by the Arapaho. Starva- 
tion which forced the Chippewa to do so was never endured by the 
Arapaho. “We always had buffalo.” Sage said his own people never 
ate any part of a human being; he had heard of other tribes doing so. 
“This was way back,” he added. “I used to hear the people tell that 
all the Indians everywhere talked the same language, and that they 
never fought. Then time went on. They started different languages 
and this made tribes. Some followed one tribe and others, another. 
By and by they could only talk the language of their own tribe. This 
started fighting among them. They fought one another. When they 
killed an enemy, they cut open his body and took out the liver. Then 
they cracked open the big bone in the upper leg and took out the 


106 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY - [Bunn 148 


marrow. Then they ate the marrow with the liver. But the Arapaho 
never did that.” 

A woman in her sixties and her friend in the seventies seemed 
shocked when told that the Chippewa Indians sometimes ate a small 
piece of flesh of a conquered Sioux. The younger woman remarked: 
“My father knew much about the warpath, but I never heard him or | 
my uncles say that they ate the flesh of an enemy or of any human 
being. After an enemy was killed, they took away all his belongings, 
but the Arapaho never ate his flesh. Neither would Arapaho eat it if 
they were starving.” 


CHILDREN’S DIVERSIONS 


Playing, swimming, riding, romping, and mimicking elders in adult 
living were the Arapaho children’s chief diversions. They spent hours, 
too, listening to elders telling stories for their entertainment. Often, 
too, they listened in when traditional and historical tribal accounts 
were related, or personal experiences were retold. 


CHILDREN’S PLAY 


Arapaho boys and girls played together until they were about 9 or 
10 years old, after which they played apart (pl.16). It was during the 
late preadolescent period—sometimes earlier—that each boy found his 
chum. Girls did likewise (pl. 19). Chums were institutional. Often 
chums were lifelong friends. 

During the years when boys and girls played together, mimicking 
elders occupied much of their play life. Girls might each have a play 
tipi, 2 to 3 feet high. On the floor of each tipi were a number of skins 
of the ground squirrel. Little girls accumulated these just like their 
mothers did the hides of buffalos. Some were used as beds; others, as 
floor mats. “The fur of the ground squirrel is a pretty tan color, with 
a white line down the back and white dots sprinkled on both sides of it.” 

A Northern man said: 


My wife busied herself right after the birth of one of our granddaughters (1988) 
making toys for her. She made little hide pouches and a little back rest of three 
rows of willows sewed together with sinew. In the early days we used large ones 
like these for beds in our tipis. An adult size was generally from 27 to 30 inches 
long, and painted red and yellow (p. 182). My wife made the little one just like 
the ones for adults, only much smaller. It tapered at the ends and could be rolled 
up. The edges were finished off with strips of hide that were beaded along the 
borders. Sometimes a gift to a little girl was a little beaded tipi and tipi poles of 
cedar. The tipi was large enough so that a few children could play in it. Little 
boys were often given tops made of hardwood or a little bow with arrows or a 
javelin made of a small rib bone of deer or antelope. Today the bone of young beef 
is used. The javelin was used in a game played on ice or on smooth ground. If it 
was thrown in a certain way, it returned to the thrower. Other gifts for children 


HILeer] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 107 


were buffalo-horn spoons and elk teeth. Blk teeth were passed on from one 
generation to another, usually in their own relationship.” 


Mimicking the Sun Dance (pp. 148-151) and the lodgedances 
(pp. 117-124) was forbidden. No prohibition existed, however, for 
social dances. In fact, children were allowed to participate with their 
elders in social dances, such as the Rabbit Dance, the Owl Dance, the 
Wolf Dance, the War Bonnet Dance, and the Squaw Dance. Quoting 
an old Northern man: 


When mimicking grown-ups, the little boys pretended they were the sons of 
the little girls, or a girl might pretend that one of the boys was her husband. As 
husband, he played going hunting. Boys molded ponies out of gumbo; and fine 
ponies they were! If boys played war, they put warrior dolls made of gumbo 
on ponies. Then they set these in groups facing a certain direction, and pre- 
tended they were going on a warpath. Boys also made drums and mimicked 
social dances. They and the girls would dance just like the old people did. I 
remember one time when a group of us children wanted to play dying—someone 
had died—but we weren’t allowed to play that. 


Dolls were the chief toys of girls at play. They were made by plac- 
ing a soft substance, usually buffalo hair, grass, or snips of softly 
tanned hide, “‘as large as the first joint of a woman’s thumb” on the 
center of a piece of buckskin bringing all sides of the buckskin together 
and then tying a string about the buckskin so as to hold the soft sub- 
stance in place. This soft ball, then, was the head; the tied place, the 
neck; and the remainder of the buckskin, the body. The doll was both 
armless and legless. Its sole clothing was a piece of buckskin wrapped 
about it as elders wore a blanket. Beads were usually sewed on one 
side of the head to indicate eyes, nose, and mouth. 

Quoting Agnes Yellow Plume with Ann Wolf corroborating: 


The dolls we played with were rag dolls. They were merely little round heads 
with rags hanging down. When we made one, we tried to get a piece of cloth 
of black and white print. The black represented the hair; the white, the face. 
These dolls had no arms or legs. They were wrapped in pieces of cloth to make 
them look as though they wore shawls. We had several of these shawls and used 
to change them like White children today change the dresses of their dolls. I 
had four such dolls. These dolls were always considered grown-up people. 
When we were little girls and our people were still traveling around, we used to 
make horses by taking two willow twigs, and bending them like this [semicircles] 
and fastening them to a straight piece of willow so as to make the whole look 
like four legs and the back of a horse. Then we tied another piece of willow to 
one end of the straight one, for the head of the horse, and some weeds to the 
other end, for a tail. Then we put a little piece of rawhide over it for a saddle 
and sat the doll on that, pretending it was traveling. We even attached tipi 


56 Toys collected by Cleaver Warden and G. A. Dorsey on the Wind River Reservation in 
Wyoming in 1905 and now found in the Chicago Natural History Museum are a parfleche 
(Cat. No. 58084), a pipe bag (58086), a saddlebag (58083), clothes bags (58085), and 
knife sheath (58232). A cow or ox toe bone, used as a whirling toy by Arapaho children 
collected by Voth, is deposited in the United States National Museum (Cat. 165819). 
The writer found no toys of early days among either the Northern or the Southern Arapaho. 


108 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [ Buu. 148 


poles to that horse and had other horses for pack horses.” We never treated our 
dolls as though they were babies. We never fed them the way the White girls 
do now. I have seen them give a doll water from a bottle with nipple and then 
change its diaper. We wouldn’t do that. According to our customs, we were 
not even to talk about babies. Our dolls were always treated like adult persons. 
Nor did we ever make men and women dolls. We never had immodest thoughts 
about dolls, like a woman and a man doll living together. Those Indian men 
and women dolls seen in stores are not dolls at all.” They are figures dressed 
up to show the White man how the Arapaho dressed. A White man who used 
to come around here asked to have them made. He wanted them dressed up 
in buckskin beaded dresses and moccasins to show how our women dressed, and 
in buckskin leggings and shirt to show how the Arapaho men used to dress. After 
that other Indian women made them to sell to White people. The Arapaho 
children had only one kind of doll, the kind we told you about. The first time 
I saw a woman doll and a man doll was in Oklahoma. I wondered what tribe 
of Indians had made them, or maybe the White man had madethem. The Indians 
down there said a White man had asked to have men and women dolls made 
to show White people how the different tribes dress, and that was how those 
happened to be made. 


When asked if they used cradles for their dolls, similar to the ones 
used for babies, the same informants answered, “No, we never had any- 
thing whatsoever pertaining to babies connected with our dolls. The 
Arapaho never made cradles for anyone but a child.” 

Much play time of both boys and girls was spent horseback riding. 
“As soon as I was able to ride horseback, that is when I was about 4 or 5 
years old, my father let me have my first pony I already had bows 
and arrows. I was also given a saddle.” Swimming or merely play- 
ing in the water was one of the chief pastimes of the preadolescent 
boys and girls. During the seasons of the present study, small boys 
and girls, without clothing, were seen swimming and bathing together 


57 A similar toy (Chicago Natural History Museum, Cat. No. 58110), collected by 
Cleaver Warden and G. A. Dorsey among the Northern Arapaho in 1905, is a rag doll seated 
in a saddle on a horse made of a bent willow an inch in diameter and approximately 16 
inches long. Behind the doll are two cylindrical bags, each 3 inches long and 4 inches 
in diameter, one resting on each side of the horse. The bags are attached to each other 
by buckskin thongs. Underneath the thongs is a 1%4- x 2%-inch pad. A carefully and 
well-made toy horse attributed to the Arapaho (Cat. No. 501/1331), purchased from B. T. 
Tefft in 1910, is exhibited in the American Museum of Natural History. From head to 
tail the horse measures 8 inches; its height is 64%4 inches. The body is of tan leather, 
and tightly stuffed. The hoofs are of wood, and the tail is of horse hair. 

53’The same informants and the interpreter agreed, when shown photographs of Arapaho 
dolls (pls. 21, and 22), that they were of Arapaho make. Pointing at plate 21, 
they remarked: “We know it is Arapaho from the cut of the dress and the design in bead- 
work, and the way the beads are placed. It is just like the ones you see in stores made 
by Indian women to sell to the Whites. We never played with such dolls. And our 
children don’t play with them today.’ Doil. Cat. No. 200,774, on plate 22, 1, was Arapaho, 
too, “for it was the way the Arapaho used to dress.” The same women were certain 
also that the toy cradle, plate 23, was not Arapaho, but Sioux. They were not certain 
regarding the doll in it, Cat. 200,744 of plate 22,2. Two Arapaho dolls representing 
women are found in the Chicago Natural History Museum. Both were collected by G. A. 
Dorsey : Cat. No. 70748, in Oklahoma in 1901; Cat. No. 61432, on the Wind River Res- 
ervation in Wyoming in 1900. Two Arapaho dolls, one representing a woman (Cat. No. 
501/1348) and the other a man (Cat. No. 50.1/1379) purchased from E. T. Tefft in 1910, 
are found in the American Museum of Natural History. An Arapaho doll (Cat. No. 
86.985) collected on the Wind River Reservation in 1900 is found in the University of 
Pennsylvania Museum. 


HILGER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 109 


and playing games in rivers and creeks in the vicinity of the homes 
of the Southern group and in the irrigation ditches throughout the 
area of the Northern group. 


PET ANIMALS 


Every Arapaho boy and girl, when still small, was given a pony 
as a gift. Often a child was given a pony shortly after its birth. 
Other ponies were added as gifts as the child grew older. It was not 
unusual for both boys and girls to own several ponies or horses before 
they reached adolescence. A particular pony was usually a favorite 
one. “A child can own anything. Things are saved for it from the 
day that itis born. Maybe after the child is a few days old, its young- 
est brother, or any relative, will bring it a gift, or maybe give it a 
pony. He will not actually bring the pony, but will say, ‘I want the 
child to have a pony I have.’ The parents can then get the pony any 
time they wish. Usually they will take it only when the child is 38 
years old. Although sometimes the youngest brother will fetch it 
earlier. Boys begin to ride a pony at 3.” 

Quoting a Southern informant: 

Now if a woman had a mare and it had a male colt, her eldest boy had first 
rights to the colt, next to her husband, and then her younger brother. It was 
customary that she give a male colt to these persons in that order. If the colt 
was a female, she gave it to her daughter; if she had no daughter, she herself 
retained it. If aman received a mare as pay for services, or if he had traded 
one in for furs—say the furs of otter that he himself had trapped—and this mare 
had a female colt, he gave the colt to his mother-in-law. If someone gave his 
child a pair of. moccasins—these were usually given by a woman cousin—he 
gave the donor a horse he had received in trade. It was our custom that if 
anyone gave a child a pair of moccasins, the father gave the woman a horse or a 
tipi in return. Both Arapaho men and women have always owned things, and 
they had rights regarding the disposal of their belongings. I remember a young 
man who married a girl who had ponies in her own right. He cared for them, 
but never claimed them as his own. 

Both boys and girls of the early day had pet dogs. “We never 
whipped a dog, but we scolded him. We taught him his name by 
holding some food in the hand and calling him by his name. We never 
rewarded a dog.” Many Arapaho children today have pet animals. 
“One of my sons has a pet dog,” said a young Northern woman. “It 
was given him by his cousin. Children are often allowed to select 
their own pets. Relatives will say, ‘Come and pick out what you like.’ 
They may have young dogs or lambs or calves to choose from. My 
other son has a pet lamb. Yesterday while we were gone, it got away 
and the boys spent four hours looking for it. They found it by fol- 
lowing a trail made in the sand by the rope with which the lamb had 
been tied and which was fastened to its neck. Some children make 
their pets understand their language. My daughter had two pet dogs 
when she was a child.” 


110 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLL. 148 
CHUMS, EARLY ADOLESCENCE 


The most intimate playmate in late preadolescence was a chum 
(pl. 19). Having a chum was institutional, not only for boys and 
girls, but for adult men and women as well. A chum often remained 
a lifelong friend. Informants spoke of a departed chum with much 
feeling, sometimes in tears. Ann Wolf told of her chum: 


I had a chum who was one year younger than I. I met her at boarding school 
and learned to know her there. She was 16 and I was 17. We were lifelong 
chums; she is dead now. It was customary for every girl to have a chum. 
Usually there were just two that were chummy, not three or more. Our hus- 
bands became chums after we were married to them. They, too, were chums 
until they died. I used to tease my chum’s husband. There was a lot of 
difference between those two men. My chum’s husband was friendly. Mine 
hardly spoke; he was a quiet man. My chum and I exchanged gifts, I gave her 
a beaded buckskin dress of blue beads, moccasins, a shawl, Some dress goods 
and necklaces. She gave me similar things. Our husbands exchanged horses. 
TI am the only one left of the four. [Agnes Yellow Plume agreed with Ann 
Wolf, but she herself had belonged to a girls’ “set”.] Three girls and I were 
chummy [she remarked]. I never had only one chum. I never exchanged gifts 
with these girls. If a chum died the other one usually did not choose another 
chum. Girls all had chums. Boys, too, had chums. In those early days men 
didn’t marry until they were about 30; so their chums meant much to them. 
Chums were sometimes separated for a long time. When they met again, they 
were so glad that they kissed each other. 


At about the age of 12 a boy became a member of the first of the 
boys’ ceremonial lodges (pp. 117-118). From then on his play ac- 
tivities were those of comembers of his lodge. His play was entirely 
apart from girls. Great emphasis was placed on physical training. 
Training for adult life, too, took on a more serious aspect. 


Boys swam rivers, brim full and still rising. They ran races practically every 
evening. They climbed trees and were encouraged to run long distances and 
not to use their horses. These were to be saved for occasions when they might 
wish to show them off. Riding horses continuously wore them down. Fathers 
and brothers, too, encouraged boys to walk long distances and to sleep out at 
night on the grass, when en route. This was done even if they had plenty of ponies. 
Boys were encouraged, too, to carry heavy weights on their backs, such as turkey, 
deer, and fish, or even a log for firewood.—Women gathered smaller pieces that 
were used for tipi fires.—Boys were sent on errands, too, from camp to camp. A 
mother in one camp might tell her son to pack a parfleche of meat and berries, 
weighing from thirty to forty pounds, to another camp that was fifteen to thirty 
miles away. Boys wrestled a great deal, too, especially with boys of their own 
age of another tribe, like the Kiowa, Comanche, or Apache. All these tribes might 
be camping out not so far apart. Some boys in our camp might yell, “Koo! 
Hoo!” to boys in the other camps. Some boys from there might answer back. 
That meant the challenge had been accepted. Off would go our shoes! Our 
pants be rolled up! Sides began to approach each other. Soon there was a clash, 
a running and jumping against each other, kicking each other with the feet. 
Hach tried to dodge the other. If one of them retreated, one of us would run 
after him and try to catch up to him. Both boys and young men wrestled like 
this. When young men played it, it was quite rough. 


Hitcer] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 111 


Occasionally girls ran races toward a goal, or kicked balls toward 
it. Kroeber tells of a game played with stuffed deerskin balls by 
girls and women. The balls, he writes— 


are attached to a string, by which they may be held while being kicked. It 
would seem that these balls are as much implements for some form of juggling 
as they are balls to be actually thrown. They are made of two circular pieces 
of skin. These are apparently stuffed into hemispheres, and then their edges 
are sewed together by a back-and-forth stitching of sinew. Along this seam, the 
ball is often painted of a color different from the remainder of the surface, which 
appears to be almost always colored. Sometimes there are spots of paint on 
each side of the hemisphere. [Kroeber, 1902, p. 394.] 


Culin collected a buckskin ball used in a girl’s game among the 
Northern Arapaho in 1900. The ball, 214 inches in diameter, has a 
median seam and has a 19-inch thong attached to it. One face is 
decorated with a cross in colored quill work. When playing, the 
end of the thong was held in the hand and the ball thrown up and 
caught.” | 

A girl’s play life usually ended with puberty. Learning the duties 
of a housewife now became paramount. Mothers or grandmothers 
assumed the role of teacher. 


When a girl first washed dishes, cooked, or baked bread, did her first sewing 
or made up beds, really when she did things that a woman was expected to do, 
her mother would say, “You know how to cook now—or maybe to sew. I'll get 
you some material to sew.’ She might get her a hide to make moccasins. The 
girl would then sew something for a child or a relative. Then the mother would 
say, “Now you go and take these to your brother’s baby or sister’s baby.” After 
the girl baked her first bread, the mother would cut it to pieces and say, “You 
go, give this to your brother, your sister, your grandmother.” The people would 
then see that the girl was learning. No presents were given by the mother when 
the girl did these things for the first time. That was only done for the boy 
when he came home after his first successful hunt. 


GAMES 


Culin classifies games played by the North American Indians as 
games of chance and games of dexterity. Among the games of chance 
played by the Arapaho, he records dice games and hand games; among 
those of dexterity he lists archery, snow snake, hoop and pole, ring 
and pin, shinny, and hand-and-foot ball. Minor amusements of the 
Arapaho he classifies as swings, tops and buzzers.° Some games were 
played together by Arapho boys and girls; others they played apart. 


59 Culin, 1907, p. 705. Specimen, Cat. No. 36977, is found in Free Museum of Science 
and Arts, University of Pennsylvania. 

© Culin, 1907, pp. 36-37. For an account of games played by Arapaho, see Mooney, 
1896, scattered through pp. 962-1023; Kroeber, 1902, pp. 368-397; Culin, 1907, and the 
items therein described and found in Culin’s Collection in the University of Pennsylvania 
Museum; and Dorsey, 1903, p. 187-191, for games played by children during the Sun 
Dance. 


112 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [ BULL. 148 


Jessie Rowlodge told of two games played by boys and girls to- 
gether. 


One of the games, called Hanatécha’hatiét (Packing-each-other-over), was 
played by boys and girls from 7 to 10 years of age. The players, both boys and 
girls, all sat in a row with feet outstretched facing one way. Wither a boy or a 
girl was “It.” “It”, some distance from the row at a designated goal, started 
moving toward the row, either closing his eyes tightly or covering them with 
his hands. He was not to see. Those in the row clapped knees with hands, and 
each said something—just anything—to confuse the “It.” The “It” came closer, 
kicked the foot of one in the row, picked him up by the feet, and carried him 
head downward to the goal. While carrying him over, the “It’ swung him 
around two or three times, asking him, “‘Tell what you like.” “Tell where you 
live.’ Answers were the name of Some meat or something much liked, and the 
place where one lived. Then the “It” dropped the captive at the goal. The 
“Tt” again blindfolded his eyes and moved toward the row. The one at the 
goal directed him by saying, “Move a little to the right,” or “Go way over to the 
left,” thereby telling the “It”? just about where his [the one at the goal’s] chum 
was. The game ended when all the row had been brought to the goal. [Describ- 
ing the other game, Rowlodge said:] This was a game played in water. In 
the early days small boys and girls intermingled without hesitancy of being 
immodest. They swam together and played together unmolested. In those 
days both boys and girls played games in the river. We played this in my time 
[now 57 years old] and it was played in her time [now 40 years old]. ‘The 
children were nude sometimes; sometimes they wore some clothing.—But after 
the girl showed signs of physical development, she was no longer allowed to 
play with boys.—One of those playing, either a boy or a girl, was “It.” “It” 
lined up all the others. Everybody had to be in water up to the waistline. The 
“Tt” faced south. As each child came up to “It’—let us say it is a boy—the boy 
wet his own ears and nostrils with water. Then the “It” lifted him up, rested 
him on both of his [‘‘It’s”] hands so the boy’s chest was skyward, and asked 
“What kingdom?’ The boy answered either frog, hawk, fish, stone, tree, buffalo, 
ete., after which the “It dipped him into water and then turned him somer- 
saulting backward through the water. 


The Arapaho game batiqtu’ba (abbreviated “tiqtup”)—classified as 
snowsnake by Culin—according to Mooney, was played by boys and 
girls together. Mooney wrote: 


Tt is a very simple game, the contestants merely throwing or sliding the 
sticks along the ground to see who can send them farthest. Two persons or two 
parties play against each other, boys sometimes playing against girls or men 
against women. It is, however, more especially a girl’s game. The game sticks 
(bitiqta’wa) are slender willow rods about four feet long, peeled and painted 
and tipped with a point of buffalo horn to enable them to slide more easily 
along the ground. In throwing, the player holds the stick at the upper end 
with the thumb and fingers, and, swinging it like a penduium, throws it out 
with a sweeping motion. Young men throw arrows about in the same way, and 
small boys sometimes throw erdinary reeds or weed stalks. Among the Omaha, 
according to Dorsey, bows, unstrung, are made to slide along the ground or ice 
in the same manner. [Mooney, 1896, pp. 1007-8.] © 


61 Mooney is also quoted by Culin, 1907, p. 400. 


HILeER} ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 113 


Dorsey (1903, pp. 187-191) gives the “game of buffalo meat” and 
the “game of choosing grandfathers” as games played together by 
boys and girls from 7 to 14 years of age. 

Spinning tops was played by boys only. Jessie Rowlodge, who had 
spun tops in his childhood days, said: 


Tops were spun only by boys. Tops were made from some hardwood, such 
as walnut, hickory, or oak. The boys usually made the tops themselves, although 
their fathers, brothers, or mothers might make them. A top was about 1% 
inches in diameter and tapered to. a point so it stood about 1% inches high. 
The tip of the point was tempered by being heated in a fire. Tops were usually 
spun on ice, but could be spun on any smooth surface. They were sometimes 
spun in the sand to show how well spinners could spin. Hach spinner had a 
stick about the thickness of a finger and 2 feet in length. At one end of it, 
two strands of buckskin % inch wide and 18 inches long were attached. They 
were either tied to the stick with sinew or glued to it with gristle. When a 
player was ready to spin his top, he wrapped the buckskin string around the 
tep, laid the top near his feet with point toward his left [the top was placed 
to the right of his feet], the end of the stick held in the hand and when all was 
ready, he pulled the stick with a quick movement and then followed his top, 
whipping it along with the buckskin of his stick. Tops actually hummed. Some- 
times boys made their tops fight, like man to man, and played them aiming 
that one should hit the other. The one that split when they met was the one 
that lost.“ Younger children, Mooney (1896, p. 1006) notes, made tops by run- 
ning a stick through a small seed berry. These were twirled with the fingers. 


Mooney (ibid., p. 962) also records a favorite game of contest be- 
tween boys, called chi’chita’né, “in which the player, while holding in 
his hands a bow and an arrow ready to shoot, keeps in the hand which 
grasps the string a small wisp of grass bound with sinew. He lets this 
drop and tries to shoot it with the arrow before it touches the ground. 
The wisp is about the size of a man’s finger.” 

Kroeber lists a hoop and pole game played by boys: 

Netted hoops thrown at with arrows are made by grown-up people for boys. 
They are properly made of a green stick and a single long thong of buffalo- 
skin. The wheels are used in several ways, sometimes by two parties of boys 
drawn up opposite, and sometimes by a smaller number. One way of playing 


is to throw the wheel so that it will roll over another player’s bent back. This 
player then runs after it to spear it. [Kroeber, 1902, p. 386.] * 


A favorite pastime for boys while sitting around, according to 
Jessie Rowlodge, was to take turns pinching the skin on top of the head 
of other boys. Three usually played this. 

A Southern Arapaho described a game of dice, called “bouncing 
game,” as played exclusively by girls or women: “A certain number of 
diamond-shaped bones were marked so as to represent different scores. 
They were placed in a basket and the basket bounced so vigorously 
on a hard surface that all the bones landed outside the basket. Scores 


“For a similar note see Mooney, 1896, p. 1006. Also quoted by Culin, 1907, p. 733. 
@ Mooney (1896, p. 994) describes a wheel game played by men in early times. 


892644—52—__9 


ines BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLL. 148 


were kept by sticks stuck into the ground near the players. Four, five, 
or six could play the game.” Culin (1907, pp. 53-54) describes a set of 
dice and a basket collected by Mooney among the Southern Arapaho 
in 1891 as: “Set of five dice of buffalo bone, marked on one side with 
burnt designs, and basket of woven grass, 9 inches in diameter at top 
and 2% inches deep. The rim of the basket is bound with cotton cloth, 
and the inner side of the bottom is covered with the same material. 
The game is played by women.” * Mooney (1896, p. 1005) wrote of 
the dice game: “Any number of women or girls may play, each throw- 
ing in turn, and sometimes one set of partners playing against another.” 
According to Kroeber : 

The bone or seed game consists of two or more sets of either two or three 
dice, and often of a basket in which these are tossed. The dice are sometimes 
made of plum stones or similar seeds; in other cases, of bone. Whatever the 
material, they are usually marked by burning one side only, though occasion- 
ally they are incised, or bored with rows of holes, such marks being then filled 
in with paint. The shape of the bone dice is most frequently circular, rectangu- 
lar, or rhomboidal. Sometimes the ends of the rhombus are cut off, resulting in a 
hexagonal die; and not infrequently the rounding of the rectangle or rhombus 
gives rise to oval ferms. The number of dice in a set, a set being the number 
of identical dice in a game, is either two or three. The number of sets consti- 
tuting a game is from two to five, though only two seis seem generally to be 
used at one time. The count depends on the combination of marked and unmarked 
sides as the dice fall. [Kroeber, 1902, p. 387.] | 

Although children did not participate in adult games, they were 
observers. A favorite game of their mothers, and of adult women in 
general, was shinny. Mooney recorded shinny being played by 
women with curved sticks and a ball like a baseball made of buffalo 
hair covered with buckskin. “Two stakes are set up as goals at either 
end of the ground, and the object of each party is to drive the ball 
through the goals of the other. Each inning is a game” (Mooney, 
1896, pp. 964-965). A shinny ball collected by Granier among the 
Northern Arapaho probably previous to 1890 (pl. 24) is approxi- 
mately 314 inches in diameter, 1014 inches in circumference one way 
and 10 the other. Tis weight is nearly four ounces. An attached 
buckskin thong is 614 inches long. It is completely covered with 
beads, the ground work being white glass beads and divided by two 
intersecting lines of red beads. Each quarter segment contains a 
design in colored beads. Designs on opposite sides are alike. 

The following selection from Mooney not only describes the game 
called “hunt the button” as played by Southern Arapaho men and 
women, but probably gives a good description of the social atmosphere 
in which Arapaho children spent many winter evenings: 

« Specimens are in the U. S. National Museum (Cat. Nos. 152802 and 1528083). 

% The ball (U. S. National Museum, Cat. No. 200764) was thought to be of Sioux make 
by two Northern Arapaho women in their seventies. “The design is not Arapaho. The 


Arapaho women may have played with it. But it was probably a gift from some other 
tribe,” they remarked. 


Hiner] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 115 


This is a favorite winter game with the prairie tribes, and was probably more 
or less general throughout the country. It is played by both men and women, 
but never by the two sexes together. It is the regular game in the long winter 
nights after the scattered families have abandoned their exposed summer posi- 
tions on the open prairie, and moved down near one ancther in the shelter of the 
timber along the streams. When hundreds of Indians are thus camped together, 
the sound of the drum, the rattle, and the gaming song resound nightly through 
the air. To the stranger there is a fascination about such a camp at night, with 
the conical tipis scattered about under the trees, the firelight from within shin- 
ing through the white canvas and distinctly outlining upon the cloth the figures 
of the occupants making merry inside with jest and story, while from half a dozen 
different directions comes the measured tap of the Indian drum or the weird 
chorus of the gaming songs. Frequently there will be a party of twenty to 
thirty men gaming in one tipi, and singing so that their voices can be heard far 
out from the camp, while from another tipi a few rods away comes a shrill chorus 
from a group of women engaged in another game of the same kind. 

The players sit in a circle around the tipi fire, these on one side of the fire 
playing against those on the other. The only requisites are the “button” or 
ga’qai, usually a small bit of wood, around which is tied a piece of string or 
otter skin, with a pile of tally sticks, as has already been described. Bach party 
has a “button,” that of one side being painted black, the other being red. The 
leader of one party takes the button and endeavors to move it from one hand to 
the other, or to pass it on to a partner, while those of the opposing side keep a 
sharp lookout, and try to guess in which hand itis. Those having the button try 
to deceive their opponents as to its whereabouts by putting their hands behind 
them, so as to pass the ga’qad on to a partner, all the while keeping time to the 
rhythm of a gaming chorus sung by the whole party at the top of their voices. 
The song is very peculiar, and well-nigh indescribable. It is usually, but not 
always or entirely, unmeaning, and jumps, halts, and staggers in a most surpris- 
ing fashion, but always in perfect time with the movements of the hands and arms 
oi the singers. The greatest of good natured excitement prevails, and every few 
injnutes some more excitable player claps his hands over his mouth or beats the 
ground with his flat palms, and gives out a regular war whoop. All this time 
the opposing players are watching the hands of the other, or looking straight into 
their faces to observe every telltale movement of their features, and when one 
thinks he has discovered in which hand the button is, he throws out his thumb 
toward that hand with a loud “that.” Should he guess right, his side scores a 
certain number of tallies, and in turn takes the button and begins another song. 
Should the guess be wrong, the losing side must give up an equivalent number ef 
tally sticks. So the play goes on until the small hours of the night. It is always 
a gambling game, and the stakes are sometimes very large. [Mooney, 1896, 
pp. 1008-9.) 

VISITING 


Children were not allowed to participate in adult visiting, but they 
were allowed to sit by and listen in. Sometimes, however, stories 
were told primarily for their amusement. Asa sample of such stories 
Arnold Woolworth, an 80-year-old Southern man, after a chuckle, 
related the following: 

A man went on the warpath. He was tired and came back. On the way 
home at night he saw a tipi in which a fire was glowing. It was a pretty sight. 


He walked up to it and found one woman there. She made a bed for him and 
he slept there. The next morning when he woke up, he saw a skeleton in rags 


116 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Buby 148 


above him. And he was in an old ragged tipi, too. The tipi he had seen the 
night before was a pretty tipi—What he saw was probably like the burials of 
the Cheyenne, they bury in trees you know.—Well, this man never stopped again. 
He walked day and night until he got home.” 


As a sample of a coup story Arnold Woolworth repeated one that 
he had heard Chief Left Hand tell: 


[Old Man Left Hand is reciting:] We [Arapaho tribe] were on the warpath. 
Two Arapaho and one Apache—I, Bull Thunder, and one Apache Indian—we 
three were on scouting duty on foot. We were in the mountains. We were look- 
ing around and saw the tracks of an enemy. We looked into the distance and 
saw a Ute coming down the mountains. He was trailing an elk track. “You 
two sit back and I'll sit near this sage brush. And when this Ute comes Ill 
kill him.” The Ute kept looking around and beyond for the elk. As soon as 
he came to the brush where I was, I fired. Just as the Ute turned to run away, 
I grabbed him and we tussled. I managed him and took his scalp. I just took 
his scalp, but did not quite kill him. Then Bull Thunder and the Apache In- 
dian came up and tapped the Ute——That was a sign that you were a man if you 
did that. You just tapped your enemy while he was alive.—I hadn’t quite killed 
the Ute, so he sat up and looked around. [Informant indicated that the Ute 
used his thumb and first finger to hold up the skin on his forehead so as to be 
able to open his eyes.] The rest of the party came up and then they finished the 
Ute. [The interpreter added.] And that’s a war recitation. These warrior 
stories are told in an abbreviated form at ceremonies to let the tribe know that 
the one telling a story had shown courage and had succeeded. Such an act gave 
a man status in the tribe. But when they are told to children as bedtime 
stories, details like the above are not given.” 


A 70-year-old Northern woman, when about 12 years old, had been 
told the following story by her grandmother: 


There was a man and his wife and their relatives. All these and their friends 
were traveling together. They had been camping together. In the fall, about 
September or October, they set out to find a camping place for the winter. So 
they broke up camp and started out. Now, one of the daughters of this man 
and his wife was married to a man from another group. While they were travel- 
ing, looking for the winter camping place, this girl stopped her father and 
mother—they were on horseback—and told them that she had lost a pillow. 
She told them to go on ahead slowly while she went back and looked for her 
pillow. She rode back on horseback alone. She came to a drove of wild horses 
near some brush. When these wild horses saw this woman on horseback, they all 
ran toward her. There was a Stallion in the group. This girl got off her horse 
and got on the stallion and got away with him. When it was about time for 
her to return and there was no sign of her, her people began to wonder what 
had happened to her. The horse she had ridden out came back, but she did 
not. So they waited in that place for a while. The girl’s husband rode around, 
off and on, looking for her. When they had gotten enough meat to last for a 
while, they decided to go back to look for the girl. They did. The men rode 
out on horseback and looked all over the hills for the girl. They often came 
to where the group of wild horses was, but they never suspected anything. They 
passed up the horses just looking for the girl.k One man said one day, “These 
horses may have chased that girl’s horse and she may have been knocked off her 
horse.’ The men rode back to the camp. Her husband stayed and looked 


% See also Voth, 1912, pp. 43-50, for 15 tales gathered by him while missionary among 
the Arapaho from 1882-92, and Kroeber and Dorsey, 1903, for 146 additional ones. 


Hinenr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 117 


around for his wife. Soon he, too, got back to camp. Then they all got on 
swift horses and again rode out to the wild horses.—These wild horses were 
altogether different from the horses the Indians rode.—And this was their 
plan: to round up all these wild horses and to drive them to their watering place 
in the river. When they got them all rounded up, and got them down to the 
river, they found this girl among them. She was getting to be like a horse. 
She was winnowing, and her body was getting hairy. Her cousins and brother 
had to rope her. She fought for freedom, but they brought her home. She 
wanted to go back to those wild horses. They had the hardest time keeping 
her home. Even her father and her mother had to hold her. So two of her 
brothers led her out of the tipi, and they had to use an arrow on her, and killed 
her. Her brothers were ashamed of her. They didn’t like the looks of her. 
They told people not to touch her but to let her lie there and not to bury her. 
My grandmother heard this story from her grandmother. 


Smoking by Arapaho children was not institutional. No objections, 
however, were raised when children smoked. “My father [father’s 
brother] was a sickly man. He used to ask me to prepare his kinni- 
kinnick for him. That helped me to form the habit of smoking. My 
father had taught me to smoke when I was a young girl.” On occa- 
sions during the present study preadolescent Northern boys and girls 
did not hesitate to roll cigarettes from their mother’s or grandmother’s 
supply. When halted it was because they were diminishing the supply, 
and evidently not because it was unconventional for children to smoke. 
Missionary efforts among the Southern group have discouraged smok- 
ing even among adults. No children were seen smoking there. 


SOCIAL DANCES 


Social dances, including the Squaw Dance, the Wolf Dance, the 
Rabbit Dance, the Owl Dance, the Dog Dance, the Fox Dance, the 
Crazy Man Dance, the War Bonnet Dance, and, more recently, the 
Forty-nine Dance, were held at intervals during the year. Men, 
women, and children participated in them. In recent years the 
Northern Arapaho meet annually during the Christmas week in their 
community hall near St. Stephen’s Mission to dance the social dances 
of the early day and to recount old tales of scouting. There is also 
an exchange of gifts, such as horses and articles of clothing. Many 
participants attire in “old-time” regalia. (Cf. pls. 25, 26, 27, 28, 29.) 


CEREMONIAL AGE SOCIETIES “ 


Nearly the entire male population of both Northern and Southern 
Arapaho, from boys about 12 years old to the oldest men in the tribe,®* 


87 For a complete account of Arapaho age societies see Kroeber, 1902, pp. 151-229; 
Mooney, 1896, pp. 986-989 ; and Lowie, 1916, pp, 930-938. For the Gros Ventres cere- 
monial organization, see Kroeber, 1908, pp. 227-268. The Chicago Natural History 
Museum exhibits regalia and paraphernalia of both men’s societies and the women’s 
society. 

% This differs from Mooney who says they included “nearly all the men of the tribe 
above the age of seventeen” (1896, p. 986). 


118 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Buu 148 


held membership in eight ceremonial societies. Informants called 
them lodges or dances; the literature sometimes calls them military or 
war societies. Commonly their members are called dog soldiers. 
Membership in the age societies was not compulsory, but nonmembers 
were not respected or entrusted with tribal responsibilities. Mooney 
(1896, pp. 986-987) says that they were “not allowed to take part in 
public ceremonies or to accompany war expeditions.” 

The societies were graded by age.® Membership in them was 
progressive, that is, a man could not become a member of one society 
unless he had held membership in all preceding ones. A man ad- 
vanced when he vowed or pledged to hold the ceremonial of the next 
succeeding society, or when man vowed or pledged to hold the cere- 
mony, all other men of his age were obliged to join in the ceremony 
and advance thereby to the next degree. Meetings were held at 
irregular intervals; sometimes years elapsed between them. 

Boys held membership in the first two societies; men in the remain- 
ing six. Northern Arapaho boys about 12 years old joined the Black- 
birds; Southern boys, a corresponding society called the Fox. They 
proceeded from this one tothe Stars. At 17, the age at which boys were 
expected to have an appreciation of the importance of the societies, 
they were permitted to join the first of the men’s societies, the Tom- 
ahawks. Sometimes men were 20 years or older before they became 
Tomahawks because no Tomahawk meeting had been held since they 
had become Stars. Due to the varying lengths of intervals between 
meetings, the general age of a society in a given generation might vary 
from the general age of the same society in another generation. In- 
formants said men between 20 and 30 belonged to the second of the 
men’s lodges. Southern Arapaho called it Staff or Betahanan; 
Northern informants, Spear. Thirty to forty-five-year-old men be- 
longed to the Crazy Lodge; those between forty-five and fifty-five, 
to the Dog Lodge, sometimes called Beggars’ Lodge. Next in order 
was the Sweat Lodge, and then the Nanahaxwit Lodge. 

No secrets, powers, or obligation were attached to the boys’ lodges; 
namely, the Blackbirds or Fox and the Stars. Nor did they have a 
prescribed regalia. The men’s lodges all had secrets, powers, and 
obligations. These increased as the lodges advanced. 

Each lodge was a distinct organization, but all ledges showed 
similarities: Members were about the same age; women participated 
in several ceremonials but held membership in none; each society 
had its own characteristic songs and dances; ceremonies were held 
in an enclosure, usually a covered one; ceremonials were of 4 days’ 

® According to Lowie (1916), only five of the Plains tribes had societies graded by age, 
namely, the Hidatsa, Mandan, Arapaho, Gros Ventres, and Blackfoot. Other tribes had 
nongraded societies. 


* Mooney (1896, pp. 987-988) notes that the Stars consisted of men about 30 years 
of age; that the Crazy Men were more than 50 years old. 


HInczR] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 119 


duration; paraphernalia and regalia were of prescribed types; each 
candidate was instructed in the ritual of the lodge by a grandfather, 
an older man who knew the ritual well.” 

The women’s lodge was the Buffalo Lodge. All women over 15 
years of age, married and unmarried, could belong to it. Men could 
not hold membership in it, but they assisted at the ceremonials. Ac- 
cording to Kroeber the lodge had six degrees (Kroeber, 1902, pp. 
910-924). The ceremonial was held at irregular intervals, awaiting 
the vow of a member or of a candidate. It consisted of 4 days of 
singing and dancing in an enclosure. Each dancer, regaled to repre- 
sent a buffalo, was coached by a grandmother, an older member who 
corresponded to the grandfather of the men’s lodges. The ceremonies. 
however, and all things related to them were under the supervision of 
the old medicine man. It was his responsibility to see that the 
ceremonial was carried out in accordance with traditions. 

As indicated above, neither boys under 12 nor girls under 15 were 
privileged to become members of the societies. Two boys, however, 
participated in the dance of the Biitahawu, the second of the men’s 
societies. According to Kroeber, they were the dancers of the fourth 
degree of the Biitahawu, and were called “little Biitahawu dancers.” 
They carried small lances painted black (Kroeber, 1902, p. 159). 
Two small girls, called buffalo calves, participated in the Buffalo 
Dance. According to Kroeber, each little girl wore an embroidered 
head band representing a snake in which stood white feathers. During 
the ceremonial the little girls walked with two sticks (Kroeber, 1902, p. 
222). Boys younger than 12 years were chosen by lodge members to 
serve aserrand boys. These boys had first-hand opportunities, there- 
fore, of learning many things related to the lodges. 

The following account was related by Jessie Rowlodge, who had 
acted as a messenger in the ceremonial meetings of several societies: 

Among the Arapaho there were two boys’ lodges. We (Southern Arapaho) 
called the first one Fox; the Northern Arapaho called it Blackbirds. The second 
one was variously called Star Falcons, Eagles of the Stars, Hawks among the 
Stars, or simply Stars. Any time after a boy was 12 years old, he joined the Fox; 
when about 15 or 17, he joined the Stars. He could become a Star only after he 
had been a Fox. He stayed with the Stars until he was about 20 when he joined 
the first of the men’s lodges, the Tomahawk. The men’s lodges were: first, the 
Tomahawk; second, the Bétéihanin’; third, the Crazy Lodge; fourth, the Dogs’ 
Lodge or Beggars’ Lodge; and then two very sacred lodges, the Sweat Lodge and 
the Nanahaxwt. ‘There was no age requirement for admittance to a lodge, but 
one had to become a member of each lodge in succession: first a Tomahawk, then 
Betahanan’, then Crazy Lodge, then Dog Lodge, then Sweat Lodge, and then 
Nanahaxwti. Members were admitted to a lodge whenever that lodge held a 
ceremonial. Lodges were not held at any set time, but were given if someone 


7 Kroeber (1902, p. 226) writes that all ceremonies are under the direction of the 
members of the oldest society ; that meetings were held in a lodge in the center of the 
Camp circle; and that in most of the ceremonies there was a symbolic reference to war. 


120 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Buun. 148 


made a vow to do so. It might take 15 or more years before such a vow would 
be made by someone. A man might, therefore, be 25 years of age before he had 
an opportunity to join the first of the man’s lodges, the Tomahawk. On the 
other hand, it might happen that two successive lodges were given the same year, 
and he could then join two in one year. But this seldom happened. 

The Tomahawk Lodge met for the last time on this reservation [Cheyenne- 
Arapaho Reservation, Okla.] in 1903. Members, when joining it, were usually 
between 20 and 25 years of age. Paraphernalia needed for this lodge were the 
war club, white crane feathers, a calf tail, white and black paint. Women 
participated in this lodge, but they did not hold membership in it. During the 
ceremonial some of the men sat on the south side of the enclosure and some on 
the north side. Behind each man sat a woman. The men and women on the 
south side were called midgets; those on the north, stalwarts or giants. The 
women on the midgets’ side were called upon sometimes to change seats with 
the women on the giants’ side. The two sides opposed each other in songs and 
in telling war stories. The side that outdid the other was served the best 
food during the ceremonial. The midgets nearly always took the prize. When 
this lodge met the last time, in 1903 as I said, the midgets outdid the others. 

The second men’s lodge was the Bétahanain’. I can’t translate this word. 
I have asked Chief Ute, Sherman Sage, men of the Gros Ventres and also of the 
Big Lodge—Big Lodge is a distinct group within the Arapaho—to translate the 
word, but none could do so.” Paraphernalia for this society were hawk feathers, 
sinews, deer and buffalo hides. In this lodge two boys sat in the center of the 
ceremonial place and members danced around them. ‘These boys served in 
the same capacity as did the two little girls, called buffalo calves, in the Buffalo 
Dance. Before each meeting the two boys were instructed by men who, as boys, 
had served in the same capacity. I saw all of these lodges hold meetings except 
the two sacred ones. The most recent meeting of the Bétahanin’ was held in 
1916. 

The Crazy Lodge met the Jast time in October 1913. Those who joined if 
actually jumped into fire, but none was burned. I don’t know how it is done. 
Maybe the old men give the candidates herbs and medicines to immunize them. 
They were never burned or scarred. My uncle was the principal participant ; 
he was called White Crazy Lodge Man. Paraphernalia needed were white clay, 
eagle feathers, and sweet grass. 

The next lodge, the Dog Lodge or Beggars, serenades during the nights of the 
Sun Dance. Women may participate in the singing, but they may not be mem- 
bers.—I don’t like to talk about this lodge; it belongs to the Sun Dance. 

The Jeniji’xibed, often called Sweat Lodge, and the Nanahaxwt are very 
sacred lodges. Great sacrifices had to be made to become a member of these 
two sacred lodges. In the Sweat Lodge a man was required to fast for 3 days 
sitting perfectly still without moving in the slightest. In order to be able to do 
this, props are placed under his armpits. The Sweat Lodge met for the last time 
in 1874. That was before I was born. The Nanahax’wil is more sacred even 
than the Sweat Lodge. It takes 3 or 4 days to be initiated into it, and there is 
much wailing and praying. This lodge met the last time in 1878. 

When a lodge met to hold a ceremonial, Some boy was asked to act as errand 
boy for the members. I acted as errand boy for my uncle in all the lodges that 
he joined. He belonged to all except the two sacred ones and the Dog Lodge. 


™ Rowlodge hereby indicates that he had asked outstanding authorities, namely an old 
Southern Arapaho (Chief Ute), the recognized best authority of the Northern Arapaho 
(Sherman Sage), men of the Gros Ventre of the Prairie, traditionally a part of the 
Arapaho peoples, and members of one of the five divisions of the Arapaho, and that after 
conferring with all of these, he was unable to get a translation for the word. 


HILeER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 121 


The errand boy is announced as one by the criers in the camp So that all the 
people will know who he is. Such a boy has access to the tipis or the private 
homes of any of the members of the lodges. He may be given orders like 
these: “Go get that old man,” “Go get that horse,” ‘Go get some sage.” The 
boy then runs back and forth on errands. When he has time, he may run into 
any tipi and say, “I want to eat,” and the people in that tipi will feed him. Or he 
may stop at another tipi and say, “I want to rest.” The people will say, “‘Here is 
your bed.” Toward evening he may feel cold and may stop in a tipi and borrow 
a blanket. 

A leader is chosen by each of the boys’ and the men’s societies, one not from the 
society immediately above it, but from the one just above that one. For example, 
the Fox choose their leader from the Tomahawk; the Star from the Bétahanin’ ; 
the Tomahawks from the Crazy Lodge, ete. Now, let us say that the Fox are out 
for a leader. The Tomahawks then are the eligibles. But none of the Toma- 
hawks care to have the responsibility of leadership. So, when they hear that 
they are being sought after as leaders, they hide. Using strategy each one runs 
here and there, and finally finds a hiding place. But the Fox, being wise to this, 
keep an eye on the one they want to choose as leader and pursue him. But finally 
they lose him. Maybe around three or four in the morning, they find him. They 
surround him and grab him. By force they take his hands and hold them around 
the pipe. After his hands have touched the pipe, he can’t refuse to be their leader. 
Then they lead him back to camp. Here they call on an old medicine man who 
advises and lectures the Fox and their new leader. From that time on the 
Tomahawk man is their leader. Hach Fox chooses a man from among the 
Bétahinin’ as his grandfather. This grandfather advises him and gives him 
words of encouragement. These two—the Fox and his grandfather—must always 
agree. The grandfather is called Hya. 

The women’s lodge is called Bénotax’wi, or Buffalo Lodge. The Buffalo Lodge 
had its last meeting about 55 years ago. Any woman over 18, married or single, 
could be a member. During their ceremonial meeting they wore headdresses 
having buffalo horns. Hach woman had a whistle in her mouth. As they danced 
their heads moved from right to left to right. Two girls, about 12 years old, 
highly painted and ornamented, sat in the center facing each other. The women 
danced around them. These two girls were called Buffalo Calves. They held 
an important position. Members of the lodge were very particular which girls 
they chose. These girls were instructed by women who had served in the same 
capacity at some previous meeting. 

What I have told you is correct. I saw the ceremonials of all the lodges except 
the two sacred ones. 


Arnold Woolworth, for whom Jessie Rowlodge had acted as errand 
boy, gave the following account: 


Boys belonged first to the Fox and then to the Stars. They joined them volun- 
tarily ; some boys never joined them. There were no secrets attached to these 
two lodges. The other lodges—the men’s lodges—all had secrets. Men’s lodges 
were in order: Tomahawk, Staff or Crook, Crazy Lodge, Dog Lodge, Stoic Lodge, 
and one that you can call Masters of Ceremonies, because it gave its members 
the right to be directors of the ceremonials of the other lodges. A man who was 
a member of the seventh degree, the Stoics, had all the powers that the degrees 
before it gave and, in addition, those that were sometimes obtained when a man 
fasted in mountains. The Stoic Lodge was really the last one in which power 
was conferred. Those who joined it had the power of prayer; whatever they 
prayed for was thought to be granted. The Stoic Lodge met for the last time at 


122 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Bunn. 148 


Calumet, Oklahoma, 76 years ago [1866]. I remember that meeting. I myself 
completed five degrees. I joined the fifth one, the Crazy Lodge, more than 60 
years ago [1882]. ‘The lodges beyond the Crazy Lodge have not met since then. 
They died a natural death among the Arapaho, 

A lodge was held only when a man vowed to hold one. Supposing a certain 
man vowed for the next lodge. Then all those of his lodge moved along with him 
to that lodge. No one was forced to do so; each one decided for himself. Some- 
times some “backed out.” ‘There were no women members in any of the men’s 
lodges. Women, however, helped along in the Crazy Lodge.—The women had 
their own lodge, the Buffalo Lodge. In it they dressed like buffalo. 


Pete Lone Bear, a 66-year-old Northern Arapaho (pl. 1), gave the 
following account: 


The Sun Dance is the most important lodge. It is first in rank because in it 
men suffer and fast. They really endure something in it; they don’t in other 
ledges. 

The Buffalo Lodge was exclusively for women. During its ceremonial dance 
the members held a whistle in the mouth—whistles like the ones used by the 
dancers in the Sun Dance—and rocked their heads back and forth, from shoulder 
toward shoulder, to the rhythm of the drum. The enclosure in which they held 
their dance was built similar to the one in which the Sun Dance is held except 
that tipi covers were used to cover the framework instead of branches of trees. 
The dancing, which lasted four days, was done in five different places in the 
enclosure, the dancers going around in it clockwise. The sacred pipe was not 
brought to the enclosure, but all space inside of the enclosure was considered 
sacred. People [nonmembers] couldn’t go into it; they had to look on from the 
outside. A buffalo head with horns was in the enclosure. Women who took 
part in the dance wore headdresses of buffalo heads with horns. The woman 
who sponsored the dance, that is, the one who had vowed to give it, wore a buffalo 
robe. It, too, was considered sacred. The husbands of the women were on- 
lookers; only the women danced. 

I was a member of the Tomahawk and of the Spear Dance. The Crazy Dance 
and the Dog Dance had died out by the time I was old enough to be a member 
of them. So I can’t tell about them firsthand. Six years ago [1934] the Toma- 
hawks met.” They hadn’t met for 25 years. When I joined the Tomahawks, 
years ago, the lodge was built just like the Spear lodge. It was made of poles 
around which tipi coverings were placed. The top was not covered. It was, 
therefore, just a shelter with no covering over the top. The man who sponsored 
it was given the sacred tomahawk, a stick which represented the Shoshoni; our 
enemy. The top end of the stick was bent at right angles. The bent piece was 
carved to represent a Shoshoni: the hair over the face was cut in bangs like 
the Crow Indians wear it today. The entire stick was painted and the upper 
section near the angle was decorated with feathers. The lower end was sharp- 
ened go that it could be planted in the ground. The sponsor, the man who had 
pledged to give the lodge, was looked upon as the head man.—Somebody had to 
pledge a dance before it could be given.—This man was looked upon as a sacred 
person. It was his duty to see to it that the tomahawk sticks were made. Each 
man who was joining at that particular dance got a stick. He shaved off all bark 
and then gave it to his grandfather.—Grandfathers were men who cared for 
them during the dance.—EHach grandfather carved into it the head of the 


73 The interpreter remarked: “I was in Denver then, and missed witnessing it. But I 
read about it in the Denver Post. I’m sorry still that I missed it for I may never see 
another one. We have not had one for 25 years.” 


Hines} ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 123 


Shoshoni.74 An old man was present to see that the carving was done cor- 
rectly. He might even teach them—they were pretty old men—how to carve 
them. He also blessed the sticks and made certain that the men prayed right. 
I was about 19 or 20 years old when I joined. I was not yet married. Some of 
the men were married before they joined. 

I belonged to the Spear Dance also. Spears were made during the first three 
days of the dance. On the fourth day they were used, each dancer holding one 
in vertical position. The entire pole was painted. A spear was attached at the 
upper end and feathers tied around the top and the bottom. Only the sponsor 
of a dance had anything sacred about him. The sponsor of the Spear Dance wore 
eagle feathers in his hair, his buckskin belt, and the garters which he wore just 
below his knees. Other dancers, also, had feathers, but they were not blessed. 

All lodges except the Sun Dance and the Buffalo Dance are alike in this: a man 
becoming a member of it at a meeting helps along in it the next time the lodge 
meets. These helpers are called “Soldiers” to this lodge. For example: if a 
Spear Dance were given this year the men who were admitted this year would 
help along with everything the next time the Spears met, and they would be 
called “Soldiers.” <A pledge to give a ceremonial was usually made when there 
was sickness in the family. Once a person pledged to join a lodge he had to do 
so and to go through with it. If he did not, he would have bad luck. Women 
were permitted to be present at all the dances but they could be members of only 
the Buffalo Dance. Because there was much sickness in old times, it was not 
an uncommon thing for three lodges to be held each year. But now, none are 
being held. I have tried to tell you what I know. I might say, too, that when 
the Arapaho were still roaming about, they sometimes came to a place where it 
was Suitable to hold a lodge. It was time to admit boys. Maybe many boys had 
pledged to join the lodge. Those joining had to be old enough to know what it 
was all about; probably about seventeen years of age. If they were younger 
than that, they were thought not to understand what was going on. 


Jane Hungry Wolf, an 80-year-old Northern woman, said: 


When dances were held, none could do so until the dance of the Spear Lodge 
had taken place. After they had finished, the Tomahawk Lodge was held and 
then the Crazy Man’s. There was no set time in which lodges had to be held, 
but they had to follow each other in that order. The Buffalo Lodge took place 
every year; it stood by itself and was not held when the others were meeting. 
I helped in two lodges: the Buffalo Lodge and the Dog Lodge. I didn’t ever 
pledge anything and so I didn’t have to sponsor any either. I merely took 
part by helping. I helped three times. It happened this way: My older sister 
was in the Buffalo Dance. She had to handle poles for.the lodge and I helped 
her. The next time I helped another sister who was also handling poles. The 
women wore something on their heads that looked like a buffalo head; it had 
horns. The next time I again helped my older sister, but this time I wore a 
war bonnet which was mostly red. They called it the red headdress. I again 
helped with the poles. The lodge poles were painted every morning, and I 
helped every morning. This was the Dog Lodge. Her [the interpreter’s] 
grandfather sponsored it. 


% Sherman Sage, who was about 15 or 16 when he joined the Tomahawks, said that each 
member of the Tomahawks carried a stick made from the branch of a tree about a yard 
long and an inch in diameter. In taking the branch off the tree, a part of the tree trunk 
was chopped off also, but in such a manner that it remained attached to the branch. 
The tree trunk section was carved to represent a horse’s head. “It had mouth and eyes 
carved in it.” A similar item (No. 71986), labeled “Pledger’s Wand” collected by Dorsey 
in Oklahoma in 1903, is exhibited in the Chicago Natural History Museum. A notation 
Says that the wand was carried in the dance by the man who had vowed io give the dance. 


124 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Buxy. 148 


“MEDICINE” 
“MEDICINE,” “MEDICINE BAG,” MEDICINE MAN, “MAKING MEDICINE” 


The term “medicine” is used when speaking of a power ascribed to 
supernatural origin and believed to be effective through supernatural 
help. Mooney (1896, p. 980) defines it as “anything sacred, mysteri- 
ous, or of wonderful power or efficacy in Indian life or belief.” It 
should be distinguished from medicines used in medication. 

The Arapaho child did not possess “medicine” or a “medicine bag.” 
It had no relationship with the origin of “medicine” or with the 
exercising of its powers. It might, however, be subjected to the 
powers of medicine men and could nearly always be present when 
“medicine” was being used. 

All informants agreed that “medicines” originated in a dream or a 
vision which men had during a self-imposed prolonged fast in isola- 
tion. Women occasionally, though very rarely, fasted for the same 
purpose. Some informants said that “medicines” also came to men 
and women unsolicited in a dream during sleeping hours or during a 
vision when awake; such persons were neither fasting nor isolated. 
Kroeber (1902, p. 450) speaks of both ways, but notes that the first 
method was institutional; that the second showed that the first was 
“not consistently and rigorously followed out.” Sage was certain that 
all “medicines” possessed by Arapaho at any time had had their origin 
during self-imposed fastings by men. Men and women, he said, who 
owned “medicines” at any time in the past or at the present time and 
who had not fasted for them, had either purchased them from those 
who possessed them first-hand, having fasted for them, or from those 
who possessed them second-hand because they had learnt them from 
those who had purchased them earlier. Parents, he said, often taught 
their “medicines” to adult children, and wives learnt them from hus- 
bands, especially those “medicines” that dealt with curative values of 
herbs. Sage was certain that all “medicines” extant among the Arap- 
aho at the present time, except those owned by very old people, had 
been purchased or learnt. 

The present writer believes that both fasting for “medicine” by men 
and purchasing or learning of “medicine” by both men and women 
were institutional, and agrees with Kroeber that obtaining “medicine” 
by unsolicited visitations from the spiritual world was rare and was 
probably not institutional. 

“Medicines” of men were believed to have powers of divination, 
magic, sorcery, and cures; those of women, mostly cures. Informants 
gave names of medicine men whose “medicine” enabled them to read 
thoughts of others; to remove foreign objects from human bodies; to 
tell the location a persons, an enemy, or stolen goods; to predict re- 


Hiterr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 125 


covery from sickness; to deform or cripple persons; to kill at a dis- 
tance; or to affect weather. Some medicine men had several powers; 
most of them excelled in only one. “Furry Hat, an old medicine man, 
predicted mostly events, but he seemed to have knowledge of all 
things.” “In old days there were a few men who had a very special 
power to kill people at a distance.” Clark wrote: “Some of their 
medicine men had the power to produce rain or wind to assist them, 
and had exercised this power. They could also cause the snow to van- 
ish and rain to come; in fact, could control all these elements through 
means which they tried to explain, but I could only make out that it 
was a kind of jugglery” (Clark, 1885, p. 42). 

A person who possessed “medicine” associated it with the object 
that had formed part of his vision or dream. A replica of this object, 
or objects if there were several, was kept by him in a container. The 
container was often the entire skin of an animal; sometimes, only a 
piece of buckskin or cloth. The container with its contents was called 
a man’s or a woman’s “medicine bundle” or “medicine bag.” “Medi- 
cine bags” were occasionally either inherited or appropriated, es- 
pecially if the “medicine” associated with the bag had already been 
taught to the one inheriting or appropriating it. Bags extant today 
have come to owners in the above ways. “That bag hanging from the 
top of that pole,” said a Northern woman in her fifties, “is a medicine 
bag that I inherited from my father. It is very old. My great grand- 
father also used it.” Her bundle, wrapped in white cloth, was hang- 
ing out-of-doors from the top of a pole that she had nailed to the door- 
end of the ridge of her canvas tent. Another middle-aged Northern 
woman said: “Goes-in-the-Lodge had a grandmother, called Tree 
Woman, who at her death left him a medicine bundle. It contains a 
small doll that everybody speaks of as Little-Woman. Little-Woman 
wears a blanket and over her forehead something like a protruding 
handkerchief. She is never made use of except in the sweat lodge, 
where she is placed on a piece of cloth in front of the head man. When 
in the sweat lodge her blankets are removed. As soon as the men begin 
to sing, she sings too, and she can be heard above the others.” Kroeber 
(1902, p. 310) recorded that there were a number of sacred bags among 
the Arapaho during his study. One had been inherited by a young 
woman shortly before the summer of 1899. 

A Southern informant told of a medicine bag in the possession of 
Chief Little Raven’s family (pl. 39). 


New ones no longer originate whenever one fasts. The ones now owned 
among the Arapaho originated in primitive times and have been handed down. 
No one today knows the origin of these. The Buffalo Lodge had one, and I 
believe all the lodges had one. The Little Ravens have one of these in their 
family still. Some years ago one of the Little Ravens told me that every 25 
years the stones in that medicine bundle generate a stone. He said then that 


126 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY (BULL. 148 


one could be expected in 1940. Medicine bundles were used when the lodges 
had ceremonials. Each was Kept by the principal man of the lodge in some 
sort of pouch. When the man died, the pouch passed to the next oldest man. 


Long reported an Arapaho displaying his medicine bag in 1819-20: 


At our solicitation he readily opened his sacred depository, and displayed its 
contents on a skin before us, whilst he politely proceeded to expatiate on their 
powers and virtues in the occult art, as well as their physical efficacy. They 
consisted of various roots, seeds, pappus, and powders, both active and inert, 
as respects their action on the human system, carefully enveloped in skins, 
leaves, ete., some of which, to his credulous faith, were invested with super- 
natural powers. Similar qualities were also attributed to some animal products 
with which these were accompanied, such as claws of birds, beaks, feathers, 
and hair. [Long, 1904-7, vol. 16, pp. 216—-217.] 


Michelson’s informant stated that “it was commonly known that 
whenever a medicine bag was kept in a tepee, the tepee would not be 
molested ; and the same respect was shown a tepee in which a medicine 
man dwelt” (Michelson, 1933, p. 600). 

“Medicine man” was the term used to designate a man who had 
obtained “medicine”; he was always a physician and a leader in 
religion, and generally a magician. Not infrequently he was also a 
sorcerer. “Medicine woman” was applied to a woman doctor; rarely 
did medicine women have powers other than curative ones. 

According to a Southern informant, medicine men and medicine 
women had the privilege of becoming members of several exclusive 
organizations. Apprenticeship preceded membership. Her account 
follows: 

Medicine men were grouped into groups that called themselves Bears, Beavers, 
Buitalos, Fox, Horse, and Lizard. To become a member, one had to take train- 
ing from older members and abide by the principles of the group. I am going 
te tell you a little story about a member of the Lizard group. My father made 
several lizards out of buckskin and stuffed them. This was about 4 or 5 years 
ago [1936.] At a Sun Dance heid the same year, one of the dancers had one 
of these lizards on his back. In its mouth he had put some feathers. One of 
the old men who sponsored the dance blessed the lizard and the lizard became 
alive and walked up the man’s back and sat on his shoulder. People saw 
this. One woman fainted. Others ran away. Now, those lizards could heal 
people. [A woman in her thirties listening in had also seen it.] The medicine 
men could put one of these lizards on any part of a man’s body that pained. 
The lizard stuck there until the pain ended. Then it fell off. 

According to another Southern informant, any medicine man or 
medicine woman may join any of the medicine-men’s groups, “such 
as the Lizard, Horse, etc. ‘They do not need to be directed to do so 
in a dream or vision.” The degrees are not progressive; hence, a 
medicine man may become a member of any one he chooses. “There 
is no particular order. A person may join any or as many as he or 
she wishes to.” All groups were considered of equal value. 


HincER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE bz 


Occasionally all medicine men met and purified their “medicines.” 
“About a month ago [early May 1941] the Indian medicine men 
around here met at Old Man Ute’s place [Southern Arapaho]. He 
is their manager. My husband is a medicine man, and so he was 
there, too. Last year [1940] they met five times.” “Occasionally all 
the medicine men gather in a place where they camp in order to purify 
their ‘medicines.’ They have a special tipi for this. The inside is 
fixed up nicely. In it the medicine men carry on their ceremonial. 
They put cedar on fire and make incense with it to purify their 
‘medicines.’ That gives the ‘medicines’ new strength.” 

A medicine man “made medicine” whenever he exercised the powers 
he possessed. These powers, as stated previously, might be those of 
physician, leader of religion, magician, or sorcerer. 

Chief Ute was the leader of the medicine men in the Southern 
group during the period of this study; for many years it had been 
Chief Little Raven. In 1884 the United States Indian Agent com- 
plained to the United States Commissioner of Indian Affairs that 
Chief Little Raven had plowed his 40 acres of farm land in the river 
bottom in the spring, and had planted corn, “but at once abandoned 
it and left to lead medicine making; the result is not an ear of corn, 
but a magnificent crop of weeds” (Dyer, 1884, p. 73). In 1886 
another Agent of the Southern Arapaho wrote regarding “medicine 
making”: 

A great drawback to these Indians has been their “medicine making.” It 
caused them to neglect their fields, and created much disturbance in the schools. 
I considered it a great step toward the better when you succeeded in inducing 
them to postpone their medicine until their crops did not require their constant 
care. But, still more, the decline of this superstitious custom, as evidenced by 
the attendance of only seventy-five to one hundred; and by the further fact 
that “Little Raven,” the greatest “medicine” chief of the Arapahoes, without 
whom no “medicine” dance could be had until now, left the recent “medicine 
making,’ came to the agency to transact Some business, and remained over all 
night and slept as unconcernedly as if no “medicine” was in progress, and 
but a few years ago no business with the white man could have deterred him 
from doing his supposed duty at the “medicine lodge.” [Voth, 1886, p. 125.] 

The “medicine dance” of the Arapaho was the religious tribal 
ceremonial called the Sun Dance (pp. 148-160). 


FASTING FOR “MEDICINE” 7 


“Medicines,” as stated before, originated conventionally during 
fasts. Arapaho men fasted singly in an isolated place for several 
days. ‘The place was usually a hilltop; occasionally it was a lonely 
spot on the banks of a stream or lake.”* Four days of fasting was 

% Cf. also Kroeber, 1902, pp. 418-454. 


™% Cf. Scott, 1907, p. 559 for a similar statement by Left Hand (pl. 38), a Southern 
Arapaho chief, in 1897, 


128 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Butt. 148 


the conventional number; occasionally, a man fasted only 2 or 38 days; 
very rarely 6 or 7. Sage fasted 7 days. “Black-Man, who is now 
dead, fasted 7 days ard got powers that made him a strong medicine 
man.” 

Informants differed regarding the age of fasters. Most of them 
insisted that men had to be in their thirties or at least in their late 
twenties. “There was no such thing as young men fasting. Men 
at 30 went out on hills or mountains to fast.” Some informants said 
a man was old enough to fast when he was able to take care of himself, 
that was when he no longer needed the supervision of his parents; 
occasionally, they said, a man was able to do so soon after 17. 

The fast consisted of abstinence from food and drink. The faster 
was permitted, however, to smoke. He used his own pipe and not 
the one used at ceremonies. His “medicine” came to him in a dream 
while asleep, rarely in a vision during his waking hours. Always 
it was associated with personified animals. 

Accounts of informants follow: 


(a) Occasionally a dream told a man to become a medicine man. I will 
tell you of one such instance. One of the men who lived near here dreamed 
that he should go to the end of the bluff—it is out this direction [pointing 
toward it]—and fast by himself there. The thought then kept coming to him 
telling him that he should fast. But he would answer his thinking by saying 
that he was a Christian. Yet he felt, nevertheless, that if it would be good 
for him to fast, he should do it. He decided to fast. He said to his family, 
“Take me over there.” They wanted to make a shelter for him there and take 
a bed for him also, but said, “I don’t need a bed or a shelter.” He went 
to the bluff, and fasted. That night, the first night, something hummed around 
him, but he could neither see nor feel anything. Just at sunrise a mountain 
lizard, that is a Gila monster, came up over the edge of the steep bank. There 
it was, changing its colors. ‘The second night something else came to him and 
told him, ‘‘We are going to give you power to heal sick people with turtles, 
snakes, water-dogs, and lizards. You must not harm these animals ever, and 
you must keep others from harming them.” The third night the Gila monster 
came again at sunrise and showed his colors, and said, ‘You have finished; 
go back home now. This does not interfere with your religion. You must 
have respect for this now.” ‘The man is dead now. He belonged to the Lizard 
group. A man who did not get powers when fasting had to be directed in a 
dream while fasting in order to have the right to inherit or learn the powers. 
Such a man might learn the use of powers by serving an apprenticeship with 
a medicine man who had knowledge of such matters. It was possible that a 
man could have all the powers at one time because he had learnt them all. 
For instance he could cure people, tell where a lost cow was, etc., but each of 
these had to be learned from different groups. And he had to participate in 
the medicine men’s ceremonials, once he knew them. 

(b) Men could fast anywhere, but they had to be alone. The place where many 
of them fasted was across the river. They fasted 4 days and 4 nights. I believe 
in old times fasting was done for 10 days, but that custom has died out. Women 
sometimes fasted, too. My husband has only power to cure sickness like pneu- 
monia, or fevers, or sick babies. Babies were treated in the same way as adults. 


HILeEr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 129 


They bathed the body in medicine. [Informant pantomimed taking smudge in 
the palm of his hand and bringing it to the afflicted part, such as forehead, 
shoulders, and chest.] The medicine man mixed various roots. I do not know 
the names of the roots; the medicine man who uses them knows. About 10 or 12 
men around here who are medicine men and 2 women who are medicine women 
know what to use. They all hold meetings sometimes. They met last month 
[April 1941]. I never fasted, but I know a woman well who did. 

(c) [Sage said:] When I was a little boy, I dreamed of something associated 
with thunder, but I never dreamed it clearly. When I went out to the hills, for 
my first fast, I fasted 5 days and didn’t get it straight even then. I was 19 
years old then. When I was older, I fasted again; I stayed 7 days. On the 
fifth day I received all the information by which I now live. When fasting 
I neither ate nor drank anything; not even water. When I fasted the second 
time—the time I received all my powers—I was 23. I went out to fast many 
times after that, but it was during my second fast that I learned the things by 
which I now live. 

(ad) I was about 35 years old when I fasted for the first time. I could have 
fasted earlier, but my father’s “medicine” had told him that it was not yet time 
for me to do so. I fasted for 4 days and 4 nights without food or water. Fast- 
ing is done in a place like the woods over there [half a mile from the house], 
and the man is there alone. Men will go to the faster in the evening and in the 
morning to see if he is allright. If it is cold while he is out there, they will build 
a fire for him. These pray with him every night and morning and keep up the 
fires. On the fourth day, just as the sun goes down, he goes into a sweat lodge 
which either he had built before he fasted or which had been built by the 
friends who came to see him each evening. After his sweat he is offered food 
and warm water. Usually he drinks only a little water then; he will eat on the 
following day, for then he feels better. He comes home that night. I did not use 
my curative powers for 20 years after I fasted. I have fasted seven times since, 
eight times in all. 


Kroeber based the following on an account related to him by a well- 
known medicine man: 


Once he fasted four days. On the third day he saw fighting. A man painted 
green over his body, his hands red, and his face yellow with red streaks passing 
down from his forehead to his jaw, was on foot in the fight in the midst of the 
enemy. He wore a necklace from which hung medicine and an owl feather, 
and which was swung around his back. This person ran between the two fighting- 
lines four times. The enemy shot at him with arrows, but did not hit him once. 
Even when he was near them, their bow-strings would break. Then his dream 
or vision changed, and the people he had seen were small birds flying in flocks, 
called waotinictcéci; and the man running between them was a yellow-jacket 
or wasp, flying back and forth. After his fast and return home, the informant 
dreamed that he saw a man wearing on the front of his head a small figure repre- 
senting the man he had seen in his vision. 

After he had begun to have medicines, a person appeared to him in a dream 
or vision, bringing him a badger-skin medicine-bag. 

On another occasion he fasted on a hill near a lake on the Cimarron. It was 
the third night. As he was lying on the ground he heard footsteps. A man 
called to him to come to his tent. He thought someone was trying to deceive 
him, and he paid no attention. The person continued to call him. The fourth 
time he said, “Hurry and come. Other people are waiting for you.” Then the 
informant consented. He went in his thoughts, but he himself did not get up 


892644—52——_10 


130 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuL. 148 


from the ground. He went downward from where he was lying, into the ground. 
He followed the man who had called him, and entered a tent. On the right side 
in the tent sat four young men painted black with yellow streaks. On the left 
side in the tent sat three young men painted yellow with red streaks. The man 
who had possessed the medicine sat at the back of the tent. He himself sat down 
at the left side, so that there were four on each side of the man at the back. 
This person was painted red. In front of him lay a pipe with its head to the 
north [the left]. The head of the tent put mushrooms on the fire as incense, 
and then shook his rattle, in imitation of a rattlesnake, while the young men sang. 
Then he passed the pipe, and they smoked. After this, he rubbed and cleaned 
the pipe, and told the visitor that he must do in the same way. Then he folded 
his arms, bent his head, and two snakes came from his mouth, coiled on the 
ground, and darted their tongues. Then the man who had yomited the two 
snakes blew on them, and they disappeared. At first the visitor did not know 
where they had gone. Then he realized that they were in his own body. He 
declares that he keeps them there now, one on each side. Through virtue of this 
dream he now cures rattiesnake-bites. A pipe is sent him, and after smoking it 
he goes to doctor the person that has been bitten. If he receives this pipe, he 
is able to effect a cure. While he is doctoring, the patient can see the two snakes 
projecting out of the medicine man’s mouth. When the medicine man comes 
across a snake, of whatever kind, he catches it, strips off its skin, and eats its 
meat and internal organs raw. 

It appears that the supernatural being that gave him his snake-medicine was 
the same that he had seen in a dream of the battle. Apparently this same 
person took him away in a dream and showed him the plant which he was 
to use when he doctored rattlesnake-bites. After having been shown the proper 
plant, he looked for it until he found it. 

This man’s medicine-bag was a badger-skin (Museum No. 50/300)” and its con- 
tents were the following: 

A small figure made of skin painted green, with a yellow head and with red 
hands, throat, and vertical stripes on the face and legs, and with a small bag of 
medicine and an owl’s feather attached, represents his supernatural helper as he 
saw him in the fight. The small medicine-bag attached to the figure is painted 
with blue stripes, and contains a mixture consisting of a root called 
hiiteauxffwaxu, of amalgam from a looking-glass and of the excrement of 
wasps. A feather somewhat painted with green hangs from the medicine-bag. 
The body of the figure contains parts of two white plume feathers with quills. 
Hair is attached to the back of the head. The entire figure is worn on the head 
as a battle-amulet. [Kroeber, 1902, pp. 420—422.] 


USING “MEDICINES” 


As noted previously, every medicine man was a physician and a 
leader in religion; often he was a magician and, occasionally, a 
sorcerer. The following accounts relate to his “medicines” as a 
magician or sorcerer; his activities as a physician and as a religious 
leader are recorded in the two following chapters. 


(a) Account of a Southern woman in the sixties: 


Certain of our men, those who had the “medicine” to do so, could tell where 
anyone of our Own people was, and also where an enemy was located. This is 


™ The specimen is found in the American Museum of Natural History. 


Hitere] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 131 


how it was done: A hole was made, and in it a fire was built. Rotten wood was 
used as fuel. Over this fire about 30 to 40 rocks so big (approximately 8 to 12 
inches in diameter) were placed. They were heated there for about 2 hours 
after which they were carried to a hole in the center of the balloon tipi [sweat 
lodge]. Two buckets of water had been taken into the balloon tipi also, one 
of cold and one of hot water. The coid water was used for drinking; the hot 
water was sprinkled on the heated rocks. The sprinkler used was made of 
eedar boughs. The flap covering the door had to be raised four different times 
to permit air to enter. The steam in the tipi became so dense at times that the 
men could not see each other. The floor of the tipi was covered with sage or 
with hay. Sometimes the medicine man stayed in the balloon tipi and did his 
divination there; sometimes he went into another tipi. Some men could make 
the balloon tipi shake all over. It was these men who could tell who it was 
that had stolen horses or where the enemy was located or whether a sick person 
would get well. [Her husband, nearly 70 years old, continued:] My father’s 
uncle was at one time left alone on the prairie. They got a medicine man to 
find out where he was. This man went into a balloon tipi and then told them 
where my uncle was. They went out and found him in that place. His feet 
were blistered from walking. Coyotes had licked his feet, but had not done 
him any harm. He was exhausted; but he was still alive. The coyotes had 
told him that he would always have “medicine” from them, and that they 
would tell him when enemies were coming. It was animals that give the 
Indians their power. The Utes and all the Indians got their “medicines” from 
animals, 


(6) An account of a middle-aged Northern woman: 


There are two medicine men on this reservation that are witch doctors. A 
person wishing to injure another will go to one of these. The witch doctor 
pounds snake rattlers and bones of human skeletons into powder and mixes them 
with a root. While mixing them he prays for power. One time two men who 
were known to everyone as hating each other disagreed at the Sun Dance. 
Everyone feared that they would wish each other death, or some other terrible 
thing.—When something like that is going on, people must not stand too close 
to the opening of the place in which such peuple are for fear such an ill wish 
will descend on them.—These men must finally have agreed, for nothing ever 
happened. And here is another thing I can tell you: One of my aunts was 
married to a man very much older than herself. He knew that she did not 
love him. So one day he said to her, “I will see to it that you will get a nice 
long rest.” Then he went away. After 2 or 3 months my aunt took sick, raved, 
and always kept saying, “The old man!” She repeated these words when she 
saw me, and her last words before death were, “The old man.” And here is 
another power that these witch doctors have: The race horse from the other 
end’of the reservation formerly won all the races; but at the last race, the 
horse from this end of the reservation won. Before the race someone said he 
would see that Buckskin would win, and he won. They got one of the witch 
coctors to work for them. 


(c) A Northern woman in the eighties related her experience: 


Once I gave birth to a child. I was still sick. It was in the morning. It was 
in the winter and snowing. The man who had the power of reading other 
people’s thoughts was in our tipi. He had slept there. He could also predict 
things. I was lying so I couid see him. He got up and made a fire with sticks. 
Then I saw him take his moccasins. One he put on. The other one had a hole 
above the heel. He was looking at this hole. I was watching him all the time. 


132 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLL. 148 


In a few minutes he started thinking. He didn’t put the moccasin on. I thought 
he wanted his moccasin mended. So I reached backward above the place where 
I was sleeping. I had a piece of sinew and ani awl there that I used in sewing 
moccasins. But it was gone. This man then took his moccasin and threw it 
at me. Hewasangry. I was sick still, and I screamed; it seared me so. I was 
so frightened that I cried. He laughed and told me he knew that I was thinking 
of mending his moccasin. He knew my thoughts. Even if people just sat and 
thought and made no move, he would know what they were thinking. He was 
also able to tell what was going to happen. 


(d) The wife of a Southern man in his sixties told of her husband’s 
experience: 


When people have a stroke in the face, some Indians think some one “witched” 
them. Indian doctors can cure that. My husband, one evening, went over to his 
sister’s place. His sister’s husband was a medicine man. He was also an In- 
dian doctor and many people went to him to be cured. But many of them died 
there, too. My husband went over there and was going to sleep there. Outside 
under an arbor where these people ate, there was a bucket with drinking water 
on a high table. The old medicine man said to his wife, “Go fetch that water.” 
She answered quietly, “I brought it in; it is in the house in the corner.” He 
repeated it again; his wife answered in the same way. Then my husband 
thought, “Oh, weil, I’1] just go out and bring it in.” So he went to bring it in. 
{Then addressing her husband] Now you continue. [Her husband continued :] 
I went to the arbor. It looked long and dark, and I felt around for the bucket. 
Suddenly I felt as if I were in a whirl. I was dizzy and the side of my face felt 
queer. My sister saw me stagger and asked, “What’s the matter?” All of a 
sudden something happened. I could feel that something was not right. She 
knew, and said to her husband, “You have that boy hurt now!” The next 
morning it affected the top of my head. For a few weeks I felt like falling. I 
went to a brother and told him I did not feel well. He said, “Let’s go to ‘our 
brother-in-law.” So we put together some gifts and went back to the same place 
where I had been hurt. They built a special tipi there for this medicine man 
and he tried to eure me; but he couldn’t make me well. He was supposed to 
know how, but he couldn’t cure me. So we went back home. My brother said, 
“T think there is another man who may cure you.” We went to him with things 
for payment. He went through ceremonies of praying and singing. Then he 
placed a live coal on a pan and dropped cedar twigs on it. I inhaled the fumes. 
The medicine man chewed cedar, also, and spat the cud into his hands. He rubbed 
the cud all over his palms, and then smeared it over the right side of my face, the 
side that was paralyzed. Then he continued to pray and sing. Suddenly he 
stopped and asked me if I heard some one singing outside. “The man that’s 
Singing is the one that hurt you,” he said. After that my headache left me, and 
I felt more like myself. I was coming back to normal. ‘Now,’ said the medicine 
man, “I’ll make you some ‘medicine’ that you must carry in your pocket. Then 
nothing will ever harm you again.” The “medicine” was tallow mixed with herbs 
and made in the shape of a marble; it smells sweet. He put this into a black 
cloth and I have carried it ever since. And I haven’t been bothered any more. 
[He permitted the writer to handle it. To all appearance it was a ball of herbs 
the size of a golf ball. It looked dark and was fragrant.] [His wife continued] 
We are not sure that it was his brother-in-law that ‘“witched” him for if he did 
he should also have the power to cure him. But that’s a separate “medicine.” 
Years ago many had these powers. All Indians say that it is not right to hurt 
anyone that way. Yet some did it. Nobody thought much of people that did 


HitezR] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 133 


that; people really looked down on them. Some probably did it on account of 
jealousies. 


(e) Sherman Sage told of the manner of inflicting a personal injury 
through a medicine man: 


If a woman hated a man or a man hated a woman, the person doing the hating 
conferred with a medicine man and obtained from him a worm or insect into 
which bad “medicine” had been placed. The person then threw the “medicine” at 
the one hated, and disfigured his face. For instance, a woman might be a good- 
looking woman—and they all wanted to be good-looking—no one would want to 
marry her after she was disfigured. There was an old man who wore a small 
Biece of “medicine” tied to his hair on the back of his head. He was sitting 
down.—He was the old man who had two wives of whom I told youu—Well, a 
young man who had gone to Carlyle and had come back home was sitting nearby. 
He thought he was smart. He snapped his fingers like this [thumb over index 
finger] at the thing in this old man’s hair. This old man used his ‘‘medicine” 
on that young man, and he got worms in his nose, and died from it. He tried 
to get the old man to take them out, but the old man wouldn’t doit. That was 
about 10 years ago [1930]. In early years there were many old men that had 
strong “medicines.” Now there isn’t one left who has strong “medicine.” This 
old man was the last one who had such power; I mean the man who had the 
stick tied to his hair. My grandfather was a great medicine man. He used to 
talk about God. Everybody talked about his powers. Somebody put a rock in 
a man’s forehead one time, and caused him to have a headache. My grandfather 
took that rock out. The same man was also wronged in his kidneys by having 
the bones of a turtle placed in them. My grandfather removed these also. 
Right now there is no one who does anything like that any more. 


(f) A middle-aged Northern man told of “medicine” in the posses- 
sion of his family: 


The Northern Arapaho have charms by means of which they can produce 
injury to others. Our family has such acharm. It was handed down to us from 
my grandfather. It is a deer foot. Some years ago we had a horse race, like 
we often have. The men in my family made a smudge of cedar twigs and we 
purified ourselves with the smoke. Then we chewed some of the deer foot fine, 
and blew it into the nostrils of the horse. We then made a smudge of sweet grass 
and blew this along the mane of the horse. In the race the other horses smelled 
this and it weakened them. Consequently our horse won the race. The swift- 
ness of the deer, in this case, was transferred to the horse. No girl or woman 
was ever allowed to ride such a horse. 


(g) A Northern man was told the following by his mother: 


A certain medicine man who had gotten power in a dream wanted to show 
the people what he could do. So he erected a large tipi in a place and called 
upon the entire tribe to erect their tipis in a circle at some distance from his, 
leaving an entrance toward the rising sun. His tipi was in the center. He 
stayed in it for 4 days and 4 nights, fasting. The men of the tribe stayed in it 
also, but they sang. Two men were asked to sit on the outside of the tipi, one on 
each side. At the end of the fourth day, these two men were asked to mount 
their horses. Then each was given an arrow. Both then rode to the entrance 
of the camp, and from there one rode left and the other right within the circle. 
When they met at the rear of the circle, each galloped in opposite directions across 
the prairies and finally returned to meet at the entrance of the circle. From here 


134 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY (Buu. 148 


they rode to the center tipi and returned the arrows after swinging them around 
in circles [first clockwise, then counterclockwise]. Soon antelopes came run- 
ning in great herds. The man in the center tipi then threw ail the arrows up 
into the air. This caused the antelopes to fall down. Bverybody could now 
slaughter an antelope. The people had been told before the antelopes appeared 
to be prepared with knives. My mother told me this story. It must be true for 
she took part in it. 

Will-of-the-wisp, called “fire-balls” by the Chippewa, a phenomena 
much feared by them and accredited by them with much power, was 
not known to the Arapaho. Since swamps were seldom found in the 
habitat of the Arapaho, marsh gas may not have been part of their 
experience. “However, old people sometimes see lights in the timber, 
and they call these ghost lights. But that’s only a glow from old rotten 
logs. ‘Then, too, when one sees an owl in the dark, its eyes shine. And 
they call these ghost lights also.” 


HEALTH 
PREVENTIVE MEASURES OF ILL HEALTH 


The greatest preventive of ill health was not to speak of ill health 
or of its treatment. “TI really don’t want to be discourteous, but I can’t 
tell you anything more about our way of treating sicknesses. It might 
bring sickness upon some of these children, or even wpon the people.” 
“When we didn’t talk about sickness, the people kept well, at least 
most of the time.” 

The spread of an epidemic was thought to be prevented by saturat- 
ing the air of dwellings with fumes made by burning cedar or testes 
of beaver on hot coals. “When many did become sick, that is when 
there was an epidemic, every household placed a piece of testis of 
beaver on hot coals and let the odor and fumes thicken the air and so 
destroy the germs. But we also did this when anyone was sick in a 
house and there was no epidemic.” Since a total eclipse of the sun 
was thought to forecast an epidemic, men shot toward it as a preventive 
measure (p. 91). 

If medicine men foresaw epidemics—the powers of some were 
thought to enable them to do so—they subjected themselves to a cere- 
monial sweat after which they anointed all who came to them with 
ceremonial paint believing thus to immunize them. “Only the medi- 
cine man knew if there would be an epidemic. If he expected one, he 
told his family and relatives about it. He prepared a sweat lodge 
(pl. 31). He went into itandsweat. After that he sat in it and other 
Arapaho went in to him. He rubbed war paint around their wrists 
and ankles and made a cross with the same paint on the forehead. 
This was also done to children. It was done to keep sickness away.” 
According to Kroeber (1902, pp. 428-429), the Arapaho believed that 


Hinenr) ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 135 


when one end of the moon was much higher than the other, general 
sickness might be expected. 

At the onset of spring a purgative was administered by an herbalist. 

When the weather began to get warm, now it is about the middle of March, 
some old man pulverized an herb and gave each of us a pinch of it to put in our 
mouths. He also made tea of it and gave each one a cupful to drink. Sometimes 
he boiled a large dish of it, and everybody came to his place and drank a cupful 
there. My parents and all of us did. This was a blood purifier, I think; for it 
was taken when the blood renews itself. 

Bathing was done both for the sake of cleanliness and as a pre- 
ventive of ill health. It was thought to strengthen the physique, give 
tone to the muscles, and cause the blood to circulate quickly. Every 
Arapaho man and woman was expected to bathe daily. On the day of 
its birth an Arapaho baby was dashed with cool water (p. 21), and 
this was done until it was able to walk, after which it was taken to 
the river by its mother whenever she went for her own bath. The 
mother held the child in her arms as she walked into the water. When 
the water was frozen, the mother broke the ice and did the same. 
Spending 5 or 6 minutes in the water was thought to be sufficiently 
long. Old Lady Salt Friday said that formerly Arapaho children 
were not afraid of water, “but today they cry ‘Cold! Cold!’ as soon as 
they are a little wet.” She used a piece of buffalo hide as wash cloth 
when bathing the babies in the river. “The colder the water was the 
harder I rubbed the baby’s skin. That made babies healthy and 
strong,” she added. 

As soon as children were able to masticate, they were given much 
meat to eat, for “meat made them strong and robust. Strong children 
didn’t get sick very easily.” 

Wolf Moccasin, an Arapaho, told Clark (1885, p. 42) that at the 
Sun Dance his people “cut off a piece of flesh from the arm and gave 
it to the God in the sun, praying as they did so that they might live 
long on the earth, and be spared from sickness and disease.” 


PHYSICIANS 


The Arapaho had men and women physicians. Men physicians, 
called medicine men, were herbalists, bloodletters, physiotherapists, 
psychotherapists, magicians and shamans. They were, therefore, both 
physicians and leaders in religion, religion and healing being insep- 
arately bound up in the practice of the medicine man. It was not true 
of women physicians. They were always herbalists, usually midwives, 
but very rarely shamans. A woman physician was either called medi- 
cine woman or old nurse, old nurse being a term most generally used. 

All knowledge for the treatment of the sick originated in a quest 
for personal supernatural powers, these powers being spoken of as 


136 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLL. 148 


“medicine” (pp. 124-125). “Medicine” was obtained only during a 
prolonged fast to which Arapaho men subjected themselves. To the 
knowledge obtained by a man during his fast, he could add more by 
purchase from those who already possessed it. Women physicians 
nearly always obtained theirs from men and other women who had 
such knowledge; it was rarely sought by them in a vision quest. 

According to Sage all curative knowledge today is learnt from 
others. Knowledge so gained must be paid for. “One time I paid a 
horse for knowledge regarding some herbs.” “We still have some good 
men doctors and women doctors; we used to have many. Today one 
person learns from another how to treat sickness. But I’m afraid 
it will all die out, for this younger generation does not believe much 
in these Indian medicines. I know some medicines myself but I’m 
certain that she [pointing at her 12-year-old daughter] won’t want 
to learn them when she grows up.” Michelson noted that it was cus- 
tomary for a woman doctor to instruct her daughter in the adminis- 
tering of herbs. His informant said, “As my mother was a doctor 
I learned through her the use of many herbs, roots, bark, leaves, and 
seeds of certain plants for the treatment of various ailments, before 
I was married” (Michelson, 1933, p. 602). 

Quoting a Southern informant: 

A mar may have to go through the ordeal of fasting for 4 days and 4 nights, 
before he will be taught the beneficial use of herbs by older medicine men. He 
will be taught how to gather a year’s supply, how to pulverize the herbs, and 
how to mix them. Certain combinations are used for certain sicknesses. The 
mixtures are prepared and then stored in small packages ready for use. The 
instructions for administering them have to be learned from those who are ex- 
perienced in the practice. Some have very unusual applications, like the ones a 
medicine man had who could handle reptiles. Willie Mix was one of these. 
A woman learned the administering of herbs by being a companion to her hus- 
band when he was administering them. She did not fast, but merely learned 
them by contact with her husband. 

An eighty-year-old Southern informant had taken lessons from a 
noted medicine man: 


When I was about 30 years old, I took lessons from a great medicine man called 
Black-Man. He is dead now. I still use his medicines. He knew medicines 
with which to cure people. I took between 20 and 30 lessons from him. I had to 
learn each lesson separately, one at a time. Each was different and each had 
different songs. When applying the medicines today, I sing the songs and 
shake a rattle and follow the old man’s instructions. After the Whites came we 
also found a medicine for smallpox. 


HERBS, ROOTS, BARK 


Prayers were said by the herbalist while he or she collected 
herbs, roots, and bark. Most of these were found “in the timber and 


™ Michelson wrote that about one quarter of the Southern Arapaho used Indian doctors 
in 1932. (Ibid., p. 609.) 


HincER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE AY 


under the ground.” “Say it is a root I am getting. Well, I say the 
prayer four times, and while I am saying it the fourth time, I pull 
up the root.” Neither tobacco nor sage was offered as sacrifice when 
making herbal collections. 

Roots, herbs, and bark were used in several curative ways: A de- 
coction made by boiling them in water was either drunk or used in 
bathing the affected part of the body; they were chewed and applied 
as a poultice; and they were laid dry on hot coals to make fumes 
which were both inhaled and wafted over the affected part or over 
the entire body. One informant during an interview placed chewed 
plug tobacco on a cut in her finger remarking, “Formerly I chewed 
herbs and used them as a poultice.” 

Herbalists were often specialists. “My old man cures pneumonia. 
Some can cure pneumonia and colds. Others know how to cure 
stomach troubles; others rheumatism; others headaches.” Kroeber 
records the contents of a medicine bag owned by an informant who 
treated several ailments. The following tells of some of the contents: 

1. A red bag of niiiata-root, used against cough. Pinches of the powdered 
root are put into a vessel of water at four sides, proceeding in order from left 
to right. A fifth pinch of the root is then dropped into the middle of the vessel, 


the fingers being raised somewhat higher than before. The water is then boiled, 
and the medicine drunk by the patient. 

2. A little bag of medicine called waxubaa, which is said to grow in the pres- 
ent habitat of the Northern Arapaho. This is a medicine for stomach-ache. 

3. A smaller yellow bag of hacawaanaxf, the root most frequently used in 
the tribal ceremonies of the Arapaho. By this man the root was mixed with 
earth when used. Five pinches were dropped into a vessel of water, boiled, and 
drunk. This was to cure pains in the back and in the chest. 

4. A small red bag containing a pebble-like formation found by the owner in 
the side of the body of a buffalo, and called hinatc# (“buffalo-bull”). This stone 
is laid on sores in order to cure them. The bag also contained a root, which, like 
the preceding remedies, is boiled in water and the decoction drunk. It is used 
as a cure for hemorrhages or lung-disease. 

5. A turtle-tail worn as a head-dress by young men, being supposed to aid 
them in retaining good health. With this was the heart of a turtle, with which 
the owner refused to part. This heart is pounded fine, and drunk in water as a 
remedy for pain in the heart. [ Kroeber, 1902, pp. 419-420.] 


Medicines for the sick were prepared in a tipi built especially for 
the purpose. When administering medicines the doctor sang songs 
prescribed for the particular cure he was trying to effect while shak- 
ing his rattle made of gourd to the rhythm of his song. The Arapaho 
did not beat a drum when treating the sick. At times both patient 
and doctor sang together. Both always prayed for a cure. Payments 
for the doctor’s services had to be in sight before he attempted a 
cure. Formerly these consisted of horses, hides, and other valuables; 
today, they are money and some smal] amounts of calico or clothing. 


138 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Butt. 148 


Quoting several informants: 


When I was sick a few years ago, the medicine man—the one we visited yester- 
day—repeatedly came and sat near me and sang. He talked to me about the 
sacred pipe and coaxed me to drink tea that he had boiled for me. .. . My man 
is a medicine doctor. He knows a root that he uses in curing pneumonia. He 
cured me when I bad pneumonia. He first prays to God; then he builds a little 
fire and makes a smudge with cedar; then he puts the root into a cup and 
holds it in the smudge; then he boils the root in water and while it is boiling, 
he shakes his rattle and sings. Then he gives the patient some of it to drink. He 
prays like this: “Lord, bless the earth and this medicine for the sick; bless it so 
that it will heal the body.” The sick person also prays and asks the Lord to bless 
it. These roots and things of the earth must be holy, since God put them there 
for men. . .. When a medicine man uses his knowledge for curing, he prays to 
the Great Spirit for the sick person and then he and the patient sing together. 
One is expected to pay. Years ago, before we had money, we paid in valuable gifts. 
Today, we give money. While the medicine man is performing his cure, he smokes 
a pipe. Before doing so, he offers the pipe first to the Great Spirit Above by lifting 
it upward; then to mother earth below by pointing it downward; and then to 
the four directions by pointing it toward them. This pipe represents the sacred 
pipe and is usually made by rolling tobacco in corn husks.” The sacred pipe 
used at the Sun Dance, they say, is made of clay and is more like a stem; it has 
no bowl.” . . . I know what to do for certain sicknesses. Once I was called to a 
woman who had just given birth and who was bloody from the hips down. I 
prayed over her and gave her some medicines to drink. Then I took beaver musk 
and herbs and placed them on hot cinders. I made the mother inhale the fumes 
and let them envelope her body. She got well again. ... A headache is cured 
by washing the head and face with a decoction as hot as the patient can bear 
it. It surely helps. The decoction is made by boiling a root shaped like a turnip 
(niida’) in water. 

Among the Southern Arapaho, the mescal button (Lophophora 
Williamsti. Lem. Coulter) does not only form the center of the 
peyote cult but it is being used at the present time almost as a panacea 
for ills and aches. For some Southern families it is almost an ex- 
clusive household remedy. It is used to a very much lesser degree 
among the Northern Arapaho. Supplies of mescal buttons were seen 
by the writer in various households of the Southern group. Some 
homes had tin cans filled with them; several families, a flour sack; 
others, only small cloth bags. Many families had strings of the but- 
tons hanging on walls. One couple was drying a string of 102 but- 
tons slung across a wire pasture fence. Repeatedly the writer was 
offered buttons for future medicinal use. ‘You just eat some of these 
buttons the next time you feel sick, and see how soon you'll feel 
like newborn. These have the medicines of the White doctors all 
beat!” (Cf. also Cairns, 1929, pp. 638-645.) 

Decoctions made by boiling the buttons in water are taken by both 
adults and children for internal aches. As a poultice, a mash of it 


7 Kroeber (1902, p. 401) records that corn-husk cigarettes were smoked at the peyote 
ceremonial. 


8 According to Carter (1938, p. 95), it has a bowl. 


HILGER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 139 


is applied to sores, to rheumatic and arthritic areas, to external swell- 
ings, and to aching corns. It is nibbled at for colds and nausea, and 
when chewed fine is packed into the cavity of an aching tooth. 


SUCKING, BLOOD LETTING, BURNING, TATTOOING, SWEATING 


Certain medicine men had power to cure by sucking. Sucking the 
aching part or the area of a sick part of the body was done either by 
applying the mouth directly to the affected parts of a sick person’s 
body, or by sucking them through the hollow or porous section of a 
bone of a large animal. According to Kroeber (1902, p. 438) the 
porous bones of large mammals or reptiles found on riverbanks and 
thought to be the bones of water monsters, were frequently applied 
to sores or wounds and sucked. ‘These same bones were used as in- 
gredients of medicines. The leg bone of fowl, such as is used by the 
Chippewa medicine men in sucking, was not used by the Arapaho. 
“The Arapaho applied the mouth directly to the sick part or to the 
part that pained. This might be in the lung area, for instance.” 
“The Arapaho cure headaches by sucking the forehead in various parts 
directly by the mouth, just like they suck burns. They used no long 
duck bones in sucking.” 

According to Kroeber, persons, especially children, who became 
suddenly sick with pains in the side, back, or neck were thought to 
have been shot by a ghost. Kroeber says: 

The object which has entered the body, and which may be a bone, tooth, hair, 
or piece of skin of a dead person, is called a “ghost arrow” (ciikanaci). The 
doctor says to the patient, “A ghost has shot you, ciiktcibiin.”’ When the doctor 
sucks out the object, which sometimes proves to be liquid or filthy, either he or 
the patient swallows it. If the doctor swallows it, it increases his power of 
sucking objects of this kind. [Kroeber, 1902, p. 437.] 

Bloodletting was done either by allowing blood to flow from a vein, 
or by sucking or cupping it from an incision. In bleeding, the upper 
arm was tightly bound and gashes were made at the inner elbow with 
swift strokes. Formerly sharp-edged stones were used for gashing; 
more recently, pieces of glass. When a sufficient amount of blood 
had flowed, a poultice, usually clean earth, was applied to stop bleed- 
ing. An informant had seen an Arapaho doctor tie a band of cloth 
tightly around the arm of a woman about halfway between her elbow 
and shoulder. He had told her to grasp a nearby pole tightly. ‘Then, 
with a piece of sharpened glass that he had fastened into the end of a 
twig, he tapped the inner elbow with quick strokes. Soon blood 
flowed. According to Kroeber (1902, p. 488), pieces of “black glass” 
were fastened to sticks and these laid over a vein. Then the stick was 
struck with a piece of wood so that blood spurted. Bleeding, he notes, 
was done in spring and autumn, apparently because of general indis- 
position rather than for specific pain. 


140 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Bunn 148 


Cupping or sucking was dene to relieve headaches, rheumatic or 
arthritic pains, or pains of any kind. One or several slight incisions 
were made in the skin over the area that pained. Sucking was then 
done in one of two ways: either by applying the mouth directly to the 
incision or to the open tip end of a buffalo horn or cow horn, the large 
end of which had been set over the incision. Approximately 4 inches 
of the narrow end of a horn was used. Usually the tip end was cut 
off; sometimes it was merely perforated. Generally a hornful of 
blood was considered a suflicient amount to effect a cure. An 
Arapaho woman had been bled by a Kiowa woman “who does it just 
like we do. The Kiowa woman searched around until she found a 
piece of dark red glass. The kind she was looking for was bottle 
glass. Red bottle glass is always sharp. ‘Then with the sharp edge of 
this she made incisions here and here and here [center hair line on 
forehead, and sides of head on crown. Scars were also visible on 
temples]. Then she sucked blood from all of them through the end 
of a cow’s horn. She did this because my eyes were giving me much 
trouble.” 

When cupping was done, a horn with tip cut off was placed on the 
incision, and a vacuum created within it by sucking the air from it by 
mouth through the opening at the tip and maintaining it by placing a 
finger on the tip. When the horn was filled with blood, it dropped off. 
A hornful was thought to be a sufficient amount to bring about a cure.™ 
“T know of a person who had five tiny slits made on his back over his 
lungs, and had five hornfuls of blood drawn. He was well after that.” 
If temples were being cupped, the toe nail of fowl was generally used 
in place of a horn since it was lighter and adhered more easily. 

Muscular pains accompanied by swellings were treated with heat 
produced by having some substance burnt over the area. “We did 
not tattoo in order to cure rheumatic pains like you say the Chippewa 
do. Here’s what we did. We took oyster mushrooms which grow on 
trees, and broke off fibers from them. We piled up as many as 80 of 
these fibers over the swollen aching part and held a live coal to each 
fiber successively, beginning with the topmost. When it reached the 
skin, all was flipped off with a finger. Anyone can do that today to 
himself or to others. It isn’t necessary that he be a doctor.” “Mumps 
or swellings that come from rheumatism are cured by burning sage on 
the affected part. Sage is laid on the area that is swollen, and is 
lighted and allowed to burn nearly to the skin.” 

The Arapaho did not tattoo for health purposes. It was a tribal 
custom, however, to tattoo for ornamental purposes.*? According to 
a Northern informant, an Arapaho man was to have three tattoo spots 


31 Cf, Kroeber, 1902, pp. 438-439, for similar statements. 


® According to Chittenden (1902, 2: 878), a tattooed breast was a distinctive Arapaho 
tribal custom. 


Hixenr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 141 


in horizontal line on the center of his chest. A woman had but one, 
and it was on the center of her forehead. Several Arapaho women 
with a tattoo on the forehead were seen during the present study. A 
man tattooed himself; women did so for each other. Children, too, 
could be tattooed but not before they were 7 or 8 months old. When 
tattooing, the skin was pricked with briers of yucca tied in a bunch. 
When blood began to show, men rubbed pulverized charcoal into the 
area; women pressed a little red paint in the center and charcoal 
around it. “This is a tribal custom. It is merely ornamental and 
has no significance.” 

A steam bath, spoken of as sweating, was taken in a dome-shaped 
hut, commonly called sweat lodge. It was made by covering a frame- 
work of saplings with hides (pl. 31). Sweating served as a health 
restorative. (Cf. also Kroeber, 1902, p. 452.) Children were never 
subjected to it, and women very seldom used it. Men sweat in the 
spring of the year to relieve sluggishness and a feeling of debility. 
The sweat lodge used for sweating as a health restorative was also used 
for ceremonial sweating (pp. 147-148). 


PERSONAL SACRIVICE, FASTING, MATERIAL SACRIFICE, CHANGING NAME 


When the usual remedies for the restoration of health had been 
tried and no recovery followed, a relative of the sick person promised 
personal sacrifice to obtain it. Sacrifices consisted of participation 
in the Sun Dance, of making an offering of a finger or at Jeast a portion 
of one, of fasting in isolation, and of offering material things to the 
sacred pipe. 

The sacrifice of the Sun Dance included a drastic fast and, before 
1904, physical torture. 

Several informants had sacrificed one joint of the little finger of the 
left hand for the restoration of the health of a relative. One had sac- 
rificed a joint of both fourth and little fingers of the left hand to 
obtain her mother’s health. Old men usually did the severing with a 
sharp knife. An old woman, however, had done so with a hatchet for 
one informant. Michelson’s informant sacrificed a finger to obtain 
her sister’s health. Her account follows: 

As I said, I wanted to be positive that it was permissible for me to tell of 
the sacrifice of my finger, and since it is, I will tell of it. It was this way. 
After my sister had been married several years and had had several children, 
she became sickly. Realizing the responsibility I was facing in the custody of 
her children in the event of her death which seemed evident by the failure of two 
of the best Arapaho doctors after periodical gifts for their services, I unhesita- 
tingly made a vow to Sacrifice my left little finger, so that my sister’s life might 
be spared, so that her small children, who were a pitiful sight to me as they 


were about their helpless mother, might again enjoy happiness with their 
mother, and so the rest of us would be relieved from the impending sorrow, 


142 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Buny. 148 


especially my father and mother who thought so much more of this daughter, 
as she always was somewhat frail. The next morning an Arapaho woman was 
called to remove my finger in the usual way. She told me that since I was 
slender this wound would heal rapidly, which it did. My sister commenced to 
eet better, improving very quickly. She became hungry for deer meat. The 
young men went out and brought deer that they had killed; they brought turkey 
and beaver, which my sister ate, getting back her strength very rapidly. After a 
short time she was again well and happy with her children, which made us all 
happy again. At the time I made the vow my father expressed his gratitude 
very forcibly, and praised me for my thoughtfulness. I had just one thought, 
and that was that my Sister was going to recover. [Michelson, 1933, pp. 609-610.] 


Regarding fasting as a sacrifice for health, informants related the 
following: 


Any man older than 20 years could fast for the recovery of a sick person. 
If anyone in the relationship was sick, a man of that age promised to go to the 
hills to fast. He would go there and spend 4 days and nights fasting from 
food and drink. He would smoke, however. ...A man fasts if he has vowed 
to do so because one of his family is sick. ... [His wife added:] The last time 
he [her husband] fasted, I was sick with pneumonia. He also vowed to fast 
when I was about to be operated on. The operation was a suceess. He fasted 
three other times when I had pneumonia. Another time he fasted when our 
daughter kept getting those jerking spells. She had had them since she was a 
baby. The Indian doctors could do nothing for her, nor could the United 
States Agency doctors. So my man fasted. Our daughter was about 6 years old 
then, and she was cured. She is 11 years old now. It was in our minds and 
hearts to cure her. My man, too, is a medicine man and has powers to cure. 


It was conventional to make offerings of material things to the 
sacred pipe to obtain the recovery of a person who was then sick, or 
in fulfillment of a promise made while some one was sick who had 
since recovered. Usually the offerings were made during the Sun 
Dance. They could, however, be made at any time. [Cf. also Carter, 
1988, p. 77.] 


At any time during the year, not necessarily during the Sun Dance, I may 
carry cut a vow to make an offering to the sacred pipe that I made so that 
my sick child should recover. The sacrifice will consist of adding another 
eover to those in which the pipe is already wrapped. . . . The coverings 
that you saw around the pipe in Wyoming last summer were sacrifices. I will 
take to the pipe whatever I have promised, like a piece of red cloth, or maybe 
a white woolen blanket. I also take some food and leave it near the pipe. 
Anyone can take the food after I have offered it. If I am allowed to view the 
pipe, war paint will be put on my face, and I will step on the bundle made of 
the bianket or the cloth that I have offered and look at. the pipe. 


During a prolonged illness the sick person sometimes assumed a new 
name as a health restorative (pp. 60, 63). 


RELIGION AND SUPERNATURAL POWERS 


The deities of the Arapaho religion included a Supreme Being and 
such minor deities as Keepers-of-the-Pipe, also called Water-Drip- 
ping-Old-Men; the sun, called Grandfather ; the earth, called Mother; 


Hixenr]) ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 143 


and for every adult man, the personified animal of his vision quest. 
The tribal religious ceremonial was the Sun Dance. Leaders in 
religious ceremonials were always medicine men. 

Interpreters in every instance hesitated to ask questions regarding 
religious beliefs, especially regarding the Sun Dance. Informants 
during first interviews when cooperation was sought regarding infor- 
mation related to Arapaho child life, were quite willing to assist, but 
added that they could not speak of their old religion. “These old 
women and all the old members of our tribe, I believe, do not like to 
be asked questions about the ceremonies of the Sun Dance. My father 
made the same remark yesterday. For instance they do not like to 
be asked what the man does who gives the Sun Dance when he goes 
into the tipi and fasts there previous to giving the dance. Nor do 
they like to be asked about the powers that the medicine man has or 
how he got them or practices them.” “The Sun Dance is very sacred 
to us and we don’t like to talk about it.” “You'll have to ask the old 
men of the tribe to get the truth about the Sun Dance; and then you 
will not learn much, for most of them won’t like it if you ask them. 
All the Whites that come here to learn our old customs ask about it; 
but we don’t think we should talk about it so carelessly. Anyway 
we women don’t know much about it.” 

Due to this reticence and also because rather complete studies of 
the Sun Dance had already been made by Dorsey and Kroeber, eye- 
witnesses to Sun Dance ceremonials, the obtaining of information re- 
lated to the Sun Dance was not pressed. Doing so might have been 
discourteous and might also have weakened or destroyed rapport which 
was needed for information not yet found in the literature. Recently, 
too, Carter, who had the unique experience of participating in the 
ceremony of covering the sacred pipe, recorded the ceremony. The 
sacred pipe is a religious ceremonial object highly esteemed by both 
Northern and Southern Arapaho and used during the Sun Dance of 
the Northern Arapaho. Some information on Arapaho religion, how- 
ever, was collected and is recorded in the present chapter. 

Arapaho children were taught the religious beliefs of their people 
as soon as they were able to learn. They were taken to old men of the 
tribe for instructions. To impress upon them the importance of re- 
ligion, they were painted periodically by the old men, the old men 
praying for them while doing so. “The children would then realize 
early in life that they had a religion.” 

Children were not participants at the Sun Dance, but were present 
everywhere during its performance. If old enough to understand, a 


§ For studies of the Arapaho Sun Dance, see Dorsey, 1903; Kroeber, 1902. For studies 
of the sacred pipe, see Carter, 1938. For studies of the Sun Dance of other Plains tribes, 
see Sun Dance of the Plains Indians, edited by Clark Wissler, 1921. For a general de- 
scription of the Sun Dance, see Dorsey, in Hodge, 1910, pp. 649-652. 


144 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [ Buu. 148 


child was made aware of the sacrifice that a father or a brother was 
making by participating in the Sun Dance. If the father or brother 
participated in it in fulfillment of a vow made because the child had 
been restored to health, the child was told about it. The child, too, 
was present when its clothing and moccasins were offered at the center 
pole by its mother or grandmother. (Cf. Dorsey, 1903, pp. 156-157.) 
At the present time a little girl’s shoes or dresses are offered; a boy’s 
shirt or pants. At the close of the Sun Dance, dancers placed hands 
in blessing or as a petition for good health on heads and bodies of 
children brought to them for this purpose by mothers or grand- 


mothers. 
SUPREME BEING AND MINOR DEITIES 


The Arapaho believed in a Supreme Being. Quoting informants: 


Even in old days our Indians believed in God. My first recollection of a medi- 
cine man is seeing him standing in the center of a medicine lodge—the one to 
which only old men belonged [pp. 117-118]—and using the expression ‘Heavenly 
Father” or “Everybody’s Father” ina prayer. The Arapaho word for God is hard 
to translate; but that is what it means, “Heavenly Father” or “Everybody’s 
Father.” It refers to the same God that we now pray to as Christians. The 
Indians always knew that there was a God but we learnt more about Him when 
we went to the school of the Whites. ... In old days the Indians believed in 
one Supreme God. We always believed there was a God; the Whites didn’t have 
to teach us that. The various lodges [pp. 117-123] went by that belief; we can 
prove it by them. 


Quoting Jessie Rowlodge: 


The Arapaho believed in life after death and also in one Supreme Being. Since 
the Arapaho word for this Being is hard to translate, different translations are 
given by different Arapaho, but all refer to the same Supreme Being. Expressions 
meaning God are used in prayers. When God is addressed directly, He is called, 
Hé’jabinéiya. The best translation of this word, I think, is White-Man-Above. 
This does not mean a White man, however, such as we now speak of, meaning 
Americans. A better translation may be Spider-Above. Here is the significance 
of this term: A spider does very mysterious things. He spins a web from his 
mouth in a mysterious way. Furthermore he may suspend himself by a thread 
that comes from his mouth, and then climb up on it again. Hence the spider is 
a symbol of mysterious performances. One can’t understand them. Neither can 
we understand the Supreme Being. The Supreme Being, however, is not a spider. 
He is like a human being. When this Spider-Above is talked about and is not 
addressed directly, He is spoken of as either Ha’sininén, translated Our Father, 
or Bat’ati, translated The-Mysterious-One. Now, the old men of the last degree 
of the lodges, the degree called Ninihaxwi, were the ones that were allowed 
and were eligible to pray to this Supreme Being. The Spider-Above lived in the 
skies somewhere and made children grow. He was prayed to for protection 
against calamity and misfortune. 

Not all medicine men could pray to the Supreme Being; some had to pray to the 
spirits that appeared to them during their fasts. These personal spirits were 
animals; they might be any animal living in the air, in water, on the earth, or 
in the earth. It had to be a living creature. 


HiLenr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 145 


The four holy men of whom Sherman Sage spoke to you, men who cared for 
the sacred pipe on earth and who are now prayed to by the Arapaho, are probably 
what the old men around here, authorities in the matter, call Water-Dripping- 
Old-Men. The Arapaho word for the old men is Jé’najébaxa’haa. Michelson 
translated this as Water-Sprinklers. I would translate this as Water-Dripping- 
Old-Men. The Water-Dripping-Old-Men, when very old, became almost sacred. 
They had a good deal todo with the sacred pipe when on earth, but they were 
not the custodians of it. Only men that had been members of the Nanihaxwii 
could carry on the ceremonials that, eventually in eternity, classified them with 
Water-Dripping-Old-Men. Here is one thing that potential Water-Dripping-Old- 
Men had a duty to do: Supposing, because of some calamity, such as defeat, death, 
or some ill fortune in the tribe, people were downhearted and everything seemed 
disheartening. Then the old men of the Nanihaxwt held a ceremonial before 
sunrise at which they painted the members of the tribe with Indian paint.“ This 
was done more particularly for the benefit of children. It renewed the happiness 
of thought and mind in the people. These old men were the ones who were 
eligible to offer prayers to the Spider-Above as I have said. After they had 
directed their prayers to the Spider-Above, they directed them to the sun, speaking 
of the sun as grandfather; then to the earth as mother; then to the Water- 
Dripping-Old-Men, and next to Blackhawk—I have no knowledge regarding 
Black-Hawk ; that is a mystery for me—and lastly all the spirits were asked as a 
group to listen to the petitions of the people on earth. The grandfather, that 
is the sun, was credited with making things grow by sunlight and by wetting 
the earth with rain.—Grandfather is a term that is sacred and carries with it a 
great deal of respect——The earth was spoken of as mother since she is the 
producer of things. The Spider-Above is addressed in the first person in prayer; 
the sun and the earth are addressed in the third person. Sacrifices were made 
to the Spider-Above through the Sun Dance. 


Quoting another informant: “Formerly the prayers at the Sun 
Dance were addressed to the sun; now the sun dancers pray to the 
One above the sun.” Quoting Sherman Sage: “Prayers said at the 
Sun Dance are offered so the Indians will be good, stay well, and live 
long.” 

Regarding the Spider-Above, the following account similar to 
Rowlodge’s is recorded by Grinnell for the Cheyenne and includes a 
corresponding note for the Arapaho: 


The Cheyennes say there is a principal god who lives up above—Heamma- 
wihio—and that there is also a god living under the ground—Ahk tun o’ wihio. 
Both are beneficent and they possess like powers. Four powerful spirits dwell! 
at the four points of the compass. ... Heammawihio, the Wise One Above, 
was the chief god. He was the creator; he first of all was addressed in prayer, 


5 Regarding Indian paints, a Northern woman said: “Paint is dug for in the mountains. 
It is pounded into powder and then moistened with fat or grease. Paint keeps evil spirits 
away. One way of using sacred paint is to smear it into the palms of hands and then 
rubbing it over cheekbones, forehead and the bridge of the nose. It may be applied to 
temples instead of cheekbones.” When applying it, strokes are upward. Old informants of 
the present study often had old paint rubbed into the parting of the hair at the crown 
of the head. Clark on the word of Wolf Moccasin wrote: “The God of their forefathers 
gave them paint. It protected them from the heat of summer and the cold of winter, and 
also gave them good luck. Black paint was used after returning from war, indicating 
joy, rejoicing ; red paint was used in profusion when under the pressure of any excitement, 
either in war or love, put on face, hair, and body.” [Clark, 1885, p. 42.] 


892644—52 11 


146 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLu. 148 


and to him the first smoke was offered. The man who prayed looked upward, 
and perhaps held his hands toward the sky, saying, “I am poor, and in need; 
help me”—to food, health, long life, success in war, or whatever it might be 
that he especially desired. 

The dwelling place of Heammawihio is denoted by his name, which is com- 
posed of the adverb hé’’mm§, above, and wi hio, a word closely related to 
wi'hiu, chief. Wihio also means spider, and white man, and appears to embody 
the idea of mental ability of an order higher than common—superior intelli- 
gence. All its uses seem to refer to this mental power. To the Indian the 
white man appears superior in intelligence to other men. He has great knowl- 
edge, wonderful implements, and clever ways. When he came, he knew more 
than the Indians, and taught them how to do things they had never done 
before or, indeed, had ever thought of doing. On account of his ability they 
called him wihio. The spider spins a web, and goes up and down, seemingly 
walking on nothing. It is more able than other insects, hence the name. 

The Arapaho word for spider is nia tha, which is also the word for white man. 
Niatha is given aS meaning “the wise one.” ... I believe that wihio has the 
same significance. On the other hand, I have been told that the word wihio 
conveys the idea of being enclosed in something. Of water in a keg, and of 
a saddle tied up in a sack, the same word would be used. It has been said 
that when Wihio left them to go up into the sky, he was clothed in a garment 
woven of grass, which entirely covered him. 

Next after Heammawihio the power of the earth is named in prayer. It is 
implored to make everything grow which we eat, so that we may live; to make 
the water flow, that we may drink; to keep the ground firm, that we may live 
and walk on it; to make grow those plants and herbs that we use to heal our- 
selves when we are sick; and to cause to grow also the grass on which the 
animals feed. 

The great power put the earth here, and must have put us on it. Without 
the earth nothing could live. There could be no animals or plants. The 
father of life taught us this. 

Foornore: According to Wautan (an Arapaho) Chiva Niatha means Niatha 
above, or the good god. They asked blessing from him; he is the owner of all 
the land. Niatha below he thinks is the same; he is also called the Owner of 
the Ground. When they smoke, they say, “Owner of the Ground, smoke,” mean- 
ing the under-ground God; there is no name for him. The medicine men, in 
smoking point the stem of the pipe to the four points of the compass, then up 
and down, but other people make only the last two motions. [Grinnell, 1923, 
vol. 2, 88-89.] 


On the word of the Arapaho, Chief Little Raven, Clark recorded 
the following: 


About one hundred years ago we were ranging over as far as the Big Horn 
River. The Great Spirit had taken pity on us a long time before and given us 
the Buffalo. A raiding party from our camp was out, the young men came on 
the Shoshone Indians, saw ponies, ran off some; these were the first we had ever 
seen. We used to think there was a force, an unknown power (Great Spirit) in 
the earth, and we used to pray to it; finally it gave us all the earth could give— 
stone implements, corn, ete.; then this force went above. This same power is in 
the sun and at the four corners of the earth,—everywhere. [Clark, 1885, p. 40.] 


According to Kroeber, the order in which beings were addressed 
in certain prayers was “first our father, second the sun, third hiiteni, 
fourth hitaxusa (or last child, equivalent to hiintcabiit, ‘water-mon- 


Hiner] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 147 


ster or owner of water’), fifth the thunder, sixth the whirlwind, and 
seventh the earth.” According to one of his informants, the persons 
sometimes addressed in prayer were successively: “Above-Nih’a"¢a*, 
the four old men, and then the sun.” He notes, too, that “the earth 
is sometimes spoken of as woman, the sky as man, as is shown in the 
phrase ‘hiitaawuneina" hixtciiba neisana* (‘the earth my mother, the 
above my father’).” (Kroeber, 1902, p. 313.) 


CEREMONIAL SMOKING, CEREMONIAL SWEAT BATHS 


By ceremonial smoking the Arapaho meant puffing smoke from a 
long-stemmed pipe after directing the pipestem skyward, then toward 
earth, and next toward east, north, west, and south (pl. 6).%° No 
ceremony associated with the spiritual world was ever conducted with- 
out ceremonial smoking. Old informants of the present study never 
failed to smoke either immediately before, or during, or after giving 
information related to their religious beliefs. Sage interrupted in- 
terviews in order to smoke, saying that he had now told us sacred 
things (or would do so after smoking) and that he must therefore 
smoke. He packed the bowl of his pipe (cf. pl. 1 for pipe) with a 
small twig, tilted the pipestem skyward, then dipped it slightly to- 
ward earth, then east, north, west, and south. A very old Southern 
man interrupted his conversations in the same manner.*®® Children 
who played rather boisterously close by were hushed and made to 
sit still whenever an old man smoked. Adults, too, talked less and 
only in whispers. No one was allowed to pass in front of the smoker. 
One little girl, one day, was about to pass in front of Sage while he 
was smoking. A woman caught her little skirt and pulled her to the 
floor where she herself was squatted. The little girl tiptoed to the 
writer, and whispered, “You know that’s just like saying a prayer; 
that’s why we all have to be quiet now.” 

Sage smoked kinnikinnick which he had made by mixing the inner 
bark of the “red willow” with commercial chewing tobacco. Both 
were finely shaved. The bow] of his pipe was of red catlinite; he had 
obtained it from the Sioux of South Dakota. The stem was a hol- 
lowed piece of wood. A Southern man smoked finely crushed sumac 
leaves, mixed with commercial smoking tcbacco, “such as Prince 
Albert.” The sumac leaves were either picked from the bush and 
dried or picked from the ground after falling and drying. Hayden 
(1863, p. 327) notes that kinnikinnick of the Arapaho was bas-nak- 
than’, a bush growing near Fort Bridger. 

Ceremonial sweating consisted of a steam bath taken in a hut made 
of a framework of saplings covered with hides. It is commonly called 

% Cf. also Dorsey, 1903, pp. 41-42, 128-130, and 155-156, for ceremonial smoking. 


% Cf, Scott, 1907, p. 559, for a similar account by Chief Left Hand given in 1897. Cf, 
also Mooney, 1896, pp. 918, 1063-4, for ceremonial smoking of other tribes. 


148 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Buy 148 


a sweat lodge (pl. 31). The sweat lodge was used for ceremonial 
sweating and also for sweating done as a health restorative 
(p. 141). Children were never subjected to sweat baths of any kind. 

Regarding ceremonial sweat baths, Sage said: 

The people take sweat baths in sweat lodges but only after the sacred pipe 
has been sweat. When the buds on the trees begin to open, the sacred pipe is 
taken into the sweat lodge. Here the medicine men sweat and say prayers so 
that the people will live long and have much to eat. In the fall the sacred 
pipe is again sweated first, and then the rest of the people take their sweat. 

According to the owner of the sweat lodge, the framework of which 
is shown in plate 31, a new sweat lodge was built each year in the 
spring after the first thunder. No sweat lodge was used more than 
one year. Healso stated that at the present time the ceremonial sweat 
is taken in the spring and again in the fall when the leaves are turn- 
ing. Usually four persons go into the sweat lodge at one time. As 
soon as all are within, each one fills his own pipe four times, smoking 
it each time. When all have finished smoking the fourth pipe hot 
stones are handed into the lodge from the outside. Plain water, never 
a herbal decoction, is poured on the hot stones. This produces steam. 
Before smoking the pipe, it is pointed toward heaven, toward earth, 
toward southeast, northwest, northeast, and southwest. “We sing 
sweat house songs. We never forget them; they are sacred songs 
and have never been recorded.” 

The framework of the sweat lodge shown in plate 31 consisted of 
15 willow saplings set in a circle 11 feet in diameter. The upper end 
of each willow was twisted around the upper end of the one opposite 
it and securely tied there with either cord, strips of cloth, or inner 
bark. To hold the entire framework in position each willow was tied 
to three poles laid across the top. One of the crosswise poles was 
Tastened directly over the opening. The opening was 2 feet 8 inches 
high and 2 feet 3 inches wide at the base. It faced east. The frame- 
work was 4 feet high. Bulrushes covered the floor. Approximately 
25 stones, each about equal to 2 fists, lay in a pile in the center. When 
in use the lodge was covered with tent canvas or blankets: “in the 
buffalo days, we used buffalo hides.” The lodge, the owner said, was 
used for the spring and fall ceremonial sweat baths. He used it at 
other times, if his health required it. 


TRIBAL RELIGIOUS CEREMONIAL: THE SUN DANCE 


The tribal religious ceremony of the Arapaho was the Sun Dance. 
A Southern Arapaho related the origin of the Sun Dance thus: 
We believe that all order and law for our tribe originated with the Sun Dance. 


Old Indians claimed that before the Sun Dance, our Indians lived any way 
and without rules. One time one man felt sorry for the people, so he took a 


HILGHR]) ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 149 


peace pipe and went out each day inviting the people to live together in better 
order. He went out along the river, talked and prayed and invited the Indians 
to join the lodge, and that was the beginning of the Sun Dance. But that was 


many years ago. 


Informants called the Sun Dance hiasa’a, which means tanned hide 
orrobe. The term, hasa’, is thought to have originated in the custom 
that at the Sun Dance each dancer had lying before him, while danc- 
ing, a pile of tanned hides or robes. The hides or robes were his gifts 
to his sponsor, to the drummers and to others. Another name given 
the Sun Dance by Arapaho is ha’sayat, meaning sacrifice. Kroeber 
(1902, p. 280, ftn.) translated the Arapaho word for the Sun Dance 
as sacrifice-lodge or offering-lodge, the term sacrifice probably having 
originated in the bodily tortures that dancers endured hy abstaining 
from food and water and by being attached to the sun pole with long 
thongs. Informants thought the term “Sun Dance” had originated 
with the White man since the conduct of the dancers gave the im- 
pression that they were gazing into the sun. 

Here is how it was done: All dancers had to look at the center pole. The 
sponsor of a dancer—we call him the painter, it is really the man directing a 
participant—marked a place on the center pole on which the dancer had to 
rivet his gaze. This might be a knot or a piece of bark on the pole, or the painter 
might make a mark somewhere on the pole. [Informant here indicated marks 
visible on the center pole shown in plate 34.] The painter might even be so 
severe with the man he was directing as to make him stand close to the pole, 
away from the ring of the dancers. In order then to be able to rivet his eyes 
on the assigned mark on the pole the dancer had to hold his head so far back 
that it appeared as though he were looking into the sun. 


The chief features of the Sun Dance of the Arapaho were those 
found among most of the Plains Indians. They were the ceremony 
connected with the erection of the center pole; the dance lodge, which 
was a shelter of poles set in a circle about the center pole; an altar; 
a sacred bundle, which among the Northern Arapaho contained the 
sacred pipe and among the Southern Arapaho the sacred wheel; the 
dancing ceremony ; and, until 1904, the torture. 

The Arapaho conducted the Sun Dance annually until its prohibi- 
tion by the Department of the Interior of the United States Govern- 
ment in 1904.87 According to Dorsey (1903, p. 2), a majority of the 


87In all probability, several factors entered into the prohibition of the Sun Dance, in 
1904. Quoting John Collier, Commissioner of U. S. Office of Indian Affairs: “Under the 
Indian regulations of 1904 of the Department of the Interior, practice of the Sun Dance 
was considered an Indian offense. The exact regulation read as follows: ‘The “sun-dance,” 
and other similar dances and so-called religious ceremonies, shall be considered “Indian 
offenses,” and any Indian found guilty of being a participant in any one or more of 
these “offenses” shall, for the first offense committed, be punished by withholding from 
him his rations for a period not exceeding ten days; and if found guilty of a subsequent 
offense under this rule, shall be punished by withholding his rations not less than fifteen 
days or more than thirty days, or by incarceration in the agency prison for a period not 
exceeding thirty days.’ ... Since 1935 this regulation and any other prohibition on 
Indian religion have been removed.” (From letter of John Collier, Commissioner of the 
United States Bureau of Indian Affairs, to the writer under date of February 24, 1941.) 


150 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY {BULL 148 


tribes had discontinued the ceremony between 1885 and 1890. Kroeber 
was an eyewitness to the Northern Arapaho Sun Dance of 1900 and 
Dorsey to those of the Southern Arapaho held in 1901 and 1902 *% 
(pls. 32 and 33). 

Men led the Sun Dance or merely participated in it as dancers in 
fulfillment of a vow todoso. Such a vow was made in order to obtain 
a favor, ward off a grave danger, or as a thanksgiving offering. “Any 
person who comes out of a predicament or who recovers from a sick- 
ness or a strain may promise to give a Sun Dance or to be a dancer in 
one. For example: Years ago some people were picking chokecher- 
ries inacanyon. All at once a stream came down the canyon, like it 
does when it rains in the mountains. A man on horseback tried to 
cross this stream. But the horse stood still, snorted, and looked into 
a cave. A monster there had worked a spell on the horse. The man 
promised to give the Sun Dance and the spell was broken.” “Some- 
body that I know offered the Sun Dance years ago to obtain a safe 
journey.” “One of my relatives had a bad dream. He dreamed that 
all his children had died. When he woke up he promised to give the 
Sun Dance so that his children would live. Such a promise must 
never be broken.” 

Seger, an eyewitness to a Southern Arapaho Sun Dance in 1877 
related the following: 


At a Sun Dance male members of the tribe volunteer to submit to suffering 
and torture to satisfy the Hvil Spirit. I can’t better illustrate the way the 
Indian looks at this matter than repeat from memory the substance of a prayer 
made by Little Raven, a celebrated Arapaho Chief and Medicine Man, at a Sun 
Dance held at the Red Hills, near where the town of Geary is now located. This 
dance was held thirty years ago, at a time when the buffalo was becoming scarce, 
and the Arapahos were living mainly on rations issued by the government. Al- 
though these rations were given them, yet they considered it very unfortunate 
that they were compelled to live on charity instead of living the free and inde- 
pendent life of a hunter and having plenty of fat and juicy buffalo meat, which 
I can testify to that it would satisfy the appetite of an epicure. But now we will 
quote from Raven’s prayer. The sun was up to high noon; six warriors stood 
nude except a breech clout and gee string; in their bleeding breasts was fastened 
a rawhide lariat rope fastened to sticks thrust under the skin or to some tied 
to the skin, which had been raised up for the purpose. One warrior was dragging 
a buffalo head, with the horns on, by a buffalo lariat rope, which was fastened 
to the skin which was raised up from his shoulder blade, and several passed 
under it while he dragged it around the grounds. The blood was streaming down 
his back, and as the horns on the head would catch in the ground, the skin on 
the Indian’s back would be peeled out several inches. 

In the midst of this torture old Raven stepped out, and raising his hands 
toward the sun in an appealing attitude, he addressed the Great Spirit, asking 
him to look down upon the suffering and misery that the Arapahos at that time 
were undergoing. He said: “Many are sick and suffering from disease; the 


58 For a complete account and description of the Southern Arapaho Sun Dance, see 
Dorsey, 1903 ; for that of the Northern Arapaho see Kroeber, 1902, pp. 279-308. 


Hircur] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE £5 


buffalo are leaving us; the white people are surrounding us like a party of 
hunters would surround a herd of tired buffalo; there seems no help for us ex- 
cept from the Great Spirit. We know this brave, and punishment is visited 
upon us for our disobedience is the wish of the Great Spirit, and there is none 
other left for the Arapahos but to suffer and in this way atone for our misdoings. 
The Arapahos are willing to suffer the worst punishment that is visi‘ed upon 
them. We realize that we will not be delivered from the invasion of the white 
man. We realize that the buffalo will disappear with the coming of the white 
man. What we now ask is that the Great Spirit will pity us and let the soldiers 
and young men bear the sufferings for their people, which they are willing to 
do, as the Great Spirit can now look down and see these young men that are 
now suffering and bleeding voluntarily to appease the wrath of the Great Spirit. 
We ask the Great Spirit to be satisfied with this voluntary suffering of these 
young men who are now suffering torture, and ask that the women and children, 
who are weak and timid, be spared from sickness and suffering. We ask that 
as there is no hope for the Arapaho except to get their food from the earth, as 
does the white man, that the Great Spirit will so influence the young men and 
children that they may be willing to learn to cultivate the earth and to raise food 
to keep their people alive.” 

This prayer expressed the sentiment of the Arapahos thirty years ago, and 
they have been slowly and steadily advancing toward the fulfillment of the spirit 
of this prayer of Raven’s. The Sun Dance has long been considered an obstacle 
in the way of civilization, and it has been forbidden by the Indian office. There 
is no doubt that as long as the Sun Dance is kept up the Indian cannot engage 
successfully in farming and settle down in families, each family in a home of 
their own. The requirement of the Sun Dance is such that it requires every 
member of the tribe to be present, every clan must be present and in their place. 
It is now impossible to fill these requirements. 

The Sun Dance is fast becoming a thing of the past, and probably would have 
been discontinued sometime ago, were it not that when a chief is installed as 
such, he takes an obligation or pledge to do his best to help every member of the 
tribe to carry out every vow they may make to the Great Spirit. When a mem- 
ber of the tribe makes a vow to make a Sun Dance to appease the wrath of the 
Great Spirit, the Chief is obliged to do all in his power to call the tribe together 
and organize a Sun Dance. The faithfulness of the Chief in carrying out or ful- 
filling these promises is from a certain standpoint commendable, yet the Sun 
Dance is destined to go, and the sooner it goes the better it will be for the Indians; 
yet while they were living under tribal government, it filled a very important 
place in their affairs, and had many useful and commendable features. [Seger in 
Peery, 1933, pp. 974-977.] 


NOTES ON THE 1936 NORTHERN ARAPAHO SUN DANCE 


The 1936 Sun Dance of the Northern Arapaho was held from July 
30 to August 2 near the village of Arapahoe on the Wind River Reser- 
vation in Wyoming. The regulation of 1904 of the United States De- 
partment of the Interior forbidding the holding of the Sun Dance 
had been removed in 1935. 

The writer collected the following notes in the field 3 weeks later. 
An informant who was present at the dance judged from the number 
of tents, boweries, and sun shelters, erected in camp circle formation 
near the Sun Dance lodge, that approximately 300 families had 


152 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BULL. 148 


attended the ceremonials. Ralph Piper, a Northern Arapaho in his 
thirties, had led the Sun Dance.” 

The framework of the lodge was still standing. The center pole 
was the trunk of a cottonwood tree with a crotch at the top. The en- 
closure forming the lodge was made by planting 16 trimmed cotton- 
wood saplings, each crotched at the top, in circular position at some 
distance from the center pole. The framework of the ceiling of the 
lodge consisted of 16 jack pine poles placed in such a way that each 
one reached from the crotch of one erect sapling to the crotch of the 
next one, thus completing a polygon; and of another 16 poles, each 
placed so as to reach from the crotch of an erect sapling to the crotch 
of the center pole. The poles forming the polygon rested horizon- 
tally; the ones used as rafters lay in a slanting position. 

The framework of the lodge, therefore, was a 16-sided polyhedron. 
Untrimmed saplings of various wood rested against the horizontal 
poles providing shade. ‘The entrance—merely a space against which 
no trees had been laid—faced east. Opposite the entrance, near the 
remains of a bowery, lay a cedar tree, some wearing apparel, and sev- 
eral burlap sacks containing clothing. According to an informant, 
these were sacrifices made at the Sun Dance. Very close to the june- 
tion of the rafters and the center pole, pieces of calico had been tied. 
“No children’s clothes are tied to the center pole; only cloth bought in 
stores and handkerchiefs, and such things. These must remain on the 
pole and should never be removed; they are an offering. In old days 
they were left there. But today the younger generation goes out after 
the Sun Dance is over and the old people are no longer around, and 
takes these things away.” At the base of the center pole lay worn-out 
clothes, shoes, overshoes, sweaters, stockings, underwear, and burlap. 
sacks of clothing. An informant thought that the sacks contained 
clothes worn from babyhood to about 12 years of age. Parents had 
placed these sacks near the center pole during the night following the 
third day of the ceremonial and on the morning of the fourth day. 
This is in agreement with Kroeber’s and Dorsey’s findings. Kroeber 
wrote that children’s worn-out clothing was tied to the lodge poles on 
the day following the last day of dancing, in 1900, and also notes that 
Dorsey recorded the sacrifice of the children’s worn-out clothing in the 
dancing lodge for the Southern Arapaho in 1901 and 1902. It was 
offered the day following the third day of dancing which is the last 
day, or the eighth day of the entire ceremony (Kroeber, 1902, pp. 800, 
302). Culin wrote (1901, p. 19): 


* Cf. plate 31, 2, for a gathering of the Northern Arapaho tribe in camp-circle formation 
in 1935. 

* Ralph Piper also led the Sun Dance of the Northern Arapaho held at Arapahoe vil- 
lage from July 30 to August 2, 1942. During the 1941 Christmas holidays he announced 
to a gathering of the Arapaho that he would lead the Sun Dance during the following 
summer so that all Arapaho boys who entered the services of World War II would return 
home safely. Seven men danced in 1942. 


HILGER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 153 


The posts were hung with quantities of children’s clothing, beaded moccasins, 
leggings, and calico dresses. On the ground within was a painted buffalo skull 
in a kind of shrine made by driving small willow stakes and hoops on either side. 
The clothes were offerings by parents to secure the health of their children. 


He describes the Sun Dance lodge as about 50 feet in diameter 
and as consisting of a center pole and 16 posts, each of the posts with 
a projecting beam to the center pole. 

Dancers of the 1986 Sun Dance neither ate nor drank for 3 days 
and 3 nights. “We can tell if one takes a drink, for then he will 
perspire. They were given peppermint plants to smell; that helped 
their thirst and hunger.” Dancers were painted anew each morn- 
ing. Designs were different at each painting. Both design and color 
had distinctive meanings. Red and yellow paints were made from 
earth. White, green, orange and black were commercial products. 
“Red paint feels cool; yellow, hot.”% Wild sage brought from the 
mountains was used for wreaths worn by each dancer on head and 
about waist, wrists,and ankles. Rattles were made of hide. 

As stated previously the sacred tribal bundle of the Northern 
Arapaho contains the sacred pipe; that of the Southern Arapaho, the 
sacred wheel. 


The sacred pipe is in the possession of the Northern Arapaho and it will never 
be turned over to the Southern Arapaho. The Southern Arapaho come here to 
see it. They have the sacred wheel. The Cheyenne have the sacred arrows. 
God gave the sacred pipe to the Arapaho people.” 


Ceremonies connected with the Sun Dance are the pipe ceremony, 
the bathing ceremony, the ceremony of paints, the purification cere- 
mony, and one other which the informant could not recall. 


The pipe is about 8 inches long. It is always wrapped in new material, such 
as blankets or calico, and is cared for by people called holy people. During the 
Sun Dance the pipe rests on a quadruped of poles. (Cf. pl. 35, 7.) The poles 
are painted red. Behind the pipe hangs the medicine bag. The sacred pipe is 
not smoked in the Sun Dance or in the sweat lodge.” The Chippewa on this 
reservation [Wind River] asked for the calico that was offered to the pipe at 
the dance [1936] and the Arapaho told them they might have it. The sacred 
pipe of the Arapaho is now [1936] in the safekeeping of Oscar White at St. 
Michaels [village on the Wind River Reservation, Wyoming]. He is not per- 
mitted to give it away during his lifetime. If anyone wishes to see it, he must 
offer many things, such as hides and calicoes. We are not supposed to say much 
about the pipe. The older people know more about it. Careless handling of 
the pipe will cause much rain. The pipe must be held this way [with hands 
away from one’s body, with palms of both hands open, and with fingers pointing 
in the direction of each other]. 


Neither sage nor tobacco were used as sacrificial offerings to the pipe. 


%1 The contents of several Arapaho paint bags were seen in the Chicago Natural History 
Museum (1941): copper oxide had been used for green; iron oxide, for red; commercial 
‘colors obtained from traders, for purple and yellow. 

®2 Clark (1885, p. 43) recorded Wolf Moccasin as saying the same. 

*% This is not in agreement with Scott’s account given by Chief Left Hand of the 
Southern Arapaho (Scott, 1907, p. 558). 


154 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [ Bunn. 148 


NOTES ON THE 1940 NORTHERN ARAPAHO SUN DANCE 


The Northern Arapaho Sun Dance of 1940 was held from August 
1 to August 4, again near the village of Arapahoe on the Wind 
River Reservation in Wyoming. Preparations for the dance began 
several days before August 1. On August 1, at sunset the fast of 
the dancers and the dancing began. These ended at sunset on August 
4, The writer witnessed the dance on the afternoons of August 3 
and 4, and remained at the scene of the dance until after the removal 
of the sacred pipe. The pipe was removed at sunset on August 4. 
The following personal observations made by the writer and in- 
formation obtained by her from a Northern Arapaho man, a non- 
member of the Sun Dance who was present at the dance, were recorded 
in the field. 

Joe Waterman inaugurated the dance as a thanksgiving offering. 
Nine dancers participated. All made the sacrifice of fasting in ful- 
fillment of a promise. The informant had been told that one man’s 
wife and another man’s child had been cured after the respective 
men had promised to fast the next time the Sun Dance would be 
held. He knew that several other men hoped to obtain thereby the 
recovery of a seriously ill member of the family; one of a parent; 
another of a brother. 

The sacrifice consisted of abstaining from food and drink from 
sunset of August 1 to sundown of August 4, or 72 hours. Several 
of the persons who helped to raise the center pole had fasted for 
3 days previous to the erection of the pole; others fasted on the day 
of its erection. Some of those who helped to build the lodge or who 
made other preparations for the dance fasted during the days while 
they assisted. An old Northern woman remarked that all the mem- 
bers of the Rabbit Lodge, a lodge exclusively for men, met 4 days 
before the participants of the Sun Dance began to dance. During 
these days the members fasted. It was this lodge that prepared 
“the buffalo hide and other things that belong to the Sun Dance.” 
According to Schmidt (1934, p. 672), a live rabbit was pressed down 
on a buffalo robe on the first day of the Sun Dance. The robe was 
carried by the sponsor of the dance and his wife. It was thought 
that the rabbit in dying breathed his breath, and thereby his life, on 
to the robe. Kroeber wrote regarding the Northern Arapaho Sun 
Dance held in Wyoming in 1900: 

After the buffalo (represented at the present time by a skin) had been killed 


and the hide brought in, it was touched among the Northern Arapaho, by the 
children of the camp (brought by their mothers), and then by a number of men. 


*4The writer is indebted to the informant for his assistance and also for the permission 
he obtained from proper Arapaho authorities for her to take the kodak pictures shown in 
plates 34 and 35. 


HIvcnr} ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 155 


It seems that the Southern Arapaho also formerly had this practice.... 
{Kroeber, 1902, p. 305.] 

A 1942 informant of the present study said: “Fathers and mothers 
make their children touch the buffalo robe and then pray for the 
children.” According to Kroeber (1902, p. 283), children also touched 
calico used as an offering. He was told that about sunrise of the 
second preliminary day of the Sun Dance of the Northern Arapaho 
in 1900 all the children were brought to touch a piece of calico which 
had been “given away” or sacrificed by a man on account of his 
wife, who had been sick. 

Daniel Walker and Pete Iceman had volunteered to lead the erecting 
of the 1940 lodge, a lodge similar to the one used in 1936. The center 
pole about 6 inches in diameter at the base was the trunk of a basswood 
tree crotched at the top. At some distance from the center pole 
16 saplings were planted in an upright position in circular form. 
Each upright pole had a crotch at the top. From crotch to crotch a 
pole was laid. The 16 horizontally laid poles along with the 16 
upright poles gave the lodge the appearance of a 16-sided polyhedron. 
Sixteen basswood poles with one end resting in the crotch of an upright 
pole and the other in the crotch of the center pole formed the rafters. 
In several places along the wall poles were attached as crossbars, either 
horizontally or in an X position. Against these and all about the 
wall, except in the opening facing east which was used as an entrance, 
branches or young trees of basswood and willow had been laid. These 
served as windbreaks and provided shade. Occasionally persons, 
especially children, slipped in and out through places that were not 
too densely laid over with trees. Within the enclosure a further 
windbreak was provided by canvas covers which were attached to 
the lower section of the trees which rested against the framework, 
especially in the southwest section where the dancers rested. 

Fabrics and gifts of various kinds, among them a rattle of buffalo 
toes used during the Sun Dance, lay at the base of the center pole. 
Handkerchiefs and neck scarfs of various colors and sizes were fas- 
tened at the junction where the center-pole crotch and rafters met. 
These waved in the wind and were spoken of as flags. Just below 
the crotch an undressed buffalo robe and large bunch of willows had 
been fastened. At upeven distances along four of the rafters, hand- 
kerchiefs, small strips of calico, and occasionally some. sagebrush 
were tied. ‘The informant thought that the four poles so decorated 
had some significance, since the dancers in the early part of the dancing 
paid them some respect. 

Within the south half of the enclosure the activities of the Sun 
Dance took place. The west half of the south half (therefore the 
southwest quarter of the total enclosure) was sacred ground. Within 


156 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BULL. 148 


it the sacred pipe rested. (See diagram (fig. 1) for positions.) Most 
of the dancing, too, was done there. Also in it were the resting places 
of the dancers, of the old men who were sponsors of the dancers, and 
of the young men who gave occasional assistance to the dancers. In 
the east half of the south half (the southeast quarter of the entire 
enclosure) sat the drummers, the old women singers, and the relatives, 
both adult and children, of the dancers, drummers, and sponsors. ‘The 
children moved freely within this quarter. At times small children 
wandered into the sacred section but they were quickly recalled by 
elders or fetched by them. The north half of the enclosure was 
occupied by spectators and visitors. These included Arapaho Indians 
who were nonaftiliates of the Sun Dance, visiting Indians of other 
tribes, and Whites. 


NORTH 


Spectators: Nonaffiliate Arapaho men and 
women and children, visiting Indians of other 
tribes, and Whites 


WEST Center pole Kintrance BAST 


Young men 
who assisted 
dancers Old 
Sacred women 
pipe singers 
Resting Drummers 
place of Women and children: 
dancers relatives of dancers, 
Old men sponsors, and 
sponsors drummers 


Ficure 1—Diagram showing the approximate positions of the center pole, the 
sacred pipe, and the persons present at the 1940 Northern Arapaho Sun 
Dance. 


The sacred pipe, well covered with a number of thicknesses of faded 
calico, of blankets, and of new pieces of cloth, was suspended from 
the junction of four poles that were set like the poles of a tipi. This 
four-poled support stood to the southwest of and not far from the 
center pole. The new fabric coverings were offerings made by the 


HILGER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 157 


dancers. “These offerings were made to the pipe. But the praying 
was addressed to God for the intentions for which the sacrifices of 
fasting and dancing were being made. This sacred pipe is always 
kept among the Northern Arapaho. It is never given to the Southern 
Arapaho. It is not even lent to them.” An old Southern Arapaho 
man, a visitor at the Sun Dance, agreed with this statement and added 
that the Southern Arapaho had never at any time had the pipe in their 
possession. 

The drummers seated on logs encircled the drum. During the 
afternoon of August 3, 10 men drummed; during the afternoon of 
August 4, 13 and at times 15. The informant said that the songs 
were nonsense syllables. (The writer doubts this. They were proba- 
bly considered too sacred to be translated. Cf. p. 39.) Four and 
sometimes five old women sat close to the drummers, between them 
and the wall of the lodge, and at times joined the drummers in 
singing. ‘They were there to encourage the men in drumming and 
singing. Children who moved about freely sometimes sat down with 
the women; sometimes, near the drummers. The drum was one of 
several that are extant among the Arapaho, each district having a 
drum. A band about the drum was decorated rather haphazardly 
with pieces of sagebrush. 

Two of the dancers were known to be in the thirties; none were in 
their forties. Each dancer had a sponsor, an old man, who directed 
him in the dance, painted him, and encouraged him in his dancing 
and fasting. 

All dancers wore on their heads wreaths of sagebrush with tufts 
of the brush tipped with downy feathers hanging over the forehead. 
Similar wreaths were worn by some around wrists and ankles. All 
were barefooted and were nude from neck to waistline, wearing nar- 
row skirts from waistline to ankles. Over front and back of skirts 
each wore panels decorated with beadwork. Most of the dancers wore 
a beaded belt, with sagebrush attached to it. Both arms and the 
body from neck to waistline were painted with an ointment made by 
mixing earth and water and grease. Decorations varied. One dancer 
had several rows of painted dots down the length of his arms and 
body. Another had chest and back and neck painted to give the ap- 
pearance of wearing amulets suspended from a cord around his neck. 
Another had lines and dots on his face. The hands of most of the 
dancers were painted dark, giving the appearance of wearing gloves. 
Around the neck of each dancer hung a whistle tipped off at the 
end with downy feathers which fluttered as sounds left the whistle. 
Whistles were made from the large bone of an eagle wing. During 
the dancing each dancer held his whistle unsupported in his mouth 
while both of his hands hung to his sides. Two dancers each switched 


® One drum rhythm of an Arapaho Sun Dance song is recorded by Densmore (1936, p. 81). 


158 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLu. 148 


his own shoulders, chest and back with the end of a horse tail while 
dancing, timing his switchings to the beatings of the drum. During 
one dance another dancer switched himself with a switch made of 
black feathers. Sponsors had taught the men how to use the switches. 

Intermittent dancing to the rhythm of drumbeats and singing 
consisted of staccato movements of the entire body with knees slightly 
bent at each drumbeat. No part of the feet was at any time raised 
from the ground. When not engaged in dancing, dancers rested 
under warm blankets on thin mattresses spread on the ground behind 
a screen. The screen was made of twigs planted in the ground, the 
section close to the ground being peeled of leaves and bark. While 
resting some dancers smoked. Pipes were usually prepared by the 
sponsor. At intervals, when no one danced, drummers lazily beat 
the drum. Gradually they played louder and louder. Eventually 
one dancer rose and began to dance. Before long others joined him. 
Occasionally all nine danced at the same time. 

The closing ceremonial began at sunset (4 o’clock) on August 4. 
A man stepped forward toward the sacred pipe. The drummers 
drummed softly as he rolled back the layers of calico covering the 
sacred pipe. The crowd quieted down and were completely hushed 
by the time the bundle of cloth containing the sacred pipe could 
be seen. The bundle was a tube about a foot in diameter and more 
than a yard in length with eagle feathers tied to both ends. It hung 
suspended from the junction of four poles as stated previously. 

As soon as the bundle was well uncovered the drummers drummed 
energetically. Dancing began with seven dancers present. Infor- 
mants thought that probably the other two were too exhausted to 
participate and that sponsors were not allowing them to dance. No 
one would have thought less of them had they not danced for they 
were known to be less strong physically than the other dancers. 

Since the last dance is always exceedingly strenuous, sponsors test 
their client’s endurance before allowing them to dance. This is done 
by pulling each finger of the dancer. If knuckles crack, the dancer 
had endurance to continue; if not, he is not permitted to dance any 
longer. Dancers are often weakened by a fever which most of them 
endure on the second day. Sponsors had evidently found the two 
men who had not appeared at the beginning of the last dance, to 
have endurance. They therefore encouraged them to dance. Soon 
they appeared and danced. All nine now danced in the southwest 
section of the lodge between the sacred pipe and their resting place. 
All faced east. One dancer danced backward until he got behind 
the sacred pipe, where he continued to dance while resting both of 
his hands on the coverings over the sacred pipe. The eyes of all 
dancers were fixed intently on the center pole. After some time an 
interlude followed. During it several nondancing men each brought 


HitcEr]) ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 159 


into the lodge an armful of sagebrush, placing it so that there were 
nine separate heaps on the ground. During the interlude, also, three 
of the dancers and four other men huddled behind the sceeen (pl. 
35, 3) chanting incantations at intervals. They were busily engaged 
making “cherry water” which was to be given to the dancers as a 
first drink at the close of the ceremonial. Soon the dancing was 
resumed. Each dancer now stood on one of the heaps of sagebrush, 
and faced the setting sun. One dancer was handed what our infor- 
mant called a “sacred wheel.” It appeared to be a circle of wire, 
two-thirds of it fringed with loosely attached eagle feathers. The 
dancer did as he had been taught by his sponsor, an old man: He 
swung the “wheel” with an upward-forward-downward movement, 
and the reverse, to the rhythm of the drumbeats. Occasionally, he 
changed the wheel from one hand to the other. At times he swung 
it behind his back. All swings were in direct line with the setting 
sun. 

During this dance the brush that rested against the west wall of 
the lodge was removed, thus making an opening there. Two men 
now removed the bundle containing the sacred pipe from the poles, 
and rested it on the back of a woman who had stepped forward. 
It was held in position on her back by placing the band with which 
it had been suspended from the poles around her forehead. With 
hands hanging at her sides, she walked through the opening made 
in the west. ‘Two men followed her, all three walking along a path 
in single file, directly toward the setting sun. One of the two men 
carried the calico offerings which had been removed from the pipe. 
A week later a relative of the woman who carried the pipe on her 
back remarked : 

The keeper of the pipe did not need to be a man. A woman takes care of 
the pipe now. She was the woman you Saw carrying it out of the Sun Dance 
lodge last week. This woman’s father cared for it, and it was understood 
that when he died this daughter would care for it. It was entrusted to her 
care because she had taken care of her father. It is kept in her house. No, 
she was not the oldest in the family. She does not handle the pipe, nor does 
she know the ceremonials connected with it. Her brother knows them. Long 
before her father died, he used to call her brother to be present whenever he 
was using the pipe ceremonially. The brother then had to repeat everything 
the father did and said, so he would learn exactly how to perform the cere- 
monies and what prayers to say. The pipe must be kept among blood relatives. 

The sister of the woman caring for the pipe remarked, “It always 
must stay with blood relatives. It cannot be taken care of by in-laws.” 
Another weman in the group added: “It is better to tell you that this 
pipe follows the blood like the sap in a tree, for wherever the blood 
goes that is where the pipe goes. But I don’t like to talk about the 
pipe. Only people who handle the pipe should talk about it.” 


% Cf. also Kroeber, 1902, p. 309, for a similar note. 


160 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuL. 148 


Drumming and dancing continued until the sun was completely 
set and dusk was well on. Older men now congratulated the dancers, 
shaking hands with them. The dancers proceeded to the place where 
the “cherry water” had been prepared, and soon reappeared, when 
many men and women shooks hands warmly with them. Several 
mothers and grandmothers brought sickly or crippled children to some 
of the dancers. The dancers rested their hands on the children, raised 
their eyes heavenward and prayed for the recovery of the children. 
They also rubbed the parts of a child’s body designated by the mother 
or grandmother as the afflicted part. Then they laid hands on the 
head of the mother or grandmother also. After this, the drummers 
moved the drum toward the center of the lodge and struck up the 
gay notes of a social dance. Many children and women and some of 
the men danced happily around the drum and the drummers. Sher- 
man Sage greeted the writer and said: 

This is the old religion of the Arapaho. It has been handed down from one 
generation to another. It was the only religion the Arapaho had before the 
White man came. They have brought us the Catholic religion, the Protestant 
religions, the Ghost Dance religion, and the Peyote religion. But the Sun Dance 
has been handed down to us as the only Arapaho religion. We knew that there 


was a God before the Whites came. We call Him Hverybody’s Father. We 
mentioned Him these days in the Sun Dance. 


BELIEF IN LIFE AFTER DEATH 
LIFE AFTER DEATH 


The Arapaho believed that life continued after death. Their word 
for the abode of eternal life means “place above.” Its location, other 
than that it was above, was not known to informants of the present 
study. It is a place of happiness, but it is not thought of as heaven, 
such as Christians believe it to be, for “we knew nothing about heaven 
until the missionaries came.” 

Upon the word of the Arapaho Wolf Moccasin, Clark recorded it 
to be in the east: 

They believed that after death they went to the land of the rising sun; 
this land was far away beyond and below all mountains, a level country near 
the ocean. An Arapahoe killed in battle did not have to travel over this long 
trail by land, but went through the air easily and comfortably by the dead man’s 
road, or rather, the road of the warriors killed in battle (Milky Way). 

Those who had died for a time (fainted) had, on their return, stated that gikey 
had seen the lodges of their people in that far-off land, they had plenty of buf- 
falo, antelope, and all kinds of game. [Clark, 1885, p. 41.] 

Mooney’s informants, on the contrary, stated that the “place above” 
was in the west: “In Arapaho belief, the spirit world is in the west, 
not on the same level with this earth of ours, but higher up, and sepa- 
rated also from it by a body of water” (Mooney, 1896, p. 983). One 
informant told Mooney that he had “met in the spirit world a man of 


Hincer) ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 161 


the now extinct Arapaho band of the Hanahawunéna.” The man 
washed the informant’s face and then painted him with some of the 
old-time mineral paint of the Indians. Mooney (1896, p. 971) notes 
that according to “the Indian belief, all the extinct and forgotten 
tribes have now their home in the world of shades.” Left Hand, chief 
of the Southern Arapaho, told Scott that— 

the old Arapaho said the dead went upward; sometimes the dead turn into owls. 
Sometimes when there is a sick person in a lodge and a whirlwind strikes the 
lodge the sick person dies and his spirit goes out of his body with the whirlwind. 
When we see a whirlwind coming down the road, raising a vortex of dust, we 
get out of the way—it is a dead man’s spirit. If I do not get out of the way 
it will take my life. [Scott, 1907, p. 559.] 

Whether or not the spirits of the people depart to the same place in 
which the Water-Sprinkling-Old-Men and the former keepers of the 
sacred pipe live was not known to informants of the present study. 

Informants also differed in their statements as to the place and the 
life to which persons were assigned after death who had lived bad 
lives. Most informants were agreed that only persons who committed 
suicide had died in a bad state since they had not had time to again 
become good persons. All others had ample time to do so, they 
thought, since every Arapaho had premonitions of death 4 days before 
death occurred. Some informants, however, said suicides did not 
continue to live after death. Still others said that they did, but only 
after they had roamed on earth longer than the conventional 4 days. 
Sherman Sage did not agree with this but said, “The good spirits went 
to the One who made the world; the bad ones went where it was dark. 
Ever since I can remember people said that.” Quoting other 
informants: 

Everybody was happy after death somewhere. I don’t know where but some- 
where above. We knew of no place to which bad people went, for none were 
thought to be bad when dying .. . The dead went to a place above this earth. 
I don’t know how long it took them to go there, nor do I know whether they 
went east or west. I know they went above. Bad people must roam around 
on this earth for a while before going above. 

The departed spirit remained 4 days among old haunts and friends 
before leaving for the place of happiness. Arnold Woolworth, an 
80-year-old Southern man, said: 

The old, old Arapaho believed in the immortality of the soul. This belief has 
been passed on from generation to generation. The only ones that we thought 
did not live on were those that had committed suicide. I never heard of hell 
until I came in contact with White men.. The old people did not know about hell. 
The Arapaho expression for eternal life is ‘‘Life above.” It takes 4 days to go 


there. It’s at this hour, 4 days ago, that Tom Levi died.“ He was buried 
yesterday. His soul is supposed to be leaving about now. The Arapaho say 


* Tom Levi was a respected Southern Arapaho who died on May 24, 1942, at about 60 
years of age. 


892644—52 12 


162 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Buu, 148 


that the spirit wanders around for 4 days to see relatives once more. They go 
to all places in which they were accustomed to live. When they have done 
that they are ready to depart for the above. Living people can feel the presence 
of the dead in their homes sometimes. Sometimes they can also tell that the 
spirit is either on its way or is already present by the way a dog acts. For 
instance, if a spirit were coming here, or were here, my dog would run back 
and forth around the house, outside here, aimlessly. When he does that I know 
that a spirit is around here. The spirit of a child also moves around for 4 days. 


When asked if Tom Levi’s spirit had visited his place, he answered, 
“No, the man was not accustomed to coming here when living.” 


DEATH 


All Arapaho, except children, are believed to have premonition of 
death. “Four days before death sick persons will say that they are 
called to die. I know this to have happened many times.” “Sick 
persons may tell you that they will soon die, but they do not want 
anyone to talk to them about death.” 

Dogs howling in an unusual way are believed to predict death, and 
are feared to cause it. 

When certain dogs howl like coyotes, it’s a bad sign: it indicates bad luck 
and it’s best to kill such a dog. This howl is different than a dog’s ordinary 
howl. Black Man over here had a dog that howled around his place. From 
there he went to Bluff Man, then to my wife’s father’s place, then to Elmer 
Sweezy, and then to the Camp [village]. He left death in his tracks in every 
place. They finally killed the dog. 

Immediately after death, the body was dressed in the best that his 
survivors could furnish; in new clothes, if it was possible. At times 
friends contributed clothing. The body, face, and hair were painted 
with red earth mixed with grease. “Persons usually knew when they 
were dying, and asked that their best moccasins, clothes, belt, blanket, 
earrings, and bracelet be laid near them. Bodies were dressed after 
death.” “Let us say a man is sick and dies in his tent. After he is 
dead, he is dressed in his best clothes. As far back in my life as I 
can remember, persons were dressed after they died.” Chief Little 
Raven, too, told Clark (1885, p. 40) that it was their custom to dress 
the remains in the best clothing, in a war bonnet and best robe or 
blanket and to paint the face with red paint. Weapons, he said, were 
never placed with the remains. 

After all present had seen the body, now dressed and painted, it 
was wrapped into a covering in a lying position. In early days the 
covering was a buffalo robe or part of the covering of the man’s tipi; 
in more recent times, a woolen or a cotton blanket was used. Some- 
times the hair of near relatives—cut by them as a sign of mourning— 
was laid between the body and the covering. All was held in place 
by windings of thongs of rawhide or by bands cut from the remaining 
portion of the tipi cover, that is, if part of the tipi cover had been used 
as a winding sheet. 


Hiteur] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 163 
INTERMENT AND GRAVES 


Conventionally, burial took place before sunset on the day of death. 
If death occurred after sunset, burial was the following day. In hot 
weather, however, the body was buried at once. If it was very cold, 
the body was kept until people could go out into the cold without 
danger of freezing. But it was never kept longer than two or three 
days. The body was removed through an opening made at the west 
end of the tipi opposite the entrance of the tipi. Since the entrance 
of the tipi always faced the rising sun, this opening faced the setting 
sun. To make the opening, two poles were set farther apart and the 
tipi cover raised. 

Conventionally burial was beneath the surface of the earth. Gen- 
erally graves were only deep enough to keep coyotes and other animals 
from disturbing the remains; occasionally, they were 4 to 6 feet deep. 
Graves were covered with prickly cacti, twigs of brush, and pieces of 
wood. Over these rocks were piled. No one molested or removed 
a body. Anyone disturbing burials might expect to be paralyzed, 
afflicted with tuberculosis, or with some other ailment. No one 
was known to have been so afflicted, and none was known ever to have 
disturbed a burial. 

If the ground was frozen—“we had no implements with which to 
dig frozen earth”—the body was laid on a rock shelter and surrounded 
by rocks, or it was placed on a rocky hilltop and covered with rocks. 
The same was done if death occurred while camp was moving. Chil- 
dren and stillbirths were buried in the same manner as adults. Arap- 
aho did not cremate bodies. 


We buried our dead wherever they died. If we didn’t live at the place of 
burial, we went back there periodically to see our dead and to fix up the place. 
We went to see if they were all right. If the stones had been disturbed, we piled 
them up again. We would go a long way sometimes to see our graves. My 
brother died close to Caspar [Wyoming]. Later we were camped at Norwood, 
many miles from there. My father and mother and our relatives went back to 
fix his grave. We went on horseback. We stayed overnight. I am telling 
you what I know from my own experience. ... We never changed the clothes 
of the dead person after the person was once buried; but we did straighten out 
the clothes and make certain that the rocks around the body were in such a 
position that the coyotes could not get at it. 


Burials were never on scaffolds nor on trees. The Sioux and the 
Cheyenne buried in trees. Quoting Arnold Woolworth: 


The Arapaho never buried their dead in or near trees; the Cheyenne and 
Paiutes did that. One time we went through Nevada. In a woods there we 
saw many Paiute Indians buried. They were wrapped in quilts. Their faces 
were covered with handkerchiefs. Each body was seated on the earth with its 
back resting against a tree and feet straight out. At the base of almost every 
tree in that woods was either a body or bones and rags. I took the handker- 
chief off the face of one body to see if it was a man or woman. It was a woman. 


164 BUREAU. OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY (BULL. 148 


Jessie Rowlodge told the following regarding burials: 


Sherman Sage told me that up in the pine country—that was before the Arapaho 
moved into the prairies—pine trees were trimmed of all limbs, set up in tipi 
fashion, and the dead body placed inside this cone-shaped affair. All was above 
the ground and the compartment was practically air tight. Sherman Sage said 
his mother was buried that way. With her was buried a piece of pottery, such 
as the Arapaho used to make. This pottery was made of clay and blood of 
buffalo. Someone from a small museum in Nebraska asked Sage for the pottery 
and Sage took him to his mother’s burial place and gave it to him. This type 
of burial practically petrified the bodies. 


Older informants were agreed that it was not conventional for the 
Arapaho to bury food or material articles with the body. A 27-year- 
old Southern woman, however, said that she had seen the burial of an 
unmarried pregnant Arapaho woman (1940) into whose grave were 
placed her suitcase and all her personal belongings. According to 
Wolf Moccasin, the Arapaho “buried their dead in the ground, laid 
them away on the breast of their mother, and with the remains never 
put the weapons, but best blankets, pipe of deceased, and a pony killed 
for the spirit to ride to the country beyond the rising sun” (Clark, 
1885, p. 41). 

It was conventional to shoot a favorite horse near the grave of its 
owner. This was generally done immediately after the burial while 
the relatives were still present. 


Sometimes a person’s best pony was taken out to the grave and shot so that 
it fell on the grave. Such a pony was shot when my sister died. When her 
[pointing at a relative] brother died two ponies were shot. All the food left 
in the house at the time of a death was also placed on the grave after 
burial. ... The Sioux shot the horses and buried them with the dead. We did 
not do that; we shot them and let them lie on top of the graves. ...A boy 
whom I knew had a pet horse. They took the horse to the cemetery near his 
grave, shot it there, and left it there to decay. That was done recently. It 
was done some days after the burial. 


Quoting Kroeber regarding death and burial: 


The dead body is allowed to lie so that all the dead person’s friends can 
see it. It is dressed in the best clothing, some perhaps being contributed by 
friends .... The body is buried on the hills, being taken there on horseback. 
The grave is made deep enough to prevent coyotes from digging out the corpse; 
with this object in view, thorny brush is also put on the grave. The relatives go 
out to the grave for several days. They mourn there, crying while sitting in 
one place. Hair that has been cut off by friends and relatives is wrapped up 
with the body and buried. The dead man’s best or favorite horse is shot next to 
his grave, and left lying there. The tail and mane of the horse on which the 
body was taken to burial are cut off and strewn over the grave. Before the 
body is taken away to be interred, an old man speaks encouragingly to the 
relatives .... Sticks that may have touched him while he was dying are 
buried with him or laid on the grave. [Kroeber, 1902, pp. 16—17.] 


While the body was being interred, relatives took from the home of 
the departed person anything they wished. “I have taken things from 


HILGEE] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 165 


houses of my relatives and also from houses of two friends. I have 
one friend’s sewing machine and another’s dresser. The dead person’s 
bed was not taken, but his clothes were.” Quoting Jessie Rowlodge: 

All things that had not been taken were expected to become the property of 
the eldest son, in case the deceased was a parent, or of the eldest brother, in 
ease the deceased was his brother or sister. If, however, the son was liberal 
minded and another son had taken care of the parent, the older son could give 
him the privilege of taking the things; but the eldest son had the right to keep 
them if he so wished. If the man’s wife was still living, the children usually 
let her retain the things. Often, however, what was left of the things that had 
been used by the departed when the family returned from the burial, was burnt, 
such as dishes, furniture, mattress, bed clothes, even loaned dishes in which 
people had brought food. If these had not been taken back by the owners by 
then, it was understood they didn’t want them. 

The stakes to which the tipi had been tied were also burnt, but not the 
tipi pole, nor the tipi covering. The tipi was moved to another 
location. 

According to Kroeber (1902, p. 11), there were no fixed rules of 
inheritance; generally brothers and sisters of the deceased took his 
property. Arnold Woolworth said a deceased person’s brothers and 
sisters who were offspring of the same parents as the person, were not 
to take any of the property; but his brothers and sisters that were 
offspring of his maternal aunts and paternal uncles had a right to 
do so. 

I was only 5 years old, [he said], when my mother died. I was too young to 
inherit any of her horses. In those days horses were the wealth that the Indians 
had. But when my father died I was 12 years old. He left 40 horses. My 
brother and I could have kept all of them but we decided to give my stepmother 
half. We boys divided the others. I had four sisters but these were all married 
so that they did not get any horses. If any of the girls had not been married, 
they would have gotten some horses too. It was an older brother and I that 
got together and decided things. If a woman died her husband and children got 
her belongings. Of course, in old days, Indians had nothing but horses. Divid- 
ing these up is an old Indian custom. 

Today relatives of Northern Arapaho move out of the house in 
which a person has died. Usually they return to it after some time. 
Occasionally the house is deserted and left to fall to pieces. “The 
people all around here leave a house when someone has died in it.” 
“An old man died in that house over there,” said several little Northern 
Arapaho girls, “and then his wife moved into the tent you see near 
the house. When our grandmother died [1939] we moved away from 
that place [pointing to a house] and have not [1942] returned to it 
yet.” 

Southern Arapaho, today, more often erect a tent near the house 
in which someone dies, than they desert it. At times they remain in 
the house, as do some of the Northern Arapaho. But in that event the 
house is thoroughly fumigated with a smudge of cedar and herbs. 


166 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BULL. 148 


A house in which a spirit is thought to be visiting, or to have visited, 
is also fumigated. Arnold Woolworth said, “If the spirit of Tom 
Levi had come here, I would have fumigated the place with cedar. 
People say they do not like the smell of the dead, that is why they 


fumigate.” 
MOURNING 


Immediately following a death, the mother of the deceased gashed 
her legs or arms, sometimes both, so that blood flowed. Occasionally, 
a mother asked someone to do it for her. it was not unusual for the 
father or other near relatives of the deceased to slash themselves like- 
wise. Quoting a Southern informant: 

When my sister died, my mother took a knife and gashed both of her legs from 
knee to ankle and her arms from shoulders to wrist and made several cuts on 
her forehead. ‘This could be done by mothers for either sons or daughters, and 
was done just as soon as death occurred. The father usually gashed his fore- 
head. A father, however, who grieved much over a son’s loss broke the son’s 
arrow shafts and pushed the arrow end through the flesh of his [the father’s] 
upper arm, forearm, ind chest. He might later withdraw the arrows. 


Quoting Northern informants: 


The last woman around here who cut her legs did so this spring [1986] when 
her daughter died. ... Immediately after a person died his relatives grabbed 
an ax or a knife and slashed their own legs and arms. This was done for any- 
one in the immediate family.“ ... I know of people who, not so long ago, 
gashed themselves all over and burnt their own belongings and those of the 
dead person, too. People mourn until they grow accustomed to the dead person’s 
being gone. 

Most women and some men in mourning cut their braids. Some cut 
them to the ears; others only to the shoulders. Some believed that 
cutting them too short had evil effects. “I saw one old woman rub the 
blades of a pair of scissors with charcoal before she cut her braids, but 
I don’t know why she did this.” 

Sacrificing a portion of a finger during mourning was institutional. 
Only women made this sacrifice. An informant who was very grief- 
stricken had cut her own little finger off at the first joint. She might 
have asked some one else to do it for her, more especially an old man. 
Another informant had sacrificed the first joint of both little fingers 
and of the fourth finger of the right hand. She sacrificed them when 
her fifth child, her baby, died. An old man had done the severing. 
She had not gashed her legs on this occasion, however. The inter- 
preter had seen scars on the woman’s arms, probably from gashes made 
at other deaths. “My grandmother’s legs were full of scars due to 
slashes made because she grieved over a death. Both of her little 
fingers were cut off at joints. Men slashed wrists and ankles and cut 
their braids but they never cut off finger tips.” ‘My mother had first 


% The family in this instance included parents and their offspring. 


Hincur] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 167 


joints of both little fingers cut off, but she had no scars on her legs or 
arms.” Quoting an 80-year old Northern man: 


Arapaho women, not men, slashed their legs when mourning. Formerly they 
used knives made of sharpened rocks to do so. This was done when they grieved 
and took death, such as the death of a father or mother, very hard. We mourned 
for about one year and stayed away from the place where the person had died. 
When mourning both men and women cut their hair to just below the shoulder. 
If the hair was cut too short it was thought to bring bad luck. Both men and 
women let their hair hang loose as it grew out again. [Pl.16.] We also painted 
our faces. 


Kroeber wrote regarding mourning: 


When a person dies his relatives cry and unbraid their hair. Sometimes they 
cut their hair. The greater their love for him, the more hair they cut off. 
Women tear off a sleeve; they gash themselves (lightly) across the lower and 
upper arm and below the knee. The dead body is allowed to lie so that all the 
dead person’s friends can see it. It is dressed in the best clothing, some perhaps 
being contributed by friends. Those who thus contribute toward dressing a 
dead man receive one of his horses or other property. A horse is also given for 
digging the grave and for similar assistance. The body is buried on the hills, 
being taken there on horseback. The grave is made deep enough to prevent 
eoyotes from digging out the corpse; with this object in view, thorny brush is 
also put on the grave. The relatives go out to the grave for several days. They 
mourn there, crying while sitting in one place. Hair that has been cut off by 
friends and relatives is wrapped up with the body and buried. The dead man’s 
best or favorite horse is shot next to his grave, and left lying there. The tail 
and mane of the horse on which the body was taken to burial are cut off and 
strewn over the grave. Before the body is taken away to be interred, an old 
man speaks encouragingly to the relatives. The dead man’s family move to 
another place. They give away the tent in which he died. If he happened to 
die in a brush shelter, it is burned. Clothing, beds, and other articles that were 
where he died, are burned, in order that his shadow (spirit) will not come back. 
Sticks that may have touched him while he was dying are buried with him or 
laid on the grave. Immediately after the burial the relatives bathe because they 
have touched the corpse. For several nights they burn cedar leaves; the smoke 
or smell of this keeps away the spirit. For some time they wear old clothing 
and do not paint. They seek no amusements. At first they eat little. As long 
as they wear old clothes and keep their hair unbound, they are in mourning. 
This period is not fixed. When they have finished mourning, they provide food 
and invite in old men and women. An old man paints their entire faces and 
their hair red. This is called cleaning; it is done in the morning, so that they 
may be under the care of the sun all day. Now they braid their hair again, and 
go about as before. [Kroeber, 1902, pp. 16-17.] 


Michelson’s informant said: 


After my first child, a boy, was a year old, I became ill, and my mother took 
me to an Indian doctor at another camp, in accordance with the request of my 
husband. After I had been away from my husband a few days, word came to 
me by a messenger that my husband had suddenly become sick and had died. 
Owing to my serious illness at the time of my husband’s death, my father pleaded 
with me not to cut my hair, nor cause any cutting on my flesh; so while I obeyed 
my father, I cut my hair just a little. [Michelson, 1933, p. 604.] 


168 BUREAU OF AMERICAN 2 THNOLOGY [BuLL, 148 


Michelson adds this note: 


It was customary for a woman’s hair to be cut at the death of any relative, 
including her husband; and her flesh was gashed, preferably below the knees, and 
sometimes on the arms below the elbow. Any female relative called upon could 
do the gashing; or a woman did it herself. Sometimes women would make 
gashes even on their foreheads. [Michelson, 1933, pp. 604-605.] 

Both men and women relatives mourned from one to three years. 
Mourning too long might cause another death in the family. Upon 
the request of an interpreter, the writer suggested to the interpreter’s 
mother (maternal aunt) that she end her period of mourning since 
she had already mourned for 14 months. “She may do it if a Sister 
tells her,” the interpreter added. The old woman listened, hung her 
head, wept, and said, “I can’t forget my old man; he did so much for 
me and was always so good to me.” The interpreter said, with feel- 
ing: “No, she can’t stop mourning yet. I can see that now.” 

During the period of mourning both men and women dressed in 
worn-out clothing, wore no jewelry, allowed hair as it grew again to 
hang loose over shoulders, and did not participate in any tribal affair 
or tribal gathering. Agnes Yellow Plume, who was in mourning, 
had her hair hanging loose over shoulders (pls. 15 and 16). When 
it fell into the way of her vision while sewing, she parted it down the 
back with both hands. ‘Then she divided each side into two strands, 
twisted the strands on her right side, one around the other, and while 
she held the ends of the twist in her mouth she twisted the strands 
on the opposite side in the same manner. Then she tied the ends to- 
gether and slung the twists over her head letting them hang down her 
back. She would not braid them since she was in mourning. When 
the writer placed a necklace about her neck, she admired it and then 
removed it and put it into her sewing kit. “Mourners don’t wear 
jewelry,” the interpreter noted. 

The Arapaho did not carry around with them during the period of 
mourning a bundle or parcel containing hair of the deceased or a 
dish which had been used by the deceased. “The Cree do that.” 
‘“‘We keep photographs or bracelets, etc., of the dead person as keep- 
sakes, but no one carries them around.” 

The Arapaho were not restricted during mourning by taboos that 
affected their seasonal occupations, such as gathering berries or wild 
roots, a custom of the Chippewa. Nor did they refrain from pro- 
nouncing the name of the departed. . Kroeber (1902, p. 17) writes that 
the name of the dead was apparently mentioned as freely as that of 
the living. 

The Arapaho did not build a fire at the grave of a departed one. 
Leaving food at the grave was also probably not conventional, al- 
though several old informants had seen it done. Informants in their 
sixties had not even heard of it. Quoting Old Lady Salt Friday: 


HILcER]) ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE . 169 


We used to bring food to the grave and leave it there. We would tell the 
person buried there to eat it, and not to feel badly after we left. We used to 
think the spirit of this person hovered around and talked to us. We thought 
that if we brought food to it, it would not come around any more. We talked 
to the spirit just as though it were still living. I remember my mother leaving 
food at her brother’s burial place. At home she had pounded meat fine, and 
mixed it with berries. She put it into a bag made of the dried lining of the 
heart of a buffalo. This lining is tough. At the grave she dug a small hole. 
Then she took the food out of the bag and put it into the hole in the ground and 
covered it up. The bag she took home. 


A Southern woman in her forties said: 

When our old people wish to show that they still remember a departed one, 
they make a collection of many things, such as dresses, blankets, quilts, and 
shoes. They spend several months doing this. They tie these articles into 
separate bundles. At a gathering of the people, they pile the bundles around a 
photograph of the dead person. Then they'll say to others, “Come and see our 
dead.” Anyone can take a bundle then. We do this because we want the 
people to know that we have not forgotten our dead. 


DOMESTIC ECONOMY 


No responsibility for the economic support of the family rested on 
the Arapaho child. Children were expected, however, to help parents 
and elders with any work at hand. In this way they learnt adult oc- 
cupations. They learnt also by being nonparticipant observers of 
adults at work. Responsibilities for work were placed upon them as 
they grew older. 


THE BUFFALO: CHIEF SOURCE OF SUPPLIES 


Supplies for domestic economies of the Arapaho, as of the Plains 
Indians generally, centered about the buffalo. De Smet (1863, p. 148), 
who knew life on the American prairies well, wrote in 1854: “The flesh 
of the bison is much esteemed and very nourishing; it is deemed the 
daily bread of all the Indian tribes on the great plains.” 


The buffalo [he wrote] supply almost all the necessaries of life. Their skins 
form lodges or dwellings, and serve as clothing, litters, bridles and saddle cover- 
ings, vessels to hold water, boats to cross lakes and rivers; with the hair the 
Indians made their cordage; with the sinews, bow-strings and thread for clothes, 
as well as glue; the shoulder blade is spade and pickaxe. [De Smet, 1863, ftn. p. 
187. Cf. Mooney, 1896, p. 980, for a similar note.] 


As an eyewitness to the large numbers of buffaloes, De Smet wrote 
in 1854: 


The bisons roam the prairies in herds of several hundreds, and often of several 
thousands. On many of my travels I have seen with my own eyes, as far as I 
could discern on these immense plains, thousands and thousands of these noble 
animals moving slowly, like an interminable troop, in one direction, and browsing 
the grass as they progress. They have a fearful appearance; their hairy heads 
inspire with terror those who are ignorant of the pacific habits of this noble 
quadruped. Indeed, such is their timidity that one man can put to flight the most 


170 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BoLy. 148 


numerous herd. When alarmed, the tramp of their hoofs, their bellowings, and 
the columns of dust which they raise, resemble the deep murmurs of a tempest 
mingling with peals of thunder, lessening as they grow more remote. [De Smet, 
1863, pp. 147-148.] 


Informants of this study referred with regret to the passing of the 
days of the buffalo. “The buffalo was our best friend. Nearly every- 
thing we had we owed to him: our food, our tipis, our clothes, our 
bedding, everything. If any family did not have all it needed in those 
days, it wasn’t the buffalo’s fault!” 


DIVISION OF LABOR 


An Arapaho man’s chief economic occupation was the chase; a 
woman’s, the preparation and care of food supplies and the dressing 
of hides used in making clothing, bedding, and tipi coverings. 


A man provided food not only for his own wives and children but also for his 
mother-in-law’s family [said a Southern man in discussing the sharing of work]. 
The man brought whatever he killed into his mother-in-law’s tent. Here his 
wives, that is, those who were daughters of the mother-in-law, helped to dress 
the animal. The cooking, however, was mostly done by the mother-in-law with- 
out her daughters’ help. When the food was cooked, she asked them to fetch 
it to their own tents or she brought it to them. The daughters, however, were 
expected to keep their own tipis clean and orderly. They and their mother 
together dressed and tanned hides, and made moccasins. In the event the mother 
died, and the wives hid no maternal aunt to direct their work, the eldest of 
them took over. But she stayed in her own tipi; she did not move to the 
mother’s tipi. 


Farnham recorded the busy life of an Arapaho man’s wife in 1839: 


His wife takes care of his horses, manufactures his saddles and bridles, and 
leash ropes and whips, his moccasins, leggings, and hunting-shirts, from leather 
and other materials prepared by her own hands; beats with a wooden adze his 
buffalo robes, till they are soft and pleasant for his couch; tans hides for his tent 
covering, and drags from the distant hills the clean white-pine poles to support it ; 
cooks his daily food and places it before him. And should sickness overtake him, 
and death rap at the door of his lodge, his squaw watches kindly the last yearn- 
ings of the departing spirit. His sole duty, as her lord in life, and as a citizen of 
the Arrapahoe tribe, is to ride the horse which she saddles and brings to his feet, 
kill the game which she dresses and cures; sit and slumber on the couch which 
she spreads; and fight the enemies of the tribe. [Farnham in Thwaites, 
1904-7, vol. 28, p. 267.] 


Old women informants of the present study were quite certain, on 
the contrary, that a woman’s duties formerly were not nearly so 
strenuous and trying as those of a man; hunting, they thought, was 
laborious, and warfare, dangerous. 


HUNTING 


Meat, especially buffalo meat, was the chief food of the Arapaho. 
The plains abounded with wild animals. De Smet wrote of the 
prairies in 1851: 


Hinenr) ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE Lgl 


It may be said that it is the country in which the buffalo and herds of deer are 
generally found in the greatest abundance. A good hunter might easily kill 
here, in the course of a day, several cows, deer, a mountain-goat, a red-tailed 
and black-tailed duck, an antelope, hares and rabbits. He might fire twice 
upon a grizzly bear, and perhaps meet a gray and a silver fox. To this list of 
animals we may add the beaver, otter, badger, prairie-dog, and several kinds of 
wild fowl, principally pheasants and grouse. [De Smet, 1863, pp. 83-84.]” 


Since providing the family with meat was the Arapaho man’s chief 
economic duty, boys were trained early to use the bow and arrow. 
A boy’s first success in shooting an animal used as food, usually a 
bird or rabbit, was celebrated by his family by giving away gifts; 
sometimes these gifts were given away at a feast prepared by his 
mother. Usually, but not always, the meat of the animal was served 
at the feast. 

Sherman Sage related his first successes in hunting: 


When I was 9 years old, a chum of mine—he was a lifelong chum of mine; 
the old fellow died not long ago—and I were somewhere near Denver [Colorado]. 
We had been climbing around in the cliffs and had sat down to rest. Just then 
a deer came out from behind some cliff and stood there. It didn’t move. I got 
on my knees and shot. I was lucky, for I shot the animal right in the forehead. 
I brought it home. My mother was surely proud of me. She cooked the meat 
and invited all the old people. In fact, she was so happy that when one old 
woman came in, she put a newly tanned buffalo robe on her back. She asked 
the old people to pray for me. As each old man came in, she asked him 
especially to pray for me. That was the custom. Those that thought much 
of their children always had a feast when a boy brought home his first hunt. 
Before I killed that deer, my father had given me a bow and an arrow. I had 
shot a bird, got it, and brought it home. My folks gave a feast at that time, 
too. The bird was lying in the tipi and everybody that came looked at it. My 
mother pointed it out to them and said with a good deal of pride that I had 
shot it. My folks were proud of me because I had a good aim; they predicted 
that I would be a good hunter. Yes, they showed that bird to everybody that 
came around. That was before I killed my first deer. And here is another 
experience I want to tell you about. It will give you another instance upon 
which my parents based their predictions. I was about 21 years old when 
this happened. We [Arapaho tribe] were in camp down toward Casper 
[Wyoming]. Our family lived near a river. Going up to our tipi one day, I 
came upon two old men who were watching an eagle circle round and round. 
They couldn’t shoot at it because of its circling. I took the bow and arrow 
of one of the old men and waited until the eagle started downward. Just as 
it made a turn, I shot it in the first joint of the wing. Icrippled the wing. Soon 
the eagle came swooping downward. 


Quoting Arnold Woolworth: 


I must have been about 6 years old when I began to use a bow and arrow; I 
know I was 7 when I shot my first rabbit. My parents were glad to see me 
bring home something I had killed. They cooked the rabbit, and we ate it at 
home. No, I was not given a new name because I had shot something. Maybe 
some other tribes do that; we don’t. I was surprised, and proud, too, when I 
shot my first bird. It was our custom that the father give away a horse when 


For descriptions of Arapaho country, see James Hildreth (1836). Wor abundance of 
buffaloes. see William Hornaday (1889). 


172 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [ BULL. 148 


a son shot his first bird or rabbit or buffalo calf. My father did that for my 
brother who was much older than I. He didn’t do it for me. The old customs 
were dying out when I was growing up. 


Quoting a 60-year-old Southern woman: 

A mother was so proud of her boy when he killed his first bird that she pre- 
pared a feast at which she gave away presents. She felt the same way when he 
killed his first rabbit. If she had no gifts to give away then, she cut the rabbit 
up and gave her friends each a piece of it. I know that I will be proud when 
my boy kills his first bird or rabbit. Formerly boys used bows and arrows, 
not guns. 


Every young man was expected to assist with the butchering and 
the transporting of meat from the scene of the hunt to the camping 
place. He was not, however, permitted to join the communal tribal 
buffalo-hunting expeditions until he reached his twenties. Occa- 
sionally, a young man in his teens tried his success. as an individual. 
A Southern hunter said: “I shot a buffalo calf directly in the head 
with a gun and killed it when I was about 15 years old. We were 
really not to shoot buffalo until we were much older. But occasion- 
ally a boy tried his luck and no one said much about it, unless he 
disturbed the herd by doing so.” Sherman Sage killed his first 
buffalo when he was 15 or 16 years old. 


I killed a little buffalo calf of fawn color, at the time my little sister was 
born [he related]. When I said I was going out to hunt a buffalo, the men 
told me that I was too young. They said, “You will get yourself all bloody.” 
but I went. And I shot my first buffalo. I drew it aside and killed it. Then 
I stripped off a piece of hide. Next I opened its belly and took out the large 
intestine, which I turned inside out. Then I stuck a knife into a blood vessel 
and let the blood flow into the intestine, as a container. Next I cut out the 
liver and the kidneys and put them into the piece of hide. Then I went home. 
My mother was pleased when she heard me say to my father, “I am bringing 
you something you will be glad to eat.” She said, “You are sneaking this in.” 
My father sat down then and talked to me. He told me that after this I could 
kill buffalo, but that before I killed one for myself, I must kill one for an old 
man. That if ever I killed many and there was an old man around, I should 
take one to him and say, “Here is a buffalo; it is yours.” I should never say 
to him, “Here is a buffalo; I killed it for you.” I asked my father why I couldn’t 
tell that old man that I had killed it for him. He answered, “If you told 
this old man that you killed it for him, it would be the same ag saying to him, 
‘I killed your relative.’ So we never used those words; we simply said, ‘Here 
is your buffalo. This is yours.’” Usually men did not go out to hunt buffalo 
until they were 20 years old. My father told me when I was a boy that I was 
too young to go; that he didn’t want me to get all bloody yet. But after I 
killed the buffalo that I told you about, he told me to go ahead, but to make 
certain that before I killed one for myself, I first killed one for an old man. 


If immediate needs called for it, a man sometimes either went out 
singly or with a few other men, to get several buffaloes. Usually, 
however, buffalo hunting was an organized community affair. The 
entire tribe, or a division of it, moved from the winter shelters to the 
open prairies in the spring, after the buffalo calves were several weeks 


Hinenr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 173 


old. Camp was then staked on the banks of a river, in the vicinity of 
which the buffaloes were known to be. 

De Smet describes a single-handed hunt by an Assiniboin who 
acted as his guide: 

Alone and on foot, he stealthily approached a Jarge herd of bison cows. As 
soon as he was near enough to them to allow of their hearing him, he began to 
imitate the cry of a young calf. At once the cows ran towards the place of 
concealment of the ingenious hunter, and he kilied one of them. The troop, 
alarmed, withdrew hastily and in great disorder. He reloaded his rifle and 
renewed his cry; the cows stopped, returned as if by enchantment, and he killed 
a second. The Assiniboin assured us that he could easily have taken more 
by the same stratagem, but thinking two cows were enough for us, he suffered 
the rest to go. [De Smet, 1863, p. 84.] 

Wissler (1931, pp. 6, 7) notes two methods of hunting buffalo that 
were generally used by the prairie Indians before horses were intro- 
duced: One of these was to entice or stampede small herds into en- 
closures where they were shot down at will. By the other, the buffaloes 
were rounded up by systematic grass firing and while they were in 
compact formation were attacked at close range by foot men. It is 
likely that both of these methods were used by the Arapaho. 

A Southern woman had heard old men say that when hunting 
buffalo, men on horseback chased the young animals from the old 
and then sorted out the cows from the bulls. In this way they could 
kill whatever they wanted. They packed the meat on the back of 
horses and brought it home for their wives to dry. “Drying was done 
on poles; we dry beef that way today.” 

The method most generally used by the Arapaho, according to in- 
formants, was the following: Chiefs and scouts decided upon the 
time. Then all men beyond their teens rode out on horseback, sur- 
rounded the buffalo herd at some distance so as not to alarm the ani- 
mals, and gradually closed in on them. When the herd was fairly 
well corralled, a few men kept the herd from spreading out while the 
others shot or speared the animals. 

If the herd was at a great distance from the camping place, a single 
man might be sent out to entice the herd nearer the hunters. De Smet 
witnessed such a scene on the plains: 

He approaches, against the wind, and with the greatest precaution. At the 
distance of about one hundred paces he envelops himself in a buffalo hide, the 
fur turned outside, and also envelops his horse as much as possible in the 
same manner, and then makes a plaintive cry in imitation of that of a bison 
calf. As if by enchantment, this cry attracts the attention of the whole herd; 
after some seconds, several thousands of these quadrupeds, hearing this pitiful 
plaint, turn towards the pretended calf. At first they move slowly, then ad- 
vance into a trot, and at last they push forward in full gallop. The horseman 
continually repeats the cry of the calf, and takes his course towards the pen, 
ever attentive to keep at the same distance from the animals that are following 
him. By this stratagem he leads the vast herd of bisons through the whole 
distance that separates him from his companions, who are on the qui vive, full 


174 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLL. 148 


of ardor and impatience to share with him in his sport. [De Smet, 1863, pp. 
151-152. ] 


A Northern woman had accompanied her husband who went out 
with a party to hunt. “Women often did this formerly.” One large 
buffalo was killed, but her husband didn’t think he had gotten a fair 
share of it. “He didn’t like this. So he went away by himself to 
smoke, Before smoking he pointed the pipestem toward heaven and 
the earth and the four directions. Immediately afterward he went 
out again and he got a buffalo. Smoking, in the old days, you know, 
was like praying.” The stem of the pipe that her husband had used 
was made from the bone of the foreleg of an antelope. He smoked 
kinnikinnick. 

Fremont, an eyewitness to a buffalo hunt of the Arapaho and 
Cheyenne on July 8, 1842, described it thus: 


We were too far to hear the report of the guns, or any sound; and at every 
instant, through the clouds of dust, which the sun made luminous, we could see 
for a moment two or three buffalo dashing along, and close behind them an 
Indian with his long spear, or other weapon, and instantly again they disappeared. 
The apparent silence, and the dimly seen figures flitting by with such rapidity, 
gave it a kind of dreamy effect, and seemed more like a picture than a scene of 
real life. It had been a large herd when the cerne commenced, probably three 
or four hundred in number; but, though I watched them closely, I did not see 
ohe emerge from the fatal cloud where the work of destruction was going on. 
After remaining here about an hour, we resumed our journey in the direction 
of the village. 

Gradually, as we rode on, Indian after Indian came dropping along, laden 
with meat; and by the time we had neared the lodges, the backward road was 
covered with the returning horsemen. It was a pleasant contrast with the desert 
road we had been traveling. [Fremont then goes on to describe the Arapaho 
camp.] Several had joined company with us, and one of the chiefs invited us to 
his lodge. The village consisted of about one hundred and twenty-five lodges, 
of which twenty were Cheyennes, the latter pitched a little apart from the 
Arapahoes. They were disposed in a scattering manner on both sides of a broad, 
irregular street, about one hundred and fifty feet wide and running along the 
river. As we rode along, I remarked near some of the lodges a kind of tripod 
frame, formed of three slender poles of birch, scraped very clean, to which were 
affixed the shield and spear, with some other weapons of a chief. All were 
scrupulously clean, the spearhead was burnished bright, and the shield white 
and stainless. It reminded me of the days of feudal chivalry; and when, as 
I rode by, I yielded to the passing impulse, and touched one of the spotless shields 
with the muzzle of my gun, I almost expected a grim warrior to start from the 
lodge and resent my challenge. The master of the lodge spread out a robe for 
me to sit upon, and the squaws set before us a large wooden dish of buffalo meat. 
He had lit his pipe in the meanwhile, and when it had been passed around, we 
commenced our dinner while he continued to smoke. Gradually, five or six 
other chiefs came in, and took their seats in silence. When we had finished, 
our host asked a number of questions . .. A storm had been gathering for the 
past hour, and some pattering drops on the lodge warned us that we had some 
miles to our camp. ... We found our companions under some densely foliaged 
old trees, about three miles up the river. ... Nearly opposite was the mouth 
of one of the most considerable affluents of the South fork, la Fourche aux Castors 


Hineer] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 175 


(Beaver fork), heading off in the ridge to the southeast. [Fremont, 1846, 
pp. 18-19.] 

Lone Man, a Southern Arapaho, described the implement used in 
enticing deer by means of a call. It was made by hollowing out a 
3-inch section of the limb of a tree, the limb being about 2 inches in 
diameter. One end of the casing was then sliced to 114 inches from 
the end and a thin slice of wood pushed into this end. The piece of 
wood was fitted tightly into the cut slits and held there by buckskin 
strips that were wound about the outside of the casing. Strings were 
sometimes used in place of the thin slice of wood. According to Lone 
Man, wild turkeys were also enticed by a call. Some hunters, he said, 
stretched a tough blade of grass tightly between the thumbs. By blow- 
ing the breath through it, they imitated the call of the wild turkey. 
He himself had not used this method, for he was able to imitate the 
call of the wild turkey without the use of a grass blade. (See Works 
Progress Administration.) Kroeber (1902, p. 22) notes that whistles 
of either wood or bone were used as deer calls in hunting. Dogs were 
not used in hunting (Kroeber, 1902, p. 24). 

Sherman Sage knew of distinguished hunters who had possessed 
hunting charms. He knew persons, also, with whom these had been 
shared. But charms were not used generally, he noted. 


FOOD AND ITS PREPARATION 


The chief food of the Arapaho was meat, more especially buffalo 
meat, as stated previously. The meat of an ashen gray buffalo, a 
mutant, was not eaten; it caused a skin eruption of white blotches. 
“In those old days we mostly ate buffalo meat. It made children 
and everybody strong. After the White man came he would not 
allow us to kill buffalo; he gave us bacon and flour instead. But the 
Indians didn’t know what bacon was. I’m amused every time now 
when I go to town and buy bacon. It reminds me of the days when 
we had to learn to eat bacon.” Deer meat, too, was relished. So was 
dog meat. Other foods were wild roots and wild berries. 

Fresh meat was boiled with wild roots..° Meat not needed for 
immediate use was cut into ribbonlike pieces and either hung in air 
and sun to dry, or more often cured over slow fires. The smoke gave 
it additional flavor and made it vermin safe. Hayden (1863, p. 327) 
recorded that a weed found on gravelly hills, a species of Hriogonum, 
was used for smoking meat. The Arapaho called it bis-ci’-hin, bi 
meaning cow, and ci-hin, smoke, therefore buffalo smoke. Strips of 
jerked beef were being cured for storage, in the traditional way, 
during the years of the present study. In one home it hung across a 
pole which was attached cornerwise in a kitchen over an open stove. 


10 Kroeber writes that elk-horn scrapers which were used in dressing hides were some- 
times used in digging roots. (Cf. Kroeber, 1902, p. 26.) 


176 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Boun, 148 


The following ways of preparing meat or animal products are 
those of Mary Black Horse, a Southern Arapaho. The brochure from 
which they were copied states that “the foods prepared by these 
methods nourished the people who lived in this land long before white 
men came.” 

Dry Meat.—Slice the meat very thin, salt slightly and hang in sunshine on 
poles (not wires as wire turns meat green). Turn meat three times during the 
day, remove at night and place, well stretched, on canvas cloth, Cover with 
canvas and press. Place in cool and dry place during night. Hang in sunshine 
second day. When meat turns dark itiscured. Third day itturns gray. Putin 
pasteboard box and store. To prepare for serving place in oven. It will turn 
brown quickly. Or sprinkle cold water on both sides, pound with hammer until 
fine, mix with Indian butter and roll into balls or serve as it is. 

Indian Bologna.—Take the long straight gut of a beef, clean and turn, place 
in warm water and bring to boil, remove, and clean well (when clean will feel 
like a silk glove). Take the tenderloin of beef, slice and cut in one inch strips. 
Pull the gut over the meat but do not have tightly filled with meat. Tie one 
end of filled gut. Pour water salted to taste into gut being careful not to get 
too full as it will shrink when heated. Place in warm water and continue to 
cook until meat is done. 

Indian Butter—Take joints and bones, particularly those of the lower back 
of animals, chop fine, cover with cold water, bring to boil, and boil slowly. 
When fat comes to top, pour cup of cold water into mixture to solidify and 
remove at once with dipper or ladle. Continue to boil for 2 hours removing fat 
at intervals. Add small amount of sugar to fat, mix and allow to solidify. 
Punch hole and drain off all liquid. Serve with dry meat or use as dairy 
butter. The butter is also delicious served with Indian Fry bread.” 

Dog meat was not only eaten at ceremonials, but was generally eaten 
and relished by the Arapaho. Farnham (im Thwaites, 1904-7, vol. 28, 
p. 266) wrote: “They own large numbers of horses, mules, dogs, and 
sheep. The dogs they fatten and eat. Hence the name Arapahoes— 
dog eaters.” Mooney (1896, p. 954) wrote that Saretika, the Comanche 
and Shoshoni name for the Arapaho, meant dog eaters, “in allusion 
to their special liking for dog flesh.” Kroeber (1902, p. 31) noted 
that a small dog had been cooked whole for the ceremonial accom- 
panying the transferal from one owner to another of a sacred bag 
used when ornamenting buffalo robes and tents. 

Dogs are considered a delicacy today. ‘We always eat dogs at the 
Sun Dance. I recently [1941] killed a young pup about three months 
old. The meat was really delicious.” “Puppies are eaten before 
they themselves eat anything dirty. They are dressed like chickens, 
with entrails removed and limbs cut off, and are then boiled. I have 
eaten them; they taste very good. They taste like pork. Some persons 
around here still eat. them.” 

Wild cherries (Padus serotina) were eaten both fresh and dried. 
Those that were not eaten fresh were partially crushed, both pulp 


101 Copied from Indian Cookery (MSS) with the courteous permission of Tommie Worth, 
Home Demonstrator on the Cheyenne-Arapaho Reservation, 1941. 


Hiner] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 177 


and pit, and sun-dried. An extra supply might be caked and stored. 
Most generally it was used in making pemmican, pemmican being a 
compound of finely pounded dried buffalo meat or buffalo fat and 
crushed wild cherries. Pemmican was stored in rawhide containers, 
called parfleches. Long reported purchasing pemmican from an 
Arapaho woman in 1819: 

The squaw had in her possession a quantity of small flat blackish cakes, which 
on tasting we found very palatable. Having purchased some of them, we ascer- 
tained that they were composed of the wild cherry, of which both pulp and 
stone were pounded together, until the latter is broken into fragments, then 
mixed with grease, and dried in the sun. [Long in Thwaites, 19047, vol. 16, 
pp. 217-218.] 

Buffalo berries (Shepherdia argentea and S. canadensis) and serv- 
ice berries (Amelanchier) were also a favorite diet. Both were sun- 
dried and stored. “In the winter we mixed the buffalo berries with 
grease and ate this mixture with meat; today we mix the berries with 
lard and use this on bread like jam.” Berries gathered in August 
were being sun-dried on porches and roofs, in boxes and on canvases 
during the present study. Gathering them before the first frost pre- 
serves the tart taste which the Arapaho favor. Because of the thorns 
on the bushes, the berries are not picked by hand, but the bushes are 
beaten with a stick until all the berries have fallen on cloth or canvas 
laid under the bushes. Catlin noted the abundance of berries in the 
prairie areas and wrote: 

. we had the luxury of service-berries, without stint; and the buffalo bushes, 
which are peculiar to these northern regions, lined the banks of the river and 
defiles in the bluffs, sometimes for miles together; forming almost impassable 
hedges, so loaded with the weight of their fruit, that their boughs were every- 
where gracefully bending down and resting on the ground. 

This last shrub (shepperdia), which may be said to be the most beautiful 
ornament that decks out the wild prairies, forms a striking contrast to the rest 
of the foliage, from the blue appearance of its leaves, by which it can be dis- 
tinguished for miles in distance. The fruit which it produces in such incredible 
profusion, hanging in clusters to every limb and to every twig, is about the size 
of ordinary currants, and not unlike them in colour and even in flavour; being 
exceedingly acid, and almost unpalatable, until they are bitten by the frosts 
of autumn, when they are sweetened, and their flavour delicious; having, to 
the taste, much the character of grapes, and I am inclined to think, would pro- 
duce excellent wine. 

The shrub which bears them resembles some varieties of the thorn, though (as 
I have said) differs entirely in the colour of its leaves. It generally grows 
to the height of six or seven feet, and often to ten or twelve; and in groves 
or hedges, in some places, for miles in extent. [Catlin, 1841, pp. 72-73.] 

Wild currants, intended for winter storage, were being pounded 
with a stone by a Northern woman (August 1936). The mash was to 
be mixed with flour, molded into cakes by hand, and then sun-dried. 
“Some women put theirs through a meat grinder, but I like mine 


892644—52——13 


178 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLu, 148 


crushed the old way. Too much juice is lost doing it any other way,” 
she remarked. 

Wild roots were probably only a meager part of the Arapaho diet. 
Cultivated vegetables may have been an important food in very remote 
times. Sherman Sage recalled hearing his grandmother tell that their 
people planted corn and prepared the ground for it with a hoe made 
of a bone attached to a stout stick. Chief Little Raven told Clark 
(1885, p. 40) : “Before we crossed the Missouri River we used to plant 
and raise corn. The Arickarees stole the corn and the art of raising 
it from us. Before we went hunting so much we lived on what we 
raised from the ground.” Arapaho of the present study dug a wild 
root called by them “carrot” and another with two roots called “po- 
tato.” They are boiled and eaten, soon after being gathered. They 
are considered too soft to be dried and stored for winter use. 

A 65-year-old Northern woman made a beverage for mealtime— 
“the same as my grandmother used”—by boiling wild peppermint in 
water. Her son had gathered an armful near the Wind River (1942), 
which she tied into a bunch and hung from the kitchen rafters to 
dry. 

There were no set hours for mealtime. A meal was prepared when- 
ever a fresh supply of meat was brought in; at other times only 
when some older member of the household indicated hunger. Quot- 
ing Sherman Sage: 

In old times people in general ate three times a day; old people ate more 
than three times a day. The old men were often invited out and given food, 
especially meat ; sometimes the old women were invited, too. Each one brought 
his own dish. If they were offered more food than they could eat, especially 
meat, as sometimes happened, they stuck the extra pieces on a willow twig 
and took them home. Soup containing different kinds of berries was often 
served to them, too. But this, of course, was eaten in the place. We never 
sweetened our gravy or soup; in fact we had nothing to sweeten it with. We 
did not use wild honey, but we did suck a sweet substance out of a big bee 
after killing it. We used salt that we took from rock salt beds found on the 
way to Oklahoma. We stored salt in rawhide bags. 

According to Mooney (1896, p. 967), the Plains Indians were also 
very fond of the sweet milky juice found between the bark and the 
wood of the cottonwood (Populus monilifera). 

Kroeber (1902, p. 24) tells of two Arapaho methods of making 
fire: By one method two stones were struck—later a piece of flint and 
a piece of steel—and dry pithy cottonwood used for tinder. The other 
called for a hand-worked fire drill made of a plant or shrub (siitcinié- 
waxu) grown on the prairie. With this buffalo dung was used as 
tinder. Buffalo dung served as fuel, unless wood was available. 

Cooking in very early days was done either in the paunch of the 
buffalo or, probably more often since it was more durable, in a bow!l- 
shaped rawhide. The paunch or rawhide was placed in a hole made 


HinceR] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 179 


in the ground with the edges resting on the rim of the hole. The 
edges were held in position by being weighted down with stones. 
After water and small pieces of meat were put into the container 
heated stones were dropped in. When cooled off the stones were re- 
placed by other heated ones. This process was continued until the 
contents were sufficiently boiled. Kroeber’s informants told of pottery 
used for cooking (Kroeber, 1902, p. 25). In more recent times iron 
kettles obtained by trade with Whites were used. 

In the early day the bladder of any large animal served as a bucket 
for carrying water.” According to Kroeber, spoons were made of 
horns of mountain sheep; bowls were hollowed-out knots of the cotton- 
wood tree; rawhide served as plates; knives were made of the narrow 
piece of a buffalo shoulder blade (Cf. Kroeber, 1902, pp. 24, 25). 
Knives were not used near the place of cooking. “Even today women 
can’t sharpen knives on a stove,” said a Northern woman, “or stir 
things on a stove with one, or turn pancakes with one. In fact, to 
use a knife anywhere near a stove will cause horses to become lame 
or to be hurt. It might cause them to run into a barbed wire. A 
White woman asked me to turn pancakes with a knife the other day, 
and it sent a chill down my back.” 

Collins describes an Arapaho fireplace and a meal served him in 
the tipi of Powder Face, an Arapaho chief in the 1890s, thus: 


We all sat down on buffalo robes which covered the floor, except in the center, 
where some flat stones covered an area eighteen inches square. In the center of 
this square sat an iron pot on a flat stone raising it above the fire bed. A fire 
of small faggots burned there, each faggot pointing toward a common center 
marked by the pot. To the west of the fire was another group of flat stones with 
a few ashes strewn over them... . 

Indians never had any regular mealtime, eating whenever they felt like it. 
When there were provisions in the tepee, something was always simmering over 
the fire in the pot. So it was in Powder Face’s tepee that day. After we had 
seated ourselves, the wife took a turkey-wing fan and whipped the fire into life 
as she pushed the unburned ends into the center. Soon there was a steaming 
which betokened preparation for eating. Powder Face first took some fire and 
raked it onto the other flat stones. On this he placed a piece of meat taken from 
the pot in the center. This was a burnt offering. Then each of us took pointed 
sticks and fished out some of the meat on plates of wooden board. Before eating, 
the man of the house held a piece of the meat on a stick above the burnt offering 
and spoke to the Great Being above, then lowered it toward the earth and asked 
Mother Earth to give him strength. The meat was beef, and in the same mess 
was what looked like potatoes to me. I afterwards found that these were the 
roots of cat-tails from the near-by river banks. After I had eaten my fill of 
meat and cat-tail roots, the squaw gave me a large hunk of dried wild cherries. 
These had been dried and mashed into a mass which was kept in parfleche trunks 
about the tepee. We washed this down with water from the river. [Collins, 
1928, pp. 194-195.] 


102 Kroeber records a similar statement. (Cf. Kroeber, 1902, p. 18.) 


180 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLu, 148 


THE TIPI 


The tipi was the Arapaho child’s home. It consisted of a conical 
framework of long, slender, straight poles of either cedar or pine, 
more often of pine. According to Mooney (1896, p. 979), cedar was 
particularly desirable because of its fineness of grain and durability 
which made it both heat- and moisture-resistant and therefore pre- 
vented warping. ‘Two sets of tipi poles owned by Northern women 
informants were lodge pole pines (Pinus murrayana). They were 
completely trimmed of all outer and inner bark and had been smoothed 
with sandpaper. When the tipi was to be erected, the poles, usually 
20 to 30 in number, were set firmly into the ground and brought to- 
gether about 3 to 4 feet from the top. 

The tipi cover consisted of dressed buffalo skins, usually untanned. 
These were fitted and sewed together on the ground to form a hemi- 
sphere of one continuous piece. It took from 15 to 20 skins to make 
a cover, the number depending on the size of the tipi and also on the 
size of the skins. Longer pieces, called “ears” were sewed to each side 
near the center of the hemisphere. When the cover was in use, the 
“ears” were adjusted so as to regulate the draft. Strands of sinew 
were used in the sewing. 

Burton recorded a description of a tipi and the erection of it in 
1862. Among the tribes using it were the Arapaho. His account 
follows: 


The Sioux, Arapahos, Cheyennes, Utaha, Snakes, Blackfeet, and Kiowas use 
the Comanche lodge covered with bison skins, which by dressing become fiexible 
as canvas. They are usually of a shining white, save where smoke-stained near 
the top; the lodges of great chiefs are sometimes decorated with horizontal 
stripes of alternate black and white, and ornamented with figures human and 
bestial, crosses, circles, and arabesques. The lodge is made of eight to twenty- 
four straight peeled poles or saplings of ash, pine, cedar, or other wood, hard 
and elastic if possible, about 20 feet long; the largest marquees are 30 feet in 
diameter by 35 feet high, and are comprised of 26-30 buffalo skins; and they are 
sometimes planted round a “basement” or circular excavation two or three feet 
deep. When pitching, three poles lashed to one another with a long line, some- 
what below the thinner points, are raised perpendicularly, and the thicker ends 
are spread out in a tripod to the perimeter of the circle which is to form the 
lodge floor; the rest of the poles are then propped against the three first, 
and disposed regularly and equi-distantly to make a steady and secure conical 
framework. The long line attached to the tripod is then wound several times 
round the point where the poles touch, and the lower end is made fast to the base 
of the lodge, thus securing the props in position. The covering of dressed, hair- 
less, and water-proof cow-buffalo hide—-traders prefer Osnaburg—cut and sewn 
to fit the frame like an envelope, and sometimes pinned together with skewers, 
is either raised at first with the tripod, or afterward hoisted with a perch and 
spread round the complete structure. It is pinned to the ground with wooden 
pegs, and a narrow space forms a doorway, which may be closed with a blanket 
suspended from above and spread out with two small sticks. The apex is left 
open with a triangular wing or flap, like a lateen sail, and is prevented from clos- 
ing by a pole inserted into a pocket at the end. The aperture points to windward 


Hitexr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 181 


when ventilation is required, and, drawing like a windsail, it keeps the interior 
cool and comfortable; when smoke is to be carried off, it is turned to leeward, 
thus giving draught to the fire, and making the abode warm in the severest 
weather, while in lodges of other forms, you must lie down on the ground to pre- 
vent being asphyxiated. By raising the lower part so as freely to admit the 
breeze, it is kept perfectly free from mosquitoes, which are unable to resist the 
strong draught. The squaws are always the tent-pitchers, and they equal orien- 
tals in dexterity and judgment. Before the lodge of each warrior stands his light 
spear, planted Bedouin-fashion in the ground, near or upon a tripod of thin, 
cleanly-seraped wands, seven to eight feet long, which support his spotless white 
buffalo-skin targe, sometimes decorated with his “totem”—we translate the word 
“crest’—and guarded by the usual prophylactic, a buckskin sack containing 
medicine. . . . The fire, as in the old Hebridean buts, is built in the centre of the 
hard dirt floor; a strong stick planted at the requisite angle supports the kettle, 
and around the walls, are berths divided by matted screens; the extremest un- 
cleanliness, however, is a feature never absent. In a quiet country these villages 
have a simple and patriarchal appearance. The tents, which number from fifteen 
to fifty, are disposed round a circular central space, where animals can be 
tethered. Some have attached to them corrals of wattled canes, and a few boast 
of fields where corn and pumpkins are raised. [Burton, 1862, pp. 106-108.] 

One Northern woman when erecting her tipi tied three poles to- 
gether, about 4 feet from the top, and erected these first. Then she 
rested the remaining poles against these. “If the poles are placed 
correctly,” she remarked, “they never stir from their position.” Next 
she raised the covering by means of a pole, and rested the middle of 
it on the west side of the framework. She then brought the sides of 
the covering toward the east, or the front, laid one edge over the other 
and pinned them together with wooden pegs. An opening was left 
at the top to serve as a smoke hole and for ventilation. The entrance 
always faced east “so as to face the sun; light is holy, you know.” She 
next pounded short wooden pegs through the ground edge of the cover 
and into the ground. This fastened the cover and gave it tautness. 
She now poked the end of a pole into an “ear” and rested the pole 
against the same side on the outside of the tipi. A second pole was 
poked into the other “ear” and rested against the tipi on that side. 
“With these we regulated the smoke,” she remarked. If the wind 
blew from the southwest, for instance, the south pole was manipulated 
into position so that its flap prevented the wind from blowing the 
smoke back into the tipi. The pole to the north in this instance was 
allowed to drop its flap on the framework toward the west. In the 
event of rain, both flaps were folded over so as to close the opening. 
A hide was fastened over the entrance of the tipi to keep out rainy 
or cold weather, and also animals. 

Hides used as tipi coverings were dressed by the women without 
ceremony. Ceremonials, however, accompanied sewing them together 
and decorating them. Not all women had their tipis decorated. It 
was customary for a woman who had actually invaded an enemy camp 
and struck an enemy in his own camp to count coups while making the 


182 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Buu. 148 


decorations for a tipi. “Such a woman might also count coups when 
piercing a child’s ear at the Sun Dance.” 

A conventional set of tipi ornaments, according to Kroeber, con- 
sisted of five circular pieces of hide or skin embroidered with quills or 
beads and a series of triple pendants with dew-claws and loops at the 
ends. One of the five disks was usually about 8 inches in diameter; 
the other four were smaller. The large one was attached at the top 
on the west side of the tipi cover just below the place where the pole 
used in raising the tipi cover into position was fastened. The four 
smaller disks were fastened to the cover several feet above the bottom, 
one each at the southeast, southwest, northwest, and northeast. Some 
of the triple pendants were attached in two vertical rows, one row on 
each side, above the entrance where the cover was pinned together. 
Others were sewed to the edge of the “ears.” ? 

Beds, the chief furnishings of an Arapaho tipi, are described by 
Mooney as follows: 


The bed of the prairie tribes is composed of slender willow rods, peeled, 
straightened with the teeth, laid side by side and fastened together into a sort of 
mat by means of buckskin or rawhide strings passed through holes at the ends 
of the rods. The bed is stretched upon a platform raised about a foot above 
the ground, and one end of the mat is raised up in hammock fashion by means 
of a tripod and buckskin hanger. The rods laid across the platform, forming 
the bed proper, are usually about 3% or 4 feet long (the width of the bed), 
while those forming the upright part suspended from the tripod are shorter as 
they approach the top, where they are only about half that length. The bed 
is bordered with buckskin binding fringed and beaded, and the exposed rods 
are painted in bright colors. The hanging portion is distinct from the part 
resting upon the platform, and in some cases there is a hanger at each end of 
the bed. Over the platform portion are spread the buckskins and blankets, 
which form a couch by day and a bed by night. A pillow of buckskin, stuffed 
with buffalo hair and elaborately ornamented with beads or porcupine quills, is 
sometimes added. The bed is placed close up under the tipi. In the largest tipis 
there are usually three beds, one being opposite the doorway and the others on 
each side, the fire being built in a hole scooped out in the ground in the center 
of the lodge. They are used as seats during waking hours, while the ground, 
with a rawhide spread upon it, constitutes the only table at meal time. ... In 
going to bed there is no undressing, each person as he becomes sleepy simply 
stretching out and drawing a blanket over himself, head and all, while the other 
occupants of the tipi continue their talking, singing, or other business until 
they too lie down to pleasant dreams. [Mooney, 1896, pp. 963-964.] 


Pillows in the early days were made of softly tanned hides stuffed 
with hair of deer and antelope. A Northern woman had the pillows 
and mattresses of her own bed stuffed with hair of deer and antelope 
in 1942. She had also used down of milkweed for pillows. 

Only a few Arapaho owned tipis during the present study but covers 
in every instance were of canvas. Commercial canvas tents were used 

103 Kroeber, 1902, pp. 59-60. Cf. also pp. 70-77 for Kroeber’s personal observations of 


the ornamentation of a tent. 
1 Cf. also pl. 120 in Mooney’s study for Arapaho bed. 


HincEr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 183 


as dwellings by many during summer months, since they were cooler 
than their frame houses. Families in both groups had sunshelters 
in which food was prepared and eaten. Members of families often 
ate and also slept in them (pls. 34, 1,and 86). A Northern woman was 
certain that “in the old days when the Indians lived in tipis and had 
no houses, they didn’t mind the cold of winter or the heat of summer. 
The houses we now live in are too warm in the summer and every one 
has colds in the winter.” The United States Indian Agent of Indian 
Territory reported in 1884 that Little Raven, an Arapaho chief, was 
given a hospital building as a residence when the military abandoned 
Cantonment, Okla. The building had cost the Government $12,000. 
“He sleeps in it occasionally,” the Report says, “but has his tepee in the 
front yard, where his family lives” (Dyer, D. B., 1884, p. 73). 


DRESSING SKINS 


Dressing skins was a laborious task. It was done exclusively by 
women. Children were helpful in fetching articles and in running 
errands, but they had no part in the labor itself. Girls of marriage- 
able age, however, assisted in all of the work. 

No opportunity for witnessing the tanning of hides presented itself 
during this study. Informants, however, were agreed that the steps in 
the process of dressing skins were (a) removal of the flesh and fats that 
had adhered when the skin was removed from the carcass; (0) soaking 
the hide; (¢) scraping off all hair, unless the hide was to be used for a 
robe or floor mat; (d@) treating the hide chemically to soften it; (e) 
stretching it; (7) softening the hide by scraping and rubbing; and 
(g) tanning it over a smudge, if tanning was desired. Kroeber re- 
corded the following details of the Arapaho way of dressing skins: 


Several tools are in use for dressing skins. A chisel-shaped flesher (now 
generally made of iron, originally of a buffalo leg-bone) is used to clean the 
inner surface of hides from fat and flesh. If the hair is to be removed, which is 
almost always the case unless a blanket is being made, an instrument made of elk- 
antler is used. The end of this extends at right angles to the handle, and is 
provided with a metal blade. This instrument is at times made of wood, but 
then has exactly the shape of those made of antler. With this instrument the 
hair is cut from the skin with little difficulty. Sometimes a stone hammer is 
used to pound the hairy side of the skin until the hair comes off. With the 
elk-antler scraper the hide is generally thinned down more or less, the surface 
being flaked or planed off. All hides used for clothing are thinned to a certain 
extent. The scrapings obtained in this process are sometimes eaten. ... 

After the hair has been removed, the skin is stretched on the ground by means 
of pegs, and dried until stiff, if rawhide is to be made. If soft hide is desired, 
as for clothing, the skin is soaked and then scraped or rubbed with a blunt 
edge until it is dry. Now, pieces of tin, whose scraping edge is slightly convex, 
are generally used for this purpose; formerly bone, horn, and perhaps stone, 
seem to have been used. Another form of scraper for softening or roughening 
hide consists of a slightly curved stick of wood a foot long; in the middle of 
the concave side of this is a metal blade. The whole object somewhat resembles 


184 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Buun. 148 


a draw-knife. This instrument is used more particularly on buckskin, which is 
hung on an upright post or stick... .. Buffalo-hides are also softened by being 
drawn over a rope, twisted of sinew, about one-third of an inch thick. [Kroeber, 
1902, pp. 26-27.] 


Two Northern women of the present study tanned elk and cow 
hides as they had been taught by their mother, who died in 1939: 


Here is how mother did it: First the hide was soaked in plain water for 
about two days. Then it was stretched and staked taut on the ground in the 
sun. Immediately after staking it, the hair was scraped off with an implement 
made by inserting a blade into a horn. [Scraping was done in a stooping posi- 
tion with movements toward body.] Before the hide dried, the flesh side was 
seraped but with a different tool. Before the hide was completely dry it was 
soaked in either warm soap water or warm water mixed with kerosene. After 
the hide had soaked for some time, it was wrung out and dried hanging over 
a line, fence, or bush. After it was well dried, it was soaked in a mixture of 
liver or brain boiled in water, sometimes raw brain mixed with water. Today 
most women use Oil of Neat’s Foot [oleum bubalum]. The hide was then dried 
on a line or on grass in the sun without wringing or rinsing it. After the hide 
was dry, it was again soaked in plain water. This time, however, it was wrung 
out before drying it. After it was thoroughly dry, it was softened. Mother took 
the handle off the scythe, staked the pointed end of the scythe firmly into the 
ground at the root of a tree and tied the other end firmly to the trunk of the 
tree with buckskin thongs. Then she pulled the hide back and forth over the 
blade side of the scythe. This was hard work and it often took her all day. 
She usually took her time and rested in between. After it was as soft as she 
wanted it, she dug a hole, about 20 inches deep and about 15 inches in diameter, 
and built a smudge in it, using either fine chips of wood or bark of cottonwood. 
She then sewed up the hide to make a sack of it with one end open. She placed 
this sack over a tipi-shaped framework made of saplings and set this over the 
smudge. She watched the smudge carefully so there would be no blaze, but 
only smoke. At the closed end of the sack she had sewed a strip of buckskin 
with which she tied the sack to the top of the saplings. This held the hide in 
place. When one side of the hide was sufficiently smoked, the sack was turned 
inside out and again smoked, thus giving both sides a tan. I always had mother 
tan the hides for me without smoking them; I don’t like smoke smell. We used 
to tell mother to keep the hides outdoors until the smoke smell had left them. 


Another Northern woman soaked hides (1942) for one night in a 
mixture of water, lard, boiled liver, and brain of either elk, cow, or 
sheep. She tanned the hides over a smudge to keep moths away, but 
after the tanning, she again whitened them by rubbing them with 
white soap. In 1942 she was making tops of moccasins from an elk 
hide she had whitened. For soles she was using cowhide prepared 
like parfleche. Her friend was soaking several cowhides in an irri- 
gation ditch at the time. Another Northern woman was about ready 
to give three elk hides their last softening (1936). She had soaked 
them over night and in the morning had tied them into knots to keep 
them damp. Stretching them at midday when the sun was hottest 
was best, she remarked. She and another woman would pull them in 


105 Whites had seen cowhides soaking in the Wind River (Wind River Reservation, Wyo.) 
in 1941. 


HIenr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 185 


all directions first, and then back and forth over the sharpened edge 
of the blade of a scythe. The blade was ready. She had removed it 
from its handle and had set the pointed end securely into the ground. 
The other end she had tied to a fence post with ropes. The sharpened 
edge of the blade faced the angle made by the post and ground. 
“Formerly four women held the hide while a fifth rubbed it with a 
sharp stone,” she added. “But that was hard work.” 


CLOTHING 


Formerly the Arapaho wore clothing made of elk and deer hides 
finely dressed and worked until delicately soft. A man’s clothing 
consisted of shirt, leggings that reached from hips to ankles, moc- 
casins, and breechclout. Boys’ clothing was identical with that of 
men in pattern and material °° (pl. 37). 

A woman’s clothing consisted of an open-sleeved dress that reached 
above the ankles and of moccasins with leggings that nearly reached the 
knees. Leggings were held in position by means of garters. Girls’ 
clothing, except for size, was identical with that of women?” (pl. 37). 

When away from home both men and women wore robes of dressed 
buffalo hides ornamented with designs in paint or, more often, in 
quill work. Bradbury (zn Thwaites, 1904-7, 5: 139) saw a Cheyenne 
wear a buffalo robe in the first decade of 1800 that had been purchased 
from an Arapaho. The robe “was curiously ornamented with figures 
worked with split quills, stained red and yellow, intermixed with much 
taste, and the border of the robe entirely hung around with the hoofs 
of young fawns, which at every movement made a noise much re- 
sembling that of the rattlesnake when that reptile is irritated.” A 
Southern women, one of Kroeber’s informants, had made 380 robes. 
Kroeber’s account follows: 

. .. She said that the usual buffalo-robe had twenty lines of quill-embroidery 
across it, and was called niisa uxt. There were seventeen lines, and then three 
more close together along the bottom of the robe. The lines were ordinarily 
yellow. She made one robe with white quill-work, to signify old age. The lines 
were formerly not made of red quills (as in some modern robes of children). 
Only certain portions of designs on the lines were red. Sometimes these were 
green instead of red. Fifty small dew-claws of the buffalo were hung as 
pendants or rattles along the lower edge of a twenty-lined robe. If the robe had 
only seventeen lines of quill-embroidery, forty hoof-pendants were attached. 


She had made a robe for every member of her family but one. Whenever she 
made and gave away a robe, she received a horse for it. She once began a robe 


1% Cf. boys’ costumes, Cat. No. 58021, 58032, collected by Cleaver Warden and G. A. 
Dorsey in 1905 on the Wind River Reservation, Wyo., and exhibited in the Chicago Natural 
History Museum. Cf. also Wissler, 1916 b, pp. 51-65. 

107 Cf, girls’ costumes, Cat. Nos. 58027, 70727, collected by Cleaver Warden and G, A. 
Dorsey in 1905 on the Wind River Reservation, Wyo., and exhibited in the Chicago 
Natural History Museum. Cf. also Wissler, 1916 b, pp. 65-67. For moccasins, see 
Thayer, 1942, pp. 30-40. 

108 Wor excellent accounts of Arapaho decorative art, see Kroeber, 1900 b, pp. 69-86; 
1901, pp. 308-336 ; and 1902, pp. 36-150. 


186 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Bunn 148 


with one hundred lines, to be given to Left-Hand. She had marked one hundred 
and worked thirty when her son-in-law died. She buried the robe with him. 
Later she learned that it was not right to bury this highest kind of robe with 
any one. It gives her vigor now to think of her past life and what she has ac- 
complished. [Kroeber, 1902, pp. 29-30.] 

Articles used in sewing were awls of bone and thread of sinew of 
the buffalo. A 60-year-old Northern woman’s awl, one that had be- 
longed to her mother’s sister, was a pointed steel of 38-inch length 
inserted into the bone of the upper part of the front leg of a skunk. 
In making a pair of moccasins of elk skin, she had used cow sinew as 
thread. She was decorating the moccasins in a geometric design with 
beads. Agnes Yellow Plume was using elk skin of her own tanning 
for the top pieces and cowhide for the soles of a pair of men’s moc- 
casins which she was beading. She was using cow sinew as thread 
and an awl of steel to puncture the hide. “I have no pattern for the 
design; I am taking the design from my head,” she remarked. “That 
square of six rows of beads represents the carrying strap my grand- 
mother used when carrying wood, or a baby in its cradle. Your ques- 
tions about our old ways yesterday made me think of my grand- 
mother. “That’s why I am making this design.” She expected to sell 
the pair for $4. During another interview, she was attaching leggings 
to a pair of women’s moccasins. The sole was of cowhide; the tops 
and leggings, of elk hide. She was making them for a White man 
who had prepaid for them with two deer hides. 


TRIBAL GOVERNMENT 


Only men participated in the tribal government of the Arapaho. 
No formal training was given to the boy to prepare him for govern- 
mental duties, but membership in the boys’ lodges conditioned his 
thinking to regulations, order, and responsibilities (pp. 117-121). 
As he grew older, membership in the men’s societies taught him further 
values in the government of his tribe. Government centered about 
the chiefs and their councilors. It functioned chiefly in the camp 
circle and when hunting buffalo. 


TRIBAL DIVISIONS 


According to tradition, the Arapaho in the early day were com- 
posed of five distinct but closely allied divisions, each speaking a 
different dialect. Mooney and Kroeber record five names for the 
divisions, but with some variations. Mooney (1896, pp. 956-957) lists 
them in order of importance as the following: (a) Nakasiné’na, (sage- 
brush men) or Ba’achinéna (red-willow men or blood-pudding men). 
Descendants of these today are known as the Northern Arapaho and 
live in Wyoming. (0) Na’wunéna (southern men) or Nawathi’néha 
(southerners). Their descendants are the Southern Arapaho of to- 


Hiterr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 187 


day and live in Oklahoma. (c) Adninéna (white clay people) or 
Hitu’néna (begging men, beggars, “spongers”). Today their descend- 
ants are known as the Gros Ventres of the Prairies and live in Mon- 
tana. (d) Bi’sawuné’na (wood lodge men or big lodge people). 
Mooney and Kroeber found members of the last-named division among 
both the Northern and the Southern Arapaho, and so did the present 
writer. (¢) Ha’nahawuné’na or Aant’hawa (meaning unknown). 

Kroeber (1916, pp. 73-74) lists the five divisions as (a) Nawaoini- 
ha’ni (South? people); (6) Haanaxwiine’na (Rock people); (c) 
Hinanaei’ne (Arapaho proper) ; (d) Bisawitine’na (Woodhouse peo- 
ple); (¢) Hitdune’na (begging people), the Gros Ventres of the 
Prairies of today. 

The Northern Arapaho, the ones residing in Wyoming at the pres- 
ent time, are considered as the mother group today and have been so 
in the past, by both themselves and the Southern Arapaho. This 
conclusion can be drawn, informants stated, alone from the fact that 
the Northern Arapaho now have and always have had in their 
possession the sacred pipe, the Arapaho tribal “medicine.” “More- 
over,” a Southern Arapaho of the Bisawiine’na division said, “the 
tribe expects a member of the Bisawiine’na division of the Northern 
Arapaho to be the custodian of the sacred pipe.” According to 
Mooney (1896, p. 955), Weasel Bear of the Ba’sawunéna was the 
keeper in 1892. 

BANDS 


Sherman Sage defined a band asa group of related families. When- 
ever camp moved, he said, the families composing a band moved to- 
gether. In winter a band camped in the same shelter along some 
stream; in the summer, when the tribe was together to celebrate the 
Sun Dance or to engage in a communal hunt, each band formed a 
circle. id 

Information regarding the location of the bands varies. According 
to Mooney (1896, p. 956), the Southern Arapaho had five bands; the 
Northern, three. Of the Northern Arapaho he says: “They are 
divided into three bands, the ‘Forks of the River Men’ under Black 
Coal, the head chief of the whole division; the ‘Bad Pipes’ under Short 
Nose, and the ‘Greasy Faces’ under Spotted Horse.” For the South- 
ern Arapaho he lists five bands: the Bad Faces, “the principal band 
and the one to which the head chief, Left Hand, belongs”; the Pleasant 
Men; the Blackfeet, “so called because said to be part Blackfoot 
blood”; the Wolves; and the Looking-up or Looking-around, i. e., 
watchers or lookouts (Mooney, 1896, p. 559). 

Scott records Left Hand, chief of the Southern group (pl. 38), as 
saying in 1897: 

We Southern Arapaho have two divisions; first, Ugly-faced men; second, 
Funny Men. ... The Northern Arapaho have two divisions, as we have, that 


188 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLL. 148 


usually camp in different places. One is called the “Spunky Men” because they 
get angry easily, and often became angry at the other band, which was called 
“Antelope,” because they never stayed long in one place. [Scott, 1907, p. 559.] 

Kroeber (1902, pp. 7-8) gives two bands for each group: Ugly 
People and Ridiculous Men for the Southern group; Red-willow Men 
and a fourth one, whose name the informant had forgotten, for the 
Northern group. 

Informants of the present study, including Sage, agreed that there 
were four bands among the Arapaho: the Greasy Faces, the Long 
Legs or Antelopes, the Quick-to-anger, and the Beavers. The pres- 
ent writer met members of the Greasy Faces, the Long Legs, and the 
Quick-to-anger, but none of the Beavers, among both the Northern and 
Southern groups. This would seem to bear out Sage’s statement that 
in the separation into the Northern group and the Southern group some 
families of all the bands went with both groups. Quoting Sage: 

I married an Arapaho woman from Oklahoma; I don’t know to what band 
she belonged. They didn’t have bands down there. By the time we separated 
into two groups, the Northern group and the Southern group, the Whites had 
come among the Indians and our organization was pretty well disrupted. A 
chief was no longer chosen by our people because he belonged to a certain band. 
He was chosen because he had proven to be a leader of our people in our dealings 
with the Whites. In recent years, therefore, we had paid little attention to 
bands. When we separated into two groups some families of all bands went to 
each group. 

Birth within a band entitled one to permanent membership in it. 
Membership might also be held in another band because one resided 
with it. This dual membership might be held, for example, by a 
woman who lived with her husband in a band other than the one into 
which she was born. Ifa man was of a band which had better status 
than his wife’s, he usually brought his wife to live in the band of which 
he wasa member. “If a child lived among its father’s people, it be- 
longed to its father’s band; if among its mother’s people, it belonged 
to its mother’s band,” said Old Lady Salt Friday. She continued, 
“Often a husband and his wife did not belong to the same band. It 
was safest to marry outside of your band. You were certain then that 
you were not marrying arelative. My father had two wives. He and 
his first wife belonged to the Long Legs. After his first wife died, he 
married my mother who was a Quick-to-anger. Our people took my 
father to live with my mother’s band and so now I am a Quick-to- 
anger. The Long Legs and the Quick-to-anger were always thought 
of as more advanced than the other two bands; they had more horses 
than the others, and seemed smarter in every way.” 

Quoting an 80-year-old Northern woman: “I am a Greasy Face; my 
husband was an Antelope. Therefore, my children had the right to 
live with both the Greasy Face and the Antelopes. I myself followed 


102 The Sioux had the same custom, according to the writer’s unpublished field notes. 


Hiner] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 189 


my mother’s band because my father was killed and we lived with 
my mother’s band.” Quoting a 66-year-old Northern man: “All the 
people belonged to one or the other of the four bands. I belong to the 
Antelopes; my wife, to the Greasy Face. My first wife was a Greasy 
Face, too. My children, therefore, belong to the Greasy Face and the 
Antelopes. I belong to only one band because my father and my 
mother were both Antelopes. I had several more wives, but I do not 
know to what bands they belonged. We have always lived among 
the Antelopes.” 
CHIEFS 


Each band was headed by a chief. When important tribal matters 
were under consideration, a council was convened consisting of the 
four chiefs, and of all the members of the Sweat Lodge and of the 
Nanahaxwi, therefore, of all the old men of the tribe that were of any 
account, since they were all members of these two societies, but of only 
the headmen of the other men’s societies (pp. 117-118). 

One of the four chiefs was considered by the tribe as the head chief 
or the principal chief.“° It was he who presided at meetings and who 
was the spokesman for the tribe when conferences were held between 
the Arapaho and another tribe of Indians or between the Arapaho and 
the Whites. Sage remarked, “There was always one head chief, and 
he was usually a Long Leg.” Long noted in 1819 that Bear Tooth 
was then the principal chief of the Arapaho, and the head chief “of all 
these nations”; that he possessed great influence over the whole; that 
his mandates were uniformly characterized by discretion and pro- 
priety, and were regarded by his subjects as inviolable laws. 

The first signer of a treaty is sometimes designated as a head chief. 
Southern signers of the Treaty of October 14, 1865, were Little Raven, 
head chief (pl. 39) ; Storm, chief; Big Mouth, chief; Spotted Wolf, 
chief; Black Man, headman; and Chief in Everything, headman.*” 
The Treaty of 1882 was signed by Head Chief Big Mouth, Chief White 
Crow, Chief Left Hand, and Chief Spotted Face.™ 

A chief held his office for life. If his conduct no longer warranted 
the respect and obedience of the people, he was ignored by them, but 
he was not superseded. Upon the death of a chief the men of his 
band selected a successor. Women had no vote in the matter, but 
their influence was exerted during the discussions that preceded the 
election. The entire tribe discussed the matter freely. The choice 

10 This differs from Kroeber (1902, p. 8), who says that the Arapaho had four chiefs 
but no official principal chief. A photograph of four Arapaho chiefs dated 1868 is found 
in the United States National Museum (Cat. No. 154). 

11 James account of S. H. Long’s expedition, 1819-20. In Thwaites, 1904~7, vol. 17, 
s fen Rie 1904, vol. 2, p. 891; cf. also Kappler, 1904, vol. 2, p. 892. 


3 Message from the President, Senate Ex. Doc. No. 13, 48th Cong., 1st sess., 1883-84, 
p. 28. 


190 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [ Bun. 148 


usually fell upon the man who was well thought of by the entire 
band.“* If the son of a chief—or in the event of no son, a nephew— 
possessed the required qualities, he would in all probability be chosen 
to succeed his father. Chieftainship, however, was not inherited. 
Only a man who had given evidence of bravery as a warrior, one who 
was trustworthy, who had shown himself unselfish in getting food for 
the people, and who had given evidence of good sense and good 
judgment was considered eligible. 
Clark recorded Wolf Moccasin, an Arapaho, as saying in 1885: 


Formerly the head chief of the Arapaho nation was elected by a grand council ; 
this was, however, a mere matter of form, for, as they said, ‘“‘The man who had led 
the soldiers to war, had done many brave things, was sure of the election.” They 
also had sub-chiefs, headmen of the soldier bands, and frequently a council or 
peace chief, who, as a rule, held his position by the power of his persuasive 
eloquence. [Clark, 1885, p. 43.] 


Such persuasion may have been used by Little Raven when at the 
Council of the Little Arkansas in 1865 he demanded an interpreter. 
“Boone,” he said, “came out here and got them [the Indians] to sign 
a paper, but [they] did not know what it meant. The Cheyennes 
signed it first, then I; but we did not know what it was. That is 
one reason why I want an interpreter, so that I know what I sign.” 


Quoting Ann Wolf, the 70-year-old daughter of Chief Black Coal of 
the Northern Arapaho: ™ 


Only men that had shown bravery were chosen as chiefs. After we had much to 
do with the Whites, the bravery of men was shown in dealings with the Whites; 
in the early days, their bravery was usually shown on the warpath. In the days 
when we were still roaming over the prairies the old Indians, before they started 
on the warpath, used to send scouts out to locate the enemy camp. It might 
happen that one of these scouts killed several of the enemy, even before the 
old men had ordered him into war. If such a scout returned safely, he was 
thought of as being a great man. He might sometimes be rewarded by being 
chosen chief. In fact, any man who was known to have killed or scalped a 
number of men of any tribe with which the Arapaho happened to be at war had 
a fair chance of being chosen chief. The son of a chief often was chosen chief 
after his father died. If the chief had no son one of his nephews might be chosen. 
We have no chiefs now [1942]. Our last chiefs were my father, Black Coal, who 
was chief of the lower Arapaho [ones living near St. Stephen’s Mission and River- 
ton, Wyo.] and Sharp Nose who was chief of the St. Michael’s group [near Fort 


14 This varies from Kroeber’s account, which states that when one of the four chiefs died 
another was chosen from the dog-company, men about 50 years of age. Another of 
Kroeber’s informants stated ‘“‘that chiefs were not formally elected ; the bravest and kindest- 
hearted men became chiefs naturally, but there were no recognized or regular chiefs” 
(Kroeber, 1902, pp. 8-9). 

5 Report of the Secretary of the Interior, 1865, p. 703. Little Raven here refers to 
the Treaty of February 18, 1861, between the United States Government and the Cheyenne 
and Arapaho. A. G. Boone signed it as United States Indian Agent and Commissioner. 
Little Raven’s signature is first of the Arapaho signers. (Cf. Kappler, vol. 2, p. 810.) 

110'The daughter of Chief Black Coal, Ann Wolf, and a relative, Agnes Yellow Plume, 
were generous contributors to the present study. 


HILGER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 191 


Washakie, Wyo.]. I wish these chiefs were living today to help with this great 
war [World War II]. They were never afraid to fight an enemy. Black Coal 
was elected chief because he had courage to face the [United States] Government 
officials during the first treaty drawn up with the Shoshonie. The Shoshonie 
wanted to chase the Arapaho off the reservation. But my father spoke up 
bravely. “Here,” he said, “is where the President told us to be, and here is where 
we'll stay!” So, after that the Arapaho thought he was brave and they elected 
him chief. Later the Shoshonie wanted to sell the mountains on the reservation 
to the Whites. But they had to consult Black Coal before doing so. He refused 
to consent. So now even today the Shoshonie are profiting by this refusal. He 
also refused to let the Shoshonie sell the hot springs on the reservation. Sharp 
Nose, too, was a courageous man. That was why he was elected to be a chief.” 


Of Black Coal the United States Indian Agent reported on July 381, 
1893: 


Their great chief, Black Coal, died on June 28 last. He was a man of extraor- 
dinary ability ; was far in advance of his people, always courteous and pleasant in 
manner; was a true friend in peace as well as a sagacious leader on the hostile 
field. He held the chieftainship for some twenty-five years, and since being 
located on this reservation he at all times urged his people to send their children 
to school and the adults to adopt the ways of the white man and become self- 
sustaining. [Fosher, 1898, pp. 350—351.] 


Sharp Nose died in 1872. The United States Indian agent reported 
the Northern Arapaho as “much excited over the loss of their principal 
chiefs, Medicine Man, Sharp Nose, and Bear-that-don’t-run, which 
they say was caused by remaining at the agency and eating white man’s 
food (Daniels, 1872, p. 267). 


“Sharp Nose” of the Arapahoes [Bourke wrote] was tall, straight, of large 
frame, with piercing eyes, Roman nose, firm jaws and chin and a face inspiring 
confidence in his ability and determination. His manners were dignified and 
commanding, coming nearer to the Fenimore Cooper style of Indian than any 
I had seen since my visit to “Cocheis,’ the renowned chief of the Chiricahua 
Apaches, in the Dragoon Mountains, Arizona, in February 1873... “Sharp 
Nose,” the Arapahoe chief, with dilated nostrils and flashing eyes, moved 
nervously from point to point on his wiry pony, looking the incarnation of the 
Spirit of War. [Bourke, 1890, pp. 40 and 198.] 


The literature records other names of outstanding Arapaho lead- 
ers and bears testimony to their fine character and able leadership. 
Several of these are Eagle’s Head, Tempest, Friday (pl. 40, 7), Powder 
Face, Left Hand, Heap O’Bears, Yellow Horse, Black Crow, Row of 
Lodges, Bird Chief, White Man, Yellow Bear (pl. 40, 2), and Cut 
Finger." 


11In 1876, the year the Northern Arapaho were placed on the Wind River Reservation, 
Mooney states, there were three bands: the Forks of the River Men under Black Coal, the 
head chief of the whole division; the Bad Pipes under Short Nose; and the Greasy Faces 
under Spotted Horse. (Cf. Mooney, 1896, p. 956.) 

18 Cf, Chittenden and Richardson, 1905, vol. 2, p. 688; Hatton, 1881, p. 183; Miles, 1883, 
p. 60 ; Message from the President of the United States . . . 1883-84, p. 28; Peery, 1932- 
33, vol. 10, p. 577; and Indian treaties and councils affecting Kansas... 1923-25, 
16: 768-771. 


192 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BULL. 148 


SCOUTS 


Scouts exercised a protective function in the government. Their 
chief duty was to announce the sighting of an enemy and thus pre- 
vent the people from having a surprise attack. Quoting Sage: 


Scouts rode out to hilltops on horseback, sometimes long distances from the 
camp and spent their time peering around to see if an enemy was nearby. A 
camp smoke indicated its location if there was one. If they spied an enemy, 
some returned to camp to tell the people about it. All horses were then cor- 
ralled into the camp circle and men were assigned to protect the camp. 


Mooney wrote regarding the scouts: 


The ga’ahiné’na or gaahi’na, “coyote men,” were an order of men of middle age 
who acted as pickets or lookouts for the camp. When the band encamped in some 
convenient situation for hunting or other business, it was the duty of these men, 
usually four or six in a band, to take their station on the nearest hills to keep 
waich and to give timely warning in case of the approach of an enemy. It was an 
office of danger and responsibility, but was held in corresponding respect. When 
on duty, the ga’ahi’nén wore a white buffalo robe and had his face painted with 
white clay and carried in his hand the yahagahina or “coyote gun,” a club deco- 
rated with feathers and other ornaments and usually covered with a sheath of 
bear gut (ithaq). He must be unmarried and remain so while in office, finally 
choosing his Own successor and delivering to him the “coyote gun” as a staff 
of authority. They were never all off duty at the same time, but at least half 
were always on guard, one or more coming down at a time to the village to eat 
or sleep. They built no shelter on the hills, but slept there in their buffalo robes, 
or sometimes came down in turn and slept in their own tipis. They usually, 
however, preferred to sleep alone upon the hills in order to receive inspiration 
in dreams. If attacked or surprised by the enemy, they were expected to fight. 
[Mooney, 1896, p. 935.] 


CAMP CIRCLE 


Whenever the entire tribe was encamped, which always happened 
at least twice a year, namely, at the Sun Dance and at the annual com- 
munal buffalo hunt, the tipis were placed in the form of a circle with an 
opening facing the rising sun. “When the people were moving and 
they had nearly reached their destination,” said a Northern woman, 
“the chiefs went ahead to the place at which we were to camp and 
staked out the gateway. Once they had decided where the entrance 
to the circle was to be, we all knew where we were to place our tipis. 
Related families always had their tipis close together.” Kroeber 
(1902, p. 8) also notes that members of each band camped in one place 
in the circle. Mooney (1896, p. 956) says, regarding the Arapaho 
tribal camping circle, that on account of the Arapaho living in three 
main divisions they had no common camping circle—at least not 
within the recollection of his informants—but that each of the three 
divisions, namely, the Northern Arapaho, the Southern Arapaho, and 
the Gros Ventres, constituted a single circle when encamped in one 
place. An attempt was made to revive the camp circle at the 1935 


HILcEr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 193 


Sun Dance of the Northern Arapaho (pl. 31,2). “It wasn’t perfect,” 
Sage commented, “but it was the best we could do. We no longer 
have any chiefs or soldiers or men’s societies like we used to have.” 

All tribal activities were carried on within the camp circle. West 
of the center of the circle was a large tipi in which the sacred pipe 
was kept. The tipi was occupied by the keeper of the pipe, also, 
and within it the tribal council met. In fact the chiefs spent most 
of their days in it. “When the tribe was camped, the chiefs did not 
mix with the people very much; they stayed by themselves.” Between 
the sacred tipi and the gateway of the circle, the sweat lodge of the 
most advanced of the men’s ceremonial age societies, called Nanah- 
axwi, was located. When the owner of the large tipi in which 
the sacred pipe was kept began to take his tipi down, it was a signal 
for the camp to prepare to move (Mooney, 1896, p. 956). 

The policemen of the camp, about fifteen in number, were mem- 
bers of the men’s societies. Informants called them dog soldiers. 
It was their duty to keep order in the camp and to enforce the de- 
cisions of the chiefs. Seger, who was well acquainted with the 
Southern Arapaho, wrote in 1907: 

After a council of the Chiefs of the tribe had decided on a course of action, 
it was the duty of the dog soldier to enforce the rulings of the Chiefs. A’ Chief 
was powerless without some means of suppressing his or their policies, where 
a whole tribe is in camp of from two to three thousand. There must be law 
and order. The Indian laws are unwritten, yet they had system; they had 
Societies that were well organized, with laws and codes which were handed 


down by trained narrators and kept secret except to those who belong to that 
special clan or society. [Seger in Peery, 1933, vol. 11, p. 974.] 


Fletcher wrote regarding the camp circle of the prairie Indians: 


The tribal circle, each segment composed of a clan, gens, or band, make a 
living picture of tribal organization and responsibilities. It impressed upon 
the holder the relative position of kinship groups and their interdependence, both 
for the maintenance of order and government within and for defense against 
enemies from without, while the opening of the HB. and the position of the 
ceremonial tents recalled the religious rites and obligations by which the many 
parts were held together in a compact whole. [Fletcher in Hodge, 1907, p. 198.] 


MARRIAGH 
TYPES OF MARRIAGES, EXOGAMY, ENDOGAMY 


Polyandry did not exist among the Arapaho. Polygyny did and 
was conventional in early days. Two wives was the prevailing num- 
ber. “A man usually could not provide for more than two families.” 
In more recent years monogamy with remarriage after the death 
of a partner became the general type. 

I knew the last Arapaho around here that had two wives at one time. He 
had more wives than two in his lifetime but one would die before he would 

892644—52——14 


194, BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BULL 148 


marry another. I know that his last two wives lived together in one tent and 
he had children by both. The old lady you visited yesterday [older than 90 
years] was the wife of a man who had five wives at one time. Yes, she was one 
of five wives! 

Sage, who lived a monogamous marriage, told the following re- 
garding it: 

My wife had younger sisters but I never thought of marrying them. Two 
other women were offered to me, but I thought too much of my wife to bring 
another woman into my home. A brother of each of those two women offered 
his sister to me. The brother had more to say about his sister in those days 
than did her parents. There were instances where a man had more than two 
wives. The father-in-law, seeing that a man was good to his wives, would 
offer him his other daughters also. However, there were usually only two 
sisters married to a man. A man always had to ask the approval of a brother 
of the girl he wished to marry. If a man liked a brother-in-law and saw that 
he was good to his wives [the man’s sisters] to whom he was already married, 
and if the man had more younger sisters, he would say to his parents, “I want 
each of my sisters to marry this man. I want all to stay in one place, to be in 
the same tipi.’”” Once my father-in-law told me to take my wife’s younger sister 
as wife also, but I told him that I didn’t want her. After this he didn’t ask 
me anymore.” 

Unilateral kinship groups, namely the clan or gentes which are 
often exogamic, did not exist among the Arapaho. “My relatives” 
formed the only exogamic group.’ “I know the Chippewa custom 
of gens and how it restricted the Chippewa from intermarrying. We 
had nothing like it. My relatives were the only ones I could not have 
married.” 

“My relatives” of an Arapaho man (or woman) included: (a) The 
man’s father and mother, that is, the parents who begot him, and 
all children begotten by his parents, as well as all children begotten 
by his father and his other wives, in case of a polygynous marriage. 
“T call these wives mothers, and their children, brothers and sisters.” 
(6) His father’s brothers and each one’s wives and children, again 
noting the possibility of a polygynous marriage for each brother. “I 
call these fathers and mothers and sisters and brothers.” (¢) His 
father’s sisters and each one’s husband and their children. “I call 
these aunts and uncles and brothers and sisters.” (d) His mother’s 
sisters and each one’s husband and children. “TI call these mothers 
and fathers and brothers and sisters.” (e) His mother’s brothers and 
each one’s wives and children, again noting the possibility of poly- 
gynous marriages. “I call these uncles and aunts and brothers and 
sisters. I might say here that all persons that you [the writer] would 
call cousins, no matter how far removed, were brothers and sisters 


u° Cf. also Michelson, 1933, pp. 596-610, and Kroeber, 1902, pp. 11-15, for customs 
related to Arapaho marriages. 

1%” Vor similar statements see also Kroeber, 1902, p. 11; Mooney, in Hodge, 1907, p. 73; 
Mooney, 1896, p, 956 ; Mooney, 1907 ec, pp. 408-409. 


HincEr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 195 


in the Arapaho way.” (7) All persons called father and mother by 
his fathers and mothers. “I call these grandparents.” (g) All aunts 
and uncles of both his father and his mother. “I call these grand- 
aunts and granduncles. My grandparents, granduncles, and grand- 
aunts call me their grandchild.” 

The Arapaho language has no word for cousin, informants of the 
present study said. Nor does Kroeber (1902, pp. 9, 150) record an 
Arapaho word for cousin among his terms of relationship and affin- 
ity.41 “Saying ‘cousin’ is the American way of speaking. You will 
not hear children even today say, “This is my cousin.’ ‘That is my 
second-cousin.’” They will say, ‘This is my relative.’ ‘That is my 
relative.’ We had no clans or gentes in our tribe. We could marry 
anyone except our relatives.” ‘We were not to marry into our own 
relationship. People thought if we did, we would not have children, 
or,if we did have them, they would die. It was like a curse upon 
one.” “You could marry anyone except your relatives. It was best 
to marry an Arapaho. But if you married another Indian, he was 
accepted by the tribe, too. Few married other persons than Arapaho.” 
“An Arapaho cannot marry a blood relative, and that includes cousins, 
we call them brothers and sisters, to the nth degree.” 1”? 


CROSS-COUSIN MARRIAGE, SORORATE, LEVIRATE 


Cross-cousin marriage, defined as the marriage of a man’s children 
with the children of his sister or the reciprocal, did not exist among 
the Arapaho. Such a marriage was considered incestuous and was 
looked upon with contempt (p. 48). “It was a marriage between 
brothers and sisters.” “A brother’s children could not have married 
his sister’s children.” Nor could a woman’s children have married 
her sister’s children. “Not even the children of my father’s sister 
could have married the children of my mother’s brother. If they 
had, they would have been outcasts.” Ann Wolf, much amused, asked, 
“Do the Chippewa in your country do that sort of thing? I hope 
not. There was nothing like that among our people.” Sage said, 
“A brother’s children could not marry a sister’s children. No, it 
couldn’t be done that way.” An 81-year-old Northern woman re- 
marked: “I knew of only one man that married his ‘sister.’ This 
marriage was between a woman’s son and her brother’s daughter. 
We called them brother and sister because they had one grandfather 
and one grandmother. The old people of long ago didn’t approve of 
such marriages. They don’t approve of them today. But these two 
persons didn’t care. But the people didn’t like them. The people 

121 Kroeber (1902, p. 10) also says, ‘Cousins, even of remote degrees of kinship, are 


called ‘brothers and sisters.’ ” 
12 Cf. also Eggan, 1937, pp. 35-95 ; and Michelson, 1934. 


196 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLu. 148 


gave the name ‘Skunk’ to that man. They called him ‘Skunk,’ as 
though it were his name. Yes, those two stayed together and lived 
together.” 

The sororate, a custom entitling a man to marry the sisters of 
his first wife during his first wife’s lifetime, was institutional, but 
not compulsory. “Sisters” in this instance included all women called 
sisters in Arapaho way, as given above under definition of “my rela- 
tives.” Because of the sororate, girls were occasionally married in 
prepuberty years, or at least placed in the husband’s tipi where an 
older sister was a wife. 


My father had four wives, two sets of sisters. ... It was customary that a 
man marry his wife’s younger sister. The woman’s family allowed it if the 
man was a good provider. My uncle was married to my father’s two sisters. 
I knew a man who died within recent times whose wives were not sisters. One 
was from Oklahoma and the other from here (Wyoming). ... My father had 
six wives: three of them he married in the Indian way and three in the White 
way. I know a man who had two simultaneous wives. In the American way 
you would say they were cousins to each other. These lived in the same house 
and both had children. I knew two of their sons, one by each wife, whose ages 
were the same. One of them is still living. They had several such children, 
but the others have all died. The wives took turns in doing the housework and 
spending time with the husband. They never seemed jealous of each other, 
probably because to live that way was the custom. My husband’s great-grand- 
father had seven wives all at one time. All were sisters in the Indian way. 
There were so many! children and all of them had this one old man as their 
father! ... I was one of two wives. The other was my sister. I was 14 
years old when I married the man. My sister was then 40 years old. My 
mother’s sister told me to marry this man. My mother had died. My sister and 
I both lived in the same tipi; we had only one fireplace. My sister did the cook- 
ing; I did the beadwork. For a long time I didn’t even know that I was married 
to the man; I didn’t know anything about it. I cried and didn’t like to have 
anything to do with the man. I didn’t know what it was all about. No one had 
told me either about menstruation. It was hard. I used to cry much. I didn’t 
like it. My sister asked me every month if I was still menstruating, and finally 
when I no longer did, they knew that I was that way. And then my sister told 
me about pregnancy. I had five children by this man. My sister took care of 
my children. She did not have any children. She is still living.... A man 
had a right to marry the sisters of his first wife. I am going to give you an idea 
of how that worked out by telling you of an old lady that was one of four wives. 
The old lady’s own mother had two daughters—the old lady was one of these— 
and this mother had a blood sister who had two daughters. Now, in Arapaho 
way we would say that these four girls were sisters to each other; in the Ameri- 
can way, that two were cousins to the other two. This man had a right to marry 
all of these four girls and he did marry them. I know this because I am related 
to them. If a woman had three daughters, a man really had the right to marry 
all three. That was our custom way back. We didn’t know then that this was 
wrong. But now the law tells us that it is wrong. But in spite of that there 
is one young man on the reservation today that has two wives. These two 
women are not sisters; they are not even related. He goes around with these 
two wives, although the younger one usually stays at home. I don’t know if 
they live in the same house. 


Hiner] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 197 


The levirate, a custom whereby a younger unmarried brother was 
expected to marry the widow of his deceased brother, was also insti- 
tutional, but not compulsory. “Brother” in this instance included 
those so named in the definition of “my relatives” recorded above. 


In old times if a man died his younger brother married his wives. My mother 
Was married to her dead husband’s younger brother. ... If a man died, his 
younger brother moved in with his wives and cared for them and their children. 
The same ceremonies had to be celebrated as when a man was married the first 
time. Horses had to be exchanged, as well as tipis and moccasins, ete. My 
grandfather had seven wives. These were all sisters to each other in the Indian 
way or sisters and cousins in the American way. He had these wives at one time. 
That is why we have such a large relationship. Right now there are about 40 
heirs for 80 acres of land. ... If aman dies his younger brother marries his 
widow and takes care of her. On the other hand if a man’s wife dies, the man 
has a right to marry her sister. This is still done today. 


Sage told the following: 


My father had a brother that was killed by the Pawnees. This brother had a 
younger brother, and this younger brother married the widow. This couple 
lived together; both grew to be very old. That man stepped right into the 
family and was like a father to the family. The children never knew the differ- 
ence. Sometimes when a man went out with a hunting party, he would say to 
his younger brother, “If I don’t come back, you take care of my family.” It 
didn’t happen always that a man married his brother’s widow, but it did happen 
once in a while. Sometimes a widow didn’t want to marry. Now, a sister-in- 
law or mother-in-law might have great affection for the widow and encourage her 
to marry her dead husband’s brother. They didn’t like to see her marry outside 
the family, especially if there were children. 


In answer to the question whether a brother in marrying his broth- 
er’s widow would necessarily have to marry two widows if the man 
had two wives, he remarked, “I don’t know if such a man would have 
been expected to marry both or not. It could have happened, espe- 
cially if the two wives were sisters who had gotten along well and 
who loved each other and both had loved their husband. The Arap- 
aho appreciated and had respect for a man who married his brother’s 
widow.” 

AGE AND QUALITIES OF PARTNERS 


Seventeen was probably the conventional age at which girls were 
married. Some married at 15 or 16. It happened, however, that a 
girl in prepuberty years was placed in the tipi of a man already 
married to her elder sister, that is, if the girl was considered a potential 
wife of the same man. 

My oldest brother asked me to marry Sharp Nose. He was a war chief. 
My parents urged my brother to ask me to doit. I was 15 years old then. Sharp 
Nose was 30.... When I was 15 years old, my parents decided that I was 
to marry. The man to whom they wanted me to be married was then 30 years 


old and already married to my eldest sister. Just because my sister was married 
to him was no reason why I should be. It was not customary that all the sisters 


198 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Butz 148 


be married to one man; usually, only two or three were. I did not wish to 
marry this man, but my parents asked my brother if he were satisfied. He was, 
and so I had to get married to him. Girls were sometimes married when they 
were 12 years old. 


Desirable qualities in a girl of marriageable age were modesty, at- 
tentiveness to duty, diligence, and knowledge of a woman’s work. 
An unmarried mother was usually not wanted as wife (p. 49). 
“Mothers trained their daughters to be good and not to be ‘crazy.’ 
[*‘Crazy’ meant lacking good sense.] No good man would want to 
marry a girl who had no sense. They wouldn’t allow their daughters 
to talk to men who were ‘crazy,’ for they wanted them to have good 
husbands.” Sage’s mother often said to him, “When you want a 
woman look for a good young girl. Select one that is good herself 
and has good parents. Girls who were especially liked were those 
who didn’t look all around but kept their eyes cast down, and girls 
who always minded their own business.” 

Arapaho men generally did not marry until they were past 30. 
Some married in their twenties. None married in his teens. Men 
delayed marrying primarily because upon them, when in their twen- 
ties, rested the burden of protecting the tribe against enemies. 

A desirable husband was a man who had given evidence of mature 
judgment, had been successful on the warpath, and who had proved 
his skill in hunting. 

The following are quotations by informants: 


In old days it was customary for a man to marry only after he was quite mature. 
He had to prove that he was a man before he married. He had probably been on 
the warpath two or three times. Being successful in a war was like passing a 
character test. He must have had success, too, in hunting and killing buffalo. 
A girl was ready to be married after her maturity and after she had been trained 
by her mother to do the things expected of a woman. She had to be able to tan 
hides, handle meat, and do the things necessary to run a home. A man was 
always older than his first wife. I was over 30 when I was married the first time. 
My first wife was about 19. I married the girl that I wanted to marry. I 
selected her myself. I gave two horses to my brother’s [cousin’s] sister and 
asked her to take the horses to the home where the girl lived. She did so and left 
them there. The girl’s people then put up a tipi and her brother tied some 
horses near it. They put everything into the tipi, like beds, ete. Then an old 
man, a crier, yelled to me, “Ahye, there! Come home now! Here’s your home!’ 
I went there and stayed there. My people and the girl’s people exchanged gifts. 
They had all been invited to the wedding feast. We had no symbol of marriage 
such as a ring. I liked the girl before we were married. I noticed that she 
was a good worker and she knew how to do beadwork. I decided for myself 
that I wanted to marry her. . . . My man was 40 when he married me; I was 
between 15 and 20. He worked for his parents before we were married and they 
lived at some distance from us, but he knew me. He wrote to me while I was 
at Haskell. . . . Iwas at boarding school for a long time. Therefore, I was 
not married until I was 19 or 20. Most girls were married at15o0r16. ...A 
man was always much older than the woman he married. Parents thought that 
giving their daughters to men with experience was a good thing, for experience 


HILcER] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 199 


had made them wiser and, also, they were better providers for their daughters. 
I was 19 when I married; my husband was between 25 and 30. I was willing to 
marry him. For one thing he was good looking! And then, too, my parents said 
he was a good provider. The girl could refuse to marry the man who asked 
for her, if she did not want him as her husband. My husband brought 26 horses 
forme. My family had to give that many horses inreturn, Then all my relatives 
helped me in preparing things for my marriage. We had the marriage announced 
to them. When we were married, horses and food were exchanged between my 
relatives and his. In old days tipis were also exchanged. [Her husband re- 
marked] I brought the 26 horses because I thought she was worth quite a bit! 
I liked her because I noticed she was a good woman and a good housekeeper. 

. . A girl was of marriageable age at about 17. If a girl was the oldest of 
several girls in the same family, she might marry at that age. After her marriage 
it was understood that her husband could marry all of her sisters when they 
reached puberty. ‘These sisters were not obliged to marry the man, however. 
If another man was a good provider, the girl’s father or mother or brother or 
uncle [maternal] might consent that any one of the sisters marry this man. 
There would be no objections from the husband of the eldest sister. There was 
no volunteering of girls to marry someone, nor were girls ordinarily forced into 
a marriage. The mother, brother, aunt, or sister of a boy who wished to marry 
a girl would go to the girl’s brother or uncle and propose in place of the boy. 


CHOICE OF MATE 


It was not conventional for Arapaho men to court women pub- 
licly. Courting, however, was done if the man could find occasion to 
meet the girl. Such occasions happened when the girl was on an 
errand, when she was fetching water from a nearby river unaccom- 
panied by her mother, or when she was sent out to readjust the two 
flaps of the tipi that regulated the draft for the fireplace. A lover 
also let his presence be known at night by playing a flageolet close 
enough to a girl’s home to be heard by her.?*8 

A Southern man told the following regarding courtship : 


Tipis always faced east. On each side of the tipi entrance there was always 
a pole, the upper end of which was attached to a flap of the tipi used in con- 
trolling the emission of smoke. It might be evening. Two or three persons 
might be visiting and telling stories in the tipi in which a girl lived. The mother 
would be sitting by and listening in, too. So would the girl. Both were prob- 
ably doing some woman’s work, like beading. Now, a certain man wanted to see 
that girl and talk to her. Suppose the wind was blowing from the south or 
north. The man being on the outside of the tipi would manage to take the poles 
controlling the smoke flaps and move them so as to cause the smoke to blow into 
the tipi. The father of the girl would then say, ‘There is smoke in here. The 
wind must have changed. Go, change the poles.” So the girl goes out to change 
the poles and notices that the wind hasn’t changed, but that there is a man out 
there who wants a chance to talk to her. If the man really likes the girl, he 
may meet her this way repeatedly, and have in mind to marry her. He will 
probably ask her to visit his niece. His niece, you know, is the one with whom 


123 A flageolet (kakush) collected on the Wind River Reservation by Dorsey in 1900 can be 
found in the collections of the Chicago Natural History Museum (Cat. No. 61315). Its 
length is 18% inches. Itis of wood, fringed with buckskin strips and held together by being 
tied at intervals with buckskin bands. The wood and buckskin are painted with red ochre. 


200 ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE HInenr] 


he can joke without embarrassment. This is all a planned affair. He designates 
the time of meeting. After making these arrangements with the girl, he goes 
to the niece and says to her, ‘Someone is coming here to visit you tomorrow and 
I am coming myself.’”’ Or he may say to his niece, “You go and invite this girl 
to come with you.” <A niece, you know, is the child of a man’s sister. Now, the 
girl may be at the place of the man’s niece when the man arrives. Or the man 
may get there first. The niece will generally go away to cook some food, prob- 
ably for those two, and in that way they can be together unmolested. There is 
no illicit relationship, however. Arapaho women were always very modest. 

Because of such secret courtships a girl might not wish to marry the 
man to whom her elder brother or her uncle, according to conventions, 
had promised her in marriage. Or the man whom she loved and who 
had asked to marry her might not be approved of by the girl’s brother 
or uncle. In either case it was not uncommon that the girl eloped 
with her lover and married him. Such a marriage was spoken of as a 
“sweetheart marriage.” It was not considered the proper form of 
marriage and was usually an occasion for a display of anger on the 
part of the girl’s relatives. The marriage, however, was recognized 
as a marriage and was tolerated. 

The Arapaho used love charms, but it was probably not institutional 
todoso. Sage knew that in the early day Arapaho men, never women, 
used love charms. According to him, only certain medicine men had 
power to prepare charms. ‘The charm was placed on feathers which 
rested in the hands of the man who wanted to use the charm. He was 
told to blow the charm off the feathers in the direction in which the 
woman that he wished to charm lived. “Women,” Sage said, “could 
be so charmed that they would run after the men lke dogs!” Sage 
had not used love charms; he did not think it proper to use them. A 
Southern man, too, was certain that the Arapaho, and also the Sho- 
shoni and the Comanche, used love charms long ago. “The charm 
was mainly a weed,” he said; “I never saw one used, but I heard of 
such charms. Our people also used the flute to charm women.” 
Other informants, both old and young men and women, denied that 
the Arapaho used love charms. “I have heard of other tribes doing 
that, but not ours.” “When I was at boarding school a Shoshoni girl 
told me about love charms. Both the Shoshoni boys and girls at school 
made little braids on their heads, and cut them off. Then the girls put 
beadwork around their braids and gave them to boys. The girls kept 
the boys’ without beadwork. They called these love charms. The 
Arapaho had no love charms. If any Arapaho used them, they must 
have learnt how to do so from the Shoshoni or from some other 
tribe.” 

Most informants agreed that the conventional procedure in the 
choice of a mate was the following: Each girl in a family was under 
the protection of a brother older than herself. In the event a girl 
had no older brother, she was protected by one of her mother’s 


Hitcrr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 201 


brothers, preferably the one who had been in charge of her mother 
before she was married. A man wishing to marry a girl was required 
to confer with this brother and present his request, either in person 
or through relatives, more especially women relatives. If the brother 
refused his sister in marriage, the sister usually considered the ques- 
tion settled. If, however, she loved the man who had asked for her, 
she eloped with him and entered a “sweetheart marriage.” If, on the 
other hand, the brother approved of the man, he talked the matter 
over with the girl’s parents and older relatives with whom he wished 
to confer about the matter. He never neglected to do so with the 
mother’s brothers, more especially with the one who had shown 
special interest in the girl. If these approved of the man, the brother 
himself either told the girl about it, or he asked the girl’s mother or 
parents to tell her. The girl might then accept or refuse the man. 
Usually, if the brother urged her with a good deal of persuasion to 
marry the man, the girl eee 

Sage said that it was not absolutely necessary that a brother of the 
girl be asked or that the man wishing to marry make the proposal. 
“Tf a man wanted to marry a girl,” he said, “he might go on a hunting 
expedition, bring back meat and tell his parents he wanted to marry 
that girl. His parents would take the meat to the girl’s parents, 
and ask the parents for the girl. Then an older brother of the girl 
would talk about the marriage to the man. Even though the girl did 
not wish to marry the man with whom her brother had arranged a 
marriage, she would say, ‘If my brothers want me to get married to 
him, I will do so.” Sage gave the following account of his own 
choice of wife: 

At a certain place between here [Wyoming] and Oklahoma the Northern 
Arapaho formerly met with the Southern Arapaho and held their Sun Dance 
and lodges. My mother told me at one of these that she liked this girl [pointing 
her out], but that she lived so far away, down in Oklahoma. Later my father 
died. Then my mother told me that I should begin to think of getting married. 
So I thought of the girl that my mother had told me she liked. I talked about 
it to a brother older than myself, an old man. [Interpreter said the man was 
Sage’s cousin, a noted medicine man.] He said to me, “Yes, I know her father 
and her mother very well, and she is the girl for you.” So I went to Oklahoma. 
It happened that when I got there, she was the first one I saw. I walked up to 
her and told her that I had come for her; that my mother had sent me. She 
asked me to come to her parents’ tipi and she told her father why I had come. 
So her people prepared food and provided other things. I didn’t have to give 
any horses. But my father-in-law got together five horses for us. We came 
back north on these. Her father sent her younger brother to accompany her, 
and we journeyed together until we came here to where my mother lived. Her 
brother stayed until he saw us settled down. Then he went home. I had to go 
a long ways for my wife. When I returned from Oklahoma with my wife, I 
found that the old man who had told me to go to Oklahoma and who knew this 
girl’s father and mother to be good people had died. But he had left instructions 
with his brother for me. This is what they were: “Now, you brought this girl 


202 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Butn. 148 


here from far away. This girl’s father and mother have allowed you to bring 
her so far. So be good to her. Never let her go hungry. Never beat her. Have 
a good tipi for her. If her father and mother come north, be good to them.” 
And that is what I did. I never mistreated my wife. They told me that she 
was a good girl and that she was not mean, and they surely told the truth. She 
was a good woman. 


A Southern woman in her sixties said: 


My parents and brothers arranged for my marriage. The sister of the man 
who asked to marry me gave me dresses, blankets and moccasins of the best 
before we were married. I gave them to my oldest brother. Then my brothers 
gave gifts to the man’s people. All this was before we were married. Some 
do that today. Sometimes the girl rode the best pony of the man she was 
going to marry to where her brothers lived. Then her brothers gave a horse 
to the man’s people. A girl was not supposed to marry a man if her brother 
had refused him. But sometimes the girl wanted to marry the man and eloped 
with him, and then the brother had to consent. 


_A Northern woman, also in her sixties, said : 


The man that married me asked my older brother if he might do so and 
my brother told him he might. Then he gave my brother two horses. That 
was all he gave him. It was customary also to give the father of the girl 
some horses but my father had died. I had only a stepfather. Then my brother 
told my mother to tell me what arrangements he had made. But she didn’t 
tell me until later. Shortly after the man had arranged with my brother, he 
and my brother took a herd of cattle away. When crossing a creek, the cur- 
rent was too strong; it carried both of them off. The man was carried a long 
ways and was far from home when he landed on shore. The Arapaho heard 
that he was drowned. We were having a Sun Dance at the time, way up here 
on the cliffs. It took two or three months before the men got back. I didn’t 
worry about him for I didn’t know that I was to marry him; my mother had 
not told me. When my mother told me, I didn’t say anything. My brother 
had said “Yes” to the man. A girl was seldom asked about her marriage; 
she had little to say about it. I don’t know any girl that refused to marry 
the man to whom her brother had said “Yes.” I had three daughters, but only 
one is living. Their brother did not arrange for their marriages. They at- 
tended school and married boys they became acquainted with while there. Even 
today parents do not hesitate to tell a daughter of their choice, and urge a 
daughter to marry a certain man. 


MARRIAGE CEREMONIAL 


The conventional marriage ceremonial of the Arapaho included the 
following: An exchange of gifts between relatives of the man on one 
side and those of the girl on the other, the erection of a tipi for the 
use of the couple, the furnishing of the tipi with household equip- 
ment, and a feast attended by the couple and invited relatives at which 
older men prayed for the couple and addressed words of advice to 
them. 

The exchange of gifts between the men of both sides consisted 
largely of horses; in fact, horses had to be exchanged. The women 
of the two sides exchanged moccasins, blankets, and tipis. Some- 


Hinerr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 203 


times there was an exchange of gifts between the men relatives on 
one side and the women relatives on the other, the men giving horses 
and the women articles made by them, such as moccasins, blankets, 
or tipis. 

Sometimes there was an exchange of gifts, too, at the time of be- 
trothal, as previously indicated. The man himself, who asked for 
the girl, or his relative, if he sent one to do the requesting, tied sev- 
eral horses near the tipi that was the home of the girl. The girl’s 
male relatives, especially her brothers accepted the horses, if the 
suitor and also the number of horses were acceptable. They replaced 
the horses with an equal number of their own, which were then taken 
by the male relatives of the suitor. The exchange of gifts between 
the women on both sides was not nearly so formal, nor was there nec- 
essarily an exact exchange of items. One woman, for example, might 
select several pairs of moccasins from among the gifts that had 
been sent and then contribute a blanket to the collection of gifts that 
was being returned to the suitor’s family. 

The tipi for the couple and its furnishings were always prepared 
and erected by the women relatives of the girl. The tipi consisted 
mainly of tanned buffalo hides used as a covering and for inside wind- 
breaks, of tipi poles made of saplings, and of pegs of saplings which 
were driven into the ground and to which the tipi covering was 
fastened. 

Furnishings consisted mainly of beds, which in the early day were 
made of reeds, of fur robes used as coverings, and of a cooking kettle. 
The following description of the tipi of Chief Powder Face recorded 
in 1883 tells of the furnishings of an Arapaho tipi: 

Scampering about the camps one day, I was brought to a halt by a spectacle 
before me. A tepee was opened in the front with the door flap propped on sticks 
to form a sunshade. To the right was a totem stick with some scalps show- 
ing in hoops of willow. In the shade I first noted a slender Indian woman with 
a pleasant face, seated between the knees of an Indian buck, who was combing 
her hair. From the latter came the voice of Powder Face in the hail, “How, 
Nevaw.” Thus I found my new friend at home... . they arose and ushered 
me into their tepee. This tepee was the first fully equipped one I had investi- 
gated, and some of its arrangements are fixed in my mind yet. 

All tepees I ever recall of these two tribes ** were set with the entrance fac- 
ing the east. Powder Face first stooped and entered his home and waved me 
to the north side, as he took the south. Then his wife entered and passed back 
of him and took a position west of her husband. We all sat down on buffalo 
robes which covered the floor, except in the center, where some flat stones 
covered an area eighteen inches square. In the center of this square sat an 
iron pot on a flat stone raising it above the fire bed. A fire of small faggots 
burned there, each faggot pointing toward a common center marked by the pot. 
To the west of the fire was another group of flat stones with a few ashes strewn 
over them. Next to this on the west was a rough truss of four upright sticks 


224 Arapaho and Cheyenne tribes, 


9()4. BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BULL. 148 


held by cross pieces, all bound together with rawhide thongs, supporting some 
objects wrapped in skins. These were the Medicine bag and trophies of the 
owner. The decorated scalps I had first noticed outside were later brought in 
and placed on this pile of keepsakes. Altogether, this pile made an altar in 
the savage home. About the sides of the tepee, which was about eighteen feet 
in diameter, were placed several devices which I took for rawhide seat backs 
without legs. These were back rests on top of the floor covering of hides. Here 
I was in the home of a leading chief of the Arapahoe tribe and soon I was to be 
entertained further. ... [Colling, 1928, pp. 193-194.] 


The food for the feast was provided by either the man’s or the 
girl’s relatives. It was always prepared by the girl’s relatives, and 
usually served in the newly erected tipi. “There was no marriage 
ceremonial, but a feast was given the day of the marriage. It could 
be given at any time of the day. The parents of the girl gave the 
feast to which the relatives of the man were invited.” 

There was no marriage symbol, such as a ring, nor was there an 
exchange of promises. The fact that the man and the girl sat 
beside each other in the tipi erected for them in the presence of rela- 
tives of both sides—they had not sat together in public before—gave 
evidence to all present that they were now husband and wife. All 
members of the tribe considered them married, since they now lived 
together in their own tipi, and since relatives on both sides had per- 
mitted the marriage and accepted the couple as married. 

Sage said most of the Arapaho were married in the following way: 


The girl’s parents put up the new tipi. Then the man was sent for. He was 
in the tipi of his parents. He would come to the new tipi. His fathers and 
brothers would bring horses and tie them outside the tipi. The girl in the 
meantime was in her parent’s tipi. From there her brother would lead on with 
his horses and be followed by her father who also had horses. She would come 
next and be followed by her mother, her aunts, and her sisters. The women 
were carrying the food. The girl’s brothers and father would exchange horses 
with the men relatives of the man. Then the girl would go into the tipi that had 
been set up for her and her man, and her brother gave her away to the man 
saying, ‘Here is my sister. Now she is your wife.” Then the two would sit 
down together, the man and the girl, and after that the old men and old women 
that were around were invited in. Then everybody ate. After the feast it 
was expected that the old men would talk to the couple. They would say, “Now 
you are married.” They would tell them how to get along well together. And 
they would say prayers out loud for them. After that they were considered 
married. 


Quoting a Northern woman in her eighties: 


I was married at 18. It was at the time of the fight between Custer and the 
Sioux. Our men were assisting Custer to fight the Sioux and the Cheyenne. 
My old man was one of those that favored Custer. While this fighting was going 
on, the man that wanted to marry me offered a race horse to my uncle. He offered 
it to my uncle because my brother had died in the Custer fight. It was our 
custom that the man who was marrying a woman give the woman’s brothers and 
father several horses. I was bought that way. When the fight was over our 
people came back. I was out playing and didn’t know what was going on at 


Hiner] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 205 


home. Toward evening I ran home for some supper. I went into our tipi to look 
for something I wanted and I wanted to change my clothes. My bed was gone! 
The place where it had been was all bare! I didn’t know what had happened 
to my bed. I asked my mother and she didn’t answer me. So I got angry and 
talked in angry tones to my mother. I wanted my clothes. Then my mother 
told me what had happened. She said, ‘Your uncle got good horses from the 
man who is going to marry you. Your uncle has taken your bedding into your 
sister’s tipi. You will be one of that man’s wives.” That man was already mar- 
ried to one of my sisters. I was his fourth wife. I became very angry now. “I 
don’t want to marry him. If only my brother hadn’t been killed! He would 
never have allowed me to marry this man!’’ I ran away over the hills. It was 
about sundown. I was running to get into this valley [where we were interview- 
ing her]. I pulled my shawl over my head and face and cried, but kept on 
running. I never looked back to see if anyone was chasing after me. It was 
getting dark. The owls were already hooting. I was “wild”! While I was still 
running, a horse passed me and circled around me. I tried to run away from it. 
But a woman grabbed me, landed me on the horse, and took me back to camp. 
It was one of that man’s sisters. I still insisted that I wasn’t going to be married 
to him. That got me into difficulties with his mother. I didn’t want to go into 
his tent with the other women. He was married to three women already! One 
Was my sister and the other two were my sisters, too, but my uncle’s daughters. 
I didn’t want to be married. I insisted on running away. I wanted to go to my 
uncle who was chief, Chief Black Coal. I thought he would help me. But they 
held me so I couldn’t go. They just held me tight! Even my mother-in-law 
held me. I stayed in my mother-in-law’s tipi all night. In the morning my 
uncles talked to me, and then I was willing to be married. J did not want to get 
married because my brother had been killed so recently. And I thought much 
of him. He was my only brother and I knew that he would have prevented the 
marriage because he thought much of me. Had he lived, he would later have 
given me away in marriage. That old man gave my mother’s brother two horses 
in payment for me! 

The man didn’t mind that I didn’t want him. He was good to me. I was too 
young to get married. I was just taken out of my home and left in that tipi. 
There was no feast, like the marriage feast, given for me. At that time we 
didn’t have any celebrations because we were afraid some enemy might come. 
We were moving around to keep the enemy guessing. We were afraid of the 
Sioux and the Cheyenne. The Sioux had fought Custer and the Arapaho had 
taken up the cause of Custer. But my husband was good to me. He let me go 
out and play like other girls. 

All the four wives lived in one large tipi. The wife that ‘“‘bossed” all of us 
was not the oldest in years but she was the first one he married. She had her 
bed on the left-hand side of the tipi [entering it]. My bed was next to hers 
[moving clockwise]. My sister’s was at the foot of my bed and then over at the 
door to the right [entering it] was the “boss’s” sister’s bed. He had married 
the “boss” first, then my sister, then the “boss’s” sister, and then me. He treated 
us all alike. We all had well-made beds. He was not partial. Our husband 
was a leader of our people, and was much respected. The people recognized him 
as a leader. The “boss” would give us orders and tell us what do do. She 
herself just sat and watched us. That is why I call her “boss.” When I was 
first married, we didn’t cook for ourselves. Our fathers and mothers supplied 
us with things. It was my work to do the running around, like getting water. 
Whenever there was anything to run for, the “boss” would tell me to do it. 
When a buffalo was killed, the “boss” would tell us how to slice it. She taught 
us how to make robes. If she herself did help, she didn’t do much. 


206 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLL. 148 


My sister had 3 children. The “boss’s” sister had 4. The “boss” had 12. 
The thirteenth one caused her death. It was never born. I had 10 children. The 
grandmothers of the children took them and reared them. I never kept any 
except while I nursed them. [Then addressing the interpreter, her daughter- 
in-law] I treated your husband the same way. After he was weaned, I sent 
him to my mother. The ones that took over children were our two mothers, the 
mother of our husband, and two of his aunts. They were the ones who reared 
them. They were the children’s grandmothers. 

Our tipi was so big that whenever there was a Sun Dance the people borrowed 
it. They left our beds and everything in place, and covered everything with 
sheets. We wouldn’t take anything down, but left everything as it was. The 
Rabbit Lodge, the lodge that meets for 4 days before the Sun Dance is put on, 
borrowed it. They returned it after 4 days and put it back in place. 


Quoting a Southern man nearly 60 years of age: 


Marriages were contracted at any time of the year. Formerly they were con- 
tracted in two ways: the family way and the “sweetheart way.” The “sweet- 
heart way” was not considered honorable, but was accepted by the tribe. Here 
is the family way: If parents wanted their son to marry a certain girl, the man’s 
maternal aunt, or his mother, or his own sister or a sister that you would call 
cousin asked the girl’s brother or uncle, whichever one was in charge of the girl, 
for the girl. It was customary for a certain maternal uncle or brother to have 
charge of a girl. This brother [or uncle] would say, “Very well. I’ll call my 
other brothers [or uncles] and confer with them.” He might call only one into 
conference. These would say, “I’ll consent,” and “TI’ll consent,” ete. Word was 
then sent to the man. After this he usually worked for a year or two for the 
girl’s parents. He cared for the parents-in-law’s ponies, hunted for them, pro- 
vided wood, and in general helped to care for their needs. During this time he 
was permitted to stay in the tipi of the girl’s parents, but he could not live with 
the girl as wife. She could serve him his food, care for his moccasins, arrange 
his bed, and mend his clothes. The two could talk together and be in each other’s 
presence but only in the daytime. 

When the time for the marriage arrived, the mother of the girl and the sisters 
of both her mother and her father made a tipi, erected it, made beds, bed walls, 
moccasins, and whatever the new couple needed to set up housekeeping. Ac- 
cumulating all of this material took a year or two. Before the tipi was erected, 
the girl’s folks were notified, and also the man’s. They all knew, therefore, 
what date they were to come preparatory to putting up the tipi. It was like 
setting the date for the wedding. Well, the date for putting up the tipi arrived. 
The girl’s parents and the wives of her mother’s brothers brought tipis, robes, 
bedding, moccasins, and other things that women make and that they had accu- 
mulated for this day. The relatives of the man each brought a best pony. The 
ponies were ready to be given away. Some of the women relatives put up the 
tipi; others prepared a feast. When the feast was ready, a call was sent out. 
The men on the man’s side came up first, each brought his horse with him. 
Then each one presented a pony to one of the girl’s brothers, uncles or nephews, 
each one receiving one pony. The men on the girl’s side each had a pony ready, 
too, and each one presented a pony to each man relative on the man’s side. 
Between the men on the two sides, therefore, there was an even exchange of 
ponies. The women on the man’s side gave blankets, shawls, and robes to the 
girl. The girl’s people divided these among themselves. Then the girl’s people 
gave the tipis and the moccasins that they had brought to the women relatives 
of the man. There was also, therefore, an exchange of gifts between the women 
on both sides. The women relatives of the girl now called all the men into the 


Hinenr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 207 


new tipi for the feast. The girl’s women relatives, except her aunts and 
mother, served the man’s relatives. After that everybody else ate. About 10 
to 15 pairs of men’s moccasins made by the girl’s people, the best that they had 
brought as gifts, had been tied to the couple’s bed in the new tipi. When all 
finished eating, the man gave a pair to his father, and each of his uncles, nephews 
and brothers. 

Immediately after the feast the in-law taboos began. The mother-in-law 
taboo had to be observed by the girl’s mother, the girl’s mother’s sisters, and 
the wives of the girl’s mother’s brothers. These neither spoke to nor looked 
at their son-in-law except in sickness or if something unforeseen happened so 
that they were forced to do so. 

No, there was no symbol of marriage, such as a ring, nor was there a custom 
of eating off the same plate to symbolize marriage. The erection of the tipi and 
the fact that the new couple now lived in it was the only symbol; it told all the 
people that this was now a newly married couple. After all the food had been 
eaten and while everyone was sitting around enjoying a visit, the uncles of the 
girl or the uncles of the man, or the father or brothers of either, took the occasion 
to advise and counsel the new couple on their future. Any number of persons 
might address them. This was done in the presence of all the other guests. 
After this advice had been given, the new couple was in control in its own tipi. 
Most of the people went home then. 

Late that evening the man’s mother-in-law cooked supper. After supper the 
man invited his men friends—his uncles came without invitation—and all sat 
around telling stories and smoking. The father and uncles of the boy, or the 
girl’s father or her mother’s brothers, had supplied a pouch of tobacco and a pipe 
and had left it in the tipi so that the men might smoke while telling stories. 
From then on the brothers-in-law of the girl, that is, the cousins and the brothers 
of the man, as you would say, were allowed to joke with their new sister-in-law. 
Both the paternal and maternal uncles of the man had to be very careful not to 
talk to or notice their new niece-in-law. They could tell obscene stories 
among themselves but never in her preSence, at least not in a noticeable way. 
When it was late that evening, the man might dismiss his brothers and cousins, 
but not his uncles. The uncles might stay on and talk over memories. The man 
would probably send the women out to prepare a midnight meal.—The girl had 
had her sisters, that included her girl cousins, come in to visit her. These girls 
also had the privilege of joking in a questionable way with their new brother-in- 
law, but not within the hearing of their uncles.—The girls prepared the meal in 
the tipi of the girl’s mother. After the food was brought in, the man would say 
to his uncles, “Get ready now and eat.” After eating, all went home. 


The new couple from now on lived in its new tipi. They ate in it, but the 
food was prepared in the girl’s mother’s tipi. The man rose early and con- 
tinued to work and provide for his wife’s parents for another year or two. 
He continued doing this to some extent until the girl’s parents became too old 
to do the cooking and the work. Then the girl cooked in her own tipi and took 
cooked food to the tipi of her parents. 

And now I'll tell you about the “sweetheart marriage.’ When marriage was 
arranged for by a girl’s brother, as described above, the girl was expected to 
marry the man. Sometimes she did not care for the man because she had a 
secret sweetheart. The man had become acquainted with the girl and had 
sneaked around to see her. They had often met secretly. They had secretly 
decided to marry. If that was the case, they eloped before the girl could be 
married to the man that had been approved of by her brothers. The girl simply 
disregarded the requests of her brothers and uncles and eloped. The man then 
meets the girl secretly by night and takes her to his own people. There will be 


208 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BULL. 148 


no ceremonial in this case, but the tribe accepts the couple as being married. 
There may be ill feeling for some time, but after the blow is over, which may take 
six months or a year, things continue on very well. 

A man who married a girl could expect the girl’s sisters, as each one reached 
maturity, to move into his tipi as his wives. Girls were considered mature at 
about 16. There was no marriage ceremony. The husband was told by the 
brother or uncle of the girl that the girl had reached maturity, that he could 
expect a new wife. The father or mother of the girl told the girl to move into 
the man’s tipi. The girl would do this unless she had a sweetheart, and in this 
ease if her people tried to force a marriage, she might elope with him. 


Some of the traditional marriage customs were still extant in a 
modified form in the 1920’s. A Northern woman described her 
brother’s marriage as follows: 


When my brother was married, a few years ago (1920), his people furnished 
a new tent with a bed, trunks, wash basin, towels, washstand, ete. The girl 
he was marrying furnished the dishes. The girl’s mother and aunts made 
moccasins for the man’s father, his father’s brothers, his mother, his mother’s 
sisters, his aunts and uncles. When all this was done, the girl’s people let my 
brother’s people know. His people brought six or more horses to the new tent 
and tied them a certain distance apart. The girl’s parents did the same. His 
parents selected horses from among those that the girl’s parents had brought, 
and gave one to each of the persons who had brought the stove or trunk or bed 
or bedding, ete. The girl’s parents selected horses from those that my brother’s 
parents had brought and gave them to those who helped the girl’s mother to get 
the girl’s things ready. Both groups brought the same number of horses. The 
girl invited all of my brother’s people to sit in the new tent. We sat there 
until the meal, which the girl’s people were preparing, was ready. When the 
meal was prepared, it was brought into the new tent in pots and kettles, and 
dished out on plates. My brother, the new groom, was there, too, but the bride 
was in her mother’s tent. After the meal all of my brother’s people came out 
and met the bride. The bride and groom kissed and were then brought into the 
new tent and told that this was their new home. The groom went into the tent 
first. His mother-in-law kissed him and that was the parting kiss, for from that 
time on they have not spoken to each other any more. Before the meal was 
eaten Old Man Sherman Sage gave a speech wishing the couple good luck and 
asking God to bless the home and the meal. After everything was over, every- 
body was happy. 

It was evidently not conventional, judging from the above accounts, 
for the marriage ceremony to take place when a man was given the 
sisters of his wife as wives. Each new wife merely moved into the tipi 
occupied by her sisters. Sisters usually lived together in one tipi. If 
there were two sets of sisters, each set generally occupied a tipi. 
Wives not related to each other often lived each in a separate 
tipi. Kroeber (1902, p. 14) wrote: “A man with two wives generally 
has a tent for each. An Arapaho in Wyoming lived with his two 
wives, who were sisters, in one tent.” Sherman Sage said: “There 
were some who married two wives. Some had more than two wives. 
One man whom the people used to tell about had five wives and each 
lived in a separate tipi. That was so unusual that people used to 
speak of it.” 


HILceR] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 209 


Children were present at a marriage and were fed at the marriage 
feast. They did not take part in the exchange of gifts, however. 


IN-LAW TABOOS 


After the marriage feast the in-law taboos became effective. The 
man was not to speak to his wife’s mother or to any of his wife’s 
mother’s sisters, since these too, were his wife’s mothers and conse- 
quently his mothers-in-law. Also, he was not to be in their presence 
or to look at them. His mothers-in-law would not go to the place 
where he was engaged in work or visiting. If one needed to go there, 
as might happen when it was time to prepare a meal, someone told 
the son-in-law and he left the place. Ifthe son-in-law came to a place 
where a mother-in-law was, not knowing that she was there or later 
noticing her presence, the mother-in-law left the place. The reverse 
was true also. 

In-law taboos are still extant among both Northern and Southern 
Arapaho. “If my husband wishes to talk to my mother there [point- 
ing at her mother’s sister] and I am not around, he will have one of 
our daughters talk to her for him.” “I noticed that my husband’s 
grandmother occasionally now speaks to her son-in-law; but I think 
it is because she is getting childish.” “A son-in-law eats first; never 
do his mother-in-law and he eat together.” ‘These in-laws were to 
keep from being in each other’s presence or from being in a position so 
that they were able to see each other. They were always to have some 
material thing, like a wall, between them.” Sage said that a son-in- 
law may speak to his mother-in-law while she is making a cradle for 
his child. Kroeber notes: “A man and his mother-in-law may not 
look at or speak to each other. If, however, he gives her a horse, he 
may speak to her and see her.” 5 

A woman may not speak to or look at her father-in-law or at any 
of her father-in-law’s brothers, for these are her fathers-in-law, too. 
But she may be in their presence and eat with them; usually, however, 
she does not do so. 

Both Northern and Southern informants complained that the 
younger generations of Arapaho, especially those that had gone to 
boarding schools off the reservations, were no longer adhering to the 
in-law taboos. It was very evident, however, that both taboos were 
respected in many families. Nearly every interpreter when looking 
over a list of informants would quite frankly state that she lived near 
certain ones, naming them, and that she could, therefore, easily in- 
terpret for them, or that a certain one lived at some distance and that 
she would very much like to ride there just for the sake of seeing 


©> Kroeber, 1902, p.10. Cf. also Michelson, 1934, pp. 137-139, for in-law taboos. 
89264452155 


210 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Buxn. 148 


some of the people who lived with him, but that these were some of 
the men to whom she was not allowed to speak, and could, therefore, 
not interpret for them. They were her husband’s fathers in Arapaho 
way. In several instances we interviewed the wife of one of these 
men. Upon our arrival the old man rose and left without saying a 
word to us, even by way of welcome. He could not be in the presence 
of the interpreter. In some instances he moved several feet away 
and sat down behind a tree with back toward us, listening in, however. 
But he took no part in the conversation. On the following day his 
wife would give us additional information, or correct some of the 
previous day’s statements. Her husband had given her further in- 
formation aiter we had left. A Northern informant did not think it 
proper to continue giving information after her son-in-law sat down 
about 15 feet from her in the shade of a tree where his children had 
brought him a plate of dinner. It was the only shady place other than 
the one that we were occupying. Shade was a necessity since the tem- 
perature that day was 110° F. 

Sage lived in one room of his two-room house; his son and the son’s 
family occupied the other. On all occasions that we visited Sage, his 
son’s wife sat either in the room occupied by her family or in a sun 
shelter, located behind the house. In recent years, however, he had 
eaten in her presence, she remarked—she cooked his meals—but he had 
not spoken to her. Since giving information regarding old customs 
could hardly be considered a necessity, she did not think that she should 
interpret for him. She could speak to him only when it was very 
necessary. 

In a three-room house of a Southern Arapaho we found a daughter- 
in-law sitting alone on the back porch of her house while her 80-year- 
old father-in-law, who was blind, sat on his bed in a front room of the 
same house. ‘The woman’s husband and her children had gone to town 
to a baseball game. She had spent the entire afternoon alone and so 
had her father-in-law. She noted: 

Whenever we wish to say something to each other, we send the children back 
and forth. For instance, I sent the children to tell their grandfather this noon 
that dinner was ready. And they brought him to the table. He and my husband 
and the children ate; I sat on the front porch until the old man was finished. If 
I would talk to him, he would think that I had no respect for him. That’s what 
the old people all say. I wouldn’t talk to him unless it were really necessary. 
For instance, if he took sick suddenly and there was no one else around here, 
then I would have to talk to him. Having to sit alone like this and not being 
allowed to talk to my father-in-law is really hard. Heis a good man and I have 
always admired him. He is lonely now, too, because he does not know where 
his son is, the one in the army. 

Another daughter-in-law who had accompanied us did not appear 
in her father-in-law’s presence at any time. She did not greet him 


Hincer] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 211 


upon arriving or bid him goodbye when leaving. On our way home 
she solicitously inquired of his daughter, the interpreter, whether her 
father-in-law had failed any since the daughter had last seen him. 


JOKING RELATIVES 


Sisters-in-law were expected to tease their brothers-in-law and to 
joke with them. Brothers-in-law were expected to do the same to both 
their sisters-in-law and brothers-in-law. This joking and teasing was 
often of a questionable nature, sometimes obscene. “It is understood 
that when I meet a brother-in-law or a sister-in-law I will joke 
with them.” “I am supposed to tease the sisters and the brothers of 
my husband. My husband is supposed to tease my brothers and sis- 
ters.” “My husband’s brother teases me about the past. I just joke 
with him. My husband does the same to my sister no matter where 
he meets her.” “My sisters are both married. I can throw water on 
their husbands; they are my brothers-in-law. My sisters do that, too, 
tomy husband. My husband can do it to his brother’s wife, also.” 

Teachers in an Arapaho school remarked: 

The girls in our school have always shown great respect toward their brothers 
and boy cousins. They seldom even speak to them; when they do, it is with the 
highest regard. But these same girls will tease their brothers-in-law, also boys 
at school, and that often in questionable ways, something that has always seemed 
to us much more dangerous than it would be to talk to their brothers or cousins. 

Quoting Kroeber: 


Brothers-in-law joke with each other frequently; often they abuse each other 
good-naturedly ; but they may not talk obscenely to each other. If one does so, he 
is struck by the other. A brother-in-law and sister-in-law also often joke each 
other. They act toward each other with considerable freedom; a woman may 
pour water on her brother-in-law while he is asleep, or tease him otherwise, and 
he retaliates in similar ways. [Kroeber, 1902, p. 11.] 


SEPARATIONS, DIVORCES 


The Arapaho had no formal divorces, that is, no legal dissolution of 
the marriage bond. Separation of couples, however, was not infre- 
quent. Either partner left the other. Usually, however, the wife 
left her husband or the husband sent her away. Sometimes the wife 
ordered the husband to leave the tipi. 

The wife left her husband because he mistreated her, because he 
neglected her for another woman, or because she herself had a sweet- 
heart with whom she preferred to live. A husband sent his wife away 
because he considered her unfaithful, because he found her quarrel- 
some, or because he himself was enamoured with another woman whom 
he wished to marry. If the wife ordered her husband to leave, it was 
because of nonsupport. 


212 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BULL 148 


A wife was considered unfaithful if suspicions of unfaithfulness 
had been aroused in her husband because he had seen her speaking to 
another man too often or when alone, or because she was talked of as 
having been seen living with another man. Sometimes her husband 
verified his suspicions; sometimes he did not. 

Occasionally a suspicious man calmly sent his wife away, either to 
her paramour or to her home. More often he became angry and 
jealous. Usually he whipped her, and cut off the tip of her nose or her 
braids, or both. According to Kroeber (1902, p. 18), he also slashed 
her cheeks. This treatment of an unfaithful wife was conventional 
and neither her parents nor the tribe did anything about it. “There 
is one case known in which a man bit off his wife’s nose. The Black- 
feet, too, mutilate the faces of their wives.” “I had a grandmother, 
my mother’s mother, whose husband was jealous of her and cut her 
nose off with a knife. She was ashamed of her nose after that and 
would hold her hand before her face when talking to people. It was 
comical to see her holding her hand that way and looking down on 
her nose to see if it was completely covered. Such a woman was some- 
times spoken of as ‘The-woman-with-a-nose-without-a-point.’ The 
knife we used in slaughtering had no point and was called in Arapaho, 
the knife-without-a-point. When my grandmother wanted this knife 
she would never call it by its name.” 

Quoting Sage: 


If a husband came upon his wife while she was talking to a man, he might 
sneak up on the man and cut off his braid. Later he’d cut either the nose or an 
earlobe off his wife. But there were instances when a man found his wife with 
another man and simply said to them, “You two can marry each other. You can 
have her.” The people would complain to the man’s [the paramour’s] parents. 
They would take that man’s horses away from him. Nobody, not even her 
parents or the parents of the new husband, would help this couple to move 
their tipi. They had to go on foot, too, since they had no horses. This was an 
unfailing custom in those days: parents never helped their own if they did 
wrong. Some men beat up their wives; most of them did not. They used whips 
in doing so. Most of the men were jealous when they did this. A man some- 
times accused his wife of talking to a man or of liking a certain man and sent 
her away. He would be jealous of this man. If there were any truth in these 
accusations, the outcome was always that the girl, after being home a while, mar- 
ried the man whom she was accused of loving. My oldest brother [cousin] was 
a chief. This chief had a younger brother who was my friend. We were the 
same age. We grew uptogether. This friend had a wife who was unfaithful to 
him. He never beat her up, but once when he was sharpening his knife and he 
happened to see his wife talking to another man down near the river, he went 
down there and cut off her nose. The parents of this girl didn’t do anything 
about it because they didn’t like what their daughter was doing. My younger 
brother had two sisters for his wives. The people kept telling him that one was 
unfaithful. But he wouldn’t believe what he heard. He said, “I have to see her 
doing this with my own eyes before I believe it.’ But he saw her. He happened 
to see her going into a tipi. So he went there and he found her with the man 
all right. He brought her back to his tipi. He made her dress up in her best 


Hixerr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 213 


clothes and fix up her hair. Then he gave her his best horse, put her on the 
horse and took her over to this man to whom she had been talking, and said, 
“Here, you can have her!” He gave his wife away, but he never beat her. 


It happened, also, that for insufficient reasons a man sometimes 
mutilated his wife, whipped her, and ill-treated her in general. In 
such cases, either the woman’s brother, her uncles, or parents, or all 
of them, talked to the man and threatened to take his wife away from 
him and return her to her home. If the man did not amend, the 
woman was taken home. Sometimes the woman went home of her 
own accord. 


My husband often beat me, but never after I was pregnant with our first child. 
From that time on I received good treatment from him. I was married at 15, 
but I don’t remember how old I was when my first child was born. . . . Yes, 
I got plenty beatings, but I dislike telling about them. ... My first husband 
often beat me; not so my second husband. Once when I had been beaten up, my 
three brothers came over and told my husband that this would have toend. They 
reported him and he was put in jail. In old days all the men beat up their wives. 
. .. My husband’s oldest wife, she was my own sister, beat the other wives. 
We were three. My old man also beat me up. Once when he beat me, I fought 
back like a eat. Another time I threw rocks at him and nearly killed him. Once 
when he whipped me, IJ left him and stayed away 4 years. I didn’t care to live 
with another man, so I same back to him. 


Quoting other informants: 


When a wife didn’t behave herself her husband cut her bangs close to her head, 
or he cut off her nose. During the time the Arapaho were still roaming about— 
they moved nearly every month—a man and his wife fell into a quarrel. I was 
related to the woman, so I know. The woman’s horse was a fast runner, faster 
than her husband’s. Her husband wanted to exchange horses with her. At first 
she refused; she did not wish to give up her own horse. Finally, she got oif 
her horse and Jet him have it. But she didn’t like his horse. So she slid off it, 
went to her man, and said she wanted her own horse back. That started a 
quarrel. There was a little creek close by. He chased her back and forth along 
that creek until she finally gave up exhausted. He was very angry and asked 
her if she wanted her nose cut off. She was so frightened that she didn’t hear 
correctly. She thought he had asked if she wanted her bangs cut off. She said 
“Yes,” And he cut her nose off to the bone. She begged him to cut only the tip, 
but he was so angry that he cut it all off. She was covered with blood and fainted 
a few times. Her people searched all over for the piece he had cut off, but could 
not find it. They decided that he must have swallowed it. The man got rid of 
her, and she went back to her parents. She was about 16 years old then. He was 
a full-grown man. Her parents and brothers didn’t care. They said it was her 
own fault. The tribe didn’t do anything about it either. She remained single 
until she was about middle-aged, when she married a man of her own age. She 
never had any children. She was always ashamed of her nose and used to cover 
it with her hand when talking to people. A man would treat his unfaithful wife 
in the same way. . . . Husbands scolded and whipped their wives. That’s 
why their wives left them. I always got along well with both my husband and 
my older sister, his other wife. The White people said he couldn’t have two 
wives. So I pretended I lived separated from him. But I really lived with him 
and cared for him and my sister until he died. My older sister was too crippled 
to take care of him. 


214 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLL. 148 


Quoting Sage: 

Not many couples separated. Those who did were mostly cases in which the 
men beat up their wives. If they beat their wives too many times, the parents 
took the daughter home. If the woman was innocent, she would say to her 
husband, “I am a good woman. You beat me up for nothing. You accuse me 
of doing things and of talking to men. I love you. I think much of you, but I 
can’t stand these beatings any longer. You stay here in our place and keep the 
children; I’ll go. Another man may find me; and if I have a good home, maybe 
I'll come after the children.” Sometimes the mother took the children with her 
to her parents. Sometimes a man, after his wife told him that she was leaving 
him, promised to be good to her; he promised to do better. Nearly always he 
treated her better after that and then they stayed together. 

Both Northern and Southern informants gave sterility as a cause 
for the separation of couples. In both groups other informants had 
not even heard it spoken of as a cause. Sage said: “Couples never 
separated because either party was sterile.” A Southern Arapaho 
said: “If the couple was childless, the woman might leave her husband. 
A man sometimes left his wife because she was childless.” 

Several informants knew of instances in which a wife left her 
husband or told him to leave both her and her children because of 
nonsupport. “But there weren’t many such cases because men usually 
supported their families.” According to one informant, it was cus- 
tomary for a wife to permit her husband to go away at times “to 
other places during the years that she was nursing a child; she did 
not wish to have another child for another 4 years. It happened 
sometimes that the man stayed away too long or neglected to feed 
his family during that time. In that event his wife did not hesitate 
to tell him to remain away entirely. He probably went back to his 
parents then.” 

Sometimes a man announced publicly at a social dance or other social 
gathering of the tribe, that he was getting rid of his wife. He held 
a stick in his hand to represent his wife, and announced, “Here, I am 
giving my wife away !” and threw the stick into the air. Or he called 
out the wife’s name, saying, “Here, I am giving her to so-and-so,” 
naming the man. Then he beat the drum with the stick and threw the 
stick at the man. The drummers now beat the drum vigorously. 
The crowd cheered. The man whose name was called often caught 
the stick. Sometimes neither he nor the woman was present. In this 
event, the news reached them through gossip. Both Northern and 
Southern informants agreed that public announcement of a separation 
was institutional, but that the beating of the drum following the an- 
nouncement was borrowed from the Cheyenne. 

Sage related the following: 

Yes, occasionally formerly, they announced a separation at a public gathering. 


A man would go to the drummers, beat the drum with a stick, throw the stick 
away, and say, “Whoever wants my wife may have her, and her tipi, too; her 


Hinerr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 215 


tipi goes with her; and some horses, too.” In each case that I know of the man 
who got the stick married the woman. The woman might not even be present; 
she might not even know about it. She might be in her home tipi. There were 
cases where one man had two wives. The wives were jealous of each other and 
didn’t get along. The man would find the one who caused the disturbance. 
Then he would take the stick and throw it out of the tipi entrance, and say to 
this woman, “I am throwing you out, too, along with the stick.” She had to get 
her belongings together then and leave. She generally went to her parents or 
relatives. 


A Northern woman in the thirties said: 


I recall an instanee that was much talked about when I was a little girl. A 
man separated his wife by the drum at a dance. Everybody cheered and laughed 
when another man grabbed the stick. Everybody wondered if he would really 
marry the woman. Hemarried her. And they said it was done for fun. But he 
is still married to her. 


An 80-year-old Southern man insisted that separation by beating 
the drum was a borrowed custom. “The Arapaho did not separate 
by the drum,” he said. “The Cheyenne did that. When an Arapaho 
man knew that his wife had been unfaithful, he got a crier to call out, 
‘I give my wife to so-and-so [mentioning the name of the man with 
whom his wife had been unfaithful]! Hereis your wife!’” Another 
Southern man nearly 60 years old said: 


A man might divorce his wife by the drum. This was usually done if the 
man cared for another woman. I know of two such instances in the last 20 
years. This was done at a social dance, not a a lodge dance (pp. 117-118). 
A man and his wife might not be getting along together, although they lived 
together. This sometimes happened when they had no children or the children 
were grown-up. The man might say to his wife, “My brother [cousin] has no 
wife. You fix up nicely. I’m going to hit the drum.” She knew what that 
meant. She was just as “game” as he was. They went to the dance. The man 
would walk up to the drummers and motion to them to stop. Then he would ask 
an old man to tell a war coup and after that the crier would call for the man to 
come, the one to whom the husband was giving his wife. The husband would 
tell the drummers to drum. They didn’t drum a melody but merely made much 
racket with the drumsticks. Then the husband would say, “I’m giving my wife 
to cook and sew for you, my friend! MHere’s your cook, your wife!” If the 
man was there, the wife went with him. If he was not present, he would soon 
hear about it, for many knew of it now. These two, the wife and the man, talked 
it over. She might decide to go with him, or she might go to her son, her sister, 
her parents, or to anyone she wished to. In the cases that I have witnessed the 
man was always willing to take her. 


The children of a separated couple were never neglected. One of 
the parents kept them or arrangements were made by either one to 
have them cared for by grandparents or relatives of either side. 


The parents usually decided what should be done with the children. The 
man might keep a son or an only child, even if it were a girl. It might happen 
also, that a man would leave his wife and children, take all his horses and be- 
longings, and be married to another woman. If he left his first wife because he 
admired another woman and this woman admired him, the marriage ceremonial 
would again be carried out. Another tipi would be set up for them. It has 


216 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLL. 148 


happened too, that a wife took the children with her and that the man weaned 
one after the other from her as they grew older. Sometimes be arranged to have 
the children go to his parents, and these would provide for them. But the man 
in no instance feels any obligation to support his children. If he does not care 
for them from sheer love, some one else will. 


Sage said: 


The man might provide for the children by placing them with his mother or 
sister or aunt. Sometimes his mother or sister or aunt provided for them with- 
out his help. Oftentimes the wife took the children and went to her parents. 
Sometimes the wife told the husband to keep the children, that after she was 
again married and had a good home, she might come for them. 

If the separation occurred during the pregnancy of the wife, the 
child, when born, could be claimed by the man whose progeny it was 
and could be taken by him. If the paramour of a woman was its 
father, the husband of the woman insisted that the child be given to 
the paramour. “I knew two such cases.” 

Devotedness and affection between an Arapaho man and his wife 
were probably the rule. A visitor to an Arapaho village in 1883 told 
the following of Chief Powder Face: 


He did not rise, but continued his ministrations to his wife as he bade me 
be seated. No introduction was made, but I knew the woman to be his wife, of 
whom I had heard. Aunt Sally had said she was a nice Indian and that Powder 
Face was good to her. 

The two had been married many years, and had no children. Powder Face 
had never taken another wife, and this one was his willing slave to the day of 
his death. He helped her with many duties commonly falling to the lot of the 
women and was a lover always. 

On this first meeting with the couple, he did not seem to mind me and continued 
to stroke her hair into place as he spoke words of endearment. He oiled her hair 
and braided it for her. [Collins, 1928, pp. 193-194.] 


Affectionate devotion between husband and wife was observed 
everywhere among both Northern and Southern Arapaho during the 
present study. “Ifa woman had horses in her own right, the husband 
took care of them after their marriage. Her ponies were especially 
cared for by him. He would comb his wife’s hair, braid it, paint 
her face. She would take good care of him, too. She would wash 
his moccasins; and if they were ripped, she would mend them.” 


SUMMARY 


Child life among the primitive Arapaho began with birth. It 
ended when the child was considered no longer in need of or subject 
to parental protection and direction. The girl reached this maturity 
at puberty ; the boy, probably, at 20. 

No monograph of Arapaho child life and its cultural background 
is now available. Some scant but excellent material related to the 


Hincer ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE ai7 


child is found in Michelson’s Narrative of an Arapaho woman (1983, 
pp. 595-610), Mooney’s Ghost dance religion and the Sioux outbreak 
of 1890 (1896, pp. 953-1023) and Kroeber’s The Arapaho (1902). 

The following summary is based largely on data which the writer 
collected on field trips in seasons from 1935-42 during personal in- 
terviews with 15 Southern Arapaho on the Cheyenne-Arapaho 
Reservation in Oklahoma and 42 Northern Arapaho on the Wind 
River Reservation in Wyoming. 

Prenatal Period—Arapaho believe that speaking of prenatal life 
or of birth will cause a relative to become pregnant. Some informants 
believed that the fetus was human from the time of conception; 
others, only from the time of quickening. Some gave an aborted 
fetus adult burial; others disposed of it in the same manner as the 
placenta. 

A child born with certain unusual characteristics was considered 
reincarnated. A child that died when very young or a person who 
died when unusually old was believed to return to earth to live 
again in a newborn child. ‘Twins were not reincarnated persons. 
Reborn persons were not identifiable. Reincarnation was unilateral 
in sex. 

Fertility could be produced in both men and women; sterility, 
only in women. Artificial contraceptive methods were probably not 
known. Children were spaced by denial of coition and by prolonged 
nursing. Induced abortions were looked upon with great disfavor, 
and, in the early day, probably happened very rarely. Families of 
informants and interpreters numbered from 1 to 10 children. 

The sex of the fetus could not be induced, but it was predictable 
by the contour of the mother’s body and the location of the fetus. 
In all probability twins, too, were predictable. Parents desired 
children of both sexes so that they might each have help in their 
respective work. They did not desire either boys or girls to exceed 
the other in numbers. In general there was no wish that the first-born 
be a boy. 

Violations of certain food and conduct taboos by either parent 
affected the unborn child. Both husband and wife were also bound 
by conduct restrictions and prescriptions during the pregnancy of 
the woman, the wife to a greater degree, however, than her husband. 

Birth—A child was generally born in the home tipi. When the 
tribe was en route it was sometimes born in the open. Since the powers 
of “medicine bags” were lessened by nearness to the lochia, the bags 
were removed from the tipi before a birth. Lessened powers could be 
restored by fumigation. Any person or any object that contacted 
the lochia was considered unclean. Ifa person had had such contacts 
and went directly to a sick person, he caused the sick person’s death, 


218 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BULL. 148 


Conventionally a husband was not present during the delivery of 
his wife, nor could he be helpful in any magical way. Her father 
was usually present. Her mother and several older women assisted 
at the birth. At least one of these was a midwife; the others were 
herbalists, generally called medicine women. Medicine men attended 
the delivery, making decoctions for the delivering woman. 

When giving birth, a woman knelt bracing herself by clutching 
a horizontal rod that rested in crotches of upright poles. Attend- 
ing women took specific positions. One of them gagged the woman 
to bring about delivery. At the onset and during labor pains the 
woman was given potions made by the medicine men. 

Immediately after delivery the navel cord was drained and cut, 
and the navel treated. Then the woman was again gagged to assist 
her in ejecting the placenta. The secundines—and sometimes the 
placenta also—were folded into the material upon which the woman 
had knelt, and either buried or hung ina tree. All informants agreed 
that they were never burnt. 

Women usually returned to work a few days after delivery. Death 
was known to have occurred at childbirth. Informants knew of 
stillbirths also. 

The head of a newly born infant was molded into a round shape 
by one of the attending women. No other part of the body was 
shaped. The fontanels were not given any treatment; it was believed 
that soon after they began to harden the child would begin to talk. 
No significance was attached to the caul; it was disposed of with the 
secundines. The baby’s first bath, which was given immediately 
after birth, and its daily bath until the navel dropped off, consisted 
of cool water dashed on its back. Subsequent baths were dashes of 
cold water. No herbal decoction was used. 

As soon as the child and the mother were prepared, the father 
was called into the tipi. It was to him and not the mother that 
congratulations were offered. On the day of delivery the mother, 
but not the child, was purified by fumigation. <A birth was not an- 
nounced ceremonially nor was it celebrated with a feast. The event 
spread from tipi to tipi as news. 

A child’s navel cord was sewed into a buckskin bag, which was 
usually covered with geometrically designed beadwork. It was never 
burnt. Each person’s bag was saved during his life and was buried 
with him after death. During babyhood the bag was sewed to the 
cradle. Older children wore theirs attached to their clothing. 

Postnatal interests—Conventionally every Arapho had both ears 
pierced ceremonially in childhood by a warrior, usually, who was 
invited by its parents to do so. The piercing was done either at a 
large public gathering of the tribe or at a smaller one, and then gen- 
erally in the child’s home. Parents presented the piercer with gifts, 


Hitcrr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 219 


among them usually a horse. An adult who wished it might have a 
second piercing. A second piercing was done without ceremony. 
Arapaho did not have noses pierced. 

Finely ground buffalo manure served as diapers. When applied 
to the child’s armpits, the manure prevented chafing. Chafing was 
relieved by ointment made of red clay and grease. 

Museum collections ascribe two types of cradles to the Arapaho; 
one, a covering of ornamented canvas, attached to an inner frame- 
work of wood; the other, an all-beaded buckskin band sewed to a 
back of undecorated rawhide and attached to an outer framework 
of wood. A cradle was generally made for each child by a group 
of women, experts in the technique. The sponsor of the making was 
usually the mother of the child’s father. The cradle was used to 
restrain the baby when its mother was busy; to carry the baby on 
the mother’s back when the mother was traveling on foot; to carry 
it attached to the mother’s saddle when she was riding; and to hold 
it when in a basket that was fastened to the travois when camp was 
moving. A baby that had outgrown its cradle was carried on its 
mother’s back, seated in a blanket. Cradles were ceremonially dis- 
mantled. 

Women, never men, sang lullabies to babies. Some lullabies con- 
sisted of nonsense syllables; others of conventionally burdened sylla- 
bles. Songs used at social dances were also sung as lullabies. Those 
of the Sun Dance were sung only to sick children. 

No significance was attached to a baby’s touching the fingers of 
one hand with those of the other, to its clenching its fists, or to its 
first smile. It is possible that the advent of its first tooth was cele- 
brated in the early day; no significance has been attached to it in 
recent years. A teething baby was given a rind of bacon, a piece of 
gristle, or a small cloth bag filled with sugar upon which to bite. 
Massaging the baby’s gums with an herbal decoction or with roasted 
mouse meat was also helpful in cutting teeth. Hiding the first tooth 
that a child lost, in the hair at its crown, caused another to grow 
soon in its place. 

A child’s first step was of no significance. Its first walk was cele- 
brated with a feast at which invited old men and old women prayed 
for the child. When a child spoke its first words, old men and 
old women again prayed for it at a feast to which they had been 
invited. The closing of the fontenals gave indications that a child 
would soon talk. When it was noticed that they were closing, the 
child was fed boiled eggs and boiled meat of meadow lark. It was 
thought that a child so fed would talk early and learn easily. Mov- 
ing the meadow lark’s bill back and forth between the child’s lips 
was also believed to effect early speech. Meadow larks were thought 
to speak Arapaho. 


220 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BULL. 148 


A child’s first clothing was the hide of a fetal or a young buffalo 
finely tanned on flesh side only. When worn the hairy side was next 
to the body. In cold weather the baby was tucked into the complete 
hide of a wildcat or a mountain tiger, the head of the skin serving 
as a cap. During its creeping days the baby wore only a shirt of 
very softly tanned deer hide. In warm weather it wore no clothing 
at all. Usually it was given its first moccasins when it was able to 
sit up alone; sometimes, not until it was ready to walk. After its 
babyhood the child was dressed in clothing made of tanned deer 
hide and cut after the pattern of adults. 

Informants of the present study insisted that cutting a child’s hair 
was not conventional; that, on the contrary, it was greatly resented 
when Whites did so in the schools; that the ceremony attached to 
it was of recent origin. 

Nursing and weaning.—Since the colostrum was considered un- 
healthy, a baby was nursed by a nursing woman other than its mother 
for the first 2, 8, or 4 days after its birth. During these days either 
the husband, the midwife, or one of the other women who had at- 
tended the birth, or someone else, if these were not available, suckled 
the mother’s breasts. If later the mother’s milk supply was greater 
than the needs of the child, or if the child was thought to be ill from 
its mother’s milk, the mother was nursed by a pup or a raccoon. 

A child nursed at any time and as long as it wished. There was 
no custom regarding nursing from either breast. Drinking broth or 
a decoction stimulated milk flow. If a mother had insufficient milk, 
she took the child to another nursing woman, possibly a different 
woman each day. The same was done for an infant whose mother 
died. Drinking coffee burnt or cooked the milk. Breasts—and accord- 
ing to Kroeber, the back also—were padded to protect them from the 
heat of the sun. The mother wore no straps to support the breasts. 

A nursing infant rested in the woman’s arms or in her lap, if it was 
strapped into its cradle. An older child, probably until it was about 
4. years of age, sat in its mother’s lap. A child older than 4 usually 
stood at the mother’s side. Conventionally a child nursed until it was 
4 years old, but some were known to have nursed until they were 5, 
6, 7, or 8 years old. In unusual cases a child nursed longer. Pro- 
longed nursing benefited the child and was a means also of spacing 
children. No pregnant woman nursed a child, nor were two siblings 
of different ages nursed together; a child once weaned was not again 
nursed. 

In addition to its mother’s milk, infants were sometimes given warm 
water or an herbal decoction to drink; an occasional mother gave her 
child meat broth. When a child was able to sit up, it might be given 
a strip of bacon or meat to suck. Conventionally it was given meat, 
broth, and bread when a little older than a year. 


Hiterr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 221 


A child was weaned by the mother refusing to nurse it, by separating 
the child from its mother, by giving it fluids when it asked to nurse, 
by repelling it with bitter substances applied to nipples, and by having 
interests in play supersede those of nursing. The child was not 
frightened away by blackened or fur-covered breasts. 

Atypical conditions.—Twins were not desired. To prevent their 
conception no tenderloin was eaten from birth to the end of child- 
bearing age by either men or women. Once born they were well 
treated. Neither twins nor their parents were shown special respect. 
Most informants were agreed that no supernatural power was ascribed 
to twins, that twins of the same sex were not preferred to those of 
both sexes, and that the first born had no privileges over the second 
born. Triplets were decidedly not wanted; they were considered 
freaks. 

Deformed children were thought to be the result of violations of 
prenatal food and conduct taboos, of coition by the mother and an 
animal, or the effects of black art. 

Incest was sincerely disapproved of. Only one case was known, 
that of two first cousins, according to our terminology, or in Arapaho 
culture, between brother and sister. Probably coition between grand- 
father and granddaughter in order to prove sterility of the grand- 
daughter’s husband was institutional. 

Various terms, such as sweetheart child, night child, stolen child, 
were applied to a child conceived out of wedlock. ‘The term adhered 
to the person so born throughout life. Such a person was not shunned, 
however. ‘The paramour and partner were not respected in the com- 
munity or in their own or each other’s families. No other punish- 
ment was dealt out tothem. If both were unmarried and no marriage 
followed, the woman was generally accepted at her parental home 
where the child was born and reared. If the woman was married, her 
husband usually sent her to her paramour, either while she was still 
pregnant or after the child’s birth, in which case both the woman and 
the child were sent. Infanticide was not practiced by the Arapaho. 

A child was adopted into a home either because it was orphaned, 
came from a broken home, had a sick mother, or because the adopting 
parents or parent wanted a companion. Either a child or an adult 
person was adopted because he represented a departed child of the 
adopting persons or had been a chum of a departed child. The 
adopted person did not need to be a relative. Seldom, however, was 
anyone but an Arapaho adopted. 

The adoption of a child was announced by the adopting father, 
never the mother, at a large gathering of the people, such as the Sun 
Dance or a social dance. The adopting parents gave gifts to visitors 
from other tribes; never were any given to the child’s parents. After 
the announcement, the child either went to the home of its adopting 


222 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BULL 148 


parents where it was treated in the same manner as the other children 
of the family, or it stayed in its own home but paid prolonged visits 
toits adopted home. If it stayed in its own home, the adopting parents 
occasionally sent gifts to it. Parents felt honored when a child was 
requested for adoption and, in the early day, never refused such a 
request. A mature person was not adopted publicly nor was the adop- 
tion announced. ‘The person was merely told about it and occasionally 
was given presents by the adopting parents. 

The Arapaho neither enslaved persons nor treated them as servants. 
Anyone attached to a family, however, was expected to do his share 
toward the support of the family. 

Talking of sickness might cause ill health in one’s family or in the 
tribe. Curative treatments given sick babies were herbal decoctions, 
inhalations, fumigations, vapor baths, anointings, suctions, recital of 
prayers, tactile contacts with sun dancers, the bestowal of a name, and 
the offering of sacrifices. Treatment was administered or prescribed 
by medicine men and medicine women, herbalists usually, who each 
had exclusive knowledge of medicinal values of herbs, roots, and barks. 
No medicine man or medicine woman treated his own child. Previous 
to treatment, payment was made to the herbalist. 

Preventive measures taken to insure the good health of the children 
were to refrain from speaking of ill health of children, to administer 
certain potions to them, to have children anointed by an old medicine 
man, to have their ears pierced, and to give each a name of a person 
grown old in good health. 

Names.—Conventionally names originated in deviations from that 
which was usual or in activities associated with war. The unusual 
might be an event, a deed, a freak of nature, a mysterious object, an 
individual’s “medicine,” or a vision quest. It appears that in the 
early days names originated in dreams also. Old names were retained 
in the tribe, most generally in the relationship, especially if the bearer 
of the name had grown old in good health and in the esteem of the 
tribe. 

Both new and used names were given to children, particularly used 
names of relatives. Adults were nearly always given used names. 
Every Arapaho was given a name during infancy. This name was 
not changed during childhood unless the child took sick in which case 
it was given a new name—in all probability one that had had its 
origin in a dream—by some person who had grown old in good health. 
During adolescence and in adult life both men and women not in- 
frequently changed their names of their own volition or were forced 
to do so because someone took their name. Some Arapaho had four 
and five successive names. 

A person of either sex named a child of either sex. Formerly only 
old persons named children; in more recent times persons in their 


Hitcrr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 223 


fifties have done so. Usually, not necessarily always, the namer was 
a relative chosen by the parents. Occasionally the namer announced 
himself. 

Names were changed either in public or in private: in public, after 
an extraordinary deed or when replacing a name taken by someone 
else; in private, when seriously ill, at the death of a loved one, and 
occasionally after a successful vision quest. 

Names had no gender, but anyone might add “woman” to the 
name by which a woman was known. Names given to children differed 
in no way from those given to adults or assumed by them. 

Adolescence.—An Arapaho child’s brothers and sisters included all 
the children that are generally known as cousins in European-Ameri- 
can culture. Arapaho sisters and brothers in early childhood mixed 
freely in all play activities. At the onset of puberty they were taught 
to be reserved in each other’s presence. At puberty they no longer 
spoke to each other unless it was absolutely necessary, and this re- 
lationship continued until old age. They did, however, eat together. 

The eldest son in a family conventionally felt responsible for his 
sisters. He was generally called Oldest Brother, rather than by his 
given name. He gave them advice and consented to their marriages. 
Exchange of gifts between brothers and sisters was institutional. 

Arapaho had no prepuberty fasts nor puberty rites for either girls 
or boys. Young men were allowed to fast after they had given evi- 
dence of mature judgment. This rarely happened while they were 
in their teens. Girls at first menses were expected to keep aloof from 
others, especially from men and from sick persons. Their dishes, 
however, were not kept apart from those used by other persons. Great 
reserve was exercised when conversing about menstruation. In- 
formants did not agree on the manner in which women dressed after 
puberty. It is doubtful that there was a conventional way of 
dressing. 

Training children—The Arapaho child was taught by relatives, 
especially by grandparents, as the occasion arose. It was lectured to, 
taught to imitate in play the activities of elders, learned by observa- 
tion, was given explanations and demonstrations, and not only per- 
mitted but encouraged to assist and participate in adult activities. 
It was taught religion formally by the old men of the tribe, especially 
by members of the two advanced men’s lodges. 

Maternal and paternal aunts took special interest in nieces of pre- 
puberty age. Aschildren approached puberty, the mother instructed 
them in the custom of brother-sister relationship. Instruction regard- 
ing puberty and marital relations was not institutional. 

Most parents exercised little coersion in training the child. The 
child was directed by advice and conference or brought to conform 


224 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Buny. 148 


by being ignored or told that it was hurting its elders by its conduct. 
Occasionally a child was praised; sometimes it was rewarded. It was 
scolded, but seldom whipped. Sometimes it was frightened into obey- 
ing. Sometimes it was punished, but never by being sent to bed or 
by being refused food. Favoring a child was probably not institu- 
tional; but neither was it a rare occurrence. When one child was 
favored, the others, however, were not neglected. 

Mental training—Day began with the rise of the morning star; 
it ended when Pleiades appeared. Time of day was measured by 
three positions of the sun and told rather accurately by the angle at 
which shadows fell. Time of night was told by positions of stars. 
Days were not named nor were they grouped into weeks. Changes 
of the moon were noticed, but lunar months were not used as time 
counts nor were they named. Certain annually recurrent phenomena 
of nature, however, were associated with definite lunar months. 

Old informants thought that in the early days Arapaho were con- 
cerned with only two seasons. Younger informants were certain that 
there must always have been four seasons since their language has 
words for four seasons none of which lends itself to translation. 

Years were not numbered. Significant tribal or personal events 
were pictographed on hides and events reckoned from these. Count 
of one’s age was by winters. A mother made a mark for each child 
as the years passed on an elk or deer antler, the one she generally used 
as hide scraper. 

Counting was done from 1 to 100, and repeated if necessary. As 
each 100 was reached, it was recorded. If counts needed to be remem- 
bered over a period of time, some permanent record was made by mark- 
ing a surface or by piling up little sticks. Counting by informants 
during interviews was done on fingers. The hand and forearm and 
the height of the body were tools for measuring. Clothing and moc- 
casins were fitted to the wearer. 

Thunder and lightning were thought to be caused by the thunder- 
bird. The rainbow gave notice of the cessation of rain. It was in- 
terpreted as a fishing line. A total eclipse of the sun predicted an un- 
lucky event for the tribe. A comet was thought to be a star with a tail. 
Sage said no significance was attached to Northern Lights; other in- 
formants said they predicted a storm, sickness, or were the reflection 
of icebergs. 

In general weather prophets, men whose “medicine” gave them 
power to do so, predicted weather. Forecasts based on natural phe- 
nomena, such as the flight of birds, a ring around the moon, and others, 
were made by anyone. High winds and rains could be artificially 
produced. 

As stated before, a child was expected to talk soon after its fontenals 
closed. To speed matters it was fed eggs and meat of meadow lark. 


HILcrr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 235 


A child was taught words by directing it to concentrate and then to 
pronounce names of articles. It learnt the sign language by watching 
elders use it and by being formally taught to imitate the signs. Chil- 
dren were not taught pictography. 

Adult Arapaho used long-distance signaling to make known their 
whereabouts and to communicate the sighting of an enemy or a herd 
of buffalo. Signaling was done through physical activities, the use 
of objects, and stratagem. 

Training in morals—The Arapaho are a courteous people. Re- 
serve is shown until rapport is established. Verbal greetings and 
shaking hands—and kissing if separation has been a long one—are 
traditional. Children were taught these courtesies. 

Early in life, also, children were taught to extend hospitality to 
strangers; to be generous to everybody, especially visitors; to be kind 
to the physically handicapped, orphaned children, and the aged. The 
aged were to be shown special courtesy and respect. 

If siblings quarreled, parents interfered. Parents disliked to have 
their own children quarrel with other children because of possible sub- 
sequent difficulties between the families. Children were instructed 
to leave a place where quarreling was going on. 

A child was taught early not to be a talebearer, a rumor carrier, or 
a gossiper. It was told not to fight back in a dispute but to leave the 
place. An achievement boasted of had to be demonstrated. 

Taking anything from a member of an enemy tribe, including his 
life, was honorable; stealing horses from him was the height of 
achievement. Boys in their teens were part of raiding expeditions; 
girls never were; occasionally women might be. During formal in- 
structions children were taught to be honest always with fellow Ara- 
paho, both in word and deed. If an adult man wanted to give af- 
firmation of the truth of his statement, he smoked the ceremonial pipe 
publicly. 

Rarely did anyone commit suicide. A person doing so was thought 
not to enter the place in life after death to which other Arapaho went. 
Murdering or only accidently killing an Arapaho or a member of a 
friendly tribe brought the loss of status upon an Arapaho. 

Cannibalism was not practiced unless it was a means by which a 
man who had lost status because of murder was being reinstated, a 
thing rather doubtful. 

Children’s diversions.—In preadolescent years boys and girls to- 
gether played at mimicking elders, swam together, rode and romped 
together. A girl’s chief toy was a doll which was always treated as an 
adult. Every child while still small was given a pony as a gift, to 
which were added other ponies and colts as the child grew older. By 
the time adolescence was reached, every boy and girl owned several 
ponies and horses. A particular pony wasa favorite. Every boy and 

8926445216 


226 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLL, 148 


girl also had a pet dog, and at the present time, not infrequently, has a 
pet lamb or calf, 

During late preadolescence each boy found a chum; girls did like- 
wise. Chums often remained lifelong friends. Boys and girls now 
began to play apart. At about the age of 12, boys joined the first of 
the male lodges. From then on their play was with comembers, em- 
phasis being placed on physical training, such as running long dis- 
tances, competing in races, swimming swollen streams, carrying heavy 
weights, climbing trees, sleeping out-of-doors, and wrestling. 

A girl’s play life usually ended with puberty. Thereafter her play 
activities became part of the recreational life of adult women. 

According to Culin (1907), games of chance played by Arapaho 
were dice games and hand games; games of dexterity were archery, 
snow snake, hoop and pole, ring and pin, shinny, and hand-and-foot 
ball. Minor amusements were tops, buzzers, and swings. Children 
did not participate in adult games but were observers. Neither were 
children allowed to participate in adult visiting. They could, how- 
ever, sit by and listen in. Sometimes stories were told primarily for 
their amusement. 

Smoking was a pastime for both men and women. Children in 
general did not smoke, but no objections were raised if one did. 

Ceremonial age societies —The male population from about 12 years 
of age to the oldest men in the tribe held membership in eight cere- 
monial societies, called lodges or dances by the Arapaho; in the litera- 
ture, sometimes called military or war societies. Membership was not 
compulsory, but nonmembers were not respected nor were they en- 
trusted with tribal responsibilities. The societies were graded by age, 
and membership was progressive. Boys were members of the first 
two societies, joining the first one at about 12 years of age. 
From it they proceeded to the second one. At 17 or later they were 
permitted to join the Tomahawks, the first of the men’s societies. In 
the second ceremonial dance of this society, two small boys partici- 
pated. Boys, too, ran errands for members of the societies. No 
secrets, powers, or obligations were attached to the boys’ lodges, nor 
was there a prescribed regalia. Men’s societies had both. 

All women over 15 could be members of the women’s lodge. Two 
small girls performed a function in this lodge during its ceremonial 
dance. 

“Medicine.”—The Arapaho child did not possess “medicine,” the 
power ascribed to supernatural origin and believed to be effective 
through supernatural help. Nor did it possess a “medicine bag,” a 
container in which objects associated with “medicine” were kept. 
Furthermore, it had no relationship with the origin of “medicine” or 
with the exercise of its powers, spoken of as “making medicine.” 
“Making medicine” was the power of physicians, leaders of religion, 


Hirenr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 227 


magicians, and sorcerers. A child could nearly always, however, be 
present when “medicine was made.” It might be subjected to its 
powers, especially when ill. 

Health.—lIl health could be prevented for all the tribe, including 
children, by not speaking of it or of its treatment, by fumigating 
dwellings, by anointings with ceremonial paint, by purgatives taken 
in the spring of the year, by bathing daily in cold water, by eating 
much meat, by shooting at an eclipse of the sun, and by prayer and 
sacrifice made at the Sun Dance. 

Treatment for the restoration of health was administered by both 
men and women physicians, called medicine men and medicine women. 
Medicine men were herbalists, bloodletters, physiotherapists, psycho- 
therapists, magicians, and shamans. These same men were leaders 
in religion. Religion and healing were inseparably bound up in the 
practice of the medicine man. Medicine women, often called old 
nurses, were always herbalists, very often midwives, seldom shamans. 

Herbs, roots, and barks were used in decoctions, chewed and applied 
as poultices, or laid on hot coals to produce fumes for inhalations. 
Sucking was done either by applying the mouth directly to the affected 
part or by suction through a hollow or porous bone. Blood was let 
either by sucking or cupping it from an incision, or by allowing it to 
flow from an incision. Muscular pain accompanied by swelling was 
treated with heat produced by having a substance burnt over the area. 
A steam bath, called sweating, was not used to any large extent as a 
health restorative. Children were never subjected to it. 

When usual remedies failed to restore health, a relative of the sick 
person often promised personal sacrifice, such as participation in the 
Sun Dance, severing one or more joints of fingers, or rigid fastings. 
During a prolonged sickness the sick person sometimes changed his 
name. 

Religion and supernatural powers.—The deities of the Arapaho 
included a Supreme Being, minor deities, and, for every adult man, 
the personified animal of his vision quest. The tribal religious cere- 
monial was the Sun Dance. Leaders in religion were always medicine 
men. 

As soon as children were old enough to learn, they were taken to the 
old men of the tribe to be taught the religious beliefs of their people. 
Children did not participate in the Sun Dance, but they were present 
everywhere during its performance. They saw their own clothing 
offered at the ceremonial and were made aware of the sacrifices of a 
relative, especially if the sacrifices were being made because of the 
restoration of the child’s health. At the close of the Sun Dance the 
dancers placed hands on children in blessing. 

When adults smoked ceremonially, children were hushed and made 
to be quiet. Men subjected themselves to ceremonial sweat baths. 


928 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BULL. 148 


Belief in life after death—The Arapaho believed in a life of happi- 
ness after death for all except bad persons. Since all adult persons 
were believed to have premonition of death 4 days before it occurred, 
the only persons who did not have the opportunity to be good persons 
when death overtook them were suicides. Suicides were, therefore, 
denied happiness after death. The location of the abode of the 
departed was not known. During 4 days following death, the spirits 
of the departed, including those of children, were believed to live 
among relatives and old haunts. 

Children were prepared for burial and buried in the same manner 
as adults: the body was painted and dressed in its best clothes, viewed 
by all and then wrapped in a covering in a lying position, and buried 
before sunset on the day of death, or on the following day if death 
occurred after sunset. The body was removed from the tipi through 
an opening made toward the setting sun. Burial was beneath the sur- 
face of the earth, unless the tribe was en route, in which case the body 
was laid on a rock shelter and surrounded by rocks or on a rocky hill- 
top and covered with rocks. The body was never cremated. Still- 
births were buried like adults. 

In all probability some personal belongings were buried with the 
dead. A favorite horse was conventionally shot near the grave of 
its owner immediately after burial while relatives were still present. 

During interment relatives took from the home of the departed 
whatever they wished; there were no rules of inheritance. ‘The dwell- 
ing in which a death occurred was either fumigated or deserted for a 
period of time. 

Immediately following a death, the mother of the deceased gashed 
her legs or arms, or both, as a sign of grief. Occasionally she asked 
someone to do it for her. It was not unusual, also, for the father 
or other near relatives to slash themselves. For women it was insti- 
tutional to sacrifice a portion of a finger during mourning. Both men 
and women mourned 1 to 8 years. Mourners wore old clothing and no 
jewelry. They cut the hair a little longer than shoulder length and 
let it hang loose. They did not carry mourning bundles, or refrain 
from seasonal occupations, or from pronouncing the name of the de- 
parted. Nor did they build fires near the graves. It was probably not 
institutional to put food on graves. 

Domestic economy.—The Arapaho child carried no responsibility 
for the economic support of its family. It was expected to help par- 
ents or elders, however, with any work at hand. As it grew older it 
was made responsible for work commensurate with its strength and 
abilities. 

An adult man’s chief occupation was hunting buffalo or other large 
animals; a woman’s, the preparation of food, the dressing and tanning 
of hides, and the making of clothing, bedding, and tipi coverings. 


Hiner] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 229 


A boy was trained early in the use of the bow and arrow. His first 
success in shooting an animal was celebrated by his family with a 
feast. Sometimes the meat of the animal was served in the main dish 
of the feast. Every young man was expected to assist with butchering 
and transporting of meat. Only at 20 was he allowed to join the com- 
munal tribal hunting expeditions. Hunting charms were generally 
not used by Arapaho hunters, nor were dogs. 

The chief food of the Arapaho was buffalo meat. Venison was rel- 
ished and so was dog meat. Meat not needed for immediate consump- 
tion was either sun-dried or smoked and stored. Wild cherries and 
wild currants were eaten fresh or crushed and sun-dried. Sun-dried 
cherries were used in pemmican. Buffalo berries and service berries 
were also sun-dried and stored for winter use. Wild roots formed only 
a meager part of the Arapaho diet. In the early days corn was prob- 
ably cultivated. 

Meals were prepared whenever a fresh supply of meat was brought 
in or when an older member of the family expressed hunger. Ac- 
cording to Kroeber, fire was made either by striking two stones and 
using cottonwood as tinder or by working a hand drill and using buf- 
falo dung as tinder. When no wood was available, buffalo dung 
served as fuel. Cooking was done in the paunch of the buffalo or in 
a bowl-shaped piece of hide which rested in a hole in the ground. 
Heated stones dropped into the contents caused it to cook. 

The bladder of any large animal served as bucket; horns, as spoons; 
hollowed-out knots of cottonwood, as bowls; pieces of rawhide, as 
plates; narrowed pieces of shoulder blade, as knives. 

The tipi was the Arapaho child’s home. It was a cone-shaped 
framework of poles covered with dressed but untanned hides of buf- 
faloes that were generally decorated with a conventional set of orna- 
ments. Beds were the chief furnishings. 

Dressing and tanning skins was done exclusively by women. Cloth- 
ing was made from elk and deer hides finely dressed and worked until 
delicately soft. A man’s clothing consisted of shirt, leggings that 
reached from hips to ankles, moccasins, and breechclout. A boy’s 
clothing was identical in cut and material with an adult man’s. A 
woman’s clothing consisted of an open-sleeved dress that reached above 
the ankles and of moccasins with attached leggings that reached 
nearly to the knees. Leggings were held in position by garters. A 
girl’s clothing was identical with that of a woman except in size. 
Both men and women wore ornamented buffalo hides as robes when 
away from home. 

Tribal government.—Only men participated in the tribal govern- 
ment of the Arapaho. The boy was not given formal training in gov- 
ernmental duties but his membership in the boys’ and the men’s socie- 
ties directed his thinking towards regulations, order, and responsibil- 


230 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLL. 148 


ities. Government centered about chiefs and councilors. It func- 
tioned chiefly in the camp circle and when hunting buffalo. 

According to tradition, the Arapaho in the early days were composed 
of five distinct but closely allied divisions, each speaking a different 
dialect. 

A group of families, called a band, was the functioning unit within 
the tribe. When camp moved, the families composing a band moved 
together. In winter a band camped in the same shelter. During the 
communal hunt each band formed a circle. Birth within a band 
entitled one to permanent membership in it. Marrying a member of 
another band and residing with that band gave one membership in 
it also. 

Each band was headed by a chief. A council, composed of all 
chiefs, of all the members of the two most advanced men’s societies, 
and of the headmen of all of the men’s societies, convened whenever 
important tribal matters had to be considered. One of the chiefs 
presided at meetings when the tribe met in conference, and was 
spokesman for all the tribes when it met with other tribes or with 
the Whites. A chief held office for life. If he lost the respect and 
obedience of his people, he was ignored but not superseded. At his 
death the men of his band elected his successor, usually a man who 
had given evidence of bravery as a warrior, who had unselfishly 
provided food for the people, and who had shown good sense and good 
judgment. Women were never elected as chiefs nor did they have a 
vote in the election of one. They did exert influence, however, during 
discussions preceding an election. 

Scouts exercised a protective function in the government, their 
chief duty being to sight the enemy and to announce its whereabouts, 
thereby preventing a surprise attack. 

Whenever the entire tribe was encamped, the tipis were erected in 
a circle, with an opening facing the rising sun. Just west of the 
center of the circle a special tipi was erected and in it the sacred 
tribal bundle containing the sacred pipe was kept. All tribal activi- 
ties, while the tribe was thus gathered, were carried on within the 
camp circle. Members of the men’s societies acted as policemen in the 
camp, keeping order and enforcing the decisions of the chiefs. 

Marriage.—Polyandry did not exist among the Arapaho; polygyny, 
with two wives as the prevailing number, was institutional. There 
were no clans or gentes, but relatives, including a very extended group, 
were exogamic. Cross-cousin marriages were considered incestuous. 
Both the sororate and the levirate were institutional, but not compul- 
sory. Because of the sororate, prepuberty girls were occasionally 
placed in the tipi of the husband of an older sister. 

Girls conventionally married at 17; some married earlier. Desirable 
qualities in a girl of marriageable age were modesty, attentiveness to 


HitcEr] ARAPAHO CHILD LIFE 231 


duty, diligence, and knowledge of a woman’s work. Men generally 
married soon after 30; in their twenties they were expected to protect 
the tribe from enemies. A desirable husband was one who gave 
evidence of mature judgment, one who had had success on the war- 
path and had proven his skill in hunting. 

It was not conventional for men to court women publicly. Con- 
ventionally a girl’s elder brother or uncle promised her in marriage. 
Because of a secret courtship, however, she might elope with her 
lover and thereby avoid the marriage with the man of her brother’s 
or uncle’s choice. Such marriages, although not approved of, were 
tolerated. Love charms were used, but were probably not insti- 
tutional. 

The marriage ceremonial consisted of an exchange of gifts between 
relatives of both sides, of the erection of a tipi for the use of the 
couple and furnishing it with household equipment, and of a feast 
to which relatives and old men were invited. The old men prayed 
for the couple and gave them good advice. There was no marriage 
symbol or an exchange of promises. The fact that the couple sat 
together publicly in its own tipi in the presence of relatives was evi- 
dence that they were now married. When a man took his witfe’s 
sister as wife—he had a right to her because of the sororate—the 
sister merely moved into the tipi in which her sister lived. Ifa man’s 
wives comprised two sets of sisters, each set generally had its own 
tipi. Wives not related to each other usually lived each in a sepa- 
rate tipi. Children were present at marriages and ate of the feast- 
day meal, but did not share in the exchange of gifts. 

In-law taboos became effective after the marriage feast. The 
man no longer spoke to or was in the presence of or looked at his 
wife’s mother or at any of the mother’s sisters. All were his mothers- 
in-law. The woman no longer spoke to or looked at her husband’s 
father or the father’s brothers. All were her fathers-in-law. She 
could be in their presence, however. 

Sisters-in-law were expected to tease their brothers-in-law and to 
joke withthem. Brothers-in-law were expected to do the same to both 
brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law. 

No custom of formal divorce existed. Separations were not in- 
frequent, either partner leaving the other. Usually, however, the 
wife left or was sent away by her husband. A wife left her husband 
because he mistreated her, neglected her for another woman, or because 
she preferred to live with another man. Her husband sent her away 
because she was quarrelsome or unfaithful, or because he wished to 
marry another woman. It was conventional for a husband to whip 
an unfaithful wife and to cut off her braids or nose, or both. Accord- 
ing to Kroeber, he was also allowed to slash her cheeks. If the reasons 
given by a man seemed insufficient, the wife’s brothers or her uncles 


232 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BULL. 148 


talked tothe man. If he did not amend, they took the woman back to 
her home. The same was done when a man ill-treated his wife in 
general. Some informants gave sterility as a cause for separation. 
A wife might order her husband to leave for nonsupport. Public 
announcement of a separation at a gathering of the people was in- 
stitutional. 

The children of a separated couple were never neglected. If 
neither of the parents kept them, arrangements were made that grand- 
parents of either side or other relatives cared for them. If separa- 
tion occurred while the wife was pregnant, the child, when born, was 
claimed by the husband, if he was its father. If he was not its father, 
he insisted that it be given to his wife’s paramour. 


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1846. Narrative of the exploring expedition to the Rocky Mountains in 
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GALLATIN, ALBERT. 

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Americana), vol. 2. Cambridge, Mass. 


936 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLL. 148 


GitMoOrE, MELVIN RANDOLPH. 
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HILGER] BIBLIOGRAPHY 237 


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238 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [Bunn. 148 


MAXIMILIAN, PRINCE OF WIED. 

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MESERVE CHARLES FRANCIS. 

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MESSAGE FROM THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES TO CONFIRM THE TITLE TO 
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1933. Narrative of an Arapaho woman. Amer. Anthrop., n. s., vol. 35, No. 4, 
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1934. Some Arapaho kinship terms and social usages. Amer. Anthrop., n. s., 
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Mixes, JoHN D. 

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Mooney, JAMES. 

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1900. Myths of the Cherokee. 19th Ann. Rep. Bur. Amer. Ethnol., 1897-89. 
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1907 a. Arapaho. In Hodge, 1907, pp. 72-73. 

1907 b. Atsina. In Hodge, 1907, p. 118. 

1907 c. The Cheyenne Indians. Mem. Amer. Anthrop. Assoc., vol. 1, pt. 6, 

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ONATE, JUAN DE. 

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PALMER, EDWARD. 

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Htrank] BIBLIOGRAPHY 239 


PEERY, WILLIAM. 
1932-33. The Indian’s friend, John H. Seger. His stories of the myths, 
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PHONETIC TRANSCRIPTION OF INDIAN LANGUAGES, 
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POWELL, J. W. 
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1891. Indian linguistic families of American Indians north of Mexico. 7th 

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1923. Jessie Clay’s account of the Arapaho manner of giving the peyote cere- 
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Rice, O. §. 

n. d. A transcript of the allotment record of the Cheyenne and Arapaho 
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RICHARDSON, RUPERT, and RISTER, CARL COKE. 

1934. The greater Southwest. California. 

Royce, CHARLES C. 
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Ruxton, GEorGE F. 
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1907. The early history and the names of the Arapaho. American Anthrop., 

n. s., vol. 9, pp. 545-560. 
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1924, Early days among the Cheyenne and Arapaho Indians. Edited by W. S. 
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1933. Historic incidents. Chronicles of Oklahoma, vol. 2. 

1934, Early days among the Cheyenne and Arapaho Indians. Edited by 


Stanley Vestal. Okla. Univ. Press. 
See also Peery, William, 1932-33. 


SreTon, Ernest THOMPSON. 
1918. Sign talk. New York. 
SMET, PIERRE JEAN DE. 
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Thwaites (q. v.), 1904-7, vol. 29. 
Spier, LESLIE. 
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240 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BULL 148 


STANSBURY, Howarb. 

1851. Exploration and survey of the valley of the Great Salt Lake, Utah, in- 
cluding a reconnaissance of a new route through the Rocky Moun- 
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STATISTICAL SUPPLEMENT TO THE ANNUAL REPORT OF THE COMMISSIONER OF INDIAN 
AFFAIRS FOR THE FISCAL YEAR ENDED JUNE 380, 1940. 
Strone, WILLIAM DUNCAN. 

1935. Introduction to Nebraska archeology. Smithsonian Misc. Coll., vol. 93, 

No. 10. 
Stuart, GRANVILLE. 

1925. Forty years on the frontier, as seen in the journals and reminiscences of 
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Edited by Paul C. Phillips. Cleveland. 

THAYER, B. W. 

1942. Additional Arapaho moceasin characteristics. Minn. Archeologist, 

April, pp. 30-40. 
THWAITES, REUBEN GOLD, Hprror. 

1904-7. Early Western travels, 1748-1846. 32 vols. Cleveland. 

See also Bradbury; Farnham; Gregg; Long; Maximilian; Pattle; 
Smet. 
TOMKINS, WILLLIAM. 

1926. Universal sign language of the Plains Indians of North America, to- 
gether with a dictionary of synonyms covering basic words repre- 
sented; also a codification of pictographic word symbols of the 
Ojibway and Sioux nations. San Diego. 

TREATIES WITH ARAPAHOES, CHEYENNES, etc., No. 13—A. October 12, 1865. Rep. 
Sec. Interior, 1865. 
VornH, H. R. 

1886. Report on Cheyenne and Arapaho in Indian Territory, Sept. 1, 18386. 
Rep. Comm. Indian Aff., 1886. 

1912. Arapaho tales. Journ. Amer. Folklore, vol. 25. 

WISSLER, CLARK. 

1910. Material culture of the Blackfoot Indians. Amer. Mus. Nat. Hist. 
Anthrop. Pap., vol. 5, pt. 1. New York. 

1916 a. Structural basis to the decoration of costumes among Plains Indians. 

Amer. Nat. Hist. Anthrop. Pap., vol. 17, pt. 3. New York. 

1916 b. Costumes of Plains Indians. Amer. Mus. Nat. Hist. Anthrop. Pap., 

vol. 17, pt. 2. New York. 

1916c. Riding gear of North American Indians. Amer. Mus. Nat. Hist. 

Anthrop. Pap., vol. 17, pt. 1. New York. 

1920. North American Indians of the Plains. Amer. Mus. Nat. Hist. Hand- 
books. Ser. 1, 2d ed. New York. 

1921. Sun dance of the Plains Indians. Clark Wissler, ed. Amer. Mus. 
Nat. Hist. Anthrop. Pap., vol. 16. 1921. 

1931. The American Indian. New York. 

WoRKS PROGRESS ADMINISTRATION. Interviews with Lone Man and his wife, 
Phoebe Lone Man, June 21, 1937. Jn Indian pioneer history. Foreman Col- 
lections, vol. 33, Okla. Hist. Libr., Indian Archives. Oklahoma City. 


BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 148 PLATE 1 


1,2, Sherman Sage; Northern Arapaho, 1940. 3, 4, Pete Lone Bear; Northern Arapaho, 1940. 


BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 148 PLATE 2 


1, 2, Old Lady 


Salt Friday; Northern Arapaho, 1940. 3, 4, Martha Grosbeck; Northern 
Arapaho, 1940. 


‘THOT ‘oyedesy uzayinog fyqOMJOo NA pfousy Jo Jaiysnep ‘uedry asoy ‘2 “TF6] “OYPdvsy wroYyInog fyIJOMjooAY Pfoury ‘7 


EAlVid srl NILAT1ING ADSDOTNIONHLA NVOIMAWNY 4AO NvayenNa 


BULLETIN 148 PLATE 4 


BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY 


Northern Arapaho, 1942. 


> 


2, Ann Wolf 


Arapaho, 1942. 


Northern 


> 


I, Agnes Yellow Plume 


‘OF6T ‘OyRdesy UseyWON tieag suO0T reg *Z 


G31LV1d srl NILATINGA 


"QC6] ‘Oyedery UTIYWON fedeg uRPwIIYg */ 


ASOIONHL]A NVOINAWY AO NVAYNA 


"961 ‘OuRdery 


UJIYION {eupy ‘aim pur uejyy p[O ewosef ‘esony dreyg proysouurM ‘2 -OF6T ‘ouedery usoyION fAj[etuouIaia9 Suryours ‘uns JoYyg weg “7 


9 3LV1d 8rl NILATINGA ADONIONHILA NVOIYAWY AO NVAYENS 


(uInasnyy [BUOTYNY Seqe¥Ig pezUL AsayinoD) ‘ajpeso xnoIg “¢ *saTpeID oyedeiy ‘7 ‘7 


LALiV1d srl NILSATING ADOIONHLA NVOIMSWY SAO NvaHna 


‘O66 ‘OyRdery ulsyWON ‘Aqeq Jay B3ursodsues ‘Aamaq e10opy ‘2 ‘7 


BALV1d 87l NILATING ASOIONHL]A NVOIMAWY SAO NVvsayHNnSs 


‘OF6I ‘oyrdviy usoyiION ‘pliyopueis Joy sunsodsurs ‘Aeplly eS Ape] plo 2 J 


6431V1d 87! NiILS11Na ADSDOIONHL]A NVOIMAWY AO NVaynNa 


BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 148 PLATE 10 


I, Rose Moss, transporting her grandchild; Northern Arapaho, 1940. 2, Wife of Robert 
Friday and her baby; Northern Arapaho, 1940. 3, Agnes Yellow Plume and Ann Wolf, 
recalling lullabies sung by their grandmothers; Northern Arapaho, 1942. 


BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 148 PLATE 11 
’ eee eas a Bie nee " 


o 


1, Clarice Jenkins, preparing to transport her baby on her back; Northern Arapaho, 1942. 
2, Ready to swing baby onto back. 3, Swinging baby onto back. 4, Ready to place 
blanket over baby. 


el ALW1d 


87l NiILAT1INA 


ASOTONHL]A NVOIYMAWY SO NvaYyna 


‘OF6L ‘oyedeiy UIIY AION -Aqeq Joy pure IvIq 9uo'y 919d fo SATIRE IOR “@ “1F61 ‘oyrdviy uLOY INOS :Aqeq Joy pure 21040) aurydaso[ “if 


cS ™ 
ie 


E he ~ 


€l 31iV1d 87! NILA1T1ING ADSOTIONHLA NVOIMAWY AO NVvaYHnNa 
ee 


BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 148 PLATE 14 


Arapaho children’s moccasins. (Courtesy United States National Museum.) 


“TF6L ‘oyedery ussyqION fa3040_5 ouiydoasof jo usippiyg ‘Aqeq aya Bulpuay, ‘Zz “7F6] ‘ouedesy 
uJOyWON +7 ‘7 ajejd ui umoys ydeisojoyd ay} wory ajpeid Oyedviy uv jo SUIYRU OY plyopuris Joy 07 surluly[dxa ‘awn{g MOTI sousy ‘J 


ar 


GtALV1d 8rvl NILATINGA ADOTIONHL]A NVOINAWY AO NVAeNSa 


BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 148 PLATE 16 


/, A pailful of corn gathered and shucked by 9- and 12-year-old girls in helping their grand- 
mother, Agnes Yellow Plume, prepare dinner; Northern Arapaho, 1942. 2, Playing 
house. Playhouse in background; Southern Arapaho and Southern Cheyenne children, 
1941. Cheyenne-Arapaho Reservation. 


TLroR os cow 
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r : wagege : i : me ° , 


8L3alV1d 87! NILSAT1INGA ASO NIONHIA NVOISAWY AO NvseayuNna 


“IF6I ‘oyerdriy ulgyINOg :sunyy) YA “C¥6l ‘oyerdeiy UIOYIION :sumny aE 


x ’ 
L i 


6 31iVv1d 8rl NILS11INa ASOTONHL]A NVOIMAWY JO NvayHNEG 


——— -~ == = 


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o¢@ 3ALV1d 8r7l NILSA11ING ASOIONHLS NVYDIYAWY SO NVaeNa 


(uinasnyy [BUOTIRNY $91¥%1G poqup AsoqIInoD) ‘]jop oyedeiy 


l@é ALW1d 8rl NILATINA ADSONONHLA NVOIMAWY SO Nvayna 


(‘wnasnyy [eUONeN s27¥Ig pazuL) AsaqinoDy) “¢7 aie[d ul UMoyYs s[pes9 Ao} WoIy paaoutal [Jop oyedesy “7 “][op oyedeay ‘7 


= eee iad . - , _ omy 


a 
wet 


ee ALV1d 87l NILATINGA ADSOINONHL]A NVDINAWY SAO Nvaydna 


BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 148 PLATE 23 


Sill 


: 


al meliie * 


: 


;*,* 


ity 


2 


Two views of Arapaho doll cradle. (Courtesy United States National Museum.) 


BULLETIN 148 PLATE 24 


BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY 


Ste phe has inet 
pecans nesite nia 


ai iit i ‘iy 


Pras | 


: 43 
oe ae. PELL! RTH 


(Courtesy United States National Museum.) 


Two views of Arapaho shinny ball. 


(CCUONPAISSOY IoALy pul a | S “oYIIONZ ) oY 


“AQY As9}.1N07)) “UITIE AY pieuooT "a “Teog ou0'T slouely on “676! ‘oyedeiy UIBY WON -Soouep pelos [eq Io} pone sluednnieg 


t 


G@A1V1d 8rl NILSA71NSG ASOIONHLA NVYDIMAWY SO NVSaHNSa 


Cf °g ‘tayoienZ "dD “y “Ady Asaqyinoy) ‘edig pay ‘Z ‘fOM UPI PIO ‘J ‘6761 “Oyedesy usayON ‘saouep [vidos [eqiiy ut sjuedioieg 


weg 
ee 
moa 


Hom, 


9¢ ALV1d 87l NILATINGA ADOTONHLA NVOIMAWY AO NVvaens 


ne (-[°S ‘seyssenz “DQ *y ‘aay Asaqinog) *pparyg apa] 
BUISIY ie *(saAq uOJT) So]3305 [PP YY pue “Sforys [egy fo 4Se] ‘93 pO'T-UI-Ssa0ry “]f ‘SZ6l ‘oyedeiy UIIYIION *saouep [etsos jeqiuy 1of peAy 


ASOIONHL]A NVOIYMAWY AO NVAYNe 


(f °g ‘sayouanz "SD “VW ‘Aey Aseqnog) “any peeyoyy ‘Z 
‘saead Auvur JOF [louNoD oyedesy ay} Jo Joquau pure Jopeay [equa v “ueY F[OAA [eNutES ‘T “676, ‘Oyrdesy Uloy ON fsaouep [el190s [eqi} IO} psiniy 


ge 3ALVid 8rl NILSATING ADOTIONHLA NVYOIMAWY AO NVayNa 


({ g ‘rayosanz ‘dD ‘VW ‘Aay Aseqmn0D) = “TL6T ‘oyedviy UldYyION SUOI{eAIOSOY 
JOATY PULA UO sasuayo OUT IO; aBpn! ‘Ivag auoT sowel ‘2 “6761 ‘oyedeiy useyiON ‘uospnf ajo ‘7 :seouep [eisos yequy ur squedionieg 


6¢ 31V1d 8yvl NILATINGA ADONONHLA NVOIMAWY AO NVvVaHnNa 


BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 148 PLATE 30 


Northern Arapaho, 1942. J, Just after bathing in the irrigation ditch. 2, Mother bathing 
her child in irrigation ditch. 


. BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 148 PLATE 31 


1, Sweat lodge framework; Northern Arapaho, 1936. 2, Camp circle; 1935 Northern Arapaho 
Sun Dance. (Courtesy Rev. A. C. Zuercher, S. J.) 


BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 148 PLATE 32 


* 7 


Southern Arapaho Sun Dance participant. (Courtesy Chicago Natural History Museum.) 


(urnosnyy AIOISIF] jeanqeNy Oseo1yy ASoqIno)) 


Seashell Sib Nis el i) es 


"95 pO] IU C] UNS oyrdery UIIYINOY JO YIOMOLUB I | 


ASOIONHL]A NVOIMAWYV 4AO NVEaNNe 


BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 148 PLATE 34 


Se GEN 


7, Center pole; 1940 Northern Arapaho Sun Dance. 2, Sun shelter; Northern Arapaho, 1936. 


BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 148 PLATE 35 


1940 Northern Arapaho Sun Dance. J, Dancers and bundle containing sacred pipe. 2, 
Drummers. Children romping around. 3, Rest period. Sponsors of dancers seated at 
left. Several men at right making cherry water for dancers. (Note picture of center 
pole on plate 34, /.) 


BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 148 PLATE 36 


7, Sun shelter at Sherman Sage’s home; Northern Arapaho, 1940. 2, Sun shelter near Rabbit 
Run’s home; Southern Arapaho, 1941. 3, Sun shelter; Northern Arapaho, 1936. 


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BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 148 PLATE 38 


Left Hand and son; Southern Arapaho. (Courtesy United States National Museum.) 


BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY BULLETIN 148 PLATE 39 


Little Raven and daughter; Southern Arapaho, (Courtesy United States National Museum.) 


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INDEX 


Aaninéna (white clay people), tribal 


division 187 
Aant’/haw8, tribal division, 187 
Abortions, 5, 11-12, 217 


oe ae, prayer addressed to, 
14 


Addison, Ada, informant, xv 
Addison, Frank, informant, xv 
Adolescence, 68-75, 223 
Fee 5 alge periae 
ze, wooden, 170 
Afterbirth, see placenta. 
Age, counted by “snows,” 87, 224 
recorded on horns, 87, 224 
Age societies, ceremonial, 117-123, 226 
Ahk tun o’ wihio, Cheyenne God, 145 
Algonquian speaking peoples, 1 
HeonauinSs eer Conta 1,2 
Amelanchier sp, 1 
Amulet, buried with owner, 23, 218 
worn by babies, 23, 218 
worn by boys, 24 
worn by girls, 23 
. a also ania 
ngelica sp, 55 
Angelica (Angelica sp.), 55 
Animal, personified, 22 
“Antelope,” band name, 188, 189 
Antelopes, 134, 171 
stuffing of hair of, 182 
toenails of used as rattles, 36 
Apache, 93, 110, 116 
See also Chiricahua Apaches. 
Apron, girl’s, 73, 74, 75 
Arapaho, apn, of name, 1 
synonyms for, 1 
Arapaho, Northern 3, 4, 5, 12, 13, 22, 
23, 27, 29, 39, 47, 54, 57, 70, 71, 
74, 79, 82, 84, 85, 94, 95, 96, 97, 
104, 106, 107, 109, 111, 114, 116, 
117, 118, 122, 123, 125, 131-132, 
133-134, 137, 140, 143, 149, 
151-153, 154-160, 165, 166, 167, 
174, 177, 178, 179, 181, 183, 184, 
186, 187, 188, 189, 190, 192, 195, 
201, 202, 204-206, 208, 209, 210, 
214, 215, 216 
Arapaho, Southern, 3, 4, 5, 12, 138, 22, 
23, 28, 29, 39, 47, 53, 54, 71, 72, 
74, 76, 79, 85, 86, 92, 94, 96, 104, 
107, 109, 118, 114, 115, 117, 118, 
119, 125, 126, 127, 130-131, 
132-133, 1386, 138, 143, 147, 148, 
149, 150, 152, 153, 157, 161, 164, 
165, 166, 169, 172, 173, 174, 176, 
186, 187, 192, 193, 199-200, 201, 
202, 206-208, 209, 210, 214, 215, 
216 
Archery, 111, 226 


982644—52——20 


Arickarees, 178 
Arkansas River, 3 
Arpan, Rose, informant, xv 
Arrows, 79, 91, 133, 134 
sacred, 153 
shafts of, broken, 166 
See also Bow and arrows. 
Arthritis, 139, 140 
Ash, 180 
Assiniboin, 4, 173 
Aunt, definition of, 68, 195 
Awl, sewing, 27, 186 
steel, 186 
Awl case, beaded, 72 


Ba’achinéna (red-willow or blood-pud- 
ding men), tribal division, 186 
Back rest, 27, 106, 204 
Bacon, sucked by infants, 220 
Bad Faces, band name, 187 
“Bad Pipes’, band name, 187, 191 
Badgers, 89, 171 
Bag, rawhide, 178 
sacred, 176, 218 
Ball, bouncing, 72 
buckskin, 111, 114 
shinny, 114 
stuffed deerskin, 111 
Band membership, 188-189, 230 
Bands, family groups, 187-189, 230 
names of, 187-188 
Bannock, 3, 64 
Barks, curative use of, 137 
Ba’/sawunt/na (wood lodge men or big 
lodge men), tribal division, 187 
Basket, game, 114 
Bas-nak-than’, mixed with tobacco, 147 
Bat’ati (The-Mysterious-One), 144 
Bath, baby’s first, 21 
Bathing, 108, 135, 227 
Baths, Ceremonial, 147, 153, 227 
steam, 141, 147, 148, 227 
Ba&tigtu’be, game, 112 
Battle-amulet, 130 
Beads, 182, 186 
Bear, Ida, informant, xv 
Bear-that-don’t-run, chief, 191 
Bear Tooth, chief, 189 
Bears, grizzly, 171 
Beaver, 171 
meat of, 142 
testes of, 134 
Beavers, band name, 188 
Beds, 26, 27, a8; 106, 182, 203, 204, 206, 
208 


Beef, 179 ” 
Beggars’ Lodge, men’s society, 118, 119, 
120 


Behan, Susan, informant, xv 
241 


242 


Bells, used as ornaments, 31, 32 
Belt, 162 
beaded, 157 
buckskin, 123 
girl’s, 72, 73, 74, 75 
measuring of, 90 
Benches, 99 
Bénotix’wil, see Buffalo Lodge. 
Berries, buffalo (Shepherdia argentea), 


1 
dried, 177, 229 
gathering of, 177 
service (Amelanchier sp.), 177, 229 
(Shepherdia canadensis), 177, 229 
wild, 175 
Berths, 181 
Bét&hinin (Second Men’s Lodge), 118, 
119, 120, 121 
araphernalia for, 120 
Big Pincers, time told by, 83 
Big Horse, informant, 97 
Big Lodge, men’s lodge, 120 
Big Mouth, chief, 189 
Biitahawu, men’s society, 119 
Bird Chief, chief, 191 
Birds, wild, 171 
Birth, 15-24, 217-218 
announcement of, 21 
assistants at, 15-16, 19, 218 
position of mother, 16-17, 18-19, 
218 
taboos connected with, 12-15, 217 
Birthmarks, 6, 14 
Bitner, Dorah, informant, xv 
Blackbirds, boy’s society, 118, 119 
Black Coal, chief, 187, 190, 191, 205 
Black Crow, chief, 191 
Blackfeet, band name, 187 
Blackfoot, 1, 12, 25, 95, 118, 180, 187, 
212 
Black-Hawk, mysterious deity, 145 
Black Horse, Mary, informant, 176 
Black-Man, medicine man, 128, 189 
Bladders, use as buckets, 179, 229 
Blankets, 88, 51, 52, 99, 100, 121, 148, 
156, 158, 162, 164, 180 182, 202, 
2038, 206 
use in signaling, 98 
worn by girls, 3, 74 
Bloodletters, medicine men, 185, 227 
Bloodletting, curative method, 139, 227 
Boasting, 101-102 
Boats, buffalo hide, 169 
Bobtail, informant, 97 
Bologna, preparation of, 176 
Bone or seed game, 114 
Bones, medicinal use of, 139 
Boone, A. G., Indian Agent, 190 
Bouncing game, 113 
Bourke, John G., quotations from, 94, 
191 


Bow and arrows, 105, 112, 113, 171, 172, 


229 
toy, 106, 108 
See also Arrows. 
Bow strings, buffalo sinew, 169 
Bowl, pottery, 179 
rawhide, 178, 229 
wooden, 179, 229 


BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY 


{Buin 148 


Boys, cermonial lodges of, 110, 119, 186, 
226 


clothing, 185, 229 
duties connected with lodges, 120—- 
121, 226 
first success in shooting food ani- 
mal celebrated, 171, 229 
games of, 110 
haircutting, 48-44 
instructors of, 70-71, 77, 78 
physical training, 226 
respected by girls, 69, 73 
training of, 110, 229 
Bracelets, 162 
silver, 78 
Bradbury, John, quotations from, 185 
Breechclouts, 185, 229 
Bridles, 170 
buffalo hide, 169 
British, relations with, 4 
Broth, meat, 220 
Brother-sister relationship, 68-70, 73, 
195 
Brothers, definition of, 48, 68, 195 
Brothers-in-law, 211, 231 
Buckskin, dressing of, 1838-184 
use of, 30, 31, 35, 36, 89, 90, 182 
Buffalo, 2, 28, 53, 57, 85, 98, 105, 146, 
171, 205, 228 
blood, curative value of, 57 
bones, use of, 179, 183 
calf, shooting of, 172, 1738 
chief source of supplies, 169-170 
cows, 173 
dew-claws, use of, 185 
dung, uses of, 178, 229 
fetal, used for first clothes, 42, 220 
hair, use of, 169 
head, sacred, 122, 150 
heart lining used, 169 
hides, preparation and uses of, 86, 
87, 106, 120, 185, 148, 149, 169, 
170, 180, 181, 184, 203, 229 
horns, use of, 121, 122, 140, 229 
hunt, communal, 192, 229 
hunting, 172, 178, 186 
meat, 173, 174, 175, 177, 229 
numbers of, 169 
paunch, use of, 178, 229 
robes made from skin, 122, 154, 
155, 162, 170, 171, 179, 185, 192, 
203, 205, 206, 229 
shoulder blade, use of, 169, 179 
sinews, use of, 169, 180, 186 
skull, painted, 57, 153 
Buffalo berries, dried, 229 
Buffalo Dance, 39, 119, 120, 123 
Buffalo Lodge, women’s society, 119, 
121, 122, 123, 125 
Bull roarer, use of, 93 
Burial customs, 103, 168, 164, 228 
rade ne Curtis, quotations from, 


Burton, Richard F., quotations from, 


, 180 
Butchering, man’s duty, 172, 229 
Butter, Indian, 176 
Button, game, 115 
Buzzers, 111, 226 


INDEX 


Calf, pet, 226 
Calf tail, 120 
Calico, 27, 28, 137, 152, 153, 154, 156, 
158, 159 
Camp circle, 192-193, 230 
Camp crier, professional, 26 
Candy, gifts of, 99 
rarely eaten by children, 99 
Cannabalism, 105, 106, 225 
Carter, John G., x1 
quotations from, 2, 143 
Catholic religion, 160 
Catlin, George, quotations from, 177 
Catlinite, pipestone, 103, 147 
Cat-tails, roots eaten, 179 
Cattle, taboos regarding meat as food, 13 
Caul, disposal of, 21, 218 
Cedar-bark decoction, medicinal use of, 
55, 56 
Cedar fumes, use of, 91, 127, 133, 134, 
138, 165, 166, 167 
Cedar poles, use of, 180 
Cedar tree, offering of, 152 
Celebration, ear-piercing, 24-28, 40, 43, 
182, 218 
first walk, 41, 219 
first word, 42 
Ceremonial, baths, 147, 153, 227 
club, 192 
marriage, 202-209, 231 
paint, 153 
peyote, 138 
pipe, 153 
purification, 153 
religious, 148-151 
smoking, 66, 128, 142, 147 
sweating, 134, 141, 147-148 
tipi sewing, 181, 182 
Ceremonies, see Ceremonial. 
Chafing, treatment for, 219 
Chairs, 99 
Charms, 133 
hunting, 175, 229 
love, 200, 231 
Chasing Hawk, Elizabeth, 30 
Cheek slashing, punishment by, 212, 231 
Cherry, wild (Padus serotina), 176, 177, 
179, 2 


, 229 
“Cherry water,” drunk by dancers, 159, 
160 


Cheyenne, 1, 2, 3, 6,11, 12, 14, 15, 16, 21, 
25, 26, 90, 116, 145, 153, 163, 
174, 180, 185, 190, 204, 205, 214, 
215 
Northern, 21, 56 
relations with, 3, 4 
Southern, 3, 71 
Pee anreveno Reservation, 4, 120, 
21 


Chi’chita’né, boy’s game, 113 
Chief in Everything, headman, 189 
Chief Little Raven, 125, 127, 146 
Chief Ute, 64, 120, 127 
Chiefs, 189-191, 230 

life tenure, 189, 230 
Chieftainship, not inherited, 190 
_ g@ voting for, 189, 230 


243 


Child, adoption of, 50-51, 221 
favored, 82-83, 224 
naming of, 61-62, 222 
Children, burial of, 163 
diversions, 106-117, 223, 225-226 
excluded from lodges, 156 
mental training, 83-98, 224-225 
methods of instructing, 75-78, 94, 
223-224 
moral training, 98-105, 225 
naked, 108, 112, 220 
of separated couples, 215-216, 232 
play of, 106-109, 223, 225-226 
prenatal period, 217 
present at weddings, 209, 231 
rewards, punishments, 78-82, 224 
scolding of, 79-80, 22 
tattooing of, 141 
training of, 75-83, 102, 223-224 
Chippewa, 6, 11, 14, 15, 16, 20, 21, 39, 
40, 43, 70, 74, 95, 100, 105, 106, 
134, 139, 140, 153, 168, 194, 195 
Chiricahua Apaches, 191 
Chiva Niatha, good God, 146 
Chokecherry, 30, 62, 79, 84, 85, 150 
Phe) Ter ene friends, 106, 110, 171, 
6 
Cigarettes, 98-99 
Circular patterns, making of, 90 
Clans, lack of, 230 
Clark, W. P., quotations from, 1, 95, 
125, 135, 145, 146, 160, 162, 164, 
178, 190 
Clay, white, 120 
Clothes bags, toy, 107 
Clothing, 185-186, 224, 228, 229 
offerings of, 57, 144, 152, 227 
Clouds, weather forecasting by, 93 
Club, ceremonial, 192 
Cocheis, chief, 191 
Coffee, 62, 220 
Coition, 48, 49, 217, 221 
Cold weather, prediction of, 92, 93 
Colds, treatment of, 139 
Collier, John, Commissioner of Indian 
Affairs, 149 
Collins, Herbert Edwin, quotations from, 
179, 204, 216 
Colostrum, discarded, 44, 220 
Comanche, 110, 176, 180, 200 
Comets, beliefs regarding, 92, 224 
Conception, 4-6 
beliefs regarding, 4, 12 
Constipation, treatment for, 55 
Conduct taboos, connected with preg- 
nancy, 12-15, 47 
Contraceptives, 9, 217 
Cooking, 170, 179 
hot stones method, 178-179, 229 
Cooper, John M., x1v 
Cordage, buffalo hair, 169 
Jorn, 178, 181, 229 
Corrals, wattled cane, 181 
Cottonwood (Populus monilifera), 178 
Coughs, treatment for, 137 
Council, chief’s, 230 
Counting and linear measurements, 
88-90 


244 


Counting methods, 88-89, 206 

Courtesy, 98-100 

Courtship, methods, 199-200, 201-202, 
231 


Cousin, cross, 48, 195 
Cousin, definition of, 68, 195 
Cow, 171, 184 
piven as gift, 53 
hide, preparation and use of, 184, 
186 
horns, use of, 140 
sinew, use of, 186 
“Coyote gun,” war club, 192 
“Coyote men,” scout organization, 192 
Coyotes, 131, 168, 167 
Cradle making, woman’s work, 35, 89, 
209, 219 
Cradles, 28, 29-38, 219 
amulet attached to, 23, 24, 218 
beaded, list of, 30, 33, 34 
canvas, list of, 29 
construction of, 29-38, 219 
cover and pillow, 36 
dismantling of, 37-88, 219 
toy, 107, 108 
Cranes, 92 
feathers, white, 120 
Crazy Lodge, men’s society, 118, 119, 
120, 121, 122 
paraphernalia for, 120 
Crazy-man Dance, 51, 117, 122, 123 
Cree, 168 
Crier, public official, 215 
Crook, men’s lodge, 121 
Crow Indians, 28, 39, 53, 54, 59, 64, 122 
Crows, 42, 98 
Culin, Stewart, XII 
quotations from, 57, 111, 113, 114, 
153, 226 
Cupping, curative treatment, 140 
Currants, dried, 177, 229 
wild, 177, 229 
Curse words, lack of, 80 
Custer, General, 204, 205 
Cut Finger, chief, 191 
“Cut water,” circular tin disk, 93 


Dakotas, 2 
Dance, Buffalo, 39, 119, 120, 123 

Crazy-man, 51, 117, 122, 123 

Dog, 51, 117, 122 

Forty-nine, 39, 117 

Fox, 51,017 

Gift, 64 

Owl, 51, 107, 117 

Rabbit, 39, 40, 51, 107, 117 

Social, 107, 117, 160, 214, 215, 221 

Spear, 122, 123 

Squaw, 39, 40, 53, 107, 117 

Sun, 2, 13, 25, 26, 27, 28, 39, 40, 51, 
52, 538, 57, 62, 66, 83, 85, 86, 107, 
120, 122, 127, 131, 135, 141, 142, 
143, 144, 145, 148-151, 154-161, 
176, 182; 187, 192, 193, 201, 202; 
206, 219, 221, 227 

Victory, 64 

War-bonnet, 51, 107, 117 

Wolf, 51, 107, 117 


BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY 


[BuLu. 148 


Dance lodge, 107, 215 
Dancers, relatives of, 156 
Dancing, 158, 160 
Daniels, J. W. , quotations from,"191 
Daughter-in- law, 210 
Dead, abode of, 228 
dressing of, 162, 228 
painting of, 162, 228 
Death, 162, 228 
Decoctions, 220 
herbal, 54, 55, 137, 1388, 220, 222 
mescal button, 138 
Decorations, painted, 157 
Deer, 89, 171, 175 
antlers of, 224 
call, used in hunting, 175 
claws, use as ornaments,#31 
hair, stuffing of, 182 
hide, use of, 42, 43, 120, 185, 220, 


229 
meat, 142, 175, 229 
Delivery, position of mother, 
18-19, 218 
presence of father at, 218 
Densmore, Frances, quotations from, 64 
De Smet, Pierre Jean, quotations: from 
102-108, 169-170, 171, 173 
Dewey, Flora, informant, xv 
Dewey, Rapheal, informant, xv 
Diapers, substitutes for, 28, 219 
Diarrhea, treatment for, 55 
Dice, buffalo bone, 114 
Dice games, 111, 113 
Dishes, 55 
Divorces, 211-216, 231-232 
Dog Dance, 51, 117, 122 
“Dog Eaters,” see Arapaho, 
Dog Lodge, men’s society, 118, 119, 120, 
121, 1238 
Dogs, 175, 176, 229 
beliefs regarding, 98, 162 
howling of, 162 
meat, eaten, 175, 176, 229 
pet, 109, 226 
Dog soldiers, policemen, 193 
Dolls, 107, 108, 225 
man, 108 
rag, 107 
woman, 108 
Domestic economy, 169-186, 228-229 
Dorsey, George A., x11, x111, 32, 143, 150 
quotations from, 25, 28, 113, 152 
Dresses, 73, 144, 185, 202, 229 
buckskin, 90, 110 
calico, 57, 153 
mourning, 168 
Drummers, 149, 156, 157, 158, 215 
songs by, 27, 28, 157, 214 
Drumming, 159, 16 
Drums, 28, 115, 122, 187, 157, 160, 214, 
215 
toy, 107 
Ducks, black- tailed, 171 
red- tailed, 171 
Dyeing, process, 37 
Dyer, D. B., quotations from, 183 
Dyes, commercial, 36 
vegetable, 36. 


16-17, 


INDEX 


Eagles, 98, 171 
feathers, 120, 123 
wing, whistle made of, 157 
Eagle’s Head, chief, 191 
Eagles of the Stars, boy’s lodge, 119 
Ear piercing, 24-28, 40, 182, 218 
curative value of, 57, 222 
gifts given for, 25, 26, 27, 28, 40 
Kar plugs, use of, 25, 27 
Earrings, 25, 28, 78, 162 
Eclipses, beliefs regarding, 91, 134, 224, 
227 


Elk, 89, 184 
"hides, tanning and use of, 184, 185, 
186, 229 
teeth, "107 
Elk horn, "hide scrapers, 87, 175, 183 
records on, 87, 103, 22 4 
Embracing, mark of respect, 100 
Epidemics, 134 
Eriogonum sp., 175 
Everybody’s Father, name for God, 
65, 66, 144 
Exogamy, 193, 230 
Eye trouble, treatment for, 140 


Families, limitation of size, 9-10 
Farnham, Thomas J., quotations from, 
3, sora, 176 
Fasting, 65, 70, 71, 223 
as & sacrifice, 142, 154, 227 
ceremonial, 120, 124, 127-130, 136 
Father, definition of, 48, 68, 195 
Father-in-law, 194, 209, 210, 211, 231 
Fawns, hoof used, 185 
Feasts, P7272 
marriage, 231 
naming, 65 
wedding, 198, 202, 204, 205, 207 
Feather switches, ’black, 158 
Feathers, used as aid in birth, 16, 17, 
19, 20 
Fertility, ’ produced in men and women, 
Fetus, beliefs teearding, 5, 11, 217 
burial of, 5, 217, 228 
Fewkes, J. Walter, quotations from, 95 
Fighting, man’s duty, 170 
Fingers, sacrifice of, 141, 166, 167, 228. 
Firebrand, use in signaling, 98 
Firedrill, 178, 229 
Fire fan, turkey- -wing, 179 
Fire making, 178, 229 
Fireplace, 179, 203 
Flageolet, 199° 
Flesher, skin dressing tool, 183 
Fletcher, Alice C., quotations from, 193 
Flint and steel, fire making tools, 178 
Flutes, 200 
Fontanels, 20, 41, 94, 218, 219, 224 
Food and its preparation, 175- 179, 207, 


Food taboos, connected with pregnancy, 
12-15, 47 
Forearm’s length, measure of distance, 


“Forks of the River Men,’ band name, 
187, 191 


245 


Forty-nine Dance, 39 
Fox, boy’s society, 118, 119, 121 
Foxes, gray, 171 
silver, 171 
Fremont, John C. , quotations from, 174 
Friday, Ann, informant, XV 
Friday, Robert and wife, informants, 
XV, 
Fuel, patfalo ae 178, 229 
wood, 179, 229 
Fumigation, 217, 218, 228 
curative, 54, 137, 222, 226 
methods, 15, 22, 55 
Funny Men, band name, 187 


Gagging, helpful at birth, 218 
Gambling games, 115 
Game of buffalo meat, 113 

of choosing erandfathers, 113 
Game sticks, willow, 112 
Games, 111- "115, 226 

boys and girls, 112 

dice, 111, 226 

gambling, 115 

guessing, 115 

hand, 111, 226 

of chance, 111 

of dexterity, 111, 226 
Garters, 123, 135, 229 
Gentes, lack’ of, 230 
Gentian (Gentiana lutea), 55 
Gentiana lutea, 55 
Gestation, 10-11 
“Ghost arrow, ” belief in, 139 
Ghost Dance religion, 160 
Gifts, 171 

acceptance of, 99 

betrothal, 203 

exchange of, 202, 203, 204, 206 

given at adoption, 51 

given for ear piercing, 25, 26, 27, 

28, 40, 218 

given for naming, 62, 63 

list of, 98-99 

marriage, 198, 199, 202, 203, 206, 

231 


Gila monster, lizard, 128 

Ginseng (Panax quinquefolium) , 05, 56 

Girls, clothing, 185, 223, 229 
garnes of, 111 
instruction of, 72, 73, 111 
marriage age, 197, 230 
marriageable qualities, 198, 230 
no puberty customs for, 71, 223 
prepuberty customs, 197, 230 
puberty, 216, 223, 226 

Glue, buffalo sinew, 169 

Goats, mountain, 171 

Goggles, Gertrude, informant, XV 

Golden seal (Hydrastis canadensis), 55 

“Good Hearts,” Arapaho name for 

themselves, 96 

Grand River, 3 

Grandchild, definition of, 195 

Grandfather, name for Sun, 142, 145 

Grandfathers, choosing of, 121, 122 
instruction by, 119 


246 BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY [BuLL. 148 


Grandmothers, instruction by, 75, 82, | Hé’ jabinéixi, name for God, 144 
119 Hell, ignorance of, 161 
Hemorrhages, treatment for, 137 
Herbalists, medicine men, 54, 135, 136, 
137, 218, 222, 227 
Herbs, curative use of, 137, 227 
roots and barks, 136- 139, 222, 227 
Hidatsa, 118 
Hide scrapers, elk horn, 87, 224 
Hide tanning outfits, 88 


relations with, 69, 206 
Grandparents, children cared for by, 
215, 232 
definition of, 194 
favorite children of, 82-83 
instruction by, 75, vir 80 
Grass, sweet, 120 
“Greasy Faces,” band name, 187, 188, 


189, 191 Hides, 187, 153 
Great Kenyon of the Colorado of the] Hilger, Sister Marie, XIv 
West, 3 Hinanaei’ne (Arapaho proper), tribal 


division, 187 
Hitdune’na (begging people), tribal 
division, 187 
Hitu’/néna (begging men, beggars, 
“spongers’’), tribal division, 187 
Hoes, bone, 178 
Honesty, teaching of, 103, 225 
Honey, wild, 178 
Hoop and pole, game, 111, 113, 226 
Hoops, used in games, 113 
Hopi, 93 
Horse racing, 123 
Horses, 173, 176, 212, 213, 215, 216, 225 
beliefs regarding, 93, 1383, 179 
care of, 170, 216 
enemies’, stealing of, 102, 225 
given as gift, 25, 26, 27, 28, 40, 51, 
52, 53, 55, 66, 70, 79, 102, 105, 
109; 110,11 7;<137;- 167,071.) La, 
197, 198, 199, 201, 202, 203, 204, 
205, 206, 208, 209, 215, 219 
measuring of, 90 
sacrificed on grave, 164, 167, 228 
toy, 107, 108 
treatment of, 100 
use of, 2, 85, 110 
wealth of the Indians, 165, 188 
Horse tail switches, used in Sun Dance, 
158 
Hospitality, generosity, kindness, 100- 
101 


’ u 


Great Spirit, prayer to, 150-151, 179 

Greetings, 99-100 

Grinnell, George Bird, quotations from, 
145 


Gros Ventres, 3, 117, 118, 120, 187, 192 
Grosbeck, Martha, informant, XV 
Ground, measured by pacing, "90 
Grouse, "171 


Haanaxwiine’na (Rock people), Tribal 
Division, 187 
Hibssoreanar: used for muscular pains, 
13 
Hair braiding, done by husband, 216 
Hair cutting, boys, 43, 220 
infants first, 43- 44 
mourning custom, 43-44, 162, 164, 
166, 167, 168, 228 
punishment by, 212, 231 
Hairdressing, 74, 75 
mourning, 167, 168 
Half-breeds, 50, 54 
Hall) aU. , quotations from, 87 
Hammer, stone, 183 
Hanahawunéna, extinct Arapaho band, 
161 
Ha’nahawuné’na, tribal division, 187 
Hanatécha’hatiet, game, 112 
Handshaking, 99, 225 
Hand stretch, measuring device, 89 
Hand-and-foot ball, game, 111, 226 
Handkerchiefs, 155) 
Hannah, Susan, informant, Xv 
Harelip, beliefs ‘regarding, 1 14, 47 
Hares, 171 
Harris, Fanny, informant, xv 
Harris, Veronica, informant, XV 
Has Horn, Joe, informant, 30 
Ha’ sindnen, meaning Our Father, 144 
Hawk feathers, 120 
Hawks among ‘the Stars, 119 
Hayden, Ferdinand Wey quotations from, 
5 
Headache, 137, 138, 139 
Head bands, embroidered, 119 
Headdresses, 100 
buffalo horn, 121, 122, 123 
red, 123 
Headshaping, 20 
Health, 134-142, 227 
Heammawihio, Cheyenne God, 145, 146 
Heap O’Bears, chief, 191 
Heart, treatment for ills of, 137 
Heavenly Father, name for God, 144 


Houses, fumigation of, 165,166 

left after a death, 165 
Hummers, toys, 93 
Hungry Wolf, Jane, informant, xv, 123 
Hunt, communal, 187, 192, 229, 230 
Hunting, 170-175, 228 
Hunt the button, game, 114-115 
Husbands, 15 
Hydrastis canadensis, 55 


Iceman, Pete, 155 
Illegitimacy, beliefs regarding, 49-50, 
221 


Ill treatment, cause for divorce, 232 
Incest, 48-49, 221 
Infanticide, rare, 49, 50, 221 
Infants, atypical conditions, 46-57, 
221-223 
bathing, 135, 218 
deformed, 47-48, 221 
first bath, 21, 135, 218 
first clothes, 42-438, 220 
first smile, 40, 219 


INDEX 


Infants, first step, 41, 219 
first tooth, 40-41, 219 
first walk, "219 
first words, 41-42, 219 
food, 135, 219, 220 
haircutting, 43-44 
headshaping, 20, 218 
illegitimate, 221. 
lullabies, 38-40, 219 
nursing and weaning, 44-45, 220- 
221 
sick, 54, 222 
teething aids, 41, 219 
toilet training, 29 
transporting, 38, 219 
Informants, information from, 6, 7, 10, 
11, 12, 13, 14, 18-20, 92. 35, 36, 
39, 42, 43, 49° 53, 55, 57, 58, 59, 
61, 63, 69, 70, 72, 73, 74-75, 76, 
Up 78-79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 86, 
87-88, 90, 91, 92, 96-97, 103, 
104, 105, 106, 107-108, 109, 110, 
118, 124, 125, 126, 128, 129, 136, 
138, 141, 142, 144, 145, 149, 151- 
152, 159, 160, 161, 170, 183, 187, 
193, 195, 198-199, 213, 214, 217, 
220, 221, 224 
list of, xv 
men, 4 
women, 4 
Inhalations, curative treatments, 
222, 927 
Inheritance, customs regarding, 165, 228 
Interment and graves, 163-166 
Interpreters, 42, 65, 66, 83, 84, 143, 168, 
190, 209, 210 
Interviewing, 99 
Iron Piper, informant, xv 


54, 


Javelin, toy, 106 
Jealousy, among children, 82 
between husband and wife, 212 
murder due to, 105 
Jén&ja’xibed, name for Sweat Lodge, 
120 


Jenkins, Clarice, informant, xv 

Jewelry, mourning customs regarding, 
168, 228 

Joking relatives, 211 

Juggling, 111 


Kaliher, Sister Deodata, xiv 
Kansas River, 2 
Keeper-of-the-pipe, minor deity, 142 
Kettles, iron, 179, 181, 203, 208 
Killing, accidental, 104, 105, 225 
Kindness, practice of, 100-101 
Kinnikinnick, tobacco mixture, 147, 174 
Kinship groups, unilateral, 194 
Kiowa, 110, 140, 180 
Kissing, 99, 110, 225 
Knife case, beaded, 72 
Knife sheath, toy, 107 
Knives, 27, 179 

bone, 179, 229 

slaughtering, 212 


247 


Kroeber, A. L., x1, XII, XIII 

quotations from, 2, 22, 25, 26, 27, 
30, 31, 35, 38, 43, 45, 55, 60, 70, 
72,95. OO, 141, 113 184! 119, 
124, 125, 129, 134-135, 137, 139, 
143, 146, 149, 150, 152, 154-155, 
164, 165, 167, 168, 176, 178, 179, 
182, 183-184, 185-186, 187, 188, 
189, 190, 192, 195, 208, 211, 212, 
217, 220, 229 


Labor, division of, 170 
Lambs, pet, 109, 226 
Lances, ceremonial, 119 
Language, 94-96 
recording of, 94 
sign, 95-96, 98 
teaching of, 94 
vocabulary of, 94, 95 
Laws, enforcement of, 193 
Left Hand, Arapaho Chief, 1, 3, 97, 116, 
127, 147, 161, 186, 187, 189, 191 
Leggings, 170, 185, 186, 229 
offerings of, 57, 153 
Levirate, 197, 230 
Lewis, Meriwether, and Clark, William, 
quotations from, 1, 2, 3 
Life after death, belief in, 160-162, 228 
Lightning, interpretation of, 90, 224 
Litters, buffalo hide, 169 
Little Ant, informant, xv 
Little Biitahawu dancers, boys, 119 
Little Raven, informant, 97, 150, 162, 
178, 183, 189, 190 
prayer of, 150-151 
Lizards, 128 
Lodge poles, wooden, 180 
Lodges, 118, 226 
boy’s ceremonial, 110, 226 
men’s, 118, 119, 226 
order of admission to, 119, 226 
women’s, 226 
Lone Bear, Pete, informant, 122-123 
Lone Man, informant, 175 
Lone Wolf, Pete, informant, xv 
Long, S. eae quotations from, 1, 126, 
17 


Long Hair, informant, xv 
Long Legs, band name, 188, 189 
Looking-up or Looking-around, band 
name, 187 
Lophophora williamsii, 138 
Love charms, 200 
“Love child,” illegitimate child, 49, 50 
Lowie, Robert H., xu 
quotations from, 2 
Lullabies, 38-40, 219 
Lung-disease, treatment for, 137 


Mackenzie, Alexander, 2 

Magicians, 130, 135, 227 

Magyer, Sister Hieronyme, XIV 

Mallery, Garrick, quotations from, 84, 
‘96, 97-98 

Mandans, 3, 4, 118 

Manure, uses of, 17, 28, 29, 219 


248 


Marriage, 193-216, 230-232 
ceremonial, 202-209, 231 
cross-cousin, 195, 230 
elopement, 200, 201, 202, 207, 208, 
231 

endogamous, 193 

exogamous, 193, 194 

feast, 231 

incestuous, 195 

monogamous, 193, 194 

polygamous, 196, 197, 208 

polygynous, 194 

prepuberty, 196 

prohibitions on, 48, 49, 195 

regulations regarding, 196, 
201-202 

separation and divorce, 211-216 

“sweetheart,” 200, 201, 206, 207- 
208 

symbol, lack of, 204, 207 

Master oF Ceremonies, men’s society, 

12 

Mates, choice of, 199-202 

Mats, 182 

Maximilian, Prince of Wied, quotations 

from, 3 
Meadow lark, beliefs regarding, 94, 219 
fed to babies, 41-42, 94, 219, 224 
Measuring methods, 89-90, 224 
Meat, buffalo, 173, 174, 175, 177 
burnt offering of, 179 
deer, 142, 175, 229 
dog, eaten, 175, 176, 229 
gifts of, 201 
preparation of, 175-177, 229 
“Medicine,” definition of, 124, 226 
powers of, 124, 187, 226 
practiced by medicine men, 7, 8, 9, 
10, 19, 48, 54, 55, 56, 65, 66, 
124-134, 136, 226, 227 

purification of, 127 

use of, 180-134, 227 

“Medicine” bags, 124, 125, 129, 130, 

137, 153, 181, 204, 226 

beliefs regarding, 15, 217 

contents of, 126, 137 

inherited, 125, 126 

“Medicine” bundle, 125, 126 

“Medicine making,” 127 

amare man,’ 43, 54, 125, 133, 135, 

22 

assistant at birth, 16, 19, 22, 218 

chief, 191 

feasting of, 57 

functions of, 119, 121, 126, 127, 133, 
135, 148, 222 

gift to, 7, 55, 222 

naming by, 62 

organizations, 126 

payment of, 137 

power of, 7, 8, 9 

“Medicine woman,” 126, 136, 227 
assistant at birth, 16, 22, 218 
functions of, 126, 185, 222 
training of, 136 

Men, clothing, 185, 229 
desirable qualities, 198, 231 


197; 


BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY 


[BuLu. 148 


Men, duties of, 170, 231 
mmarriageable age, 198, 231 
occupations of, 170, 228 
societies, 186, 226 
tattooing of, 141 
treatment to produce fertility, 7 
Menstruation, beliefs regarding, 71, 72 
first, 71, 72, 73, 74, 223 
Mental training, 83-98, 224-225 
Mescal pUHen (Lophophora williamsit), 
138 


Michelson, Truman, x1, XIv 
quotations from, 2, 25, 26, 27-28, 
38, 55, 72, °76, 77, 95, 126, 136, 
142, 167, 168, 217 
Micho, Sister Olivette, xv 
Midwife, 11, 16, 17, 19, 21, 185, 218, 227 
Milkweed down, stufting of, 182 
Milky Way, dead man’s road, 160 
Minor deities, 144 
Mirrors, use in signaling, 98 
Mix Hair, Ana, informant, xv 
Moccasins, 42, 48, 73, 79, 100, 103, 109, 
111, 162, 185, 186, 197, 202, 203, 
206, 207, 216, 220, 229 
making of, 170, 208 
measuring of, 90, 224 
offerings of, 57, 110, 144, 153 
Monogamy, 193 
Monroe, James and wife, informants, XV 
Months, lunar, 84-86, 224 
names of, 85 
Moon, beliefs regarding, 92 
phases of, 84, 224 
Mooney, James, Xi, XII, XIII 
quotations from, 1, 2, 90, 92, 93, 94, 
103, 112, 118, 114, 118, 124, 160, 
161, 176, 178, 180, 182, 186, 187, 
192, 217 
Moons, names of, 86 
unnamed for time counts, 84 
Morals, training in, 98-106, 225 
Morning star, beliefs regarding, 92 
start of day, 83, 224 
Moss, Alonzo, informant, Xv 
Moss, Paul, informant, xv 
Mother, name for Earth, 142, 145, 179 
Mother-in-law, 170, 197, 205, 208, 209, 
231 
Mothers, 218 
birth customs, 15-24, 218 
definition of, 48, 68 
instruction of sons, 71, 74, 77 
purification after birth, 21, 218 
suckling of, 44-46, 55, 220 
Mourning, 166-169, 228 
Mules, 176 
Mumps, treatment for, 140 
Murder, 104-105, 225 
recompense for, 105 
Muscular pains, treatment for, 140 
Mushrooms, oyster, 140 
Mutilation, 213, 227 
ceremonial, 135, 141 
mourning custom, 166, 167, 168, 
228 
punishment by, 212 


INDEX 


Na’kasiné’na (sage-brush men), tribal 
division, 186 
Name changing, 62-64, 66, 222-223 
as health restorative, 57, 60, 142, 
222, 227 
reasons for, 60, 63, 222 
Te EE AnE, curative practice, 57, 60, 


manner of, 62, 65 
Names, 66-67, 222-223 
Arapaho chiefs, 67 
men’s, 67 
origin of, 58-60, 64-65, 222 
used, 59-60, 222 
women’s, 67 
N&nihaxwii Lodge, men’s society, 118, 
119, 120, 144, 145, 189, 193 
Natural phenomena, interpretation of, 
90-94 


Nausea, treatment for, 139 
Navaho, 40, 78 
Navel bag, wearing of, 72, 73 
beliefs regarding, 14, 15 
treatment of, 16-17, 19, 20, 22-24, 
89, 218 
worn as amulet, 23, 218 
Nawaoinaha’na, tribal division, 187 
Nawathi’néha (southerners), tribal 
division, 186 
Na’/wunéna (southern men), tribal"divi- 
sion, 186 
Necklaces, 110 
Needle, darning, 27 
Nez Percés, 24 
Niadaéta-root, used for coughs, 137 
Nidda’, decoction made from, 138 
Niece, 199, 200 
RS npUDE ort, cause for separation, 214, 
23 
Northern Cheyenne, Cheyenne, 
Northern. 
Northern lights, beliefs regarding, 92, 
93, 224 


’ 

Nose, cutting of, 212, 213, 231 
piercing, not practiced, 24, 219 
rings, not worn, 24 

Notched sticks, time markers, 84 

Nursing, 44-46, 220 
customs regarding, 44-46, 220 


see 


Obscenity, used in teasing relatives, 211 
Oil of Neat’s Foot (oieum bubalum), 184 
Old Lady Red Pipe, informant, xv 
Old Lady Salt Friday, informant, x11, 
xv, 18, 70, 88, 135, 168-169, 188 
Old Man, Jerome, informant, xv 
Old nurse, midwife, 135 
Old people, respect for, 100, 101 
Omaha, 112 
One Bull, Jane, informant, xv 
One Bull, Oscar, informant, 30 
Origin myth, 1 
Orion, beliefs regarding, 92 
time told by, 83 
Ornaments, buried with dead, 102 
cradle, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 36 
silver, 78 
tipi cover, 180, 181, 182 


249 


Osage, 3 

Oscar White, keeper of the pipe, 153 
Otter, 109, 171 

Overshoes, 152 

Owls, 161 


Packing-each-other-over, game, 112 
Paducas, 2 
Padus serotina, 176 
Paint, black, 120, 145, 153 
ceremonial, 134, 227 
green, 153 
Indian, 145 
orange, 153 
red, 145, 153, 162, 167 
war, 134 
white, 120, 153 
yellow, 153 
Paiute Indians, 163 
burial of, 163 
Panaz quinquefolium, 55, 56 
Pants, 55, 144 
Parfleche, 110, 177, 179 
toy, 107 
Pawnees, 3, 102, 197 
Pemmican, preparation of, 177, 229 
Pendants, tipi ornaments, 182 
Peppermint plant, used as medicine, 16, 
57, 153, 178 
Personal belongings, buried with dead, 
164, 186, 228 
burning of, 167 
Pet animals, 109 
Peyote religion, 160 
Pheasants, 171 
Photographs, 169 
Physicians, 130, 135-136, 227 
Physiotherapists, medicine men, 135, 
227 


Pickaxes, buffalo bone, 169 
Pictographs, events recorded by, 86, 96, 
224 


Pictography, not formally taught, 225 
Pillows, buckskin, 182 
Pinching game, 113 
Pine, lodge pole (Pinus murrayana), 180 
white, 170 
Pinus murrayana, 180 
Pipe, 164, 174, 207 
ceremonial, 103, 104, 159, 225 
coverings of, 158, 159 
keeper of, 159, 161, 193 
sacred, 94, 121, 122, 130, 138, 141, 
142, 143, 145, 148, 153, 154, 156—- 
157, 158, 159, 187, 193, 230 
Pipe bag, toy, 107 
Pipe-bearers, 97 
Piper, Ralph, Northern Arapaho, 152 
Placenta, disposal of, 5, 17, 18, 20, 217, 
218 


Plains Indians, 87, 95, 103, 118, 149, 169, 
178 


Plates, 208 

board, 179 

rawhide, 179, 229 
Platte River, 3, 4 
Play, children’s, 106-109 


250 


Pleasant Men, band name, 187 
Pleiades, time measured by, 83, 224 
Pneumonia, 137, 138, 142 
Policemen, camp officials, 193, 230 
Polulus monilifera, 178 
Polyandry, 193, 230 
Polygamy, 196 
Polygyny, 193, 230 
Pony, buried with dead, 164 
child’s, 109, 225 
Porcupine quills, used as ornaments, 31, 
i 36, 73, 182, 185 
P~ nsed for ear piercing, 25, 27, 28 
Possessions of the dead, removal of, 165 
Postnatal interests, 24-44, 218-220 
Potion, given at birth, 16, 19, 218 
Pots, 208 
iron, 179 
Pottery, buried with dead, 164 
Poultices, use of, 137, 138, 227 
Powder Face, chief, 179, ‘191, 203-204, 
216 
Prairie-dogs, 171 
Prayers, curative treatment, 54, 56, 57, 
Pregnancy, taboos 
12-15, 217 
Prenatal period, 4-15, 217 
Prostitution, 9 
Protestant religion, 160 
Psy a aa medicine men, 


Pus 70-75, 222 
rules regarding, 68-70 
Pumpkins, 181 
Puppy, cooked, presented as gift, 70 
method of cooking, 176 
Purgatives, 135, 227 
Purification, 22, 153, 167 


Quarreling,*101, 224, 231 
Quick-to-anger, band name, 188 


Rabbit Dance, 39, 40 
Rabbit Lodge, men’s organization, 154, 
206 

Rabbits, 13, 47, 89, 102, 171, 172 
offerings of, 154 
skins of, 93 

Raccoons, 55, 220 

Racing, 110, 111, 226 

Rain, predictions of, 93-94, 224 

Soin ley, SneerpEstane of, 90, 91, 94, 


Rattles, 115, 138 
antelope, 36 
buffalo toes, 155 
gourd, 137 
hide, 153 
turtle, 72 
Ravens, 98 
Rawhide, making of, 183 
Red clay, medicinal use of, 56, 57, 219 
use as powder, 29 
Red River of the North, 2 
Red Willow Men, band name, 188 


connected with, 


135, 


BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY 


(Buty. 148 


Reineamation, beliefs regarding, 5, 6, 

1 

RelatianP. definition of, 194, 195, 
1 


Relatives, joking, 211 

Religion, taught by old men, 75, 223, 227 

Religion and supernatural powers, 142- 
160, 227 

Reservations, 4, 32, 33 

Respect shown to aged, 225 

Rewards, corrections, punishments, 78— — 
82 


Rheumatism, 137, 139, 140 
Ridiculous Men, band name, 188 
Ring and pin, game, 111, 226 
Rings, silver, 78 
wedding, lack of, 204, 207 
Roeder, Sister Immacula, xIv 
Roots, curative use of, 137 
wild, 175, 178, 179, 229 
Ropes, 170 
Row of Lodges, chief, 191 
Rowlodge, Henry, informant, xv 
Rowlodge, Jessie, informant, x11, xv, 26, 
27, 52-53, 85, 100, 112, 113, 119— 
121, 144-145, 164, 165 
Rowlodge, Lucy, informant, xv 
Run Behind, Susan, informant, xv 
Running, 110 


Sacks, burlap, offerings of, 152 
Sacrifice, personal, 141-142 
Sacrificial offerings, curative treatment, 
54, 57, 222, 227 
meat, 179 
mutilation, 70 
Saddle bag, toy, 107 
Saddle covering, buffalo hide, 169 
Saddles, 108, 170 
Sage, 153 
curative use of, 55, 56, 57, 140 
offerings of, 137 
wreaths, 153, 157 
Sage, Ed, informant, xv 
Sage, Odilia, informant, xv 
Sage, Sherman, informant, wil, XV. 4, 20, 
13, 24, 25, 39, 40, 47, 50, 51, 60, 
64-66, 68, 69, 75-76, 79, 80, 83, 
85, 89, 91, 92, 96-97, 100, 102) 
103, 104, 120, 124, 128, 129, 133, 
136, 145, 147, 160, 161, 164, 171, 
172, 175, 178, 187, 188, 189, 192. 
193, 194, 195, 197, 198, 200, 201-— 
202, 204, 208, 209, 210, 212-213, 
214-215, 216, 224 
Sage Bark, Grace, informant, XV 
Sage Bark, Nelson, informant, XV 
Sagebrush, decorations of, 157, 159 
Salt, 178 
Saretika, name for Arapaho, 176 
Saskatchewan River, 3 
Sealps, trophies, 203, 204 
Scarfs, neck, 155 
Schmidt, Wilhelm, quotations from, 154 
Scott, Hugh Lennox, quotations from, 
ai 161, 187-188 


INDEX 


Scouts, function of, 97, 98, 190, 192, 230 
Scrapers, elk-horn, 175, 183 
tin, 183 
wooden, 183 
Scythe, 184, 185 
Seasons, names of, 86, 224 
Seat backs, rawhide, 204 
Secundines, disposal of, 17, 18, 218 
Seger, John Homer, quotations from, 
150, 193 
Separation of man and wife, 211-216, 
231-232 
causes of, 211-216, 231-232 
children of, disposition, 215-216, 232 
public announcement of, 214, 232 
Servants, lack of, 53, 222 
Sex, prediction of, 11, 217 
Shakespeare, William, informant, xv 
Shamans, medicine men, 135, 227 
Sharp Nose, Winneshead, informant, 
xv, 50, 190,0291; 197 
Shawls, 110, 206 
doll, 107 
worn by women, 73, 74 
Sheep, 176, 184 
mountain, 179 
Shepherdia argentia, 177 
Shepherdia canadensis, 177 
Shields, 174, 181 
Shinny, game, 111, 114, 226 
sticks, 114 
Shirts, 55, 144, 170, 185, 229 
buckskin, 73 
Shoes, 144, 152 
Short Nose, Chief, 187, 191 
Shoshonie, 3, 4, 26, 64, 71, 74, 122, 133, 
146, 176, 191, 200 
Shotgun, Sam, informant, xv 
Siblings, 225 
Sickness, cure and prevention , 54-57, 


treatment by medicine man, 57, 222 
Signaling, 96-98, 225 
methods of, 96-98, 225 
smoke, 97 
Sinews, 120, 180 
Sioux, 2, 3, 26, 30, 39, 43, 53, 64, 103, 
106, 108, 114, 147, 163, 164, 180, 
204, 205 
Sister-brother relationship, 68-70, 223 
Sister-in-law, 197, 211, 231 
Sisters, 216 
definition of, 48, 68, 195 
Sitting Eagle, Alberta, informant, xv 
Skin dressing, method, 183-185 
woman’s job, 170, 183 
Skirts, men’s 157 
Skunks, 186 
beliefs regarding, 14 
Slaves, lack of, 53, 222 
Smallpox, 136 
‘‘Smellers,’”’ name given to Arapaho, 96 
Smith, Catherine, informant, xv 
Smoking, 62, 117, 207, 226 
ceremonial, 66, 128, 142, 147, 158, 
174, 227 
Snakes, 128 


251 


Snakes, Indian tribe, 3, 180 
Snow snake, game, 111, 112, 226 
Societies, age, 2, 117-123 
boy’s, 118, 226 
men’s, 118, 226 
women’s, 119 
“Soldiers,” helpers, 123 
Songs, 120 
gaming, 115 
Son-in-law, taboos regarding, 207, 208, 
209-211 
Sorcerers, 130 
Sororate, not compulsory, 196, 230, 231 
Soups, meat, 178 
Southern Cheyenne, 
Southern. 
Spades, buffalo bone, 169 
Spaniards, relations with, 4 
Spear, men’s society, 118, 122, 123 
Spear Dance, 122, 123 
Spears, 174, 181 
ceremonial, 123 
Spider-above, name for God, 144 
Sponsor of Sun Dance, 149, 156, 157, 
158, 159 
Spoons, buffalo-horn, 107, 229 
mountain sheep-horn, 179 
Spotted Face, chief, 189 
Spotted Horse, chief, 187, 191 
Spotted Wolf, chief, 189 
Spotted Wolf, Helen, informant, xv 
Spunky Men, band name, 188 
Squaw Dance, 39, 40 
Squirrels, ground, 106 
Staff, men’s society, 118, 121 
Star Falcons, boy’s lodge, 119 
Stars, boy’s society, 118, 119, 121 
Stealing, attitude toward, 102-104 
Sterility, 6-9, 10, 48, 217 
cause for separation, 214, 232 
proof of, 221 
treatment for, 8 
Sterilization, by fumes and magic, 


see Cheyenne, 


Stick, ceremonial, 122 
Stillbirths, burial of, 163, 218, 228 
Stingy House, trading post, 54 
Stirling, Matthew W., XIV 
Stockings, 152 
Stoic Lodge, men’s lodge, 121 
Stolen articles, return of, 103 
Stomachache, 137 
Stories, 115 
children’s, 116, 226 
war, 116, 120 
Storm, chief, 189 
Storm predictions, 93 
Strap, carrying, 186 
Strong, William Duncan, 
from, 2 
Suctions, curative treatment, 54, 55, 56, 
139, 140, 222, 227 
Suicide, 104, 161, 225, 228 
forced, 104 
Sumac, 30, 147 
Summary, 216-232 
Sun, beliefs regarding, 92 


quotations 


252 


Sun Danee, origin of, 148-149, 227 
prohibition of, 149 
religious dance, 2, 18, 25, 26, 27, 28, 
39, 40, 51, 52, 53, "57, 62, 66, 83, 
85, 86, 107, 120, 122, 127, 131, 
135, 141, 142, 148, 144, 145, 
148-151, 151-153, 154-160, 176, 
182, 187, 192, 193, 201, 202, 206, 
219, 221, 227 
Sun Dance lodge, 28, 57, 122, 123, 143, 
151, 152, 153,193 
diagram of, 156 (fig.) 
Sun” Dancers, rules regulating, 153 
torture of, 85, 86, 141, 150-151 
Sundials, lack of, 83 
“Sun dogs,’”’ weather forecasters, 93 
Supreme Being, 144, 227 
Sweat Lodge, men’s society, 118, 119, 
120, 189, 193 
preparation of, 129, 134, 141, 147, 
148 
songs, 148 
used in fasting, 129, 131, 141 
Sweaters, 152 
preating, ceremonial, 134, 141, 147-148, 
22 


medicinal, 141, 148, 227 
Sweetheart child, illegitimate child, 221 
Sweezy, Carl, informant, xv 
Swimming, 108, 110, 226 
Swings, 111, 226 


Tables, 99 
Taboos, conduct, 12-15, 47, 217 
copnixd with pregnancy, 12-15, 
iL 
food, 12, 13, 14, 46, 47, 217, 221 
in-law, 207, 208, 209-211, 231 
Talebearing, 101 
Tally sticks, 115 
Tanning, 183-185, 228 
Tattooing, method of, 141 
ornamental, 140, 141 
Tempest, chief, 191 
Tent, canvas, 182-183 
given as gift, 70 
peyote, 72 
Tepee, see Tipis. 
The-Mysterious-One, name for God, 144 
Thread, buffalo sinew, #169, 186 
cow sinew, 186 
Thunder, interpretation of, 90, 224 
Thunderbird, mythical character, 90, 91, 
224 


Time measurements, 83-88, 224 
Tinder, buffalo dung, 178, 229 
cottonwood pith, 178, 229 
Tipi cover, buffalo skin, 180, 181, 228 
dead wrapped in, 162 
decorations of, 180, 181, 182 
Tipis, 2, 15, 37, 61, 62, 65, 71, 72, 74, 
6, 91, 93, 100, 115, 121, 131, 156, 
163, 171, 179, 180-183, 192, 196, 
204, 207, 208, 228, 229, 230, 231 
balloon, 131 
birth, 18, 19, 217 
care of, 170 
ceremonial, 127, 133, 137, 230 


BUREAU OF AMERICAN ETHNOLOGY 


[BuLL. 148 


Tipis, construction of, 180-181, 229 
entrance, 180, 181, 203 
furnishing of, 202, 203, 206, 208, 


229, 231 

gifts of, 109, 197, 198, 202, 203, 206, 
215, 231 

pegged down, 180, 181 

play, 106 


removal of, 165 
ventilation, 180-181 
Tiqtup, abbreviation for b&t{qtu’be, 
game, 112 
Tobacco, 153 
acceptance of, 99 
gifts of, 98 
mixtures, 147 
offerings of, 137 
plug, 99, 187 
pouches, 73 
refusal of, 99 
smoking, 98-99 
use as medicine, 99 
Tomahawk, sacred, 122 
Tomahawks, Men’s society, 118, 119, 
120, 121, 122, 123, 226 
paraphernalia required for, 120 
Toothache, treatment for, 139 
Tops, toy, 106, 113, 226 
used by boys only, 113 
Totem sticks, 203 
Towels, 208 
Toys, 98, 106, 111 
whirling, 107 
Trade, with other tribes, 3, 4 
Travois, used in traveling, 38, 57, 219 
Treatments, curative, 54-57, 189-141 
Tribal divisions, 186-187, 230 
Tribal government, 186-193, 229-230 
Triplets, undesired, 47, 221 
Trophies, scalps, 204 
Trosper, Baron, informant, xv 
Trunks, 208 
Turkey, wild, 142, 175 
Turkey call, used in hunting, 175 
Turkey-wing fire fan, 179 
Turtle, 128 
heart, curative use of, 137 
tail, worn as head- dress, 137 
worn by girls, 72 
Twins, beliefs regarding, 6, 11, 12, 13, 46, 
47, 217, 221 
Tylor, Henry Lee, informant, xv 


Ugly-faced men, band ee 187, 188 
Uncle, definition of, 68, 195 
relations to family, 77, 205, 207 
Underwear, 152 
Unfaithfulness, beliefs regarding, 212 
cause for divorce, 215, 231 
Utaha, 180 
Utes, 3, 50, 53, 54, 59, 63, 96, 116, 131 


Vapor-bathing, 54, 222 
Villages, 174, 181 
Visions, 128-130 
Visiting, 115-117 
Voting, men only, 189 


INDEX 


Walker, Daniel, 155 

Wallis, ‘Wilson De XIV 

War bonnets, 123, 162 

War clubs, 120 

Warren, Cecelia, informant, xv 

Warts, belief regarding, 103 

Wash basin, 208 

Washstands, 208 

Water-dogs, 128 

Water-Dripping-Old-Men, see Keepers- 
of-the-Pipe. 

Water-Sprinklers, see Water-Dripping- 
Old-Men. 

Water vessels, buffalo hide, 169 

Waterman, Joe, 154 

Watermelons, 89 

Waxubaa, use for stomachache, 137 

Weaning, 46, 220, 221 

ee Pear, keeper of the sacred pipe, 

18 


Weather, forecasting of, 92-94, 224 
prophets, 92, 224 

Wheel, sacred, 149, 153, 159 

Whipping, rare, 78, 81, 224 
reasons for, 212, 213, 214, 231 
resented, 43 

Whips, 170 

Whirlwinds, beliefs regarding, 161 

Whistles, 175 
ceremonial, 121, 122, 157 

White Crow, chief, 189 

White Man, chief, 191 

White Plume, Hannah, informant, xv 

White Plume, Mae, informant, xv 


White-Man-Above, name for "God, 144} Yellow Plume, Agnes, 


Widows, marriage of, 197 
Wild cat, skin used, "42, 220 


253 


Will-of-the-wisps, 134 
Willow, red, 147 
Willow, use ‘of, 30, 35, 148 
Wind River Reservation, 4, 32, 33, 34, 
108, 151, 153, 154, 199, 317 
Winnebagos, 39 
Wise-One-Above, Cheyenne God, 145 
Wissler, Clark, quotations from, 137 
Witch doctors, 131 
Wolf, Ann, informant, MV, GO Oo: 
36, 37-38, 39, 91, 92, 107, 110, 
190-191, 195 
Wolf Moceasin, informant, 71, 135, 145, 
160, 164, 190 
Wolves, band name, 187 
Women, clothing, 185, 229 
games, 114 
influence of, 230 
mourning customs, 166-169 
occupations of, 170, 181, 228, 229 
participation in lodges, 120, 156, 159 
standard of virtue, 2 
tattooing of, 141 
treatment for fertility, 7 
Woolworth, Arnold, informant, xm, xv, 
62, 85, 115, 116, 121-122, 161, 163, 
165, 166, 171-172 
Woolw orth, Charles, informant, Xv 
Woolworth, Susie, informant, XV 
Wrestling, 110, 226 


Years, not numbered, 86 

Yellow Bear, chief, 191 

Yellow Horse, chief, 191 

informant, XII, 
xv, 30, 35, 36, 38, 39, 51, 107, 110, 
168, 186, 190 


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