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I put the weasel-skin cap on his head

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I put the weasel-skin cap on his head.jpg A Buffalo HuntThumbnailsAs we two girls sat on the floor, with ankles to the right, as Indian women always sitA Buffalo HuntThumbnailsAs we two girls sat on the floor, with ankles to the right, as Indian women always sitA Buffalo HuntThumbnailsAs we two girls sat on the floor, with ankles to the right, as Indian women always sitA Buffalo HuntThumbnailsAs we two girls sat on the floor, with ankles to the right, as Indian women always sitA Buffalo HuntThumbnailsAs we two girls sat on the floor, with ankles to the right, as Indian women always sitA Buffalo HuntThumbnailsAs we two girls sat on the floor, with ankles to the right, as Indian women always sitA Buffalo HuntThumbnailsAs we two girls sat on the floor, with ankles to the right, as Indian women always sit
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I lifted the skin door—it was an old-fashioned one swinging on thongs from the beam overhead—and entered the lodge. Hanging Stone sat on his couch against the puncheon fire screen. I went to him and put the weasel-skin cap on his head. The young man who was to be my husband was sitting on his couch, a frame of poles covered with a tent skin. Cold Medicine and I went over and shyly sat on the floor near-by.

Author
Waheenee--An Indian Girl's Story
By Waheenee
as told to Gilbert Livingstone Wilson
Illustrator: Frederick N. Wilson
Published in 1921
Available from gutenberg.org
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