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"Because she was never tied to a tecast" said the Indians.

"Because she has better food and better care," said Mrs. Whitman. How she pitied the poor Indian women, struggling along with burdens greater than they could bear and a little baby tied on top of all. No wonder they did not thrive when the overworked mother herself was ready to sink with exhaustion. And the little graves it was shocking how many died from pure neglect.

In those days it was a familiar sight to see Dr. Whitman riding from plantation to plantation with little Alice on the horse before him. She was fair as her mother, and her flossy hair hung in silky yellow curls. Mrs. Pambrun sent a present of a rocking-chair to Mrs. Whitman and a little chair for Alice. Like a fairy queen the little girl sat in her chair in the Indian school, beating time with her tiny hands and singing the Nez Perce hymns. Her readiness to learn amazed them, but not more than the aptness of the Cayuse children amazed Mrs. Whitman.

"They are good-looking, quite handsome children," said Mrs. Whitman. "To sit at a little distance and hear them sing one would not think he was in a heathen land."

Sometimes Mrs. Whitman took baby Alice and went to Tauitau's lodge to help them sing. It was a compound lodge, several lodges together, made into a long hall of skins and rush mats, with a fire in the centre. Here Dr. Whitman talked to the Indians and Mrs. Whitman sang with little Alice on her lap. In the old New York days Dr. Whitman could not sing, but here he discovered a new talent, and in rich tenor, led the Indian chorus.