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204 McLOUGHLIN AND OLD OREGON

For a long time Tiloukaikt had shown good evidence of conversion. He longed for the beautiful and mysterious rite of baptism. But Dr. Whitman put him off. "Too many wives, Tiloukaikt, too many wives. God says one man, one wife."

"Ugh-ugh!" said Tiloukaikt. "Ugh-ugh! "echoed the Indians. Then he went away and stayed for weeks.

"He has talked enough about your bad hearts," said a priest at Walla Walla. "He ought to have baptized you long ago."

One day Tiloukaikt rode to the mission on his spotted Cayuse, opened the door, walked in, and sat down on the mat before the fire. "Well, Tiloukaikt, are you going to put away your wives?" asked Dr. Whitman. The Indian continued gazing into the bed of driftwood. He spread his taper fingers before the blaze. His hands were smaller and more shapely than the squaws' who dug the camas.

"Cannot cannot," said the savage, slowly shaking his head. "One old wife no work any more, old, old. She mother of sons, tall sons," gesturing high above his head. "I take care her. One young wife she strong. She take care me. Three wives dig camas, tan robe, pick berry, pack salmon, take care all."

"You can be married to one and take care of the rest until they find husbands," suggested Dr. Whitman.

"Ugh-ugh-ugh! "grunted the old chief, shaking his head again and again. "Much squaw much camas."

"Must be white men," said Five Crows at the lodge that night. "One wife, wood house, big plantation, cattle."

Tiloukaikt wrinkled his vinegar face. On Sundays