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the Indians came to the mission for ten and fifteen miles around, except a few to watch the lodges. Sometimes hundreds met after the buffalo hunt. Tiloukaikt stayed away.

"It was good when we knew nothing but to eat, drink, and sleep. Now it is bad, bad, bad," growled Tiloukaikt, poking around the hoes and shovels in the lodge. "Prayers no bring guns and blankets. Me no pray for nothing."

He kicked every implement of civilization out of his lodge. He trampled up his garden in a rage. He struck the bread out of the women's hands bread they had learned to bake at Mrs. Whitman's. "Bad, bad, bad. Lazy squaw, get kouse, camas, salmon," raising his frightful double-thonged whip, "Go."

Jason Lee had said, "My Indians are so anxious for civilized food that they will even dig up potatoes after they are planted and eat them." Tiloukaikt kicked the potatoes into the river.

The old chief watched Mrs. Whitman with jealous eye. "Doct' Whit'n, why you take you wife where you go? Why not go alone? See, I leave my wives, they work, pack fish, camas, skins. Why you treat her so like big chief?"

"It is good for her to go with me," said Dr. Whitman. "We are one. Wives are given us for companions."

"Ugh-ugh! "growled Tiloukaikt. "That was Adam. God made him wife from rib. These wives not our rib. These not one with us."

In a wretched little hut constructed by herself a pretty young squaw lay dying in childbirth. Dr. Whitman heard of it, snatched his surgical case, hastened to the spot.