home, Rosebud Agency. Photo Lot 24, Inv. 00510200
A bitter cold night, water froze by my head. I slept poorly.
To breakfast at Asanpi's married daughters clean log house,
two or three rooms - the walls lined with set patterns of calico,
sewing machine, stove, table and chairs, clock, and pictures
from newspapers. Buffalo meat, bread, molasses and coffee. I
ate of the latter.
I had determined to call on the agent but found he had sent
a messenger telling me to report.
I took all the party, Asanpi included, and went to the stockade.
A horrid looking fellow, heavily armed, with a big nose and
mouth, and supposed to be terrible hailed us. When he came out
he unbuckled the gate but gave us no authority to enter. I smiled
and bowed to him. He looked good naturedly at me. Then we all
stood without this locked up enclosure. Bye and bye a white
man came out of one of the buildings, I asked if Mr. Cook was
at home? He said, "Yes". I said, "I want to see
him". He opened the gate, I walked in with all the party.
We made our way to the house, but a man was seen waving his
arm and Asanpi was alarmed at my going to the house. A woman
came to the door, I asked if Mr. Cook was at home? She said,
"Yes". She offered to send for him, but as the Indians
were in terror I went on. Again another fence and a gate which
I opened and knocked at the door of a queer house. The door
was opened by a man. I asked for Mr. Cook. Seated at a desk
was a long haired, shrewd faced, uncultured man. He received
me well enough. I introduced S. and Mr. T. When I mentioned
the latter he passed on to "How" the Indians. When
he got through, I then formally introduced Mr. T. I stated that
I arrived last evening too tired to call on him but came early
this A.M. to present my letters that he might know my mission.
I remarked that the weather was very unpleasant here and he
said, "I regulate everything here but the weather".
I did not take at that time his grand speech, I laughed and
said, "Do you, that is pleasant" or the like. When
I showed him the letter from the Secretary, he quite changed
his tone - showed me the various offices; the outer one where
he transacts business had several desks, 3 or 4. At the one
in the corner sat a lad apparently some 15 or 16 but really
19, I believe. He is the miller - draws his salary, but there
is no mill to work.
The second room opens off at the right side of the back wall
and is halved and pigeonholed, here records and stationery are
kept. The other end of this division is the agents private
office - a high door opens into what he calls his council room.
The Indians come there and talk to him &c. &c. He gave
me a key to enter the stockade.
There are public criers, old men. They often wear a handkerchief
about their head tied in front. They called to feasts, dances,
announce the giving away of horses, return the thanks of the
receiver. When a camp is to move they call the order and time.
When I was at Spotted-tails and he gave the order for
a dance, the crier, an old man, got up and went out. When we
reached the Feast, he went out and cried, and told those who
were coming to hurry, as there seemed to be some tardy ones.