white and the free persons almost invariably being red. "Forgive me, Master," she said to Cuwignaka.
"All right," he said.
She straightened her body, but remained on her knees, before us. "He beat me!" she said. She was naked, except for Canka's collar. Her small wrists were bound before her body, with several tight loops of a rawhide thong.
"Stand," I said, "and turn, slowly.
She did.
"Kneel," I said.
She knelt.
"Yes," I said. "There is little doubt about it. You have been beaten."
"It is not funny," she said.
"Apparently with a kaiila quirt," I said.
"Yes," she said. Some of the braiding marks were still visible in her flesh.
"I thought he liked me," she said.
"You are still alive," I pointed out.
"He took away my clothes, and tied me to a whipping stake, on my knees!" she said.
"That is not uncommon in camps of the red savages, for
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white female slaves," I said. "Besides you would not want you clothes bloodied."
She looked at me, angrily.
"Your hair was thrown forward," I said.
"Yes," she said.
"That is so it will not cushion the blows which might fall on your back," I said.
"Doubtless," she said.
"Too," I said, "you would not want to get blood on your hair."
"Of course not," she said.
"Do you think that you are the first girl who has ever been whipped?" I asked.
"No," she said.
"Apparently you did not spend all of your time on your knees, your hair thrown forward, your head and belly down."
"No," she said. "I was struck from my knees by almost the first stroke. I twisted and cried out. I must have supplied much amusement to the women of the red savages who were watching."
"They hate white slave girls," I said. "They enjoy seeing them beaten."
"Then I could cry out no more," she said. "I must simply lie there--"
"And take your punishment--?"
"Yes, and take my punishment--"
"As a slave--?"
"Yes," she said, "--as a slave."
I smiled. This was apparently the first full beating to which the former Miss Millicent Aubrey-Welles, the former deutante from Pennsylvania, had ever been subjected. It had not only physically punished her, and well, but, too, obviously, she had felt it as keenly humiliating. It had not only hurt her, but had horrified and scandalized her.
"You seem outraged," I said.
"I am," she said.
"Why?" I asked.
"I was beaten," she said.
"Do you find yourself eager for a repetition of the experience?" I asked.
"No," she said. "No!"
"The experience, then, was instructive?" I said.
"Yes," she said.
"Why were you beaten?" I asked.
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"I cut meat poorly, out on the prairie," she said.
"Wasnapohdi warned you," I said. "You would not let her help. You would not listen."
Winyela squirmed angrily, on her knees in the dust, her small wrists bound tightly before her.
"You were displeasing," I said. "Be pleased that your punishment was not more severe than it was."
Winyela looked up at me, tears in her eyes.
"You might have been fed to sleen," I said.
She shuddered.
"Do you not realize, pretty Winyela," I said, "that you are only a slave?"
"He did not even give me back my clothes," she said.
"These are holiday times," I said. "Surely you have seen more than one white female slave naked in the camp."
"He even left me bount," she said, lifting her secured wrists.
"That is perhaps a bit of extra discipline," I said.
"I am ashamed," she said. "I want to hide. Please let me go into your lodge."
I considered this.
"Beaten slave," said a white female, in a scandalously short shirtdress, and collar, a brunet slave of the Wismahi, sneeringly, to Winyela.
"You may enter the lodge," I said to Winyela.
"Thank you," she whispered, and crept within. Cuwignaka remained outside. He had pegged down three hides and, one after the other, alternating his efforts, was scraping them. All about the camp hides such as these, pegged down, and meat racks, heavy with sheets of
"All right," he said.
She straightened her body, but remained on her knees, before us. "He beat me!" she said. She was naked, except for Canka's collar. Her small wrists were bound before her body, with several tight loops of a rawhide thong.
"Stand," I said, "and turn, slowly.
She did.
"Kneel," I said.
She knelt.
"Yes," I said. "There is little doubt about it. You have been beaten."
"It is not funny," she said.
"Apparently with a kaiila quirt," I said.
"Yes," she said. Some of the braiding marks were still visible in her flesh.
"I thought he liked me," she said.
"You are still alive," I pointed out.
"He took away my clothes, and tied me to a whipping stake, on my knees!" she said.
"That is not uncommon in camps of the red savages, for
page 69
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
white female slaves," I said. "Besides you would not want you clothes bloodied."
She looked at me, angrily.
"Your hair was thrown forward," I said.
"Yes," she said.
"That is so it will not cushion the blows which might fall on your back," I said.
"Doubtless," she said.
"Too," I said, "you would not want to get blood on your hair."
"Of course not," she said.
"Do you think that you are the first girl who has ever been whipped?" I asked.
"No," she said.
"Apparently you did not spend all of your time on your knees, your hair thrown forward, your head and belly down."
"No," she said. "I was struck from my knees by almost the first stroke. I twisted and cried out. I must have supplied much amusement to the women of the red savages who were watching."
"They hate white slave girls," I said. "They enjoy seeing them beaten."
"Then I could cry out no more," she said. "I must simply lie there--"
"And take your punishment--?"
"Yes, and take my punishment--"
"As a slave--?"
"Yes," she said, "--as a slave."
I smiled. This was apparently the first full beating to which the former Miss Millicent Aubrey-Welles, the former deutante from Pennsylvania, had ever been subjected. It had not only physically punished her, and well, but, too, obviously, she had felt it as keenly humiliating. It had not only hurt her, but had horrified and scandalized her.
"You seem outraged," I said.
"I am," she said.
"Why?" I asked.
"I was beaten," she said.
"Do you find yourself eager for a repetition of the experience?" I asked.
"No," she said. "No!"
"The experience, then, was instructive?" I said.
"Yes," she said.
"Why were you beaten?" I asked.
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"I cut meat poorly, out on the prairie," she said.
"Wasnapohdi warned you," I said. "You would not let her help. You would not listen."
Winyela squirmed angrily, on her knees in the dust, her small wrists bound tightly before her.
"You were displeasing," I said. "Be pleased that your punishment was not more severe than it was."
Winyela looked up at me, tears in her eyes.
"You might have been fed to sleen," I said.
She shuddered.
"Do you not realize, pretty Winyela," I said, "that you are only a slave?"
"He did not even give me back my clothes," she said.
"These are holiday times," I said. "Surely you have seen more than one white female slave naked in the camp."
"He even left me bount," she said, lifting her secured wrists.
"That is perhaps a bit of extra discipline," I said.
"I am ashamed," she said. "I want to hide. Please let me go into your lodge."
I considered this.
"Beaten slave," said a white female, in a scandalously short shirtdress, and collar, a brunet slave of the Wismahi, sneeringly, to Winyela.
"You may enter the lodge," I said to Winyela.
"Thank you," she whispered, and crept within. Cuwignaka remained outside. He had pegged down three hides and, one after the other, alternating his efforts, was scraping them. All about the camp hides such as these, pegged down, and meat racks, heavy with sheets of
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