After we had been thus frescoed, we were salved, and Pahokuk placed strings of blue wampum around our necks. He lit a pipe, held the stem to Doc’s lips; then to mine, and finally to Verrieul’s.

“My sons,” he said, “you are now flesh of our flesh and bone of our bone. By the ceremony performed this night, every drop of white blood has been washed from your veins. You are taken into the Sac nation and adopted into a great family. One of you, being a shaman, is received in the room and place of a great man, and by this ceremony receives his name—Wasawmesaw, the Roaring Thunder. To the others I give the names”—he touched me with the stem of his pipe—“Wahongashee, No Fool, and”—he touched Verrieul—“Miaketa, Little Soldier.

“My sons, you have now nothing to fear: we are now under the same obligations to love, support and defend you that we are to love and defend one another. Therefore you are to consider yourselves as a part of the Sac people.”

Neither Doc nor I believed what Pahokuk said—neither as to the white blood being washed out of us, nor as to being supported and defended. Yet from that day they made no distinction between us and themselves. If they had plenty of food and clothing, we had plenty. If there was a scarcity, we all shared one fate.

… It is easy enough to be an Indian in the summer, if one can be a warrior and travel to the eastward, unburdened by women, children, old men and innumerable dogs; sleeping comfortably beneath an overturned canoe; taking fish and shooting game whenever the need arises.

But we three captives became Indians in the winter; and in the winter it is hard work being an Indian—harder than building ships, or sailing them, or trading, or any other calling I know.

The house, in which one end of its single long room had been given to us for our own, was seldom free of smoke, either by night or by day. When we tried to sleep, the place seemed alive with dogs, all determined to lie heavily against a human. Thus we were continually waking to cuff a dog that refused to be discouraged, only to have him pillow himself against us when we were once more quiet. Moreover Doc’s admirers and patients freely came in at all hours to sit silently against the wall of the house and stare at him.