The Cogewea Project

<pre>Welcome to The Cogewea Project</pre> You are about to play a beta scholarly edition of Mourning Dove's //Cogewea// (1927), the first western written by an Indigenous woman. Because this beta version only contains two chapters from the novel, the following synopsis will, hopefully, help you to navigate these chapters: The eponymous hero, an Indigenous woman of multi-racial heritage, is respected for her talents and skills by all of the cowboys she works with on a Montana ranch, most of whom are also of multi-racial heritage. The antagonist is Alfred Densmore, a Euroamerican, who joins the ranch as an inept ranch-hand. Densmore, as a metaphorical representation of colonization, tries to steal Cogewea’s property and money. ''Menu'' [[Introduction: Gaming the Scholarly Edition]] [[Tutorial]] [[Chapter XVIII: Swa-lah-kin The Frog Woman]] [[Chapter XIX The Story of Green-blanket Feet]] [[Acknowledgments]] [[Works Cited]] (set: $inv to (a:))

Double-click this passage to edit it.

Go to [[Chapter XIX The Story of Green-blanket Feet]] ''CHAPTER XVIII: SWAH-LAH-KIN THE FROG-WOMAN'' A week had passed since the roundup outfit left the ranch. The lengthening days brought with them the indubitable evidence of an early and short lived autumn. The deep green leaves were transforming to mellow golden and the blaze of crimson glory. The grass was sere, with no indications of the usually short, velvety after-crop so peculiar to the arid range. The song birds no longer trilled among the pines of the Pend d'Oreille. Flown to the South land, their notes were supplanted by the discordant honk and scream of the migratory water-fowl, [[echoing along the winding shore]], [[//You decide to take a closer look at the Flathead Reservation//->Gained Knowledge of Territories and Treaties]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

Return to [[Chapter XVIII: Swa-lah-kin The Frog Woman]] ''CHAPTER XIX. THE STORY OF GREEN-BLANKET FEET'' And he wooed her with caresses, Wooed her with his smile of sunshine, With his flattering words he wooed her, With his sighing and his singing. -//Hiawatha// ''[[A brief note]] from your editors before you move forward with the game...'' (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

Densmore often went shooting on the big flats where numerous small lakes were in evidence. To the surprise of all, he proved a successful hunter and bagged a goodly number of both ducks and prairie chickens along with the occasional goose. Badger, a noted wolf-hound and Bringo, were his constant companions on these excursions, ofttimes chasing down a wily coyote and the fleet footed jack rabbit. Densmore had also become handy with the rod, bringing home fine strings of fish. Stemteema was kept bountifully supplied with these delicacies, nor did the sportsman forgo an opportunity of ingratiating himself in her favor. But the ancient women received the gifts with stoic indifference and with doubtful gratitude. Perhaps it was more to please Cogewea, that she accepted the offerings, regarding them as part of her daily food supply. The girl sometimes accompanied the donor in these presentation visits, acting as interpreter. The keen-witted grandmother discerned that her grand child was [[growing more fond of the hated Shoyapee]]; Shoyapee(mouseout:"Shoyapee")[Mourning Dove's collaborator, often called her editor, Lucullus McWhorter states frankly in his end notes for the novel that the meaning is shared across tribes of the Pacific Northwest: the shoyapee describes white people as greedy hogs who consume everything in their path. Although McWhorter genders the word as "he," Dr. Jeanette Armstrong, Okanagan scholar, activist, and storyteller, explains that gender is not an issue in oral stories because "it is the role that provided a focus and is embodied in a relationship and it acts to reference the characteristics represented in the captikʷɬ or oral story" Armstrong adds that the Shoyapee is also a representation of the malevolent greed and arrogance endemic to the colonial process, and is, therefore, not a racial epithet(204)] You added to your inventory of knowledge! (Link: "Learned Definition of Shoyapee")[(set: $inv to $inv + (a: "Learned Definition of Shoyapee"))] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

Densmore was discoursing on the charms of city life as they passed the tepee door. Inside, Stemteema was crooning an Indian lullaby, which intoned musically with the sleepy baby prattle of Denny. The song was hushed suddenly. No bird carols greeted them as they approached the stream, and the squirrels and chipmunks appeared too busy storing their winter hoards to notice the intrusion. Following the bank for a mile or so, they came to a promising pool, deep and clear, at the base of an over-hanging cliff. Here they prepared to cast. "The Kale that I land the first one," challenged Cogewea as the two flies struck the water simultaneously. [["Taken!" was the quick acceptance]]. (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

Scarcely had Densmore spoken when his line cut the water in a straight drive, the reel spinning yard after yard of singing cord. Far out in the stream a silvery form leaped, scintillating in a radiant curve, sending up a shower of sparkling spray as the fish clove the water. The played out line slacked and the fisherman reeled in, minus hook and fly. "King of the Pend d'Orielle!" exclaimed Cogewea. "How gamy! you...." Her own line spun with a musical purr and deftly handling the reel, she slowly brought the stampeding salmonoid too, in a wide, sweeping circle. The battle was on, but with a skill attained only through experience she finally landed [[a shimmering beauty of rare size]]. (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

and that she was also endeavoring to win her regard to him with greater favor. These symptoms she noticed with increased perturbation. and had spoken to Julia on the subject. But the older sister, who had given the situation scant or no thought during the press of summer work, was inclined to regard the possible alliance in a different light. She, herself, had married a white man who was good and kind to her, and consequently [[her racial prejudices were not so strongly pronounced]]. (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"Lost! Shoyapee!" she taunted. "Lost two ways; your trout and your wager." "I will lay an even five thousand against your hand that the next is mine," bantered the Easterner as he adjusted a new fly. " I fade you!" was the prompt acceptance. Again they cast and again she won. "Please ante!" laughed the girl, as with a dextrous movement of thumb and fingers, the catch was rendered unconscious before removed from the hook. "Would you have been as prompt in delivering , had I won?" "An honest gambler is supposed to meet all obligations unequivocally," was the evasive answer. "Nor will the true sport deny to an unfortunate loser the opportunity of retrieving," [[came the ready counter]]. (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"Certainly! My digits and winnings against an even ten thousand." "You are mine!" was the confident response as the fly was twirled over the water for "luck". "Now listen for the wedding chimes." The game was growing wild and fascinating. This time the Easterner lost only by the fraction of a minute. "Betting is off!!" declared Cogewea when Densmore proposed a still higher wager. "those chimes are remote, for I don't believe that you could redeem even now." "There is where your reckoning is faulty," a crafty light in his eyes. "I am nothing near my limit. [[I can make good several such doubles]]." (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"Well, I make no more wagers today," in a tone of finality. "My tahmahnawis tells me that the signs are bad. "Besides, we have enough fish already. There are still a few left of your yesterday's catch and it is wrong and wasteful to hook them just for misconceived sport. Indians take only enough for food and no more." "Wait a moment! I think there is a big shiner by that rock and I want him." "Aw! come on and don't be selfish. Leave a few for the next fellow who may really need them. Let's rest on this mossy log and watch the river as it glides on its way to the ocean. You can tell me something of interest." //Care to make your own wager?// [[You wager Densmore stops fishing!]] [[You wager Densmore keeps fishing!]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

//Yes and you definitely chose well - here's why// (click-replace:"Yes and you definitely chose well - here's why")[Cogewea redirects Densmore's attention from the promise of consuming more and more fish to sitting with her, which he agrees to only to further his plan to seduce her for her apparent money. More than this, we know that a Shoyapee, which Cogewea calls Densmore playfully, is a word for settler-colonists who consume everything in their path (you learned the word "shoyapee" not too long ago; check your inventory below!). This definition, combined with Dr. Armstrong's explanation of Frog Woman as a metaphorical reference to disrespectful, unwanted, and aggressive settler behaviour, offers a dire warning about over-consumption. Interdependent regeneration and sustainability is key to Okanagan philosophy and knowledge systems. Densmore, as the all-consuming shoyapee and invasive frog woman, does not understand or care to understand (237). Cogewea's Okanagan knowledge of how to care for resources, such as fish, in a sustainable manner, is lost on the Shoyapee. Densmore encapsulates settler greed, aggression, rudeness, and selfishness. However, this is not a racialized casting of Densmore as evil BECAUSE he is white. ''SPOILER ALERT'' If this were so, as Dr. Armstrong explains, Frenchy, the white French man, would not have married Mary, who does not suffer any intrusion by colonial forces.] [[Continue reading as Densmore angers Cogewea...]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

Indeed, you might think so, but then you might have underestimated Cogewea's power to control Densmore! (click-replace: "Indeed, you might think so, but then you might have underestimated Cogewea's power to control Densmore!")[//While she can manipulate him, she fails to teach him how to be a respectful community member. After Cogewea scolds Densmore, he torments a toad, and we are introduced to the story of Swa-lah-kin or Frog Woman. This oral story frames Densmore in the following way: 'Offensive arrogant forwardness, taking liberties without invitation in the aggressive land seizures, characteristic of the overarching circumstances of colonization, casts the Shoyapee in the role of the ugly, unwanted creature' (Armstrong 204).While Densmore does not keep fishing, ''SPOILER ALERT'' it's clear than unlike Frenchy, the white frenchmen who is respectful to all members of the community and his environment, Densmore's mind has been completely colonized by white supremacy. That is, he believes in his manifest destiny to consume and take all that he wants.//] [[Continue reading as Densmore angers Cogewea...]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last) [[Works Cited]]

No further urging was required, and Densmore, reeling his line, joined her on the fallen forest giant. Spying a small land-toad, with the end of his pole he mischeviously turned it over and over towards her. Noting the action, the girl exclaimed in agitation: "Oh! Alfred! Don't do that to the poor little helpless thing. Besides, it will bring a storm sure. Indians claim that if you place a frog on its back, it will cause a storm without doubt. There is an old legend which tells the story of //Swa-lah-kin// the 'frog woman.' It is in connect with the sun; that if you turn the frog thus, she will look up at the sun and flirt with him as in the beginning. He hates her so badly that he will wrinkle his brow and a tempest gathers which wets the earth.This forces her odious flippancy to find shelter [[out of his sight]]. (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

Densmore picked up a fragment of bark and getting the Batrachian on it, threw both into the stream with the observation: "I guess with that cold bath the little miss will do no more flirting for a while. Anyhow it is too clear for rain today." Cogewea glanced upward. The sky was blue and limpid with the exception of a single diminutive cloud which appeqared to draw nearer to the hot, blazing orb of day, pointing to it, she admonished: "I told you that she would bring rain. See that little cloud? it will unfold and spread until the heavens are covered in no time. It is her! the Swa-lah-kin of myth. She has flirted with the Sun and we will get soaked. There will be a downpour swift and without warning. You have done the mischief and [[spoiled our afternoon]]." Swa-lah-kin(mouseout:"Swa-lah-kin")[ Dr. Armstrong provides a summary of Swa-lah-kin's story: //Frog woman is a malicious ugly old maid who pursues the sun. He despises and ignores her. His younger brother, the night sun (the moon) while hungry and traveling long comes upon her tipi and enters and addresses her respectfully as a relative, as is the custom for a man to speak to a woman stranger. First he calls her sister, then auntie and then grandmother, with no response. Finally, frustrated by her disrespect in ignoring his proper approach, he sarcastically says that if she isn‘t any of those she must be his lover, as that is the only other alternative relationship. She immediately leaps up and attaches herself to his beautiful face, marring it forever and sealing an unwanted relationship for all time, having taken calculated advantage of his situation//.Densmore embodies rudeness, intrusion, and aggression, all elements of the Frog-Woman story(204)] You added to your inventory of knowledge! (Link: "Learned Oral Story Swa-lah-kin")[(set: $inv to $inv + (a: "Learned Oral Story Swa-lah-kin"))] [[Works Cited]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

Your inventory contains (print: $inv.join(",")). (click: "Gained Knowledge of Territories and Treaties")[(display: "Gained Knowledge of Territories and Treaties")] (click: "Learned Definition of Shoyapee")[(display: "Learned Definition of Shoyapee")] (click: "Learned Oral Story Swa-lah-kin")[(display: "Learned Oral Story Swa-lah-kin")] (click: "Historical and Ongoing Violence Against Indigenous Women")[(display: "Historical and Ongoing Violence Against Indigenous Women")] (click: "Catch 22 as tool of colonization")[(display: "Catch 22 as tool of colonization")] (click: "Learned about Land Allotment")[(display: "Learned about Land Allotment")] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

(if: (passage:)'s name is "inventory")[] (else-if: (passage:)'s tags contains "donotshowinventory")[] (else:)[Check your [[Inventory]].]

//You discover the Pend d'Oreille is part of the Flathead Reservation, where you know //Cogewea// is set.The Flathead encompasses the (link: "Federated Salish and Kootenai Tribes")[(gotoURL: "http://www.csktribes.org/")]. The Federated Salish and Kootenai tribes and covers 1.317 million acres of territory in Northwest Montana, as per the Hellgate Treaty. The Hellgate Treaty (1855) was negotiated in bad faith, with poor interpeters, conflicting cultural values and a lack of respect for the wishes of the tribes (Bigart and Woodcock). This treaty drastically curtailed the territory of the Bitterroot Salish, the Pend d’Oreille, and the Kootenai tribes. No tribe or nation in the United States could escape Indian Removal, a genocidal series of policies designed to steal land from Indigenous peoples. Mourning Dove sets //Cogewea// on land occupied primarily by Indigenous people, creating an Indigenous-centric space. For non-Indigenous readers, it is almost impossible to understand the relationship between land and indigeneity.However, Indian removal did not severe connection to the land. Land that was not traditional territory can be reindigenized and regenerated through discourse, dialogue, and story, in accordance with Okanagan knowledge systems, explains Dr. Jeanette Armstrong. The popular western is set on the frontier, which is often Indigenous territory. Mourning Dove indigenizes the frontier and, in turn, reindigenizes and regenerates the reader's concept of the frontier from a space for settler colonization to an invigorated territory of multi-racial, white, and Indigenous peoples, sustainably living together.// (Link: "Gained Knowledge of Territories and Treaties")[(set: $inv to $inv + (a: "Gained Knowledge of Territories and Treaties"))] Return to the story [[echoing along the winding shore]] [[Works Cited]]

Mourning Dove's collaborator, often called her editor, Lucullus McWhorter states frankly in his end notes for the novel that the meaning is shared across tribes of the Pacific Northwest: the shoyapee describes white people as greedy hogs who consume everything in their path. Although McWhorter genders the word as "he," Dr. Jeanette Armstrong, Okanagan scholar, activist, and storyteller, explains that gender is not an issue in oral stories because it's the " it is the role that provided a focus and is embodied in a relationship and is acts to reference the characteristics represented in the captikʷɬ or oral story" Armstrong agrees with McWhorter but adds that the Shoyapee is also a representation of the malevolent greed and arrogance endemic to the colonial process, and is, therefore, not a racial epithet(204)

"I supposed that you were enough educated to know better than to believe all those ridiculous signs of your people," chided the Easterner. "What if I am slightly educated!" came the retort with a tinge of resentment. "The true American courses my veins and //never// will I cast aside my ancestral traditions. I was born to them!" "And the Pend d'Oreille has its birth far up in the mountains, but it does not remain there; slumbering within gorges and fastnesses of wooded slopes. Bursting from its gloomy confines, it grows into a thing of magnificent grandeur, averting stagnation by constant action." "But it is no less water than when it issues from its rocky defiles, only less pure. And is it really so enigmatic that fluid should run downhill? You white people will never understand us. I think it quite easy for us to turn to the Shoyapee's ways, compared to his qualifications to become Injun - honest Injun. I refer especially to his word of promise. He seldom keeps an agreement, while the word of a tribesman is law - or was until he became contaminated with the [[touch of your civilization]]." (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

Dr. Armstrong provides a summary of Swa-lah-kin's story: //Frog woman is a malicious ugly old maid who pursues the sun. He despises and ignores her. His younger brother, the night sun (the moon) while hungry and traveling long comes upon her tipi and enters and addresses her respectfully as a relative, as is the custom for a man to speak to a woman stranger. First he calls her sister, then auntie and then grandmother, with no response. Finally, frustrated by her disrespect in ignoring his proper approach, he sarcastically says that if she isn‘t any of those she must be his lover, as that is the only other alternative relationship. She immediately leaps up and attaches herself to his beautiful face, marring it forever and sealing an unwanted relationship for all time, having taken calculated advantage of his situation//.Densmore embodies rudeness, intrusion, and agression, all elements of the Frog-Woman story(204).

Densmore made no reply. He drew a handkerchief from his pocket when a loosely folded letter fluttered to the ground. He picked it up, glanced at the heading and tore it into fragments, scattering them to the wind. "From your sweetheart?" queried Cogewea, with a mischevious smile. "My mother," he answered carelessly, but with a degree of embarrassment. "Tell me of your mother. You have spoken but little about your family." "Why! - I - I thought that I had told you." "No, you never have. But you learned all about my people, from Stemteema to my very cousins. I have never realized what it is to have a mother's love. I was [[too young when she died]]." (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"I have one of the best mother's in the world.! You would like her! Cogewea!" he exclaimed wirth sudden impulse, as he placed his arm about her. "I love you and some day I want to take you to her. Will you go?" She did not resist his advances but asked pleadingly: "//Do// you think that your mother would like me? //Would// she really be glad; do you think?" "Sure! Little one! Why do you doubt?" The plotter felt the girl tremble as he drew her closer. Was realization within his grasp? he had lied broadly, [[but what of that]]. (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

There was pathos in her voice as she made reply: "Because I am a //breed!// - only part white. But few recognize my kind socially. We are often made to suffer from ungenerous remarks and actions of those who feel themselves above us." "To the truly high minded there are no racial barriers. Why should you care to remain exclusively Indian? What is the incentive?" "I have my Stemteema and my sisters, besides other kindred ties. Then there are the traditions of my ancient race." "But you cannot exist on sentiment alone. With no vested or property interests to demand your continued presense, you should feel at freedom to see something of the world. I take it that [[there are no such bonds]]." (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

''Why Gamify Mourning Dove’s //Cogewea//?'' In 1927, Mourning Dove, an Okanagan activist and storyteller, published //Cogewea//, the first popular western written by an Indigenous woman. Mourning Dove’s western empowers and decolonizes Indigenous identity and culture by rewriting the conventions of the western genre from an Indigenous, specifically Okanagan, perspective. Yet, Mourning Dove’s reconstitution of the western from white triumphalism to Indigenous empowerment has been overshadowed by the way in which the current edition frames her story. Published in 1981 by the University of Nebraska Press, the print edition imposes western cultural frameworks on the Indigenous philosophies, aesthetics, and cultural practices expressed in the novel. Despite this imposition, the Indigenous knowledge in the novel is still apparent and accessible, although perhaps not for non-Indigenous readers. Okanagan Elder, activist, storyteller, and educator Dr. Jeanette Armstrong explains Mourning Dove “had a masterful knowledge of what Okanagan oral story is and how it works,” using oral stories (or captikʷɬ in Syilx) to "give direction, clarify and speak to social issues” [[in Cogewea]] (206). (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

''Important:'' Please be sure to use the “full screen” option to view this gamified edition. If you look in the upper right corner, you can scroll over the “minimize” or minus icon, the “maximize”or page icon and the “close” or X icon. Click the “maximize” or page icon, and you’ll be able to see the entire frame and its contents. Your goal in this game is not to win logic puzzles, solve mysteries, or collect rewards. Your goal is to engage with Mourning Dove’s text, interacting with the story through making choices and, in turn, gathering an inventory of knowledge. To that end, you are not “playing” per se, but interacting with the story as an "Interactor.” The following provides an overview of how this gamified edition works (you'll need to scroll down): ''Reading:'' The phrase at the end of each passage links to the next passage. There are no page numbers, but there are arrows in the top left corner that will allow you to return to the last page you visited. If you are using the “inventory” feature of the game, please use the “return” link at the bottom of the passage to return to the last page you visited. If you use the arrows (supplied by Twine developers), your inventory of knowledge will be wiped clean. The end of each chapter offers the opportunity to go back to the Start Page. When you are given options or choices, click on all the coloured text and see what happens! ''Interacting:'' The major game element inherent to most text games is choice. This choice is given to you through a narrative voice, that is sometimes in the first person and often in the second. The first person is often used for more intimate choices while the second person is the more objective point of view. In either case, we attempted to make this voice as non-descript and neutral as possible. The other game element that you may recognize from most, if not all, digital games is the option to gather knowledge in an inventory. Most games allow players to collect items and rewards, we wanted to follow the philosophy that stories provide readers/listeners/interactors with lessons and knowledge.Therefore, you will collect knowledge from this edition (we hope). (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last) Go back to [[Start]]

Akiwenzie-Damm, Kateri. "'We Think Differently. We Have a Different Understanding': Editing Indigenous Texts as an Indigenous Editor." Eds. Dean Irvine and Smaro Kamboureli. //Editing as Cultural Practice in Canada.// Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2016. Armstrong, Jeanette. "Constructing Indigeneity: Syilx Okanagan Oraliture and tmixʷcentrism." Dissertation. Universität Greifswald. 2009. DiNova, Joanne. //Spiraling Webs of Relation: Movement Toward an Indigenist Criticism.// New York: Routledge, 2005. Print. Gabler, Hans. “Theorizing the Digital Scholarly Edition.” //Literature Compass.// 7.2 (2010): 43–56. Kareem, Soha. "Tying in Diversity with Twine Games." //Broken Pencil//. 66 (2015). 12-15. Web. 20, Nov 2016. McMaster, Gerald. “Borderzones: The ‘Injun-uity’ of Aesthetic Tricks.” //Cultural Studies.// 9.1 (1995): 74-90. Web. 1, Feb 2016. (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last) or Back to [[Start]]

I would like to thank Dr. Deanna Reder and The People and the Text for providing resources and support. I particularly would like to thank Treena Chambers for her tireless work transcribing and thinking about //Cogewea's// archival material. I am indebted to my research assistant Lauren Burr, who put a great deal of effort into one of the most difficult chapters, [[Chapter XIX The Story of Green-blanket Feet]]. I am grateful to St. Jerome's University for funding //The Cogewea Project// and to Simon Fraser University, particularly the library for hosting these workshops. Thank you to all the interactors (readers/players) who might interact with this project. (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

''The story of Green-blanket Feet is darker than some of the previous chapters, and requires a content warning for violence and abuse towards Indigenous women and children. The game of this chapter deals with cultural genocide, an emotionally challenging but very important theme to //Cogewea//. There are no good choices or win conditions to be found here. Green-blanket Feet's fate at the hands of the Shoyapee is inevitable, but can Stemteema's lesson lead Cogewea down a different path? Remember, it is not the Shoyapee who is telling the story. Stemteema has a unique power and agency in relaying this cautionary tale.'' [[Got it. Let's keep going.->Cogewea soon returned]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

Cogewea soon returned to the tepee in dry habiliments and with a show of her old gaiety. Seating herself on the vacant buffalo robe, she spoke: "Well ! my little Stemteema, what is it to be--praises or a scolding? The Shoyapee did not know that turning the Swa-lah-kin would bring a storm and when I told him what he had done, he pitched the thing into the river hoping to stay the Sun's anger." The aged woman made no reply, but drew assiduously at the little stone pipe which Mary had filled for her. She continued in silence until the ''kinnikinnick'' was exhausted and then stowing the pipe away, [[she began impressively:]] ''kinnickkinnick''(mouseout:"kinnickkinnick")[Herbs used for smoking. The editors have been unable to find Syilx-Okanagan information about this term] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"My grandchildren! I am now old and cannot stay with you many more snows. The story I am telling is true and I want you to keep it after I am gone. "//Green-blanket Feet// was my best friend and she told me this tale after she came back to our tribe from the Blackfeet. I remember her as a girl. How comely! how graceful. Eyes clear as the mountain stream; reflecting innocence and the dreamer. Cheeks blooming as the dusky wild flower of spring, with hair in two braids, reaching to her knees. Her feet were small and shapely. The pride of every Indian woman is the gift of a small foot. Her's was a generous heart and a confiding nature. But wayward, of adventures in the deep forest she had many. Her father and mother had died, leaving her no other protector but an old aunt, with whom she lived. This aunt could not compel her to stay in the tepee and sit on her feet like the other maidens of her tribe. She was trouble-free until [[she met her fate in the false Shoyapee.]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"My friend was at the spring in the woods, when she first saw the pale face. He carried a gun and had killed a deer. He spoke with a soft voice, but the tongue was strange. His words she could not understand, but the signs he made were pleasing. His eyes were afire with greed, but the young is ever blind. The buttons on his //capo//, blazed as the sun. She brought him to the lodge of the aunt, where he left the deer as a gift and then went away. "The following sun the white man came to visit at the lodge near the spring, and many more sundowns was he there. He planned until the girl gave her heart to him. She soon deserted her aunt, her people for [[the Shoyapee, who lived at the fort.]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"Yes, my friend left her own kind to dwell with her white husband among the pale faces. After many moons, a papoose came, a girl. She was glad to see the little Shoyapee, nearly as white as its father. A snow passed and another papoose came; this time a boy. The mother was now wearing the white man's manner of clothing and was eating his food. She often longed for her people. She sometimes visited them in their lodges [[and her children kept warm her heart.]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"The blow fell when her youngest child was two snows old. The white husband came to her while she was making moccasins for her little girl and said: "Woman! listen well my words. I am called away; far towards the rising sun. It is from my Chief, whom I cannot refuse. It is at his bidding that I go. If you want to care for our children, you can travel with me, but you may never see your own people again. You can stay here, but I will take the papooses and go. [[I am not coming back."]] //In this moment, Green-Blanket Feet must choose between her children and her people. Should she:// [[Go with the Shoyapee to stay with her children?->Catch22]] [[Stay with her people and let her husband take the papooses away?->Catch22]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"My friend's head drooped and tears visited her eyes, the first since childhood. She now realized the true gravity of taking a man not of her own kind, what it really meant to her life. She must make choices between him and her own race, or cling to her own children. He was not good to her, but her little papooses! She could not let him take them from her. [[She would go with him as far as he would permit.]] //You have collected knowledge. Not all the knowledge you collect is positive. In Syilx oral stories, Owl Monster is a devourer and in this story, Owl Monster is a devourer of Indigenous women. Through Syilx-Okanagan stories, Stemteema is showing Cogewea she can break the cycle the violence by rejecting settler-colonist men, who have the power to harm or kill her. As Dr. Jeanette Armstrong makes clear, Mourning Dove had a masterful knowledge of the Okanagan oral story, incorporating these stories to speak to societal issues, such as violence against Indigenous women (199).// (Link: "Historical and Ongoing Violence Against Indigenous Women")[(set: $inv to $inv + (a:"Historical and Ongoing Violence Against Indigenous Women"))] [[Works Cited]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

(set: $visited to it +1) //Whether Green-blanket Feet chooses to go with her white husband (and two young children) or stay with her people, she has been separated from her family.// [[The Shoyapee may have won this time.->I am not coming back."]] {(if: $visited is 1)[[[Want to choose a different path?->and her children kept warm her heart.]]] (else:)[//Oh, have you ended up here again? Sadly, whatever Green-blanket Feet chooses to do in this situation results in the same consequences. Why don't we move on? Click the above link//]} (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"It was only a few more sundowns when the Shoyapee with his wife and papooses rode away accompanied by another pale face with a cayuse pack train. The woman had promised her people that she would never forget them, that some day she would return. Her voice trembled as she said good bye, then she rode swiftly away. The youngest papoose Robert, was laced on his cradle-board and hung to the horn of the saddle. Kitty the oldest, sat behind her mother, secure in the binding folds of a shawl. The names were those given the children by their white father. I saw this mother ride away without once looking back. It was many moons before I beheld her again and [[this is what she told me:]] Cayuse(mouseout:"Cayuse")[Slang for horse in popular westerns.The Cayuse are also a people who are part of the Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation. It's not known if there is a link between these words, but logic dictates that there probably is a connection] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

Not all the knowledge you collect is positive. In Syilx oral stories, Owl Monster is a devourer and in this story, Owl Monster is a devourer of Indigenous women. Thorugh Syilx-Okanagan stories, Stemteema is showing Cogewea she can break the cycle the violence by rejecting settler-colonist men, who will harm or kill her. As [[Dr. Jeanette Armstrong->Works Cited]] makes clear, Mourning Dove had a masterful knowledge of the Okanagan oral story, incorporating these stories to speak to societal issues, such as violence against Indigneous women (199).

"'When I went with my white man, I felt as if I were dying. Leaving my people was harder than had I let him go back alone to his own kind. Only for my children did I go. I was heart-sick! Every tree, every little bush spoke to me; every stone called to me as I passed the nooks where I had first met the Shoyapee. The birds sang in tones of sadness and the water's fret was wailing. But I clung to my little ones and followed my hated husband from sundown to sundown; camping on the trail. I watched closely and learned the country as we passed. [[I might come back to my people.]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"'We traveled till the big mountains were crossed and we reached the wide, flat lands where there are no trees and but little water. We were among strange tribes, enemies of the Okanogans. We saw buffalo roaming in great herds. There was other wild life which reminded me of the land of the Okanogans. Every sun, my mind grew heavier until I could hardly endure to go farther. But when I looked at my papooses, [[I could not leave them alone with their white father.]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"'The Shoyapee grew meaner to me as we trailed. He beat me! kicked me out from the night camps. One sun I made my mind brave to turn back and I lingered behind the pack train. When he saw this, he called me to hurry! I thought: 'What shall I do?' I whirled and rode hard back over the trail. I was flying to my people with my little ones. But not for long was the race. The pale face followed, shooting. My cayuse fell, shot through the body and killed. I pitched to the ground, stunned by the shock and unable to rise. The pale face came up and beat me with his quirt. He kicked me where I lay and called me vile names. [[This made me hate him as a reptile of the dust.]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"'I now had to walk, carrying my baby on my back. Kitty rode behind her father and sometimes slept, bedded and tied on one of the horse-packs. I was watched in every movement. I was made to walk ahead on the trail and at night do all the work about camp. A few sundowns more of this, when I determined to run away in the dark with my baby. I grieved to leave my little girl, but what else could I do! I had noticed the eye of the Shoyapee and he meant thus to treat me after bringing me from my distant home. He intended killing me when near the journey's end. Better to live with one of my children than die and leave them both. [[I could carry my baby.]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"'I remember the time! It was clear and hot, as we resumed our travel. Over the plain which seemed to have no end, we hurried. I was tired when the evening came. I was glad for the chance to rest. "'I have wondered if other than the squaw mother came to know the heart ache and yearning for her young. I knew that this was to be my last sundown with my oldest child. I talked to my papooses, talked in our native tongue. Although Kitty, the oldest, had seen but three snows, she seemed to understand me. In her baby way, she cooed, nestling on my bosom. I tried to impress her that whatever might come in the snows ahead while with her white father, she should ever remember her Indian mother. I knew that it was not for me to attempt stealing her from the pale face. I never could carry both children back across those wide, desolate plains. I feared for him to keep me and the papooses. Bad tempered, he carried a gun and he slept but little at night. He forever watched [[until he thought I was asleep.]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"'I recall the night! The evening was starlight, no moon in the sky. I lingered long at the campfire, playing with my oldest child as a farewell. Kitty appeared to comprehend and clung to me as never before. I had settled my mind to take my youngest papoose no difference what might come. At last Kitty fell asleep from exhaustion and I sat holding her in my arms. Her father called to me angrily to bring her to bed which I did. I hugged her and kissed her brow, although this is not the custom of our race as with the whites. I whispered in her sleeping ear: 'Oh! my little child! Life from my own being! do not forget your Indian mother.' Kitty murmured in her sleep; I could not catch the words. Was it a spirit's voice? I gazed at her longingly for a moment, then went out from the tent; [[dropping the door flap behind me.]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"'I walked to the fire where lay my youngest papoose, ready wrapped on his cradle-board. He was sleeping! Once more I turned hungrily to the white man's tent--not for him--but for the child I loved as my life. But my people! They were calling! as I stood by the dying embers out there on the boundless plain. I could hear their voices coming to me from the Westland. I would go! for I was not wanted by the white man, [[who would sometime kill me if I stayed.]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"'I had some food tied in a handkerchief, a very small amount. I took up my papoose and walked slowly out from the dim fire light. When hidden by the shadows, I placed him on my back and threw my green blanket over him. Then I ran swiftly away. Halish, a wolf breed dog that we had with us, came to me from hunting on the prairie. I glanced back to see the two pale faces bounding from the tent, each with a gun. They made after me and the fright, I think, caused me to drop into a badger hole large enough to shield me from sight. The dog stopped over me and I pulled him down close to me. I was glad that he was the color of brown. Though half wild, he appeared to know, for he lay perfectly still. The two men passed by, cursing loudly. I could have reached out and touched my white husband, nor did he suspect my place of hiding. The Great Spirit must have favored me, for my papoose did not move nor make a sound. [[I think, too, that he was awake.]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"'The pursuing pale faces fired their guns into the night darkness and threatened me, but to no effect. Then they coaxed for me to come out from the shadows, but I was so afraid that I hardly breathed. Twice the wolf-dog showed his gleaming fangs, but he did not growl. I did not tremble, but I knew what it meant should my Shoyapee husband find me. I had long known that he was keeping me only to care for our children and not that he had love for me. I was told by the other pale face, that he had a white squaw far away, who bore him no papooses. I had been lured from my own kind by this stranger with the voice of the wood-bird, but whose tongue, like that of the serpent, was [[forked and false.]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"'The two men kept stirring all night and it was nearly coming day before I dared move. The great dog still lay guarding me. My little papoose awoke at times, but I hushed him by taking him to breast and covering his head. I partly raised from my crouched position and looked towards the tent. The Shoyapee father was sitting by the fire, rocking Kitty in his arms. Just then she put her little hand to her eyes and I knew that she was crying. I lifted myself and thought to go back to the camp. But as I drew near, I heard the mean words of the man, concerning me, what he meant to do should he ever catch me. I had lived with him long enough to understand his language in part, and to know what he was saying. [[I was afraid to go nearer.]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"'I gazed yearningly at the group, then turned to the sunset. I did not dare look back. I would fail, my heart would grow weak in the resolution to leave if I again saw my child crying. The grave, faithful Halish was with me as I tramped. The sun rose high and gleaming before I stopped to rest and watch back over the trail. The white men might follow me, I thought; but I never saw them more. "'I walked and camped for many sundowns, till I came to a small bush, where we had stopped before and where I knew to find water. I drank! as did the dog. It was so cooling from the hot sun. I determined to stay and rest for a while. I spread my blanket and stretched in the shade. I bathed my papoose and self in the water. [[I thanked the Great Spirit that He had protected me so far.]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"'But my food was gone. Ofttimes I was hungry and would have starved, had not Halish caught rabbits and brought them to me. I made sage brush fires by striking flints which I had found on the plain. At this bush camp, I was roasting a rabbit on a stick stuck in the ground by the fire, when suddenly the wolf dog jumped up and looked keenly in the direction that I was to go. That made me look also and I saw a thick cloud of dust coming towards me; a big cloud. As it drew near, I heard a deep rumbling roar like a storm and at once I knew my danger. Halish barked, then lifted his head and howled mournfully. I snatched up my papoose and ran out from the way of the stampeding buffaloes. My breath was almost gone before I cleared their way. With lowered heads they passed so close that I could have struck them with my hand. Halish, leaping ham-stung a young bull and soon had it killed. Amid the turmoil and dust, I saw the half naked Blackfeet riding hard upon the flanks of the herd; shooting and thrusting with the spear. I threw myself down quickly, but Halish, who stood snarling with the front feet on his kill, was seen. I prayed to the Great Spirit but He seemingly had forgotten me, for the Blackfeet came riding towards me. Halish sprang in front of me, his back bristling and teeth bared. The leader of the Blackfeet raised his gun but before he could fire, I was shielding the dog with my own body. The gun was lowered, when I had quieted my protector, and I was made prisoner. When my captors saw the young bull killed by the wolf-dog, they were pleased and this, I think, caused them to spare his life. I was surprised to see so many hunters. It was an annual hunt and their camp was not far away. They took me! and I rode one of the ponies. I could not understand their language. [[Their tongue was different from that of the Okanogans.]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"'I was brought to the Chief's lodge, which was made of tanned buffalo skins, painted and decorated with //tul-le-men//. The Chief, an old man, had seven wives, the youngest a mere child of fourteen snows. He called his warriors and they had a council over me. This lasted for some time, but at last through signs, they made me to comprehend my fate. A prisoner for life, I was consigned to the Chief's lodge to wait on all his wives and relations. [[I was a slave.]] ''tul-le-men'' (mouseout: "tul-le-men")[According to Mourning Dove's editor, Lucullus McWhorter, it's war paint] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"'I stayed with the Blackfeet one snow, till the sun shone warm again and the prairie grass was green. My papoose was now walking, running about the doorway of the lodge. He resembled his sister and I loved him the more for it. But I hated the memory of his white father, who had lured me from my people; who had brought me all this trouble. To think of him was bitter. "'I was treated badly by the women of the Blackfeet. A slave for all of them, ofttimes I had not enough to eat. I used to steal //pemmican// for my papoose, when he would be crying with hunger. Much of this hardship, I think, was because I had chosen a Shoyapee husband instead of one of my own kind; that my child was half white. [[The Great Spirit must have been displeased with me.]] ''Pemmican''(mouseout: "Pemmican")[Dried meat mixed with fat] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"'One sundown when my child was playing in the tepee, he fell into the fire. His clothing, which I had brought from the Okanogan country, was of the white man's make and burned more quickly than buckskin. He fell! I ran to him but it was too late. His hair was blazing and his little moccasined feet were roasted as meat. For only one moment he clung to me, and then was gone forever. "'My heart was broken. I could have borne to live with the Blackfeet the rest of my life, if only my baby had been spared to cheer my days. For, were they not of the same race as myself? Though enemies of the Okanogans, they were Indians and far different from the hated Shoyapee, whose very touch was taint to our blood. Then I reasoned that it was better that my child go, [[than to grow up a despised breed and a slave to an enemy tribe.]] //Do you agree with Green-blanket Feet's choice?// [[Or would you have saved the child and condemned him to the life described?]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"'Only a few sundowns passed after I had buried my papoose--buried him alone under a clustering thorn--when I determined to leave the Blackfleet. All the young warriors were out hunting the buffalo and only a few old men and women left in the village. There was one aged woman, the mother to the Chief's favorite wife, who was very cross to me. She usually sat on the opposite side of the doorway from me. I saw my chance. The sun had passed the center of the sky, was on the downward trail and it was hot. All the women but this one were outside the lodge shading themselves while I worked. I noticed my old enemy sitting across the way. She was nodding in her sleep, a //la-quhia// in her hand. She had been eating dried meat soup. I glanced to the doorway before stepping around the fireplace in the center of the lodge. I slowly took the //la-quhia// as she held it. I picked up her pot of soup and ate as fast as I could. I was hungry! almost starving. Finally I left the //la-quhia// and drank from the pot. When it was empty, I replaced it at her side leaving the //la-quhia// as if she had dropped it. [[I then went back to my own place.]] ''La-quhia''(mouseout: "La-quhia")[A ladle or spoon, usually made of wood or horn] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

//There is no choice to be made here. Green-blanket Feet could not save her child.// [[This is a catch-22. Continue with the chapter->than to grow up a despised breed and a slave to an enemy tribe.]] //You have added catch-22 to your inventory.// //A "catch-22," coined by American 20th-century novelist Joseph Heller, is a situation where any choice leads to the same disastrous end. Colonization is built on a foundation of "catch-22s" in order to entrap and consume the colonized's culture, resources, and history. Green-blanket Feet is given a series of terrible choices because of her husband's belief in his so-called white superiority// (Link: "Catch 22 as tool of colonization")[(set: $inv to $inv + (a: "Catch 22 as tool of colonization"))] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"'The old woman awoke to find her soup all gone. She looked at the pot, then at me; but she seemed not to understand what had become of the broth. Soon she was again nodding. I reached to the back of the lodge where was kept the Chief's bow and arrows. His //tekee-sten// hung by the side of the war pipe. I threw the //tekee-sten// to the ground. I stepped on it! Then I drew one big breath through the sacred pipe, but left it hanging where it was. I took the bow and arrows for future use. Slinging the quiver over my back, I placed an arrow to the bowstring and came out of the tepee painted with the Chief's own //tul-le-men.// I ran for the river, then deep, swift and muddy from heavy rains. [[I was a good swimmer and did not fear the water.]] ''Tekee-sten''(mouseout: "Tekee-sten")[Sacred medicine cane] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

A "catch-22," coined by American 20th-century novelist Joseph Heller, is a situation where any choice leads to the same disastrous end. Colonization is built on a foundation of "catch-22s" in order to entrap and consume the colonized's culture, resources, and history.

"'The distance was not far and I heard the war whoops of the old warriors in pursuit and the women calling as they followed after. Even the dogs joined in the chase. Turning, I let fly an arrow at the foremost man, striking him in the shoulder. This checked the hunt and being a fleet runner, I kept well ahead of the enemy. I flew down the slope as light footed as the deer in our Okanogan forests. Gaining the river, I dashed into the flood. I was not afraid! Brush was overhanging the current under a low bluff and I made a hurried dive for it. My Spirit protector remembered me. I caught a limb and held there with the grip of renewed hope. I brought my head out of the water under the bushes for breath. Three Blackfeet were standing on the bank above me talking. I was now able to understand most of their language and I could hear them well. One said that I must be drowned, while another one thought that I was hiding under the bushes. He walked onto the bush, almost over me, but it bent to the water and he drew back. I do not know! Maybe he did not want to get his moccasins wet or was afraid of being drowned. He backed up the bluff where they all sat down [[and watched for me till the sun was hidden in darkness.]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"'I was glad when nightfall came to my rescue. My hands were numb and my limbs stiff from the chill of the water. My strength almost gave way but I called on my secret powers to aid me. I must reach my people, --calling to me from the land of the Okanogans. I drew myself from the flood by the bushes, but I lost the bow and arrows. I was defenceless as I started for home, guided by the stars. I was off the trail that I had followed with the Shoyapee a snow before. I walked all night and all the next sun, before stopping to camp and rest. I traveled suns and suns over the great plain and was often very hungry. Losing the bow in the river, I could shoot no game. "'I wished for Halish, but the mighty wolf dog was dead. Some of the Blackfeet had gone far to hunt the woods-deer and took him with them. A mountain lion attacked a young hunter and the dog fought for him. Both dog and lion were killed, but the Blackfoot escaped, disabled for life. [[I missed my old companion's help and watchful guard.]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"'It was too late for the eggs of the prairie birds, but I dug roots and sometimes found a few berries. Once I saw a great eagle swoop down and kill a young antelope not far from me, but could not fly with it. I fought the savage bird and took the fawn of goodly size. It furnished me with food for some days. My moccasins were worn out and I made new ones from the skin, cutting it with a sharpened stone. My awl was a pointed bone and the sinew was thread. But the hide was tender and the jagged rocks often passed over, cut them to pieces. I was now glad that I did not leave my green blanket behind when I escaped from the Blackfeet. I tore strips from it with which to wrap my feet. I passed the tribes of the Pend d'Oreilles, Kootenais and the Flatheads. All were good to me. They supplied me with dried berries and meat and I traveled on. [[I was going home!]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"'I was glad when I came in sight of the big river we love so well. I like the salmon better than I do the meat of the buffalo. I love the wooded mountains more than I do the treeless plains so endless. The land of the Blackfeet is not so fair as that of the Okanogans. "'But my heart is buried with my little papoose in the wakeless sleep; and I long for the child who went with her white father. But I am to blame! I preferred him to my own people and he drove me away. I pray to my Great Spirit to favor me in seeing my child again. I now have children of my own kind, but [[they do not take the place of my first born with its unknown fate.]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"'When I reached my people, they were all glad to see me. My feet were bare except for the worn strips of my once fine four-point Hudson Bay blanket. This is why I am called by my tribe, //'Green-blanket Feet'//. The name connects me with the false tongued Shoyapee of other snows. It is the strong, clinging memory--hated thing--which recalls the face of the one I once loved; whose words I believed. The blanket was his gift when I first went to him. Let the maidens of my tribe shun the Shoyapee. His words are poison! [[his touch is death.'"]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

The Stemteema's story was finished; her audience had listened in rapt silence to the end. Several moments passed before she again spoke: "Cogewea; you must be more careful of that Shoyapee. I do not like to have you with him so much. You must quit going with him alone. It is against the rules of our race for a maiden to do so. You must stop it! He only seeks to harm you. The fate of //Green-blanket Feet// is for you; my grandchild unless you turn from him. [[Wisdom ever visions well."]] //What should Cogewea do? What would you do in her place?// [[Follow her/your heart.]] [[Heed the wisdom of Stemteemä's story.]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

Cogewea's ivory teeth closed firm and her tapering fingers dug into the shaggy buffalo robe before she ventured self defense: "The wisdom of the Stemteema is of the past. She does not understand the waning of ancient ideas. The young bird flies more sprightly than do the old. The Shoyapee girls go out with their men friends and nobody cares." The grandmother was silent for long, [[before making solemn reply:]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

//Cogewea believes she has the power, as a mixed-race "half-blood," to be a part of both worlds. But according to the story of Green-blanket Feet as told by Stemteema, white men can behave like Owl Monster, consuming Indigenous women and stealing children. If you should choose this path, Cogewea might be trapped in the same cycle, destined to make the same choices as Green-blanket Feet. Because the story has been told, now there is hope for change.// So, has the Shoyapee won?'' [[To an extent, but Green-blanket Feet has lived to tell the tale. The Shoyapee will never win at cultural genocide as long as oral stories are shared.->Wisdom ever visions well."]] [[Wait, no! I want to choose a different path.->his touch is death.'"]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

//Cogewea has much respect for her grandmother, her knowledge and wisdom. But do you really think the message of Green-blanket Feet's story is strong enough to break Cogewea's belief that she can possess white privilege? Will she see that Densmore is Owl Monster?// [[Yes, Cogewea will listen to Stemteema and be more careful around Densmore.->Wisdom ever visions well."]] [[Hmm . . . maybe not. I want to choose a different path.->his touch is death.'"]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"Wisdom comes with the passing of the snows. My head has been frosted by the breath of time. The nestling knows not the wide trails of the air. Winged danger abounds where the hawk is abroad. The Shoyahpee women may cling to their ways. The Nation they bear speaks loudly of wrong." Then, after another interval of silence, she concluded gravely: "The grandchild is not full Shoyapee. She is only half! She must forget her white blood and follow after her Okanogan ancestors. [[To their women there came no shame."]]

While Cogewea felt she should respect the words of her venerable monitor, she rebelled at the thought that she must not love the fair skinned Easterner too well. Back to [[Start]]

Mourning Dove traversed two knowledge systems, enacting what Gerald McMaster (Plains Cree/Blackfoot) calls “injun-uity,” whereby Indigenous artists and artworks “are innovators of culture, living ‘betwixt and between’ several cultures and communities” (7). While a new print edition that follows Indigenous editing practices is in process, the gaming paradigms that inform this digital edition offer the means to reimagine the relationship between “reader” or “interactor” and [[the written word]]. (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last) or Back to [[Start]] or [[Works Cited]]

''What Text Games Can Do that Academic Texts Can’t'' The 1981 edition of //Cogewea// operates in the “context of a colonial history built on exclusion, segregation, abuses of authority, domination, and official policies of assimilation” (Akiwenzie-Damm 30). The paratext includes cover art by Arlene Hooker Fay (1933-2001), a white artist who specialized in drawing “Indians.” The introduction is also by a white woman, a former academic, whose portrayal of Mourning Dove does not consider her Syilx-Okanagan education as an authoritative form of knowledge. This is not to say that Fay, Fisher, or the University of Nebraska Press (UNP) had designs to silence Mourning Dove’s Syilx-Okanagan voice and culture. However, the novel was published at a time when “Native Studies” conventionally followed a type of salvage ethnography that enabled non-Indigenous scholars to study Indigenous people and their culture as objects of research rather than active partners in creating respectful, cross cultural relationships. This problematic approach is still an [[issue in the academy]] (DiNova 3). (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last) or Back to [[Start]] or [[Works Cited]]

"Sure! Not only my ''allotment'' of eighty acres of the finest land, but I have - Why do you ask?" She broke off suddenly, lifting inquiring eyes. He stood the scrutiny with calculating coolness. She had very inexpectedly increased in value. taking her shapely hand in his, he answered with apparent sincerity: "I meant nothing. I am only anxious to make you happy. Listen! My little Injun sweetheart! I have plenty, all that you could wish for. I want to share my wealth with you. You won the wagers at fishing. Suppose we form a partnership and call it settled by me [[doubling your winnings]]?" ''Land Allotment''(mouseout: "Land Allotment")[A series of Land Allotment Acts were passed in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century meant to parcel out land to tribal members. Land Allotment suited both Indian sympathizers and land-grabbers: the former used land allotment to assimilate Indigenous peoples and the latter used land allotment to swindle land (Nabokov 232). That is, Land Allotment Acts demanded that the land be used as per EuroAmerican standards of land development. If the land was not developed as per government standards,then the land could be taken back. With each Land Allotment Act that passed, another opportunity to take Indigenous lands became available to the American citizen, whose mantra is “this is mine” by constitutional right (232).] You added to your inventory of knowledge! (Link: "Learned about Land Allotment")[(set: $inv to $inv + (a: "Learned about Land Allotment"))] [[Works Cited]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

"I would not sell myself!" was the scornful reply. "Money cannot bring happiness. too often its heritage is one of unfathomed misery." Densmore, realizing his mistake, retrenched hastily. "You misunderstood me. I am but endeavoring to show you that I care deeply and am anxious to be to you all that a husband should. If I could only hear you say that you care for me - that you love me ever so little." He was straining her to his breast and he felt her responsive form quiver. He attempted to lift her warm lips to his own but she held aloof. "Cogewea!" He whispered, smoothing her raven tresses. "I love you to distraction! I am willing to meet you in every way that you desire. I will be Indian. Tell me more about your tribal customs. [[That marriage ceremony]] -" (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

A series of Land Allotment Acts were passed in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century meant to parcel out land to tribal members. Land Allotment suited both Indian sympathizers and land-grabbers: the former used land allotment to assimilate Indigenous peoples and the latter used land allotment to swindle land (Nabokov 232). That is, Land Allotment Acts demanded that the land be used as per EuroAmerican standards of land development. If the land was not developed "properly," then the land could be taken back. With each Land Allotment Act that passed, another opportunity to take Indigenous lands became available to the American citizen, whose mantra is “this is mine” by constitutional right (232). [[Works Cited]]

The girl, struggling free, started up in sudden fright. With arm outflung, she exclaimed in terror: "Look! See how the frown of the Sun-god darkens the earth! He bends his shaggy brow over the portals of the West-wind and hurls his anger along the sky! He breathes! and the air is thick with anguish! It is the //Swa-lah-kin!// //You// did this! she cried angrily."You should not have turned the frog! Come! let us hurry home! We will be fortunate if we escape with only a drenching." Densmore's eyes followed her outstretched arm and he leaped to his feet in amazement. The western heavens were overcast with a mighty canopy of black, billowing clouds, hurtling towards the zenith [[with appalling rapidity]]. (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

The onslaught was swift and terrible in its silence. Only the faintest hum, like the smothered cords of an Aelion harp struck by the softest zephyr was audible. Never had the Easterner witnessed an elemental conflict of such awe-inpsiring grandeur. Seizing their effects, they hurriedly started for home. Gathering momentum, the storm came sweeping onward with lowering front; the chaotic cloud-rack, a sable wall blotting out the universe. The low, indistinct murmur increasing in volume until the cadence became a mournful dirge in the pine tops. This was but a prelude. Murky with misty shadows, the wind, in one fell swop enveloped the figutives, nearly [[carrying them off their feet]]. (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

Clasping hands, they struggled in the face of the gale now shrieking like a thousand Harpies about their bursting ears. Densmore's hat went sailing out over the river, while Cogewea's broad-brim fluttering, was held secure by feminine anchorage. Bracing hard, they made but slow progress and were still a considerable distance from home when the first spattering raindrops, like the skirmish shots of a hostile army, struck them. When within a hundred paces of Stemteema's lodge, the anguished heavens were rent by a lurid tongue of lightening, followed by a crash which seemed to rock the very earth's foundations. The dreaded //Thunder-bird// was abroad on the storm and at the gleaming flash of his eye and the booming crash of his ponderous wing, the rain [[descended in torrents]]. (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

//The tepee! the tepee!// screamed Cogewea above the roar of the tempest. Densmore tore back the door-flap and completely soaked they stumbled through the opening. The interposition of the canvas walls against the sudden gale was most grateful. It was solace to hear the deluge beating against the swaying roof. The wings of the smoke-flue had been closed and the seemingly frail structure made entirely proof against the onslaughts of Thor. Not only Julia, but Mary was there and, ways, with the two children sleeping among the blankets, [[the wigwam was well crowded]]. (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

Stemteema spoke to Cogewea, her tone sharp and emphatic. The girl answered at length in Okanogan and without her accustomed blithesomeness. The little audience gave rapt attention as she narrated the frog incident on the river bank. The grandmother and Mary cast looks of displeasure at the Shoyapee, but Julia appeared less impressed. The conversation was necessarily loud, because of the howling of the warring elements without, which seemed to increase in momentary violence. However, the storm ceased as suddenly as it began and the sun shone [[upon a drenched world]]. (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)

After a futile attempt at gayety, Densmore departed for the bunkhouse; and the aged woman requested Cogewea go change her clothing and then return to the tepee. She had a story of the past which she desired to tell her three grandchildren. Go to [[Chapter XIX The Story of Green-blanket Feet]] Return to [[Start]]

Because //Cogewea// is a mainstay in many courses with a focus on American Literature (just type “Syllabus” and “Cogewea” into Google) and UNP has the only edition still in print, there is no reason within the capitalist paradigms of colonial publication practices to take it out of print or even amend //Cogewea.// The body text of the novel is a facsimile of the 1927 Four Seas edition, with the addition of an introduction by the aforementioned Fisher; therefore, the novel seemingly requires no collation with other manuscripts or editions: it is the only known edition and, therefore, within the traditional practice of scholarly editing, this edition is considered “authoritative” and, perhaps, even authoritarian in its appropriation of //Cogewea// [[into academic culture]]. (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last) or Back to [[Start]]

This digital edition of //Cogewea// attempts to break with what Warren Cariou has called a “long and unfortunate history of Aboriginal stories being appropriated, expurgated, and distorted…[often] under the guide of ‘editing’” (qtd in Akiwenzie-Damm 31). Scholarly editing practice follows certain conventions that may still stifle Indigenous voice, perhaps despite Indigenous editing practice. Hans Gabler explains that the strengthening of the scholarly editor’s agency has weakened reader-directed interpretation. For example, in the need for scholarly production to increase in the academy, scholarly editions have moved from being compilations to intellectual endeavours, on par with academic monographs. An edited scholarly edition is an intellectual accomplishment of mediation and interpretation, but [[where is the reader]]? (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last) or Back to [[Start]] or [[Works Cited]]

Whether an edition is edited genetically or the more traditional route of taking a central manuscript as the best edition, how might a scholarly edition become an interactive structure inviting the reader to participate? In other words, how do we move from readers passively reading a scholarly edition (if they do) to interacting with it and actually engaging with the annotations, notes on the text, introductions, forwards and so forth. More to the point, how to we encourage readers outside of the classroom to take an interest in books that have become primarily classroom editions, which has been Cogewea’s fate? Further, in the case of //Cogewea// and other texts by authors whose cultures have been oppressed and knowledge systems devalued, how can the paratext empower rather than overlay western norms and values? How do we create a space in which the cultural integrity of the text is maintained? Perhaps print texts have become too conventionally embedded within western publishing paradigms. Can a non-expert reader of Indigenous texts move beyond their habits to view print texts within culturally specific norms? In other words, if Mourning Dove’s //Cogewea// is published with foot or endnotes, an introduction and so forth, can her novel be interpreted as anything other than a formal academic edition, bearing all of the expectations readers [[bring to such a genre]]? (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last) or Back to [[Start]]

In order to address these questions, we decided to use Twine, an open-source, interactive digital storytelling platform that “enables creators to redefine and re-interpret modes of storytelling, particularly when it comes to lesser-heard voices,” explains the manager of Diversity and Inclusion for Riot Games, Soha Kareem. Twine is a non-traditional storytelling tool that offers us a means to share Mourning Dove’s non-traditional western. Most games are designed for white people by white people, and while, yes, I am a white, non-indigenous editor, this story is by an Indigenous woman and the game action is guided by Syilx-Okanagan knowledge [[provided by Dr. Jeanette Armstrong]]. (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last) or Back to [[Start]] or [[Works Cited]]

''Next Steps'' This is a beta version, which means that there is much more to be done. There are currently only two chapters in this beta version in order to test their effectiveness and functionality. Here are just a few of the questions we need to consider as we move forward: * Should we follow in the footsteps of other digital editors? * How do we handle sources and citations? * How will we compile the archive and then link back to story chapters? * How can we address the responses to the beta version? Thank you for helping us along this journey by interacting with this gamified edition of Mourning Dove’s //Cogewea.// (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last) or Back to [[Start]]

Cogewea, in walking habit, stood gazing pensively from the window. She saw Julia, leading little Denny, enter the low doorway of the smoke-browned tepee just as the well-proportioned form of Densmore emerged from the bunkhouse. He carried two fishing rods and had a trap slung over his shoulder. Coming up the path, he stopped at the gate, turning towards the house. Mary, the shy girl, sitting on the blanketed floor of the veranda beading a pair of moccasins, paused in her work to glance at her sister as she passed down the steps to join him. Mary could not like this Shoyapee, with his smooth tongue and beguiling smile. She and the Stemteema has many times counselled concerning him and Cogewea, but she had never revealed to the old grandmother how much the two were together. Resuming her task, the girl frowned with evident vexation [[as the couple strolled towards the river]] (link-goto:"Return",(history:)'s last)