A large Indian with a fine head-dress came to look at her, and then cut the bonds holding her to the tree. Taking her by one arm he started to lead her towards a large tepee. This was Becky's opportunity; wriggling from his grasp, she ran towards the woods beside the village, expecting to be shot and killed any second. As she ran frantically, a hand grasped her hair and jerked her painfully to a halt. It was the Chief again; he had caught her with little effort and to dissuade her from running again he cuffed her round each ear, making her head ring. Then he took her to his tepee and threw her on the floor, shouting something in his own language. A squaw came in and threw some clothes beside her, so Becky scrambled to her feet and started to put them on. This earned her another ringing box on the ear. "Wash clothes," said the Chief, "Not wear them." "You speak English?" asked Becky, amazed. "Speak white tongue to trade," he explained, "You mine. You wash, cook, mend. I save you from die." And so Becky came to live as a menial slave in the tents of the Indians. As time passed her fear of being raped by the Chief subsided since he evinced no interest in her at all. He had several squaws, whom he used quite openly in front of her at any time the mood took him. The first time he did so, she was horrified. She and one of the lower ranking squaws were scraping a bison hide ready for curing when the Chief came in to the tepee and said something to his woman. She at once stood up and dropped her clothing; he too stripped and they lay on the bedding of skins and started to fondle each other's private parts. This was the first time Becky had ever seen an adult male naked, and the size of his "thing" was a revelation. No wonder it had hurt when Charlie first took her. However, this seemed different, because the squaw was not just letting the Chief have her; she was a willing, even eager, participant.