Mar. 5th

Nothing going on to day. I made out a table of the temperatures for February. It was above zero most of the time. Welch is going away for a week on leave, he starts tomorrow. I think he does not intend to go far, but merely wishes to break the weary monotony of Barrack life. I went up this afternoon to the Indian Camp to see the sick woman. She was ever so much better. I took a sketch of an [?] of a wigwam not very good but something like [?] the old cry No Mail. Surely something must have happened to the man.

Feb. 27th

I again went up to the Blackfoot Camp this time with Welch alone. I intended making a sketch of the camp, but the wind was too cold + numbed my fingers. Crowfoot had quite recovered and was rejoicing accordingly. I promised to operate on the eyes of one of his sons[?]/ I [?] making an artificial pupil, when I can get some instruments. No Mail, oh my.

Feb 26th

This morning shortly after breakfast, I took Welch and Jerry Potts, our interpreter[?] and went up to the Blackfoot Camp to see their Chief Crowfoot, who was quite sick. I gave him some medicine, and then assisted[?] Jerry in endeavoring to persuade a runaway squaw to come back to her husband. We succeeded. Since our arrival the squaws have struck[?], refusing to work and the husbands are in a quandary, if they follow their usual plan they would kill or mutilate the women, + thus keep them in order, but the women would now report this to the Commissioner, + the place would be rather hot[?] for the husbands. It is too bad. Again the day has passed and no Mail. Good night.