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.