Time was when I had my own wickiup, when I lay by my own night-fire and played with the braids of a woman's hair,-long black braids, bound with crimson silk and heavy with ornaments, for whose buying I paid my year's catch, when I looked into eyes black as the woods at night and dumb with the great love she could not speak....
"The Maid of the Whispering Hills"
Vingie E. Roe
The women went into the wickiup and covered their heads with their blankets.
"The Land Of Little Rain"
Mary Hunter Austin
By all counts she would have been about sixty years old when it came her turn to sit in the dust on the sunny side of the wickiup, with little strength left for anything but looking.
"The Land Of Little Rain"
Mary Hunter Austin