Later, I finds out that Hardrobe's squaw--Bloojacket's mother--is dead.
"'See thar ?' says Hardrobe one day.

We're in the southern border of the Osage country on the Grayhoss at the time, an' he p'ints to a heap of stones piled up like a oven an' chimley, an' about four foot high.

I saveys thar's a defunct Osage inside.

You-all will behold these little piles of burial stones on every knoll an' hill in the Osage country.
'See thar,' says this Hardrobe, p'intin'.

'That's my squaw.