INDIAN BOYHOOD

By [Ohiyesa] Charles A. Eastman

Contents

 I EARLIEST RECOLLECTIONS I: Hakadah, "The Pitiful Last" II: Early Hardships III: My Indian Grandmother IV: In Indian Sugar Camp V: A Midsummer Feast

 II AN INDIAN BOY'S TRAINING

 III MY PLAYS AND PLAYMATES I: Games and Sports II: My Playmates III: The Boy Hunter

 IV HAKADAH'S FIRST OFFERING

 V FAMILY TRADITIONS I: A Visit to Smoky Day II: The Stone Boy

 VI EVENING IN THE LODGE I: Evening in the Lodge II: Adventures of My Uncle

 VII THE END OF THE BEAR DANCE

 VIII THE MAIDENS' FEAST

 IX MORE LEGENDS I: A Legend of Devil's Lake II: Manitoshaw's Hunting

 X INDIAN LIFE AND ADVENTURE I: Life in the Woods II: A Winter Camp III: Wild Harvests IV: A Meeting on the Plains V: An Adventurous Journey

 XI THE LAUGHING PHILOSOPHER

 XII FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF CIVILIZATION

I. EARLIEST RECOLLECTIONS

I. Hadakah, "The Pitiful Last"

WHAT boy would not be an Indian for a while when he thinks of the freestlife in the world? This life was mine. Every day there was a real hunt. There was real game. Occasionally there was a medicine dance away off inthe woods where no one could disturb us, in which the boys impersonatedtheir elders, Brave Bull, Standing Elk, High Hawk, Medicine Bear, andthe rest. They painted and imitated their fathers and grandfathers tothe minutest detail, and accurately too, because they had seen the realthing all their lives. 

We were not only good mimics but we were close students of nature. Westudied the habits of animals just as you study your books. We watchedthe men of our people and represented them in our play; then learned toemulate them in our lives. 

No people have a better use of their five senses than the children ofthe wilderness. We could smell as well as hear and see. We could feeland taste as well as we could see and hear. Nowhere has the memory beenmore fully developed than in the wild life, and I can still see whereinI owe much to my early training. 

Of course I myself do not remember when I first saw the day, but mybrothers have often recalled the event with much mirth; for it was acustom of the Sioux that when a boy was born his brother must plungeinto the water, or roll in the snow naked if it was winter time; and ifhe was not big enough to do either of these himself, water was thrownon him. If the new-born had a sister, she must be immersed. The ideawas that a warrior had come to camp, and the other children must displaysome act of hardihood. 

I was so unfortunate as to be the youngest of five children who, soonafter I was born, were left motherless. I had to bear the humiliatingname "Hakadah, " meaning "the pitiful last, " until I should earn a moredignified and appropriate name. I was regarded as little more than aplaything by the rest of the children. 

My mother, who was known as the handsomest woman of all the Spirit Lakeand Leaf Dweller Sioux, was dangerously ill, and one of the medicine menwho attended her said: "Another medicine man has come into existence, but the mother must die. Therefore let him bear the name 'MysteriousMedicine. '" But one of the bystanders hastily interfered, saying that anuncle of the child already bore that name, so, for the time, I was only"Hakadah. "

My beautiful mother, sometimes called the "Demi-Goddess" of the Sioux, who tradition says had every feature of a Caucasian descent with theexception of her luxuriant black hair and deep black eyes, held metightly to her bosom upon her death-bed, while she whispered a few wordsto her mother-in-law. She said: "I give you this boy for your own. Icannot trust my own mother with him; she will neglect him and he willsurely die. "

The woman to whom these words were spoken was below the average instature, remarkably active for her age (she was then fully sixty), andpossessed of as much goodness as intelligence. My mother's judgmentconcerning her own mother was well founded, for soon after her deaththat old lady appeared, and declared that Hakadah was too young to livewithout a mother. She offered to keep me until I died, and then shewould put me in my mother's grave. Of course my other grandmotherdenounced the suggestion as a very wicked one, and refused to give meup. 

The babe was done up as usual in a movable cradle made from an oak boardtwo and a half feet long and one and a half feet wide. On one side ofit was nailed with brass-headed tacks the richly-embroidered sack, whichwas open in front and laced up and down with buckskin strings. Overthe arms of the infant was a wooden bow, the ends of which were firmlyattached to the board, so that if the cradle should fall the child'shead and face would be protected. On this bow were hung curiousplaythings--strings of artistically carved bones and hoofs of deer, which rattled when the little hands moved them. 

In this upright cradle I lived, played and slept the greater part of thetime during the first few months of my life. Whether I was made to leanagainst a lodge pole or was suspended from a bough of a tree, whilemy grandmother cut wood, or whether I was carried on her back, orconveniently balanced by another child in a similar cradle hung on theopposite side of a pony, I was still in my oaken bed. 

This grandmother, who had already lived through sixty years ofhardships, was a wonder to the young maidens of the tribe. She showedno less enthusiasm over Hakadah than she had done when she held herfirst-born, the boy's father, in her arms. Every little attention thatis due to a loved child she performed with much skill and devotion. Shemade all my scanty garments and my tiny moccasins with a great deal oftaste. It was said by all that I could not have had more attention hadmy mother been living. 

Uncheedah (grandmother) was a great singer. Sometimes, when Hakadahwakened too early in the morning, she would sing to him something likethe following lullaby:

 Sleep, sleep, my boy, the Chippewas

 Are far away--are far away. 

 Sleep, sleep, my boy; prepare to meet

 The foe by day--the foe by day!

 The cowards will not dare to fight

 Till morning break--till morning break. 

 Sleep, sleep, my child, while still 'tis night;

 Then bravely wake--then bravely wake!

The Dakota women were wont to cut and bring their fuel from the woodsand, in fact, to perform most of the drudgery of the camp. This ofnecessity fell to their lot, because the men must follow the gameduring the day. Very often my grandmother carried me with her on theseexcursions; and while she worked it was her habit to suspend me from awild grape vine or a springy bough, so that the least breeze would swingthe cradle to and fro. 

She has told me that when I had grown old enough to take notice, Iwas apparently capable of holding extended conversations in an unknowndialect with birds and red squirrels. Once I fell asleep in my cradle, suspended five or six feet from the ground, while Uncheedah was somedistance away, gathering birch bark for a canoe. A squirrel had found itconvenient to come upon the bow of my cradle and nibble his hickory nut, until he awoke me by dropping the crumbs of his meal. My disapprovalof his intrusion was so decided that he had to take a sudden and quickflight to another bough, and from there he began to pour out his wrathupon me, while I continued my objections to his presence so audibly thatUncheedah soon came to my rescue, and compelled the bold intruder togo away. It was a common thing for birds to alight on my cradle in thewoods. 

My food was, at first, a troublesome question for my kind foster-mother. She cooked some wild rice and strained it, and mixed it with broth madefrom choice venison. She also pounded dried venison almost to a flour, and kept it in water till the nourishing juices were extracted, thenmixed with it some pounded maize, which was browned before pounding. This soup of wild rice, pounded venison and maize was my main-stay. Butsoon my teeth came--much earlier than the white children usually cuttheirs; and then my good nurse gave me a little more varied food, and Idid all my own grinding. 

After I left my cradle, I almost walked away from it, she told me. Shethen began calling my attention to natural objects. Whenever I heardthe song of a bird, she would tell me what bird it came from, somethingafter this fashion:

"Hakadah, listen to Shechoka (the robin) calling his mate. He says hehas just found something good to eat. " Or "Listen to Oopehanska (thethrush); he is singing for his little wife. He will sing his best. " Whenin the evening the whippoorwill started his song with vim, no furtherthan a stone's throw from our tent in the woods, she would say to me:

"Hush! It may be an Ojibway scout!"

Again, when I waked at midnight, she would say:

"Do not cry! Hinakaga (the owl) is watching you from the tree-top. "

I usually covered up my head, for I had perfect faith in mygrandmother's admonitions, and she had given me a dreadful idea of thisbird. It was one of her legends that a little boy was once standing justoutside of the teepee (tent), crying vigorously for his mother, whenHinakaga swooped down in the darkness and carried the poor littlefellow up into the trees. It was well known that the hoot of the owl wascommonly imitated by Indian scouts when on the war-path. There had beendreadful massacres immediately following this call. Therefore it wasdeemed wise to impress the sound early upon the mind of the child. 

Indian children were trained so that they hardly ever cried much in thenight. This was very expedient and necessary in their exposed life. Inmy infancy it was my grandmother's custom to put me to sleep, as shesaid, with the birds, and to waken me with them, until it became ahabit. She did this with an object in view. An Indian must alwaysrise early. In the first place, as a hunter, he finds his game best atdaybreak. Secondly, other tribes, when on the war-path, usually maketheir attack very early in the morning. Even when our people are movingabout leisurely, we like to rise before daybreak, in order to travelwhen the air is cool, and unobserved, perchance, by our enemies. 

As a little child, it was instilled into me to be silent and reticent. This was one of the most important traits to form in the characterof the Indian. As a hunter and warrior it was considered absolutelynecessary to him, and was thought to lay the foundations of patience andself-control. There are times when boisterous mirth is indulged in byour people, but the rule is gravity and decorum. 

After all, my babyhood was full of interest and the beginnings of life'srealities. The spirit of daring was already whispered into my ears. Thevalue of the eagle feather as worn by the warrior had caught my eye. One day, when I was left alone, at scarcely two years of age, I took myuncle's war bonnet and plucked out all its eagle feathers to decorate mydog and myself. So soon the life that was about me had made its impress, and already I desired intensely to comply with all of its demands. 

II. Early Hardships

ONE of the earliest recollections of my adventurous childhood is theride I had on a pony's side. I was passive in the whole matter. A littlegirl cousin of mine was put in a bag and suspended from the horn of anIndian saddle; but her weight must be balanced or the saddle would notremain on the animal's back. Accordingly, I was put into another sackand made to keep the saddle and the girl in position! I did not objectat all, for I had a very pleasant game of peek-aboo with the littlegirl, until we came to a big snow-drift, where the poor beast was stuckfast and began to lie down. Then it was not so nice!

This was the convenient and primitive way in which some mothers packedtheir children for winter journeys. However cold the weather might be, the inmate of the fur-lined sack was usually very comfortable--at leastI used to think so. I believe I was accustomed to all the precariousIndian conveyances, and, as a boy, I enjoyed the dog-travaux ride asmuch as any. The travaux consisted of a set of rawhide strips securelylashed to the tent-poles, which were harnessed to the sides of theanimal as if he stood between shafts, while the free ends were allowedto drag on the ground. Both ponies and large dogs were used as beasts ofburden, and they carried in this way the smaller children as well as thebaggage. 

This mode of travelling for children was possible only in the summer, and as the dogs were sometimes unreliable, the little ones were exposedto a certain amount of danger. For instance, whenever a train of dogshad been travelling for a long time, almost perishing with the heat andtheir heavy loads, a glimpse of water would cause them to forget alltheir responsibilities. Some of them, in spite of the screams of thewomen, would swim with their burdens into the cooling stream, and I wasthus, on more than one occasion, made to partake of an unwilling bath. 

I was a little over four years old at the time of the "Sioux massacre"in Minnesota. In the general turmoil, we took flight into BritishColumbia, and the journey is still vividly remembered by all our family. A yoke of oxen and a lumber-wagon were taken from some white farmer andbrought home for our conveyance. 

How delighted I was when I learned that we were to ride behind thosewise-looking animals and in that gorgeously painted wagon! It seemedalmost like a living creature to me, this new vehicle with four legs, and the more so when we got out of axle-grease and the wheels went alongsquealing like pigs!

The boys found a great deal of innocent fun in jumping from the highwagon while the oxen were leisurely moving along. My elder brothers soonbecame experts. At last, I mustered up courage enough to join them inthis sport. I was sure they stepped on the wheel, so I cautiouslyplaced my moccasined foot upon it. Alas! before I could realize what hadhappened, I was under the wheels, and had it not been for the neighborimmediately behind us, I might have been run over by the next team aswell. 

This was my first experience with a civilized vehicle. I cried outall possible reproaches on the white man's team and concluded that adog-travaux was good enough for me. I was really rejoiced that we weremoving away from the people who made the wagon that had almost ended mylife, and it did not occur to me that I alone was to blame. I could notbe persuaded to ride in that wagon again and was glad when we finallyleft it beside the Missouri river. 

The summer after the "Minnesota massacre, " General Sibley pursued ourpeople across this river. Now the Missouri is considered one of the mosttreacherous rivers in the world. Even a good modern boat is not safeupon its uncertain current. We were forced to cross in buffalo-skinboats--as round as tubs!

The Washechu (white men) were coming in great numbers with their bigguns, and while most of our men were fighting them to gain time, thewomen and the old men made and equipped the temporary boats, braced withribs of willow. Some of these were towed by two or three women or menswimming in the water and some by ponies. It was not an easy matter tokeep them right side up, with their helpless freight of little childrenand such goods as we possessed. 

In our flight, we little folks were strapped in the saddles or held infront of an older person, and in the long night marches to get away fromthe soldiers, we suffered from loss of sleep and insufficient food. Ourmeals were eaten hastily, and sometimes in the saddle. Water was notalways to be found. The people carried it with them in bags formed oftripe or the dried pericardium of animals. 

Now we were compelled to trespass upon the country of hostile tribesand were harassed by them almost daily and nightly. Only the strictestvigilance saved us. 

One day we met with another enemy near the British lines. It was aprairie fire. We were surrounded. Another fire was quickly made, whichsaved our lives. 

One of the most thrilling experiences of the following winter was ablizzard, which overtook us in our wanderings. Here and there, a familylay down in the snow, selecting a place where it was not likely to driftmuch. For a day and a night we lay under the snow. Uncle stuck a longpole beside us to tell us when the storm was over. We had plenty ofbuffalo robes and the snow kept us warm, but we found it heavy. Aftera time, it became packed and hollowed out around our bodies, so that wewere as comfortable as one can be under those circumstances. 

The next day the storm ceased, and we discovered a large herd ofbuffaloes almost upon us. We dug our way out, shot some of thebuffaloes, made a fire and enjoyed a good dinner. 

I was now an exile as well as motherless; yet I was not unhappy. Ourwanderings from place to place afforded us many pleasant experiences andquite as many hardships and misfortunes. There were times of plentyand times of scarcity, and we had several narrow escapes from death. Insavage life, the early spring is the most trying time and almost all thefamines occurred at this period of the year. 

The Indians are a patient and a clannish people; their love for oneanother is stronger than that of any civilized people I know. If thiswere not so, I believe there would have been tribes of cannibals amongthem. White people have been known to kill and eat their companions inpreference to starving; but Indians--never!

In times of famine, the adults often denied themselves in order to makethe food last as long as possible for the children, who were not able tobear hunger as well as the old. As a people, they can live without foodmuch longer than any other nation. 

I once passed through one of these hard springs when we had nothingto eat for several days. I well remember the six small birds whichconstituted the breakfast for six families one morning; and then we hadno dinner or supper to follow! What a relief that was to me--although Ihad only a small wing of a small bird for my share! Soon after this, wecame into a region where buffaloes were plenty, and hunger and scarcitywere forgotten. 

Such was the Indian's wild life! When game was to be had and the sunshone, they easily forgot the bitter experiences of the winter before. Little preparation was made for the future. They are children of Nature, and occasionally she whips them with the lashes of experience, yet theyare forgetful and careless. Much of their suffering might have beenprevented by a little calculation. 

During the summer, when Nature is at her best, and provides abundantlyfor the savage, it seems to me that no life is happier than his! Food isfree--lodging free--everything free! All were alike rich in the summer, and, again, all were alike poor in the winter and early spring. However, their diseases were fewer and not so destructive as now, and theIndian's health was generally good. The Indian boy enjoyed such a lifeas almost all boys dream of and would choose for themselves if they werepermitted to do so. 

The raids made upon our people by other tribes were frequent, and we hadto be constantly on the watch. I remember at one time a night attack wasmade upon our camp and all our ponies stampeded. Only a few of them wererecovered, and our journeys after this misfortune were effected mostlyby means of the dog-travaux. 

The second winter after the massacre, my father and my two olderbrothers, with several others, were betrayed by a half-breed at Winnipegto the United States authorities. As I was then living with my uncle inanother part of the country, I became separated from them for tenyears. During all this time we believed that they had been killed by thewhites, and I was taught that I must avenge their deaths as soon as Iwas able to go upon the war-path. 

I must say a word in regard to the character of this uncle, my father'sbrother, who was my adviser and teacher for many years. He was a manabout six feet two inches in height, very erect and broad-shouldered. Hewas known at that time as one of the best hunters and bravest warriorsamong the Sioux in British America, where he still lives, for to thisday we have failed to persuade him to return to the United States. 

He is a typical Indian--not handsome, but truthful and brave. He had afew simple principles from which he hardly ever departed. Some of theseI shall describe when I speak of my early training. 

It is wonderful that any children grew up through all the exposuresand hardships that we suffered in those days! The frail teepee pitchedanywhere, in the winter as well as in the summer, was all the protectionthat we had against cold and storms. I can recall times when we weresnowed in and it was very difficult to get fuel. We were once threedays without much fire and all of this time it stormed violently. Thereseemed to be no special anxiety on the part of our people; they ratherlooked upon all this as a matter of course, knowing that the storm wouldcease when the time came. 

I could once endure as much cold and hunger as any of them; but now if Imiss one meal or accidentally wet my feet, I feel it as much as if Ihad never lived in the manner I have described, when it was a matter ofcourse to get myself soaking wet many a time. Even if there was plentyto eat, it was thought better for us to practice fasting sometimes; andhard exercise was kept up continually, both for the sake of health andto prepare the body for the extraordinary exertions that it might, atany moment, be required to undergo. In my own remembrance, my uncle usedoften to bring home a deer on his shoulder. The distance was sometimesconsiderable; yet he did not consider it any sort of a feat. 

The usual custom with us was to eat only two meals a day and these wereserved at each end of the day. This rule was not invariable, however, for if there should be any callers, it was Indian etiquette to offereither tobacco or food, or both. The rule of two meals a day was moreclosely observed by the men--especially the younger men--than by thewomen and children. This was when the Indians recognized that a truemanhood, one of physical activity and endurance, depends upon dietingand regular exercise. No such system is practised by the reservationIndians of to-day. 

III. My Indian Grandmother

AS a motherless child, I always regarded my good grandmother as thewisest of guides and the best of protectors. It was not long before Ibegan to realize her superiority to most of her contemporaries. Thisidea was not gained entirely from my own observation, but also from aknowledge of the high regard in which she was held by other women. Aside from her native talent and ingenuity, she was endowed with a trulywonderful memory. No other midwife in her day and tribe could competewith her in skill and judgment. Her observations in practice were allpreserved in her mind for reference, as systematically as if they hadbeen written upon the pages of a note-book. 

I distinctly recall one occasion when she took me with her into thewoods in search of certain medicinal roots. 

"Why do you not use all kinds of roots for medicines?" said I. 

"Because, " she replied, in her quick, characteristic manner, "theGreat Mystery does not will us to find things too easily. In that caseeverybody would be a medicine-giver, and Ohiyesa must learn that thereare many secrets which the Great Mystery will disclose only to the mostworthy. Only those who seek him fasting and in solitude will receive hissigns. "

With this and many similar explanations she wrought in my soul wonderfuland lively conceptions of the "Great Mystery" and of the effects ofprayer and solitude. I continued my childish questioning. 

"But why did you not dig those plants that we saw in the woods, of thesame kind that you are digging now?"

"For the same reason that we do not like the berries we find in theshadow of deep woods as well as the ones which grow in sunny places. Thelatter have more sweetness and flavor. Those herbs which have medicinalvirtues should be sought in a place that is neither too wet nor toodry, and where they have a generous amount of sunshine to maintain theirvigor. 

"Some day Ohiyesa will be old enough to know the secrets of medicine;then I will tell him all. But if you should grow up to be a bad man, Imust withhold these treasures from you and give them to your brother, for a medicine man must be a good and wise man. I hope Ohiyesa will bea great medicine man when he grows up. To be a great warrior is a nobleambition; but to be a mighty medicine man is a nobler!"

She said these things so thoughtfully and impressively that I cannot butfeel and remember them even to this day. 

Our native women gathered all the wild rice, roots, berries and fruitswhich formed an important part of our food. This was distinctivelya woman's work. Uncheedah (grandmother) understood these mattersperfectly, and it became a kind of instinct with her to know just whereto look for each edible variety and at what season of the year. Thissort of labor gave the Indian women every opportunity to observe andstudy Nature after their fashion; and in this Uncheedah was more acutethan most of the men. The abilities of her boys were not all inheritedfrom their father; indeed, the stronger family traits came obviouslyfrom her. She was a leader among the native women, and they came to her, not only for medical aid, but for advice in all their affairs. 

In bravery she equaled any of the men. This trait, together with heringenuity and alertness of mind, more than once saved her and her peoplefrom destruction. Once, when we were roaming over a region occupied byother tribes, and on a day when most of the men were out upon the hunt, a party of hostile Indians suddenly appeared. Although there were a fewmen left at home, they were taken by surprise at first and scarcely knewwhat to do, when this woman came forward and advanced alone to meet ourfoes. She had gone some distance when some of the men followed her. She met the strangers and offered her hand to them. They acceptedher friendly greeting; and as a result of her brave act we were leftunmolested and at peace. 

Another story of her was related to me by my father. My grandfather, whowas a noted hunter, often wandered away from his band in search of game. In this instance he had with him only his own family of three boys andhis wife. One evening, when he returned from the chase, he found to hissurprise that she had built a stockade around her teepee. 

She had discovered the danger-sign in a single foot-print, which she sawat a glance was not that of her husband, and she was also convinced thatit was not the foot-print of a Sioux, from the shape of the moccasin. This ability to recognize footprints is general among the Indians, butmore marked in certain individuals. 

This courageous woman had driven away a party of five Ojibway warriors. They approached the lodge cautiously, but her dog gave timely warning, and she poured into them from behind her defences the contents of adouble-barrelled gun, with such good effect that the astonished bravesthought it wise to retreat. 

I was not more than five or six years old when the Indian soldiers cameone day and destroyed our large buffalo-skin teepee. It was chargedthat my uncle had hunted alone a large herd of buffaloes. This wasnot exactly true. He had unfortunately frightened a large herd whileshooting a deer in the edge of the woods. However, it was customary topunish such an act severely, even though the offense was accidental. 

When we were attacked by the police, I was playing in the teepee, andthe only other person at home was Uncheedah. I had not noticed theirapproach, and when the war-cry was given by thirty or forty Indians withstrong lungs, I thought my little world was coming to an end. Instantlyinnumerable knives and tomahawks penetrated our frail home, whilebullets went through the poles and tent-fastenings up above our heads. 

I hardly know what I did, but I imagine it was just what any otherlittle fellow would have done under like circumstances. My first clearrealization of the situation was when Uncheedah had a dispute with theleader, claiming that the matter had not been properly investigated, and that none of the policemen had attained to a reputation in war whichwould justify them in touching her son's teepee. But alas! our poordwelling was already an unrecognizable ruin; even the poles were brokeninto splinters. 

The Indian women, after reaching middle age, are usually heavy and lackagility, but my grandmother was in this also an exception. She was fullysixty when I was born; and when I was seven years old she swam across aswift and wide stream, carrying me on her back, because she did not wishto expose me to accident in one of the clumsy round boats of bull-hidewhich were rigged up to cross the rivers which impeded our way, especially in the springtime. Her strength and endurance wereremarkable. Even after she had attained the age of eighty-two, she oneday walked twenty-five miles without appearing much fatigued. 

I marvel now at the purity and elevated sentiment possessed by thiswoman, when I consider the customs and habits of her people at the time. When her husband died she was still comparatively a young woman--stillactive, clever and industrious. She was descended from a haughtychieftain of the "Dwellers among the Leaves. " Although women of herage and position were held to be eligible to re-marriage, and she hadseveral persistent suitors who were men of her own age and chiefs, yetshe preferred to cherish in solitude the memory of her husband. 

I was very small when my uncle brought home two Ojibway young women. Inthe fight in which they were captured, none of the Sioux war party hadbeen killed; therefore they were sympathized with and tenderly treatedby the Sioux women. They were apparently happy, although of course theyfelt deeply the losses sustained at the time of their capture, and theydid not fail to show their appreciation of the kindnesses received atour hands. 

As I recall now the remarks made by one of them at the time of theirfinal release, they appear to me quite remarkable. They lived in mygrandmother's family for two years, and were then returned to theirpeople at a great peace council of the two nations. When they were aboutto leave my grandmother, the elder of the two sisters first embracedher, and then spoke somewhat as follows:

"You are a brave woman and a true mother. I understand now why your sonso bravely conquered our band, and took my sister and myself captive. I hated him at first, but now I admire him, because he did just what myfather, my brother or my husband would have done had they opportunity. He did even more. He saved us from the tomahawks of his fellow-warriors, and brought us to his home to know a noble and a brave woman. 

"I shall never forget your many favors shown to us. But I must go. Ibelong to my tribe and I shall return to them. I will endeavor to be atrue woman also, and to teach my boys to be generous warriors like yourson. "

Her sister chose to remain among the Sioux all her life, and she marriedone of our young men. 

"I shall make the Sioux and the Ojibways, " she said, "to be asbrothers. "

There are many other instances of intermarriage with captive women. The mother of the well-known Sioux chieftain, Wabashaw, was an Ojibwaywoman. I once knew a woman who was said to be a white captive. She wasmarried to a noted warrior, and had a fine family of five boys. She waswell accustomed to the Indian ways, and as a child I should not havesuspected that she was white. The skins of these people became sosunburned and full of paint that it required a keen eye to distinguishthem from the real Indians. 

IV. An Indian Sugar Camp

WITH the first March thaw the thoughts of the Indian women of mychildhood days turned promptly to the annual sugarmaking. This industrywas chiefly followed by the old men and women and the children. The restof the tribe went out upon the spring fur-hunt at this season, leavingus at home to make the sugar. 

The first and most important of the necessary utensils were the hugeiron and brass kettles for boiling. Everything else could be made, butthese must be bought, begged or borrowed. A maple tree was felled anda log canoe hollowed out, into which the sap was to be gathered. Littletroughs of basswood and birchen basins were also made to receive thesweet drops as they trickled from the tree. 

As soon as these labors were accomplished, we all proceeded to the barksugar house, which stood in the midst of a fine grove of maples on thebank of the Minnesota river. We found this hut partially filled with thesnows of winter and the withered leaves of the preceding autumn, and itmust be cleared for our use. In the meantime a tent was pitched outsidefor a few days' occupancy. The snow was still deep in the woods, with asolid crust upon which we could easily walk; for we usually moved to thesugar house before the sap had actually started, the better to completeour preparations. 

My grandmother worked like a beaver in these days (or rather likea muskrat, as the Indians say; for this industrious little animalsometimes collects as many as six or eight bushels of edible roots forthe winter, only to be robbed of his store by some of our people). Ifthere was prospect of a good sugaring season, she now made a secondand even a third canoe to contain the sap. These canoes were afterwardutilized by the hunters for their proper purpose. 

During our last sugar-making in Minnesota, before the "outbreak, " mygrandmother was at work upon a canoe with her axe, while a young auntof mine stood by. We boys were congregated within the large, ovalsugar house, busily engaged in making arrows for the destruction of therabbits and chipmunks which we knew would come in numbers to drink thesap. The birds also were beginning to return, and the cold storms ofMarch would drive them to our door. I was then too young to do muchexcept look on; but I fully entered into the spirit of the occasion, and rejoiced to see the bigger boys industriously sharpen their arrows, resting them against the ends of the long sticks which were burningin the fire, and occasionally cutting a chip from the stick. In theireagerness they paid little attention to this circumstance, although theywell knew that it was strictly forbidden to touch a knife to a burningember. 

Suddenly loud screams were heard from without and we all rushed out tosee what was the matter. It was a serious affair. My grandmother's axehad slipped, and by an upward stroke nearly severed three of the fingersof my aunt, who stood looking on, with her hands folded upon her waist. As we ran out the old lady, who had already noticed and reproved ourcarelessness in regard to the burning embers, pursued us with loudreproaches and threats of a whipping. This will seem mysterious to myreaders, but is easily explained by the Indian superstition, which holdsthat such an offense as we had committed is invariably punished by theaccidental cutting of some one of the family. 

My grandmother did not confine herself to canoe-making. She alsocollected a good supply of fuel for the fires, for she would not havemuch time to gather wood when the sap began to flow. Presently theweather moderated and the snow began to melt. The month of April broughtshowers which carried most of it off into the Minnesota river. Now thewomen began to test the trees-moving leisurely among them, axe in hand, and striking a single quick blow, to see if the sap would appear. Thetrees, like people, have their individual characters; some were ready toyield up their life-blood, while others were more reluctant. Now one ofthe birchen basins was set under each tree, and a hardwood chip drivendeep into the cut which the axe had made. From the corners of thischip--at first drop by drop, then more freely-the sap trickled into thelittle dishes. 

It is usual to make sugar from maples, but several other trees were alsotapped by the Indians. From the birch and ash was made a dark-coloredsugar, with a somewhat bitter taste, which was used for medicinalpurposes. The box-elder yielded a beautiful white sugar, whose onlyfault was that there was never enough of it!

A long fire was now made in the sugar house, and a row of brass kettlessuspended over the blaze. The sap was collected by the women in tin orbirchen buckets and poured into the canoes, from which the kettleswere kept filled. The hearts of the boys beat high with pleasantanticipations when they heard the welcome hissing sound of the boilingsap! Each boy claimed one kettle for his especial charge. It was hisduty to see that the fire was kept up under it, to watch lest it boilover, and finally, when the sap became sirup, to test it upon the snow, dipping it out with a wooden paddle. So frequent were these tests thatfor the first day or two we consumed nearly all that could be made; andit was not until the sweetness began to pall that my grandmother setherself in earnest to store up sugar for future use. She made it intocakes of various forms, in birchen molds, and sometimes in hollow canesor reeds, and the bills of ducks and geese. Some of it was pulverizedand packed in rawhide cases. Being a prudent woman, she did not give itto us after the first month or so, except upon special occasions, and itwas thus made to last almost the year around. The smaller candies werereserved as an occasional treat for the little fellows, and the sugarwas eaten at feasts with wild rice or parched corn, and also withpounded dried meat. Coffee and tea, with their substitutes, were allunknown to us in those days. 

Every pursuit has its trials and anxieties. My grandmother's specialtribulations, during the sugaring season, were the upsetting and gnawingof holes in her birch-bark pans. The transgressors were the rabbit andsquirrel tribes, and we little boys for once became useful, in shootingthem with our bows and arrows. We hunted all over the sugar camp, until the little creatures were fairly driven out of the neighborhood. Occasionally one of my older brothers brought home a rabbit or two, andthen we had a feast. 

The sugaring season extended well into April, and the returning birdsmade the precincts of our camp joyful with their songs. I often followedmy older brothers into the woods, although I was then but four or fiveyears old. Upon one of these excursions they went so far that I venturedback alone. When within sight of our hut, I saw a chipmunk sitting upona log, and uttering the sound he makes when he calls to his mate. Howglorious it would be, I thought, if I could shoot him with my tiny bowand arrows! Stealthily and cautiously I approached, keeping my eyes uponthe pretty little animal, and just as I was about to let fly my shaft, I heard a hissing noise at my feet. There lay a horrid snake, coiled andready to spring! Forgetful that I was a warrior, I gave a loud screamand started backward; but soon recollecting myself, looked down withshame, although no one was near. However, I retreated to the inclinedtrunk of a fallen tree, and there, as I have often been told, wasoverheard soliloquizing in the following words: "I wonder if a snake canclimb a tree!"

I remember on this occasion of our last sugar bush in Minnesota, thatI stood one day outside of our hut and watched the approach of avisitor--a bent old man, his hair almost white, and carrying on his backa large bundle of red willow, or kinnikinick, which the Indians use forsmoking. He threw down his load at the door and thus saluted us: "Youhave indeed perfect weather for sugar-making. "

It was my great-grandfather, Cloud Man, whose original village was onthe shores of Lakes Calhoun and Harriet, now in the suburbs of the cityof Minneapolis. He was the first Sioux chief to welcome the Protestantmissionaries among his people, and a well-known character in thosepioneer days. He brought us word that some of the peaceful sugar-makersnear us on the river had been attacked and murdered by roving Ojibways. This news disturbed us not a little, for we realized that we too mightbecome the victims of an Ojibway war party. Therefore we all felt someuneasiness from this time until we returned heavy laden to our village. 

V. A Midsummer Feast

IT was midsummer. Everything that the Santee Sioux had undertaken duringthe year had been unusually successful. The spring fur-hunters had beenfortunate, and the heavy winter had proved productive of muchmaple sugar. The women's patches of maize and potatoes were alreadysufficiently advanced to use. The Wahpetonwan band of Sioux, the"Dwellers among the Leaves, " were fully awakened to the fact that it wasalmost time for the midsummer festivities of the old, wild days. 

The invitations were bundles of tobacco, and acceptances were sent backfrom the various bands--the "Light Lodges", "Dwellers back from theRiver, " and many others, in similar fashion. Blue Earth, chief of the"Dwellers among the Leaves, " was the host. 

There were to be many different kinds of athletic games; indeed, thefestival was something like a State fair, in that there were many sideshows and competitive events. For instance, supposing that (Miss) WhiteRabbit should desire to give a "maidens' feast, " she would employ acrier to go among the different bands announcing the fact in a sing-songmanner:

"Miss White Rabbit will receive her maiden friends to-day at noon, inside of the circular encampment of the Kaposia band. "

Again, should (Mr. ) Sleepy Eye wish to have his child's earspierced publicly, he would have to give away a great deal of savagewealth--namely, otter, bear and beaver skins and ponies--or the childwould not be considered as belonging to a family in good standing. 

But the one all-important event of the occasion was the lacrosse game, for which it had been customary to select those two bands which couldboast the greater number of fast runners. 

The Wahpetonwan village on the banks of the Minnesota river was alivewith the newly-arrived guests and the preparations for the coming event. Meat of wild game had been put away with much care during the previousfall in anticipation of this feast. There was wild rice and the choicestof dried venison that had been kept all winter, as well as freshly dugturnips, ripe berries and an abundance of fresh meat. 

Along the edge of the woods the teepees were pitched in groups orsemi-circles, each band distinct from the others. The teepee of Mankatoor Blue Earth was pitched in a conspicuous spot. Just over the entrancewas painted in red and yellow a picture of a pipe, and directly oppositethis the rising sun. The painting was symbolic of welcome and good willto men under the bright sun. 

A meeting was held to appoint some "medicine man" to make the ballsthat were to be used in the lacrosse contest; and presently the heraldannounced that this honor had been conferred upon old Chankpee-yuhah, or "Keeps the Club, " while every other man of his profession wasdisappointed. He was a powerful man physically, who had apparently wonthe confidence of the people by his fine personal appearance and byworking upon superstitious minds. 

Towards evening he appeared in the circle, leading by the hand a boyabout four years old. Closely the little fellow observed every motionof the man; nothing escaped his vigilant black eyes, which seemedconstantly to grow brighter and larger, while his exuberant glossy blackhair was plaited and wound around his head like that of a Celestial. Hewore a bit of swan's down in each ear, which formed a striking contrastwith the child's complexion. Further than this, the boy was paintedaccording to the fashion of the age. He held in his hands a miniaturebow and arrows. 

The medicine man drew himself up in an admirable attitude, and proceededto make his short speech:

"Wahpetonwans, you boast that you run down the elk; you can outrun theOjibways. Before you all, I dedicate to you this red ball. Kaposias, youclaim that no one has a lighter foot than you; you declare that you canendure running a whole day without water. To you I dedicate this blackball. Either you or the Leaf-Dwellers will have to drop your eyes andbow your head when the game is over. I wish to announce that if theWahpetonwans should win, this little warrior shall bear the name Ohiyesa(winner) through life; but if the Light Lodges should win, let the namebe given to any child appointed by them. "

The ground selected for the great final game was on a narrow strip ofland between a lake and the river. It was about three quarters of a milelong and a quarter of a mile in width. The spectators had already rangedthemselves all along the two sides, as well as at the two ends, whichwere somewhat higher than the middle. The soldiers appointed to keeporder furnished much of the entertainment of the day. They paintedartistically and tastefully, according to the Indian fashion, not onlytheir bodies but also their ponies and clubs. They were so strict inenforcing the laws that no one could venture with safety within a fewfeet of the limits of the field. 

Now all of the minor events and feasts, occupying several days' time, had been observed. Heralds on ponies' backs announced that all whointended to participate in the final game were requested to repair tothe ground; also that if any one bore a grudge against another, he wasimplored to forget his ill-feeling until the contest should be over. 

The most powerful men were stationed at the half-way ground, whilethe fast runners were assigned to the back. It was an impressivespectacle--a fine collection of agile forms, almost stripped of garmentsand painted in wild imitation of the rainbow and sunset sky on humancanvas. Some had undertaken to depict the Milky Way across their tawnybodies, and one or two made a bold attempt to reproduce the lightning. Others contented themselves with painting the figure of some fleetanimal or swift bird on their muscular chests. 

The coiffure of the Sioux lacrosse player has often been unconsciouslyimitated by the fashionable hair-dressers of modern times. Some bangedand singed their hair; others did a little more by adding powder. TheGrecian knot was located on the wrong side of the head, being tiedtightly over the forehead. A great many simply brushed back their longlocks and tied them with a strip of otter skin. 

At the middle of the ground were stationed four immense men, magnificently formed. A fifth approached this group, paused a moment, and then threw his head back, gazed up into the sky in the manner of acock and gave a smooth, clear operatic tone. Instantly the little blackball went up between the two middle rushers, in the midst of yells, cheers and war-whoops. Both men endeavored to catch it in the air;but alas! each interfered with the other; then the guards on each siderushed upon them. For a time, a hundred lacrosse sticks vied with eachother, and the wriggling human flesh and paint were all one could seethrough the cloud of dust. Suddenly there shot swiftly through theair toward the south, toward the Kaposias' goal, the ball. There wasa general cheer from their adherents, which echoed back from the whitecliff on the opposite side of the Minnesota. 

As the ball flew through the air, two adversaries were ready to receiveit. The Kaposia quickly met the ball, but failed to catch it in hisnetted bag, for the other had swung his up like a flash. Thus it struckthe ground, but had no opportunity to bound up when a Wahpeton pouncedupon it like a cat and slipped out of the grasp of his opponents. Amighty cheer thundered through the air. 

The warrior who had undertaken to pilot the little sphere was riskingmuch, for he must dodge a host of Kaposias before he could gain anyground. He was alert and agile; now springing like a panther, nowleaping like a deer over a stooping opponent who tried to seize himaround the waist. Every opposing player was upon his heels, while thoseof his own side did all in their power to clear the way for him. But itwas all in vain. He only gained fifty paces. 

Thus the game went. First one side, then the other would gain anadvantage, and then it was lost, until the herald proclaimed that it wastime to change the ball. No victory was in sight for either side. 

After a few minutes' rest, the game was resumed. The red ball was nowtossed in the air in the usual way. No sooner had it descended thanone of the rushers caught it and away it went northward; again it wasfortunate, for it was advanced by one of the same side. The scene wasnow one of the wildest excitement and confusion. At last, the northwardflight of the ball was checked for a moment and a desperate struggleensued. Cheers and war-whoops became general, such as were never equaledin any concourse of savages, and possibly nowhere except at a collegegame of football. 

The ball had not been allowed to come to the surface since it reachedthis point, for there were more than a hundred men who scrambled forit. Suddenly a warrior shot out of the throng like the ball itself!Then some of the players shouted: "Look out for Antelope! Look out forAntelope!" But it was too late. The little sphere had already nestledinto Antelope's palm and that fleetest of Wahpetons had thrown down hislacrosse stick and set a determined eye upon the northern goal. 

Such a speed! He had cleared almost all the opponents' guards--therewere but two more. These were exceptional runners of the Kaposias. Ashe approached them in his almost irresistible speed, every savage heartthumped louder in the Indian's dusky bosom. In another moment therewould be a defeat for the Kaposias or a prolongation of the game. Thetwo men, with a determined look approached their foe like two panthersprepared to spring; yet he neither slackened his speed nor deviated fromhis course. A crash--a mighty shout!--the two Kaposias collided, and theswift Antelope had won the laurels!

The turmoil and commotion at the victors' camp were indescribable. Afew beats of a drum were heard, after which the criers hurried along thelines, announcing the last act to be performed at the camp of the "LeafDwellers. "

The day had been a perfect one. Every event had been a success; and, asa matter of course, the old people were happy, for they largely profitedby these occasions. Within the circle formed by the general assembly satin a group the members of the common council. Blue Earth arose, and in afew appropriate and courteous remarks assured his guests that it wasnot selfishness that led his braves to carry off the honors of the lastevent, but that this was a friendly contest in which each band mustassert its prowess. In memory of this victory, the boy would now receivehis name. A loud "Ho-o-o" of approbation reverberated from the edge ofthe forest upon the Minnesota's bank. 

Half frightened, the little fellow was now brought into the circle, looking very much as if he were about to be executed. Cheer after cheerwent up for the awe-stricken boy. Chankpee-yuhah, the medicine man, proceeded to confer the name. 

"Ohiyesa (or Winner) shall be thy name henceforth. Be brave, be patientand thou shalt always win! Thy name is Ohivesa. "

II. AN INDIAN BOY'S TRAINING

IT is commonly supposed that there is no systematic education of theirchildren among the aborigines of this country. Nothing could be fartherfrom the truth. All the customs of this primitive people were held tobe divinely instituted, and those in connection with the trainingof children were scrupulously adhered to and transmitted from onegeneration to another. 

The expectant parents conjointly bent all their efforts to the taskof giving the new-comer the best they could gather from a long lineof ancestors. A pregnant Indian woman would often choose one of thegreatest characters of her family and tribe as a model for her child. This hero was daily called to mind. She would gather from tradition allof his noted deeds and daring exploits, rehearsing them to herself whenalone. In order that the impression might be more distinct, she avoidedcompany. She isolated herself as much as possible, and wandered insolitude, not thoughtlessly, but with an eye to the impress given bygrand and beautiful scenery. 

The Indians believed, also, that certain kinds of animals would conferpeculiar gifts upon the unborn, while others would leave so strong anadverse impression that the child might become a monstrosity. A caseof hare-lip was commonly attributed to the rabbit. It was said that arabbit had charmed the mother and given to the babe its own features. Even the meat of certain animals was denied the pregnant woman, becauseit was supposed to influence the disposition or features of the child. 

Scarcely was the embyro warrior ushered into the world, when he was metby lullabies that speak of wonderful exploits in hunting and war. Thoseideas which so fully occupied his mother's mind before his birth are nowput into words by all about the child, who is as yet quite unresponsiveto their appeals to his honor and ambition. He is called the futuredefender of his people, whose lives may depend upon his courage andskill. If the child is a girl, she is at once addressed as the futuremother of a noble race. 

In hunting songs, the leading animals are introduced; they come to theboy to offer their bodies for the sustenance of his tribe. The animalsare regarded as his friends, and spoken of almost as tribes of people, or as his cousins, grandfathers and grandmothers. The songs of wooing, adapted as lullabies, were equally imaginative, and the suitors wereoften animals personified, while pretty maidens were represented by themink and the doe. 

Very early, the Indian boy assumed the task of preserving andtransmitting the legends of his ancestors and his race. Almost everyevening a myth, or a true story of some deed done in the past, wasnarrated by one of the parents or grandparents, while the boy listenedwith parted lips and glistening eyes. On the following evening, hewas usually required to repeat it. If he was not an apt scholar, hestruggled long with his task; but, as a rule, the Indian boy is a goodlistener and has a good memory, so that the stories were tolerably wellmastered. The household became his audience, by which he was alternatelycriticized and applauded. 

This sort of teaching at once enlightens the boy's mind and stimulateshis ambition. His conception of his own future career becomes a vividand irresistible force. Whatever there is for him to learn must belearned; whatever qualifications are necessary to a truly great man hemust seek at any expense of danger and hardship. Such was the feelingof the imaginative and brave young Indian. It became apparent to him inearly life that he must accustom himself to rove alone and not to fearor dislike the impression of solitude. 

It seems to be a popular idea that all the characteristic skill ofthe Indian is instinctive and hereditary. This is a mistake. All thestoicism and patience of the Indian are acquired traits, and continualpractice alone makes him master of the art of wood-craft. Physicaltraining and dieting were not neglected. I remember that I was notallowed to have beef soup or any warm drink. The soup was for the oldmen. General rules for the young were never to take their food very hot, nor to drink much water. 

My uncle, who educated me up to the age of fifteen years, was a strictdisciplinarian and a good teacher. When I left the teepee in themorning, he would say: "Hakadah, look closely to everything you see";and at evening, on my return, he used often to catechize me for an houror so. 

"On which side of the trees is the lighter-colored bark? On which sidedo they have most regular branches?"

It was his custom to let me name all the new birds that I had seenduring the day. I would name them according to the color or the shapeof the bill or their song or the appearance and locality of the nest--infact, anything about the bird that impressed me as characteristic. Imade many ridiculous errors, I must admit. He then usually informed meof the correct name. Occasionally I made a hit and this he would warmlycommend. 

He went much deeper into this science when I was a little older, thatis, about the age of eight or nine years. He would say, for instance:

"How do you know that there are fish in yonder lake?"

"Because they jump out of the water for flies at mid-day. "

He would smile at my prompt but superficial reply. 

"What do you think of the little pebbles grouped together under theshallow water? and what made the pretty curved marks in the sandy bottomand the little sand-banks? Where do you find the fish-eating birds? Havethe inlet and the outlet of a lake anything to do with the question?"

He did not expect a correct reply at once to all the voluminousquestions that he put to me on these occasions, but he meant to make meobservant and a good student of nature. 

"Hakadah, " he would say to me, "you ought to follow the example of theshunktokecha (wolf). Even when he is surprised and runs for his life, he will pause to take one more look at you before he enters his finalretreat. So you must take a second look at everything you see. 

"It is better to view animals unobserved. I have been a witness to theircourtships and their quarrels and have learned many of their secrets inthis way. I was once the unseen spectator of a thrilling battle betweena pair of grizzly bears and three buffaloes--a rash act for the bears, for it was in the moon of strawberries, when the buffaloes sharpen andpolish their horns for bloody contests among themselves. 

"I advise you, my boy, never to approach a grizzly's den from the front, but to steal up behind and throw your blanket or a stone in front of thehole. He does not usually rush for it, but first puts his head out andlistens and then comes out very indifferently and sits on his hauncheson the mound in front of the hole before he makes any attack. While heis exposing himself in this fashion, aim at his heart. Always be as coolas the animal himself. " Thus he armed me against the cunning of savagebeasts by teaching me how to outwit them. 

"In hunting, " he would resume, "you will be guided by the habits of theanimal you seek. Remember that a moose stays in swampy or low land orbetween high mountains near a spring or lake, for thirty to sixty daysat a time. Most large game moves about continually, except the doe inthe spring; it is then a very easy matter to find her with the fawn. Conceal yourself in a convenient place as soon as you observe any signsof the presence of either, and then call with your birchen doe-caller. 

"Whichever one hears you first will soon appear in your neighborhood. But you must be very watchful, or you may be made a fawn of by a largewild-cat. They understand the characteristic call of the doe perfectlywell. 

"When you have any difficulty with a bear or a wild-cat--that is, ifthe creature shows signs of attacking you--you must make him fullyunderstand that you have seen him and are aware of his intentions. Ifyou are not well equipped for a pitched battle, the only way to make himretreat is to take a long sharp-pointed pole for a spear and rush towardhim. No wild beast will face this unless he is cornered and alreadywounded, These fierce beasts are generally afraid of the common weaponof the larger animals--the horns, and if these are very long and sharp, they dare not risk an open fight. 

"There is one exception to this rule--the grey wolf will attack fiercelywhen very hungry. But their courage depends upon their numbers; in thisthey are like white men. One wolf or two will never attack a man. Theywill stampede a herd of buffaloes in order to get at the calves; theywill rush upon a herd of antelopes, for these are helpless; but they arealways careful about attacking man. "

Of this nature were the instructions of my uncle, who was widely knownat that time as among the greatest hunters of his tribe. 

All boys were expected to endure hardship without complaint. Insavage warfare, a young man must, of course, be an athlete and used toundergoing all sorts of privations. He must be able to go without foodand water for two or three days without displaying any weakness, or torun for a day and a night without any rest. He must be able to traversea pathless and wild country without losing his way either in the day ornight time. He cannot refuse to do any of these things if he aspires tobe a warrior. 

Sometimes my uncle would waken me very early in the morning andchallenge me to fast with him all day. I had to accept the challenge. We blackened our faces with charcoal, so that every boy in the villagewould know that I was fasting for the day. Then the little tempterswould make my life a misery until the merciful sun hid behind thewestern hills. 

I can scarcely recall the time when my stern teacher began to givesudden war-whoops over my head in the morning while I was sound asleep. He expected me to leap up with perfect presence of mind, always readyto grasp a weapon of some sort and to give a shrill whoop in reply. IfI was sleepy or startled and hardly knew what I was about, he wouldridicule me and say that I need never expect to sell my scalp dear. Often he would vary these tactics by shooting off his gun justoutside of the lodge while I was yet asleep, at the same time givingblood-curdling yells. After a time I became used to this. 

When Indians went upon the war-path, it was their custom to try the newwarriors thoroughly before coming to an engagement. For instance, whenthey were near a hostile camp, they would select the novices to go afterthe water and make them do all sorts of things to prove their courage. In accordance with this idea, my uncle used to send me off after waterwhen we camped after dark in a strange place. Perhaps the country wasfull of wild beasts, and, for aught I knew, there might be scouts fromhostile bands of Indians lurking in that very neighborhood. 

Yet I never objected, for that would show cowardice. I picked my waythrough the woods, dipped my pail in the water and hurried back, alwayscareful to make as little noise as a cat. Being only a boy, my heartwould leap at every crackling of a dry twig or distant hooting of anowl, until, at last, I reached our teepee. Then my uncle would perhapssay: "Ah, Hakadah, you are a thorough warrior, " empty out the preciouscontents of the pail, and order me to go a second time. 

Imagine how I felt! But I wished to be a brave man as much as a whiteboy desires to be a great lawyer or even President of the United States. Silently I would take the pail and endeavor to retrace my footsteps inthe dark. 

With all this, our manners and morals were not neglected. I was made torespect the adults and especially the aged. I was not allowed to join intheir discussions, nor even to speak in their presence, unless requestedto do so. Indian etiquette was very strict, and among the requirementswas that of avoiding the direct address. A term of relationship or sometitle of courtesy was commonly used instead of the personal name bythose who wished to show respect. We were taught generosity to the poorand reverence for the "Great Mystery. " Religion was the basis of allIndian training. 

I recall to the present day some of the kind warnings and reproofsthat my good grandmother was wont to give me. "Be strong of heart--bepatient!" she used to say. She told me of a young chief who was notedfor his uncontrollable temper. While in one of his rages he attempted tokill a woman, for which he was slain by his own band and left unburiedas a mark of disgrace--his body was simply covered with green grass. IfI ever lost my temper, she would say:

"Hakadah, control yourself, or you will be like that young man I toldyou of, and lie under a green blanket!"

In the old days, no young man was allowed to use tobacco in any formuntil he had become an acknowledged warrior and had achieved arecord. If a youth should seek a wife before he had reached the age oftwenty-two or twenty-three, and been recognized as a brave man, he wassneered at and considered an ill-bred Indian. He must also be a skillfulhunter. An Indian cannot be a good husband unless he brings home plentyof game. 

These precepts were in the line of our training for the wild life. 

III. MY PLAYS AND PLAYMATES

I. Games and Sports

THE Indian boy was a prince of the wilderness. He had but very littlework to do during the period of his boyhood. His principal occupationwas the practice of a few simple arts in warfare and the chase. Asidefrom this, he was master of his time. 

Whatever was required of us boys was quickly performed: then the fieldwas clear for our games and plays. There was always keen competitionamong us. We felt very much as our fathers did in hunting and war--eachone strove to excel all the others. 

It is true that our savage life was a precarious one, and full ofdreadful catastrophes; however, this never prevented us from enjoyingour sports to the fullest extent. As we left our teepees in the morning, we were never sure that our scalps would not dangle from a pole in theafternoon! It was an uncertain life, to be sure. Yet we observed thatthe fawns skipped and played happily while the gray wolves might bepeeping forth from behind the hills, ready to tear them limb from limb. 

Our sports were molded by the life and customs of our people; indeed, wepracticed only what we expected to do when grown. Our games were featswith the bow and arrow, foot and pony races, wrestling, swimming andimitation of the customs and habits of our fathers. We had sham fightswith mud balls and willow wands; we played lacrosse, made war upon bees, shot winter arrows (which were used only in that season), and coastedupon the ribs of animals and buffalo robes. 

No sooner did the boys get together than, as a usual thing, they dividedinto squads and chose sides; then a leading arrow was shot at randominto the air. Before it fell to the ground a volley from the bows of theparticipants followed. Each player was quick to note the direction andspeed of the leading arrow and he tried to send his own at the samespeed and at an equal height, so that when it fell it would be closer tothe first than any of the others. 

It was considered out of place to shoot by first sighting the objectaimed at. This was usually impracticable in actual life, because theobject was almost always in motion, while the hunter himself was oftenupon the back of a pony at full gallop. Therefore, it was the off-handshot that the Indian boy sought to master. There was another game witharrows that was characterized by gambling, and was generally confined tothe men. 

The races were an every-day occurrence. At noon the boys were usuallygathered by some pleasant sheet of water and as soon as the ponies werewatered, they were allowed to graze for an hour or two, while the boysstripped for their noonday sports. A boy might say to some other whom heconsidered his equal:

"I can't run; but I will challenge you to fifty paces. "

A former hero, when beaten, would often explain his defeat by saying: "Idrank too much water. "

Boys of all ages were paired for a "spin, " and the little red mencheered on their favorites with spirit. 

As soon as this was ended, the pony races followed. All the speedyponies were picked out and riders chosen. If a boy declined to ride, there would be shouts of derision. 

Last of all came the swimming. A little urchin would hang to his pony'slong tail, while the latter, with only his head above water, glidedsportively along. Finally the animals were driven into a fine field ofgrass and we turned our attention to other games. 

Lacrosse was an older game and was confined entirely to the Sisseton andSantee Sioux. Shinny, such as is enjoyed by white boys on the ice, isstill played on the open prairie by the western Sioux. The "moccasingame, " although sometimes played by the boys, was intended mainly foradults. 

The "mud-and-willow" fight was rather a severe and dangerous sport. Alump of soft clay was stuck on the end of a limber and springy willowwand and thrown as boys throw apples from sticks, with considerableforce. When there were fifty or a hundred players on each side, thebattle became warm; but anything to arouse the bravery of Indian boysseemed to them a good and wholesome diversion. 

Wrestling was largely indulged in by us all. It may seem odd, , butwrestling was done by a great many boys at once--from ten to any numberon a side. It was really a battle, in which each one chose his opponent. The rule was that if a boy sat down, he was let alone, but as long ashe remained standing within the field, he was open to an attack. No onestruck with the hand, but all manner of tripping with legs and feetand butting with the knees was allowed. Altogether it was an exhaustingpastime--fully equal to the American game of football and only the youngathlete could really enjoy it. 

One of our most curious sports was a war upon the nests of wild bees. We imagined ourselves about to make an attack upon the Ojibways or sometribal foe. We all painted and stole cautiously upon the nest; then, with a rush and warwhoop, sprang upon the object of our attack andendeavored to destroy it. But it seemed that the bees were always on thealert and never entirely surprised, for they always raised quite as manyscalps as did their bold assailants! After the onslaught upon the nestwas ended, we usually followed it by a pretended scalp dance. 

On the occasion of my first experience in this mode of warfare, there were two other little boys who were also novices. One of themparticularly was really too young to indulge in an exploit of that kind. As it was the custom of our people, when they killed or wounded an enemyon the battle field, to announce the act in a loud voice, we did thesame. My friend, Little Wound (as I will call him, for I do not rememberhis name), being quite small, was unable to reach the nest until it hadbeen well trampled upon and broken and the insects had made a countercharge with such vigor as to repulse and scatter our numbers in everydirection. However, he evidently did not want to retreat without anyhonors; so he bravely jumped upon the nest and yelled:

"I, the brave Little Wound, to-day kill the only fierce enemy!"

Scarcely were the last words uttered when he screamed as if stabbed tothe heart. One of his older companions shouted:

"Dive into the water! Run! Dive into the water!" for there was a lakenear by. This advice he obeyed. 

When we had reassembled and were indulging in our mimic dance, Little Wound was not allowed to dance. He was considered not to be inexistence--he had been killed by our enemies, the Bee tribe. Poor littlefellow! His swollen face was sad and ashamed as he sat on a fallen logand watched the dance. Although he might well have styled himself one ofthe noble dead who had died for their country, yet he was not unmindfulthat he had screamed, and this weakness would be apt to recur to himmany times in the future. 

We had some quiet plays which we alternated with the more severe andwarlike ones. Among them were throwing wands and snow-arrows. In thewinter we coasted much. We had no "double-rippers" or toboggans, but sixor seven of the long ribs of a buffalo, fastened together at the largerend, answered all practical purposes. Sometimes a strip of bass-woodbark, four feet long and about six inches wide, was used withconsiderable skill. We stood on one end and held the other, using theslippery inside of the bark for the outside, and thus coasting down longhills with remarkable speed. 

The spinning of tops was one of the all-absorbing winter sports. We madeour tops heartshaped of wood, horn or bone. We whipped them with along thong of buckskin. The handle was a stick about a foot long andsometimes we whittled the stick to make it spoon-shaped at one end. 

We played games with these tops--two to fifty boys at one time. Eachwhips his top until it hums; then one takes the lead and the rest followin a sort of obstacle race. The top must spin all the way through. Therewere bars of snow over which we must pilot our top in the spoon end ofour whip; then again we would toss it in the air on to another open spotof ice or smooth snowcrust from twenty to fifty paces away. The top thatholds out the longest is the winner. 

Sometimes we played "medicine dance. " This, to us, was almost what"playing church" is among white children, but our people seemed to thinkit an act of irreverence to imitate these dances, therefore performancesof this kind were always enjoyed in secret. We used to observe all theimportant ceremonies and it required something of an actor to reproducethe dramatic features of the dance. The real dances occupied a day anda night, and the program was long and varied, so that it was not easyto execute all the details perfectly; but the Indian children are bornimitators. 

The boys built an arbor of pine boughs in some out-of-the-way placeand at one end of it was a rude lodge. This was the medicine lodgeor headquarters. All the initiates were there. At the further end orentrance were the door-keepers or soldiers, as we called them. Themembers of each lodge entered in a body, standing in single file andfacing the headquarters. Each stretched out his right hand and a prayerwas offered by the leader, after which they took the places assigned tothem. 

When the preliminaries had been completed, our leader sounded the bigdrum and we all said "A-ho-ho-ho!" as a sort of amen. Then the choirbegan their song and whenever they ended a verse, we all said again"A-ho-ho-ho!" At last they struck up the chorus and we all got uponour feet and began to dance, by simply lifting up one foot and then theother, with a slight swing to the body. 

Each boy was representing or imitating some one of the medicine men. We painted and decorated ourselves just as they did and carried bird orsquirrel skins, or occasionally live birds and chipmunks as our medicinebags and small white shells or pebbles for medicine charms. 

Then the persons to be initiated were brought in and seated, with muchceremony, upon a blanket or buffalo robe. Directly in front of themthe ground was levelled smooth and here we laid an old pipe filled withdried leaves for tobacco. Around it we placed the variously coloredfeathers of the birds we had killed, and cedar and sweetgrass we burnedfor incense. 

Finally those of us who had been selected to perform this ceremonystretched out our arms at full length, holding the sacred medicine bagsand aiming them at the new members. After swinging them four times, weshot them suddenly forward, but did not let go. The novices then fellforward on their faces as if dead. Quickly a chorus was struck up andwe all joined in a lively dance around the supposed bodies. The girlscovered them up with their blankets, thus burying the dead. At last weresurrected them with our charms and led them to their places among theaudience. Then came the last general dance and the final feast. 

I was often selected as choir-master on these occasions, for I hadhappened to learn many of the medicine songs and was quite an apt mimic. My grandmother, who was a noted medicine woman of the Turtle lodge, onhearing of these sacrilegious acts (as she called them) warned me thatif any of the medicine men should discover them, they would punish meterribly by shriveling my limbs with slow disease. 

Occasionally, we also played "white man. " Our knowledge of the pale-facewas limited, but we had learned that he brought goods whenever he cameand that our people exchanged furs for his merchandise. We also knewthat his complexion was pale, that he had short hair on his head andlong hair on his face and that he wore coat, trousers, and hat, anddid not patronize blankets in the daytime. This was the picture we hadformed of the white man. 

So we painted two or three of our number with white clay and put on thembirchen hats which we sewed up for the occasion; fastened a piece offur to their chins for a beard and altered their costumes as much aslay within our power. The white of the birch-bark was made to answer fortheir white shirts. Their merchandise consisted of sand for sugar, wildbeans for coffee, dried leaves for tea, pulverized earth for gun-powder, pebbles for bullets and clear water for the dangerous "spirit water. " Wetraded for these goods with skins of squirrels, rabbits and small birds. 

When we played "hunting buffalo" we would send a few good runners off onthe open prairie with a supply of meat; then start a few equally swiftboys to chase them and capture the food. Once we were engaged in thissport when a real hunt by the men was in progress; yet we did notrealize that it was so near until, in the midst of our play, we sawan immense buffalo coming at full speed directly toward us. Our mimicbuffalo hunt turned into a very real buffalo scare. Fortunately, we werenear the edge of the woods and we soon disappeared among the leaveslike a covey of young prairie-chickens and some hid in the bushes whileothers took refuge in tall trees. 

We loved to play in the water. When we had no ponies, we often hadswimming matches of our own and sometimes made rafts with which wecrossed lakes and rivers. It was a common thing to "duck" a young ortimid boy or to carry him into deep water to struggle as best he might. 

I remember a perilous ride with a companion on an unmanageable log, whenwe were both less than seven years old. The older boys had put us onthis uncertain bark and pushed us out into the swift current of theriver. I cannot speak for my comrade in distress, but I can say now thatI would rather ride on a swift bronco any day than try to stay on andsteady a short log in a river. I never knew how we managed to prevent ashipwreck on that voyage and to reach the shore. 

We had many curious wild pets. There were young foxes, bears, wolves, raccoons, fawns, buffalo calves and birds of all kinds, tamed by variousboys. My pets were different at different times, but I particularlyremember one. I once had a grizzly bear for a pet and so far as he and Iwere concerned, our relations were charming and very close. But I hardlyknow whether he made more enemies for me or I for him. It was his habitto treat every boy unmercifully who injured me. He was despised for hisconduct in my interest and I was hated on account of his interference. 

II. My Playmates

CHATANNA was the brother with whom I passed much of my early childhood. From the time that I was old enough to play with boys, this brother wasmy close companion. He was a handsome boy, and an affectionate comrade. We played together, slept together and ate together; and as Chatanna wasthree years the older, I naturally looked up to him as to a superior. 

Oesedah was a beautiful little character. She was my cousin, and fouryears younger than myself. Perhaps none of my early playmates are morevividly remembered than is this little maiden. 

The name given her by a noted medicine-man was Makah-oesetopah-win. It means The-four-corners-of-the-earth. As she was rather small, the abbreviation with a diminutive termination was considered moreappropriate, hence Oesedah became her common name. 

Although she had a very good mother, Uncheedah was her efficient teacherand chaperon Such knowledge as my grandmother deemed suitable to amaiden was duly impressed upon her susceptible mind. When I was not inthe woods with Chatanna, Oesedah was my companion at home; and when Ireturned from my play at evening, she would have a hundred questionsready for me to answer. Some of these were questions concerning ourevery-day life, and others were more difficult problems which hadsuddenly dawned upon her active little mind. Whatever had occurred tointerest her during the day was immediately repeated for my benefit. 

There were certain questions upon which Oesedah held me to be authority, and asked with the hope of increasing her little store of knowledge. Ihave often heard her declare to her girl companions: "I know it is true;Ohiyesa said so!" Uncheedah was partly responsible for this, for whenany questions came up which lay within the sphere of man's observation, she would say:

"Ohiyesa ought to know that: he is a man-I am not! You had better askhim. "

The truth was that she had herself explained to me many of the subjectsunder discussion. 

I was occasionally referred to little Oesedah in the same manner, and Ialways accepted her childish elucidations of any matter upon which I hadbeen advised to consult her, because I knew the source of her wisdom. Inthis simple way we were made to be teachers of one another. 

Very often we discussed some topic before our common instructor, oranswered her questions together, in order to show which had the readiermind. 

"To what tribe does the lizard belong?" inquired Uncheedah, upon one ofthese occasions. 

"To the four-legged tribe, " I shouted. 

Oesedah, with her usual quickness, flashed out the answer:

"It belongs to the creeping tribe. "

The Indians divided all animals into four general classes: 1st, thosethat walk upon four legs; 2nd, those that fly; 3rd, those that swim withfins; 4th, those that creep. 

Of course I endeavored to support my assertion that the lizard belongswhere I had placed it, be-. Cause he has four distinct legs which propelhim everywhere, on the ground or in the water. But my opponent claimedthat the creature under dispute does not walk, but creeps. My strongestargument was that it had legs; but Oesedah insisted that its bodytouches the ground as it moves. As a last resort, I volunteered to gofind one, and demonstrate the point in question. 

The lizard having been brought, we smoothed off the ground and strewedashes on it so that we could see the track. Then I raised the question:"What constitutes creeping, and what constitutes walking?"

Uncheedah was the judge, and she stated, without any hesitation, thatan animal must stand clear of the ground on the support of its legs, andwalk with the body above the legs, and not in contact with the ground, in order to be termed a walker; while a creeper is one that, regardlessof its legs, if it has them, drags its body upon the ground. Uponhearing the judge's decision, I yielded at once to my opponent. 

At another time, when I was engaged in a similar discussion with mybrother Chatanna, Oesedah came to my rescue. Our grandmother had askedus:

"What bird shows most judgment in caring for its young?"

Chatanna at once exclaimed:

"The eagle!" but I held my peace for a moment, because I wasconfused--so many birds came into my mind at once. I finally declared:

"It is the oriole!"

Chatanna was asked to state all the evidence that he had in support ofthe eagle's good sense in rearing its young. He proceeded with an air ofconfidence:

"The eagle is the wisest of all birds. Its nest is made in the safestpossible place, upon a high and inaccessible cliff. It provides itsyoung with an abundance of fresh meat. They have the freshest of air. They are brought up under the spell of the grandest scenes, and inspiredwith lofty feelings and bravery. They see that all other beings livebeneath them, and that they are the children of the King of Birds. Ayoung eagle shows the spirit of a warrior while still in the nest. 

"Being exposed to the inclemency of the weather the young eaglets arehardy. They are accustomed to hear the mutterings of the Thunder Birdand the sighings of the Great Mystery. Why, the little eagles cannothelp being as noble as they are, because their parents selected for themso lofty and inspiring a home! How happy they must be when they findthemselves above the clouds, and behold the zigzag flashes of lightningall about them! It must be nice to taste a piece of fresh meat up intheir cool home, in the burning summer-time! Then when they drop downthe bones of the game they feed upon, wolves and vultures gather beneaththem, feeding upon their refuse. That alone would show them theirchieftainship over all the other birds. Isn't that so, grandmother?"Thus triumphantly he concluded his argument. 

I was staggered at first by the noble speech of Chatannna, but I soonrecovered from its effects. The little Oesedah came to my aid by saying:"Wait until Ohiyesa tells of the loveliness of the beautiful Oriole'shome!" This timely remark gave me courage and I began:

"My grandmother, who was it said that a mother who has a gentle andsweet voice will have children of a good disposition? I think the orioleis that kind of a parent. It provides both sunshine and shadow forits young. Its nest is suspended from the prettiest bough of the mostgraceful tree, where it is rocked by the gentle winds; and the one wefound yesterday was beautifully lined with soft things, both deep andwarm, so that the little featherless birdies cannot suffer from the coldand wet. "

Here Chatanna interrupted me to exclaim: "That is just like the whitepeople--who cares for them? The eagle teaches its young to be accustomedto hardships, like young warriors!"

Ohiyesa was provoked; he reproached his brother and appealed to thejudge, saying that he had not finished yet. 

"But you would not have lived, Chatanna, if you had been exposed likethat when you were a baby! The oriole shows wisdom in providing for itschildren a good, comfortable home! A home upon a high rock would not bepleasant-it would be cold! We climbed a mountain once, and it was coldthere; and who would care to stay in such a place when it storms? Whatwisdom is there in having a pile of rough sticks upon a bare rock, surrounded with ill-smelling bones of animals, for a home? Also, my uncle says that the eaglets seem always to be on the point ofstarvation. You have heard that whoever lives on game killed by some oneelse is compared to an eagle. Isn't that so, grandmother?

"The oriole suspends its nest from the lower side of a horizontalbough so that no enemy can approach it. It enjoys peace and beauty andsafety. "

Oesedah was at Ohiyesa's side during the discussion, and occasionallywhispered into his ear. Uncheedah decided this time in favor of Ohiyesa. 

We were once very short of provisions in the winter time. My uncle, ouronly means of support, was sick; and besides, we were separated fromthe rest of the tribe and in a region where there was little game of anykind. Oesedah had a pet squirrel, and as soon as we began to economizeour food had given portions of her allowance to her pet. 

At last we were reduced very much, and the prospect of obtaininganything soon being gloomy, my grandmother reluctantly suggested thatthe squirrel should be killed for food. Thereupon my little cousincried, and said:

"Why cannot we all die alike wanting? The squirrel's life is as dear tohim as ours to us, " and clung to it. Fortunately, relief came in time tosave her pet. 

Oesedah lived with us for a portion of the year, and as there were noother girls in the family she played much alone, and had many imaginarycompanions. At one time there was a small willow tree which she visitedregularly, holding long conversations, a part of which she wouldafterward repeat to me. She said the willow tree was her husband, whomsome magic had compelled to take that form; but no grown person was everallowed to share her secret. 

When I was about eight years old I had for a playmate the adopted son ofa Sioux, who was a white captive. This boy was quite a noted personage, although he was then only about ten or eleven years of age. When Ifirst became acquainted with him we were on the upper Missouri river. Ilearned from him that he had been taken on the plains, and that both ofhis parents were killed. 

He was at first sad and lonely, but soon found plenty ofconsolation in his new home. The name of his adopted father was"Keeps-the-Spotted-Ponies. " He was known to have an unusual number of thepretty calico ponies; indeed, he had a passion for accumulating propertyin the shape of ponies, painted tents, decorated saddles and all sortsof finery. He had lost his only son; but the little pale-face became theadopted brother of two handsome young women, his daughters. This madehim quite popular among the young warriors. He was not slow to adopt theIndian customs, and he acquired the Sioux language in a short time. 

I well remember hearing of his first experience of war. He was not morethan sixteen when he joined a war-party against the Gros-Ventres andMandans. My uncle reported that he was very brave until he was woundedin the ankle; then he begged with tears to be taken back to a safeplace. Fortunately for him, his adopted father came to the rescue, andsaved him at the risk of his own life. He was called the "pale-faceIndian. " His hair grew very long and he lavished paint on his face andhair so that no one might suspect that he was a white man. 

One day this boy was playing a gambling game with one of the Siouxwarriors. He was an expert gambler, and won everything from the Indian. At a certain point a dispute arose. The Indian was very angry, forhe discovered that his fellow-player had deliberately cheated him. TheIndians were strictly honest in those days, even in their gambling. 

The boy declared that he had merely performed a trick for the benefit ofhis friend, but it nearly cost him his life. The indignant warrior hadalready drawn his bow-string with the intention of shooting the captive, but a third person intervened and saved the boy's life. He at onceexplained his trick; and in order to show himself an honorable gambler, gave back all the articles that he had won from his opponent. In themidst of the confusion, old "Keeps-the-Spotted-Ponies" came rushingthrough the crowd in a state of great excitement. He thought hispale-face son had been killed. When he saw how matters stood, he gavethe aggrieved warrior a pony, "in order, " as he said, "that there may beno shadow between him and my son. "

One spring my uncle took Chatanna to the Canadian trading-post on theAssiniboine river, where he went to trade off his furs for ammunitionand other commodities. When he came back, my brother was not with him!

At first my fears were even worse than the reality. The facts werethese: A Canadian with whom my uncle had traded much had six daughtersand no son; and when he saw this handsome and intelligent little fellow, he at once offered to adopt him. 

"I have no boy in my family, " said he, "and I will deal with him as witha son. I am always in these regions trading; so you can see him two orthree times in a year. "

He further assured my uncle that the possession of the boy would greatlystrengthen their friendship. The matter was finally agreed upon. Atfirst Chatanna was unwilling, but as we were taught to follow the adviceof our parents and guardians, he was obliged to yield. 

This was a severe blow to me, and for a long time I could not beconsoled. Uncheedah was fully in sympathy with my distress. She arguedthat the white man's education was not desirable for her boys; in fact, she urged her son so strongly to go back after Chatanna that he promisedon his next visit to the post to bring him home again. 

But the trader was a shrewd man. He immediately moved to another part ofthe country; and I never saw my Chatanna, the companion of my childhood, again! We learned afterward that he grew up and was married; but one dayhe lost his way in a blizzard and was frozen to death. 

My little cousin and I went to school together in later years; but shecould not endure the confinement of the school-room. Although apparentlyvery happy, she suffered greatly from the change to an indoor life, ashave many of our people, and died six months after our return to theUnited States. 

III: The Boy Hunter

IT will be no exaggeration to say that the life of the Indian hunter wasa life of fascination. From the moment that he lost sight of his rudehome in the midst of the forest, his untutored mind lost itself in themyriad beauties and forces of nature. Yet he never forgot his personaldanger from some lurking foe or savage beast, however absorbing was hispassion for the chase. 

The Indian youth was a born hunter. Every motion, every step expressedan inborn dignity and, at the same time, a depth of native caution. His moccasined foot fell like the velvet paw of a cat--noiselessly; hisglittering black eyes scanned every object that appeared within theirview. Not a bird, not even a chipmunk, escaped their piercing glance. 

I was scarcely over three years old when I stood one morning justoutside our buffalo-skin teepee, with my little bow and arrows in myhand, and gazed up among the trees. Suddenly the instinct to chase andkill seized me powerfully. Just then a bird flew over my head and thenanother caught my eye, as it balanced itself upon a swaying bough. Everything else was forgotten and in that moment I had taken my firststep as a hunter. 

There was almost as much difference between the Indian boys who werebrought up on the open prairies and those of the woods, as between cityand country boys. The hunting of the prairie boys was limited and theirknowledge of natural history imperfect. They were, as a rule, goodriders, but in all-round physical development much inferior to the redmen of the forest. 

Our hunting varied with the season of the year, and the nature of thecountry which was for the time our home. Our chief weapon was the bowand arrows, and perhaps, if we were lucky, a knife was possessed by someone in the crowd. In the olden times, knives and hatchets were made frombone and sharp stones. 

For fire we used a flint with a spongy piece of dry wood and a stone tostrike with. Another way of starting fire was for several of the boysto sit down in a circle and rub two pieces of dry, spongy wood together, one after another, until the wood took fire. 

We hunted in company a great deal, though it was a common thing for aboy to set out for the woods quite alone, and he usually enjoyed himselffully as much. Our game consisted mainly of small birds, rabbits, squirrels and grouse. Fishing, too, occupied much of our time. We hardlyever passed a creek or a pond without searching for some signs of fish. When fish were present, we always managed to get some. Fish-lines weremade of wild hemp, sinew or horse-hair. We either caught fish withlines, snared or speared them, or shot them with bow and arrows. In thefall we charmed them up to the surface by gently tickling them with astick and quickly threw them out. We have sometimes dammed the brooksand driven the larger fish into a willow basket made for that purpose. 

It was part of our hunting to find new and strange things in the woods. We examined the slightest sign of life; and if a bird had scratched theleaves off the ground, or a bear dragged up a root for his morning meal, we stopped to speculate on the time it was done. If we saw a large oldtree with some scratches on its bark, we concluded that a bear or someraccoons must be living there. In that case we did not go any nearerthan was necessary, but later reported the incident at home. An olddeer-track would at once bring on a warm discussion as to whether it wasthe track of a buck or a doe. Generally, at noon, we met and comparedour game, noting at the same time the peculiar characteristics ofeverything we had killed. It was not merely a hunt, for we combined withit the study of animal life. We also kept strict account of our game, and thus learned who were the best shots among the boys. 

I am sorry to say that we were merciless toward the birds. We often tooktheir eggs and their young ones. My brother Chatanna and I once had adisagreeable adventure while bird-hunting. We were accustomed to catchin our hands young ducks and geese during the summer, and while doingthis we happened to find a crane's nest. Of course, we were delightedwith our good luck. But, as it was already midsummer, the youngcranes--two in number--were rather large and they were a little wayfrom the nest; we also observed that the two old cranes were in a swampyplace near by; but, as it was moulting-time, we did not suppose thatthey would venture on dry land. So we proceeded to chase the youngbirds; but they were fleet runners and it took us some time to come upwith them. 

Meanwhile, the parent birds had heard the cries of their little ones andcome to their rescue. They were chasing us, while we followed the birds. It was really a perilous encounter! Our strong bows finally gained thevictory in a hand-to-hand struggle with the angry cranes; but afterthat we hardly ever hunted a crane's nest. Almost all birds make someresistance when their eggs or young are taken, but they will seldomattack man fearlessly. 

We used to climb large trees for birds of all kinds; but we neverundertook to get young owls unless they were on the ground. The hootingowl especially is a dangerous bird to attack under these circumstances. I was once trying to catch a yellow-winged woodpecker in its nest whenmy arm became twisted and lodged in the deep hole so that I could notget it out without the aid of a knife; but we were a long way from homeand my only companion was a deaf mute cousin of mine. I was about fiftyfeet up in the tree, in a very uncomfortable position, but I had to waitthere for more than an hour before he brought me the knife with which Ifinally released myself. 

Our devices for trapping small animals were rude, but they were oftensuccessful. For instance, we used to gather up a peck or so of large, sharp-pointed burrs and scatter them in the rabbit's furrow-like path. In the morning, we would find the little fellow sitting quietly in histracks, unable to move, for the burrs stuck to his feet. 

Another way of snaring rabbits and grouse was the following: We madenooses of twisted horsehair, which we tied very firmly to the top of alimber young tree, then bent the latter down to the track and fastenedthe whole with a slip-knot, after adjusting the noose. When the rabbitruns his head through the noose, he pulls the slip-knot and is quicklycarried up by the spring of the young tree. This is a good plan, for therabbit is out of harm's way as he swings high in the air. 

Perhaps the most enjoyable of all was the chipmunk hunt. We killed theseanimals at any time of year, but the special time to hunt them was inMarch. After the first thaw, the chipmunks burrow a hole through thesnow crust and make their first appearance for the season. Sometimesas many as fifty will come together and hold a social reunion. Thesegatherings occur early in the morning, from daybreak to about nineo'clock. 

We boys learned this, among other secrets of nature, and got ourblunt-headed arrows together in good season for the chipmunk expedition. 

We generally went in groups of six to a dozen or fifteen, to see whichwould get the most. On the evening before, we selected several boys whocould imitate the chipmunk's call with wild oatstraws and each of theseprovided himself with a supply of straws. 

The crust will hold the boys nicely at this time of the year. Bright andearly, they all come together at the appointed place, from which eachgroup starts out in a different direction, agreeing to meet somewhere ata given position of the sun. 

My first experience of this kind is still well remembered. It was a finecrisp March morning, and the sun had not yet shown himself amongthe distant tree-tops as we hurried along through the ghostly wood. Presently we arrived at a place where there were many signs of theanimals. Then each of us selected a tree and took up his position behindit. The chipmunk caller sat upon a log as motionless as he could, andbegan to call. 

Soon we heard the patter of little feet on the hard snow; then we sawthe chipmunks approaching from all directions. Some stopped andran experimentally up a tree or a log, as if uncertain of the exactdirection of the call; others chased one another about. 

In a few minutes, the chipmunk-caller was besieged with them. Some ranall over his person, others under him and still others ran up the treeagainst which he was sitting. Each boy remained immovable until theirleader gave the signal; then a great shout arose, and the chipmunks intheir flight all ran up the different trees. 

Now the shooting-match began. The little creatures seemed to realizetheir hopeless position; they would try again and again to come downthe trees and flee away from the deadly aim of the youthful hunters. But they were shot down very fast; and whenever several of them rushedtoward the ground, the little red-skin hugged the tree and yelledfrantically to scare them up again. 

Each boy shoots always against the trunk of the tree, so that the arrowmay bound back to him every time; otherwise, when he had shot away allof them, he would be helpless, and another, who had cleared his owntree, would come and take away his game, so there was warm competition. Sometimes a desperate chipmunk would jump from the top of the tree inorder to escape, which was considered a joke on the boy who lost it anda triumph for the brave little animal. At last all were killed or gone, and then we went on to another place, keeping up the sport until the suncame out and the chipmunks refused to answer the call. 

When we went out on the prairies we had a different and less lively kindof sport. We used to snare with horse-hair and bow-strings all the smallground animals, including the prairie-dog. We both snared and shot them. Once a little boy set a snare for one, and lay flat on the ground alittle way from the hole, holding the end of the string. Presently hefelt something move and pulled in a huge rattlesnake; and to this day, his name is "Caught-the-Rattlesnake. " Very often a boy got a new namein some such manner. At another time, we were playing in the woods andfound a fawn's track. We followed and caught it while asleep; but inthe struggle to get away, it kicked one boy, who is still called"Kicked-by-the-Fawn. "

It became a necessary part of our education to learn to prepare a mealwhile out hunting. It is a fact that most Indians will eat the liver andsome other portions of large animals raw, but they do not eat fish orbirds uncooked. Neither will they eat a frog, or an eel. On our boyishhunts, we often went on until we found ourselves a long way from ourcamp, when we would kindle a fire and roast a part of our game. 

Generally we broiled our meat over the coals on a stick. We roasted someof it over the open fire. But the best way to cook fish and birds is inthe ashes, under a big fire. We take the fish fresh from the creek orlake, have a good fire on the sand, dig in the sandy ashes and bury itdeep. The same thing is done in case of a bird, only we wet the feathersfirst. When it is done, the scales or feathers and skin are strippedoff whole, and the delicious meat retains all its juices and flavor. Wepulled it off as we ate, leaving the bones undisturbed. 

Our people had also a method of boiling without pots or kettles. A largepiece of tripe was thoroughly washed and the ends tied, then suspendedbetween four stakes driven into the ground and filled with cold water. The meat was then placed in this novel receptacle and boiled by means ofthe addition of red-hot stones. 

Chatanna was a good hunter. He called the doe and fawn beautifully byusing a thin leaf of birchbark between two flattened sticks. One morningwe found the tracks of a doe and fawn who had passed within the hour, for the light dew was brushed from the grass. 

"What shall we do?" I asked. "Shall we go back to the teepee and telluncle to bring his gun?"

"No, no!" exclaimed Chatanna. "Did not our people kill deer and buffalolong ago without guns? We will entice her into this open space, and, while she stands bewildered, I can throw my lasso line over her head. "

He had called only a few seconds when the fawn emerged from the thickwoods and stood before us, prettier than a picture. Then I uttered thecall, and she threw her tobacco-leaf-like ears toward me, while Chatannathrew his lasso. She gave one scream and launched forth into the air, almost throwing the boy hunter to the ground. Again and again she flungherself desperately into the air, but at last we led her to the nearesttree and tied her securely. 

"Now, " said he, "go and get our pets and see what they will do. "

At that time he had a good-sized black bear partly tamed, while I hada young red fox and my faithful Ohitika or Brave. I untied Chagoo, thebear, and Wanahon, the fox, while Ohitika got up and welcomed me bywagging his tail in a dignified way. 

"Come, " I said, "all three of you. I think we have something you wouldall like to see. "

They seemed to understand me, for Chagoo began to pull his rope withboth paws, while Wanahon undertook the task of digging up by the rootsthe sapling to which I had tied him. 

Before we got to the open spot, we already heard Ohitika's joyous bark, and the two wild pets began to run, and pulled me along through theunderbrush. Chagoo soon assumed the utmost precaution and walked as ifhe had splinters in his soles, while Wanahon kept his nose down low andsneaked through the trees. 

Out into the open glade we came, and there, before the three rogues, stood the little innocent fawn. She visibly trembled at the sight of themotley group. The two human rogues looked to her, I presume, just as badas the other three. Chagoo regarded her with a mixture of curiosityand defiance, while Wanahon stood as if rooted to the ground, evidentlyplanning how to get at her. But Ohitika (Brave), generous Ohitika, his occasional barking was only in jest. He did not care to touch thehelpless thing. 

Suddenly the fawn sprang high into the air and then dropped her prettyhead on the ground. 

"Ohiyesa, the fawn is dead, " cried Chatanna. "I wanted to keep her. "

"It is a shame;" I chimed in. 

We five guilty ones came and stood around her helpless form. We alllooked very sorry; even Chagoo's eyes showed repentance and regret. As for Ohitika, he gave two great sighs and then betook himself to arespectful distance. Chatanna had two big tears gradually swamping hislong, black eye-lashes; and I thought it was time to hide my face, for Idid not want him to look at me. 

IV. Hakadah's First Offering

"HAKADAH, coowah!" was the sonorous call that came from a large teepeein the midst of the Indian encampment. In answer to the summons thereemerged from the woods, which were only a few steps away, a boy, accompanied by a splendid black dog. There was little in the appearanceof the little fellow to distinguish him from the other Sioux boys. 

He hastened to the tent from which he had been summoned, carrying inhis hands a bow and arrows gorgeously painted, while the small birds andsquirrels that he had killed with these weapons dangled from his belt. 

Within the tent sat two old women, one on each side of the fire. Uncheedah was the boy's grandmother, who had brought up the motherlesschild. Wahchewin was only a caller, but she had been invited to remainand assist in the first personal offering of Hakadah to the "GreatMystery. "

This was a matter which had, for several days, pretty much monopolizedUncheedah's mind. It was her custom to see to this when each of herchildren attained the age of eight summers. They had all been celebratedas warriors and hunters among their tribe, and she had not hesitated toclaim for herself a good share of the honors they had achieved, becauseshe had brought them early to the notice of the "Great Mystery. "

She believed that her influence had helped to regulate and develop thecharacters of her sons to the height of savage nobility and strength ofmanhood. 

It had been whispered through the teepee village that Uncheedah intendedto give a feast in honor of her grandchild's first sacrificial offering. This was mere speculation, however, for the clearsighted old woman haddetermined to keep this part of the matter secret until the offeringshould be completed, believing that the "Great Mystery" should be met insilence and dignity. 

The boy came rushing into the lodge, followed by his dog Ohitika who waswagging his tail promiscuously, as if to say: "Master and I are reallyhunters!"

Hakadah breathlessly gave a descriptive narrative of the killing of eachbird and squirrel as he pulled them off his belt and threw them beforehis grandmother. 

"This blunt-headed arrow, " said he, "actually had eyes this morning. Before the squirrel can dodge around the tree it strikes him in thehead, and, as he falls to the ground, my Ohitika is upon him. "

He knelt upon one knee as he talked, his black eyes shining like eveningstars. 

"Sit down here, " said Uncheedah to the boy; "I have something to say toyou. You see that you are now almost a man. Observe the game you havebrought me! It will not be long before you will leave me, for a warriormust seek opportunities to make him great among his people. 

"You must endeavor to equal your father and grandfather, " she went on. "They were warriors and feast-makers. But it is not the poor hunter whomakes many feasts. Do you not remember the 'Legend of the Feast-Maker, 'who gave forty feasts in twelve moons? And have you forgotten the storyof the warrior who sought the will of the Great Mystery? To-day you willmake your first offering to him. "

The concluding sentence fairly dilated the eyes of the young hunter, forhe felt that a great event was about to occur, in which he would be theprincipal actor. But Uncheedah resumed her speech. 

"You must give up one of your belongings-whichever is dearest toyou--for this is to be a sacrificial offering. "

This somewhat confused the boy; not that he was selfish, but ratheruncertain as to what would be the most appropriate thing to give. Then, too, he supposed that his grandmother referred to his ornaments andplaythings only. So he volunteered:

"I can give up my best bow and arrows, and all the paints I have, and--and my bear's claws necklace, grandmother!"

"Are these the things dearest to you?" she demanded. 

"Not the bow and arrows, but the paints will be very hard to get, forthere are no white people near; and the necklace--it is not easy to getone like it again. I will also give up my otterskin head-dress, if youthink that is not enough. "

"But think, my boy, you have not yet mentioned the thing that will be apleasant offering to the Great Mystery. "

The boy looked into the woman's face with a puzzled expression. 

"I have nothing else as good as those things I have named, grandmother, unless it is my spotted pony; and I am sure that the Great Mystery willnot require a little boy to make him so large a gift. Besides, my unclegave three otter-skins and five eagle-feathers for him and I promised tokeep him a long while, if the Blackfeet or the Crows do not steal him. "

Uncheedah was not fully satisfied with the boy's free offerings. Perhapsit had not occurred to him what she really wanted. But Uncheedahknew where his affection was vested. His faithful dog, his pet andcompanion--Hakadah was almost inseparable from the loving beast. 

She was sure that it would be difficult to obtain his consent tosacrifice the animal, but she ventured upon a final appeal. 

"You must remember, " she said, "that in this offering you will callupon him who looks at you from every creation. In the wind you hear himwhisper to you. He gives his war-whoop in the thunder. He watches youby day with his eye, the sun; at night, he gazes upon your sleepingcountenance through the moon. In short, it is the Mystery of Mysteries, who controls all things to whom you will make your first offering. Bythis act, you will ask him to grant to you what he has granted to fewmen. I know you wish to be a great warrior and hunter. I am not preparedto see my Hakadah show any cowardice, for the love of possessions is awoman's trait and not a brave's. "

During this speech, the boy had been completely aroused to the spiritof manliness, and in his excitement was willing to give up anything hehad--even his pony! But he was unmindful of his friend and companion, Ohitika, the dog! So, scarcely had Uncheedah finished speaking, when healmost shouted:

"Grandmother, I will give up any of my possessions for the offering tothe Great Mystery! You may select what you think will be most pleasingto him. "

There were two silent spectators of this little dialogue. One wasWahchewin; the other was Ohitika. The woman had been invited to stay, although only a neighbor. The dog, by force of habit, had taken up hisusual position by the side of his master when they entered the teepee. Without moving a muscle, save those of his eyes, he had been a veryclose observer of what passed. 

Had the dog but moved once to attract the attention of his littlefriend, he might have been dissuaded from that impetuous exclamation:"Grandmother, I will give up any of my possessions!"

It was hard for Uncheedah to tell the boy that he must part with hisdog, but she was equal to the situation. 

"Hakadah, " she proceeded cautiously, "you are a young brave. I know, though young, your heart is strong and your courage is great. Youwill be pleased to give up the dearest thing you have for your firstoffering. You must give up Ohitika. He is brave; and you, too, are brave. He will not fear death; you will bear his loss bravely. Come--here are four bundles of paints and a filled pipe--let us go tothe place. "

When the last words were uttered, Hakadah did not seem to hear them. Hewas simply unable to speak. To a civilized eye, he would have appearedat that moment like a little copper statue. His bright black eyes werefast melting in floods of tears, when he caught his grandmother'seye and recollected her oft-repeated adage: "Tears for woman and thewar-whoop for man to drown sorrow!"

He swallowed two or three big mouthfuls of heart-ache and the littlewarrior was master of the situation. 

"Grandmother, my Brave will have to die! Let me tie together two of theprettiest tails of the squirrels that he and I killed this morning, toshow to the Great Mystery what a hunter he has been. Let me paint himmyself. "

This request Uncheedah could not refuse and she left the pair alone fora few minutes, while she went to ask Wacoota to execute Ohitika. 

Every Indian boy knows that, when a warrior is about to meet death, hemust sing a death dirge. Hakadah thought of his Ohitika as a person whowould meet his death without a struggle, so he began to sing a dirgefor him, at the same time hugging him tight to himself. As if he were ahuman being, he whispered in his ear:

"Be brave, my Ohitika! I shall remember you the first time I am upon thewar-path in the Ojibway country. "

At last he heard Uncheedah talking with a man outside the teepee, so hequickly took up his paints. Ohitika was a jet-black dog, with a silvertip on the end of his tail and on his nose, beside one white paw and awhite star upon a protuberance between his ears. Hakadah knew that aman who prepares for death usually paints with red and black. Naturehad partially provided Ohitika in this respect, so that only red wasrequired and this Hakadah supplied generously. 

Then he took off a piece of red cloth and tied it around the dog's neck;to this he fastened two of the squirrels' tails and a wing from theoriole they had killed that morning. 

Just then it occurred to him that good warriors always mourn for theirdeparted friends and the usual mourning was black paint. He loosened hisblack braided locks, ground a dead coal, mixed it with bear's oil andrubbed it on his entire face. 

During this time every hole in the tent was occupied with an eye. Amongthe lookers-on was his grandmother. She was very near relenting. Had shenot feared the wrath of the Great Mystery, she would have been happy tocall out to the boy: "Keep your dear dog, my child!"

As it was, Hakadah came out of the teepee with his face looking like aneclipsed moon, leading his beautiful dog, who was even handsomer thanever with the red touches on his specks of white. 

It was now Uncheedah's turn to struggle with the storm and burden inher soul. But the boy was emboldened by the people's admiration of hisbravery, and did not shed a tear. As soon as she was able to speak, theloving grandmother said:

"No, my young brave, not so! You must not mourn for your first offering. Wash your face and then we will go. "

The boy obeyed, submitted Ohitika to Wacoota with a smile, and walkedoff with his grandmother and Wahchewin. 

They followed a well-beaten foot-path leading along the bank of theAssiniboine river, through a beautiful grove of oak, and finally aroundand under a very high cliff. The murmuring of the river came up fromjust below. On the opposite side was a perpendicular white cliff, fromwhich extended back a gradual slope of land, clothed with the majesticmountain oak. The scene was impressive and wild. 

Wahchewin had paused without a word when the little party reached theedge of the cliff. It had been arranged between her and Uncheedah thatshe should wait there for Wacoota, who was to bring as far as that theportion of the offering with which he had been entrusted. 

The boy and his grandmother descended the bank, following a tortuousfoot-path until they reached the water's edge. Then they proceeded tothe mouth of an immense cave, some fifty feet above the river, underthe cliff. A little stream of limpid water trickled down from a springwithin the cave. The little watercourse served as a sort of naturalstaircase for the visitors. A cool, pleasant atmosphere exhaled fromthe mouth of the cavern. Really it was a shrine of nature and it is notstrange that it was so regarded by the tribe. 

A feeling of awe and reverence came to the boy. "It is the home of theGreat Mystery, " he thought to himself; and the impressiveness of hissurroundings made him forget his sorrow. 

Very soon Wahchewin came with some difficulty to the steps. She placedthe body of Ohitika upon the ground in a life-like position and againleft the two alone. 

As soon as she disappeared from view, Uncheedah, with all solemnityand reverence, unfastened the leather strings that held the four smallbundles of paints and one of tobacco, while the filled pipe was laidbeside the dead Ohitika. 

She scattered paints and tobacco all about. Again they stood a fewmoments silently; then she drew a deep breath and began her prayer tothe Great Mystery:

"O, Great Mystery, we hear thy voice in the rushing waters below us! Wehear thy whisper in the great oaks above! Our spirits are refreshed withthy breath from within this cave. O, hear our prayer! Behold this littleboy and bless him! Make him a warrior and a hunter as great as thoudidst make his father and grandfather. "

And with this prayer the little warrior had completed his firstoffering. 

V. FAMILY TRADITIONS

I: A Visit to Smoky Day

SMOKY DAY was widely known among us as a preserver of history andlegend. He was a living book of the traditions and history of hispeople. Among his effects were bundles of small sticks, notched andpainted. One bundle contained the number of his own years. Another wascomposed of sticks representing the important events of history, eachof which was marked with the number of years since that particular eventoccurred. For instance, there was the year when so many stars fell fromthe sky, with the number of years since it happened cut into the wood. Another recorded the appearance of a comet; and from these heavenlywonders the great national catastrophes and victories were reckoned. 

But I will try to repeat some of his favorite narratives as I heard themfrom his own lips. I went to him one day with a piece of tobacco andan eagle-feather; not to buy his MSS. , but hoping for the privilegeof hearing him tell of some of the brave deeds of our people in remotetimes. 

The tall and large old man greeted me with his usual courtesy andthanked me for my present. As I recall the meeting, I well remember hisunusual stature, his slow speech and gracious manner. 

"Ah, Ohiyesa!" said he, "my young warrior--for such you will be someday! I know this by your seeking to hear of the great deeds of yourancestors. That is a good sign, and I love to repeat these stories toone who is destined to be a brave man. I do not wish to lull youto sleep with sweet words; but I know the conduct of your paternalancestors. They have been and are still among the bravest of ourtribe. To prove this, I will relate what happened in your paternalgrandfather's family, twenty years ago. 

"Two of his brothers were murdered by a jealous young man of theirown band. The deed was committed without just cause; therefore allthe braves were agreed to punish the murderer with death. When yourgrandfather was approached with this suggestion, he replied that he andthe remaining brothers could not condescend to spill the blood of such awretch, but that the others might do whatever they thought just with theyoung man. These men were foremost among the warriors of the Sioux, andno one questioned their courage; yet when this calamity was brought uponthem by a villain, they refused to touch him! This, my boy, is a test oftrue bravery. Self-possession and self-control at such a moment is proofof a strong heart. 

"You have heard of Jingling Thunder the elder, whose brave deeds arewell known to the Villagers of the Lakes. He sought honor 'in the gatesof the enemy, ' as we often say. The Great Mystery was especially kind tohim, because he was obedient. 

"Many winters ago there was a great battle, in which Jingling Thunderwon his first honors. It was forty winters before the falling of manystars, which event occurred twenty winters after the coming of theblack-robed white priest; and that was fourteen winters before theannihilation by our people of thirty lodges of the Sac and Fox Indians. I well remember the latter event--it was just fifty winters ago. However, I will count my sticks again. "

So saying, Smoky Day produced his bundle of variously colored sticks, about five inches long. He counted and gave them to me to verify hiscalculation. 

"But you, " he resumed, "do not care to remember the winters that havepassed. You are young, and care only for the event and the deed. It wasvery many years ago that this thing happened that I am about to tellyou, and yet our people speak of it with as much enthusiasm as if itwere only yesterday. Our heroes are always kept alive in the minds ofthe nation. 

"Our people lived then on the east bank of the Mississippi, a littlesouth of where Imnejah-skah, or White Cliff (St. Paul, Minnesota), nowstands. After they left Mille Lacs they founded several villages, but finally settled in this spot, whence the tribes have graduallydispersed. Here a battle occurred which surpassed all others in history. It lasted one whole day--the Sacs and Foxes and the Dakotas against theOjibways. 

"An invitation in the usual form of a filled pipe was brought to theSioux by a brave of the Sac and Fox tribe, to make a general attackupon their common enemy. The Dakota braves quickly signified theirwillingness in the same manner, and it having been agreed to meet uponthe St. Croix river, preparations were immediately begun to despatch alarge war-party. 

"Among our people there were many tried warriors whose names were known, and every youth of a suitable age was desirous of emulating them. Asthese young novices issued from every camp and almost every teepee, their mothers, sisters, grandfathers and grandmothers were singingfor them the 'strong-heart' songs. An old woman, living with her onlygrandchild, the remnant of a once large band who had all been killedat three different times by different parties of the Ojibways, wasconspicuous among the singers. 

"Everyone who heard, cast toward her a sympathetic glance, for it waswell known that she and her grandson constituted the remnant of aband of Sioux, and that her song indicated that her precious child hadattained the age of a warrior, and was now about to join the war-party, and to seek a just revenge for the annihilation of his family. This wasJingling Thunder, also familiarly known as 'The Little Last. ' He wasseen to carry with him some family relics in the shape of war-clubs andlances. 

"The aged woman's song was something like this:

 "Go, my brave Jingling Thunder! Upon the silvery path Behold that glittering track--

 "And yet, my child, remember How pitiful to live Survivor of the young! 'Stablish our name and kin!"

"The Sacs and Foxes were very daring and confident upon this occasion. They proposed to the Sioux that they should engage alone with the enemyat first, and let us see how their braves can fight! To this our peopleassented, and they assembled upon the hills to watch the strugglebetween their allies and the Ojibways. It seemed to be an equal fight, and for a time no one could tell how the contest would end. YoungJingling Thunder was an impatient spectator, and it was The MilkyWay--believed by the Dakotas to be the road travelled by the spirits ofdeparted braves hard to keep him from rushing forward to meet his foes. 

"At last a great shout went up, and the Sacs and Foxes were seen to beretreating with heavy loss. Then the Sioux took the field, and were fastwinning the day, when fresh reinforcements came from the north for theOjibways. Up to this time Jingling Thunder had been among the foremostin the battle, and had engaged in several close encounters. But thisfresh attack of the Ojibways was unexpected, and the Sioux were somewhattired. Besides, they had told the Sacs and Foxes to sit upon the hillsand rest their weary limbs and take lessons from their friends theSioux; therefore no aid was looked for from any quarter. 

"A great Ojibway chief made a fierce onslaught on the Dakotas. Thisman Jingling Thunder now rushed forward to meet. The Ojibway boastfullyshouted to his warriors that he had met a tender fawn and would reserveto himself the honor of destroying it. Jingling Thunder, on his side, exclaimed that he had met the aged bear of whom he had heard so much, but that he would need no assistance to overcome him. 

"The powerful man flashed his tomahawk in the air over the youthfulwarrior's head, but the brave sprang aside as quick as lightning, andin the same instant speared his enemy to the heart. As the Ojibway chiefgave a gasping yell and fell in death, his people lost courage; whilethe success of the brave Jingling Thunder strengthened the hearts of theSioux, for they immediately followed up their advantage and drove theenemy out of their territory. 

"This was the beginning of Jingling Thunder's career as a warrior. Heafterwards performed even greater acts of valor. He became the ancestorof a famous band of the Sioux, of whom your own father, Ohiyesa, was amember. You have doubtless heard his name in connection with many greatevents. Yet he was a patient man, and was never known to quarrel withone of his own nation. "

That night I lay awake a long time committing to memory the traditionI had heard, and the next day I boasted to my playmate, Little Rainbow, about my first lesson from the old storyteller. To this he replied:

"I would rather have Weyuhah for my teacher. I think he remembers morethan any of the others. When Weyuhah tells about a battle you can seeit yourself; you can even hear the war-whoop, " he went on with muchenthusiasm. 

"That is what his friends say of him; but those who are not his friendssay that he brings many warriors into the battle who were not there, "I answered indignantly, for I could not admit that old Smoky Day couldhave a rival. 

Before I went to him again Uncheedah had thoughtfully prepared a nicevenison roast for the teacher, and I was proud to take him somethinggood to eat before beginning his story. 

"How, " was his greeting, "so you have begun already, Ohiyesa? Yourfamily were ever feastmakers as well as warriors. "

Having done justice to the tender meat, he wiped his knife by stickingit into the ground several times, and put it away in its sheath, afterwhich he cheerfully recommenced:

"It came to pass not many winters ago that Wakinyan-tonka, the greatmedicine man, had a vision; whereupon a war-party set out for theOjibway country. There were three brothers of your family among them, all of whom were noted for valor and the chase. 

"Seven battles were fought in succession before they turned to comeback. They had secured a number of the enemy's birch canoes, and thewhole party came floating down the Mississippi, joyous and happy becauseof their success. 

"But one night the war-chief announced that there was misfortune athand. The next day no one was willing to lead the fleet. The youngest ofthe three brothers finally declared that he did not fear death, for itcomes when least expected and he volunteered to take the lead. 

"It happened that this young man had left a pretty maiden behind him, whose choice needlework adorned his quiver. He was very handsome as wellas brave. 

"At daybreak the canoes were again launched upon the bosom of the greatriver. All was quiet--a few birds beginning to sing. Just as the sunpeeped through the eastern tree-tops a great warcry came forth from thenear shores, and there was a rain of arrows. The birchen canoes werepierced, and in the excitement many were capsized. 

"The Sioux were at a disadvantage. There was no shelter. Theirbow-strings and the feathers on their arrows were wet. The bold Ojibwayssaw their advantage and pressed closer and closer; but our men foughtdesperately, half in and half out of the water, until the enemy wasforced at last to retreat. Nevertheless that was a sad day for theWahpeton Sioux; but saddest of all was Winona's fate!

"Morning Star, her lover, who led the canoe fleet that morning, wasamong the slain. For two days the Sioux braves searched in the water fortheir dead, but his body was not recovered. 

"At home, meanwhile, the people had been alarmed by ill omens. Winona, eldest daughter of the great chief, one day entered her birch canoealone and paddled up the Mississippi, gazing now into the water aroundher, now into the blue sky above. She thought she heard some young mengiving courtship calls in the distance, just as they do at night whenapproaching the teepee of the beloved; and she knew the voice of MorningStar well! Surely she could distinguish his call among the others!Therefore she listened yet more intently, and looked skyward as herlight canoe glided gently up stream. 

"Ah, poor Winona! She saw only six sandhill cranes, looking no largerthan mosquitoes, as they flew in circles high up in the sky, going eastwhere all spirits go. Something said to her: 'Those are the spiritsof some of the Sioux braves, and Morning Star is among them!' Her eyefollowed the birds as they traveled in a chain of circles. 

"Suddenly she glanced downward. 'What is this?' she screamed in despair. It was Morning Star's body, floating down the river; his quiver, workedby her own hands and now dyed with his blood, lay upon the surface ofthe water. 

"'Ah, Great Mystery! why do you punish a poor girl so? Let me go withthe spirit of Morning Star!'

"It was evening. The pale moon arose in the east and the stars werebright. At this very hour the news of the disaster was brought home bya returning scout, and the village was plunged in grief, but Winona'sspirit had flown away. No one ever saw her again. 

"This is enough for to-day, my boy. You may come again to-morrow. "

II. The Stone Boy

"Ho, mita koda!" (welcome, friend!) was Smoky Day's greeting, as Ientered his lodge on the third day. "I hope you did not dream of awatery combat with the Ojibways, after the history I repeated to youyesterday, " the old sage continued, with a complaisant smile playingupon his face. 

"No, " I said, meekly, "but, on the other hand, I have wished that thesun might travel a little faster, so that I could come for anotherstory. "

"Well, this time I will tell you one of the kind we call myths or fairystories. They are about men and women who do wonderful things--thingsthat ordinary people cannot do at all. Sometimes they are not exactlyhuman beings, for they partake of the nature of men and beasts, or ofmen and gods. I tell you this beforehand, so that you may not ask anyquestions, or be puzzled by the inconsistency of the actors in these oldstories. 

"Once there were ten brothers who lived with their only sister, a youngmaiden of sixteen summers. She was very skilful at her embroidery, andher brothers all had beautifully worked quivers and bows embossed withporcupine quills. They loved and were kind to her, and the maiden inher turn loved her brothers dearly, and was content with her position astheir housekeeper. They were great hunters, and scarcely ever remainedat home during the day, but when they returned at evening they wouldrelate to her all their adventures. 

"One night they came home one by one with their game, as usual, all butthe eldest, who did not return. It was supposed by the other brothersthat he had pursued a deer too far from the lodge, or perhaps shot moregame than he could well carry; but the sister had a presentiment thatsomething dreadful had befallen him. She was partially consoled by thesecond brother, who offered to find the lost one in the morning. 

"Accordingly, he went in search of him, while the rest set out on thehunt as usual. Toward evening all had returned safely, save the brotherwho went in search of the absent. Again, the next older brother wentto look for the others, and he too returned no more. All the young mendisappeared one by one in this manner, leaving their sister alone. 

"The maiden's sorrow was very great. She wandered everywhere, weepingand looking for her brothers, but found no trace of them. One day shewas walking beside a beautiful little stream, whose clear waters wentlaughing and singing on their way. She could see the gleaming pebbles atthe bottom, and one in particular seemed so lovely to her tear-bedimmedeyes, that she stooped and picked it up, dropping it within her skingarment into her bosom. For the first time since her misfortunes she hadforgotten herself and her sorrow. 

"At last she went home, much happier than she had been, though she couldnot have told the reason why. On the following day she sought again theplace where she had found the pebble, and this time she fell asleep onthe banks of the stream, When she awoke, there lay a beautiful babe inher bosom. 

"She took it up and kissed it many times. And the child was a boy, butit was heavy like a stone, so she called him a 'Little Stone Boy. ' Themaiden cried no more, for she was very happy with her baby. The childwas unusually knowing, and walked almost from its birth. 

"One day Stone Boy discovered the bow and arrows of one of his uncles, and desired to have them; but his mother cried, and said:

"'Wait, my son, until you are a young man. ' She made him some littleones, and with these he soon learned to hunt, and killed small gameenough to support them both. When he had grown to be a big boy, heinsisted upon knowing whose were the ten bows that still hung upon thewalls of his mother's lodge. 

"At last she was obliged to tell him the sad story of her loss. 

"'Mother, I shall go in search of my uncles, ' exclaimed the Stone Boy. 

"'But you will be lost like them, ' she replied, 'and then I shall die ofgrief. '

"'No, I shall not be lost. I shall bring your ten brothers back to you. Look, I will give you a sign. I will take a pillow, and place it uponend. Watch this, for as long as I am living the pillow will stay asI put it. Mother, give me some food and some moccasins with which totravel!'

"Taking the bow of one of his uncles, with its quiver full of arrows, the Stone Boy departed. As he journeyed through the forest he spoke toevery animal he met, asking for news of his lost uncles. Sometimes hecalled to them at the top of his voice. Once he thought he heard ananswer, so he walked in the direction of the sound. But it was only agreat grizzly bear who had wantonly mimicked the boy's call. Then StoneBoy was greatly provoked. 

"'Was it you who answered my call, you longface?' he exclaimed. 

"Upon this the latter growled and said:

"'You had better be careful how you address me, or you may be sorry forwhat you say!'

"'Who cares for you, you red-eyes, you ugly thing!' the boy replied;whereupon the grizzly immediately set upon him. 

"But the boy's flesh became as hard as stone, and the bear's great teethand claws made no impression upon it. Then he was so dreadfully heavy;and he kept laughing all the time as if he were being tickled, whichgreatly aggravated the bear. Finally Stone Boy pushed him aside and sentan arrow to his heart. 

"He walked on for some distance until he came to a huge fallen pinetree, which had evidently been killed by lightning. The ground near bybore marks of a struggle, and Stone Boy picked up several arrows exactlylike those of his uncles, which he himself carried. 

"While he was examining these things, he heard a sound like that of awhirlwind, far up in the heavens. He looked up and saw a black speckwhich grew rapidly larger until it became a dense cloud. Out of it camea flash and then a thunderbolt. The boy was obliged to wink; and when heopened his eyes, behold! a stately man stood before him and challengedhim to single combat. 

"Stone Boy accepted the challenge and they grappled with one another. The man from the clouds was gigantic in stature and very powerful. ButStone Boy was both strong and unnaturally heavy and hard to hold. Thegreat warrior from the sky sweated from his exertions, and there came aheavy shower. Again and again the lightnings flashed about them asthe two struggled there. At last Stone Boy threw his opponent, who laymotionless. There was a murmuring sound throughout the heavens and theclouds rolled swiftly away. 

"'Now, ' thought the hero, 'this man must have slain all my uncles. Ishall go to his home and find out what has become of them. ' With thishe unfastened from the dead man's scalp-lock a beautiful bit of scarletdown. He breathed gently upon it, and as it floated upward he followedinto the blue heavens. 

"Away went Stone Boy to the country of the Thunder Birds. It was abeautiful land, with lakes, rivers, plains and mountains. The youngadventurer found himself looking down from the top of a high mountain, and the country appeared to be very populous, for he saw lodges allabout him as far as the eye could reach. He particularly noticed amajestic tree which towered above all the others, and in its bushy topbore an enormous nest. Stone Boy descended from the mountain and soonarrived at the foot of the tree; but there were no limbs except thoseat the top and it was so tall that he did not attempt to climb it. Hesimply took out his bit of down, breathed upon it and floated gentlyupward. 

"When he was able to look into the nest he saw there innumerable eggs ofvarious sizes, and all of a remarkable red color. He was nothing but aboy after all, and had all a boy's curiosity and recklessness. As hewas handling the eggs carelessly, his notice was attracted to a suddenconfusion in the little village below. All of the people seemed to berunning toward the tree. He mischievously threw an egg at them, andin the instant that it broke he saw one of the men drop dead. Then allbegan to cry out pitifully, 'Give me my heart!'

"'Ah, ' exclaimed Stone Boy, exulting, ' so these are the hearts of thepeople who destroyed my uncles! I shall break them all!'

"And he really did break all of the eggs but four small ones which hetook in his hand. Then he descended the tree, and wandered among thesilent and deserted lodges in search of some trace of his lost uncles. He found four little boys, the sole survivors of their race, and thesehe commanded to tell him where their bones were laid. 

"They showed him the spot where a heap of bones was bleaching on theground. Then he bade one of the boys bring wood, a second water, a thirdstones, and the fourth he sent to cut willow wands for the sweat lodge. They obeyed, and Stone Boy built the lodge, made a fire, heated thestones and collected within the lodge all the bones of his ten uncles. 

"As he poured the water upon the hot stones faint sounds could be heardfrom within the magic bath. These changed to the murmuring of voices, and finally to the singing of medicine songs. Stone Boy opened the doorand his ten uncles came forth in the flesh, thanking him and blessinghim for restoring them to life. Only the little finger of the youngestuncle was missing. Stone Boy now heartlessly broke the four remainingeggs, and took the little finger of the largest boy to supply themissing bone. 

"They all returned to earth again and Stone Boy conducted his uncles tohis mother's lodge. She had never slept during his entire absence, butwatched incessantly the pillow upon which her boy was wont to rest hishead, and by which she was to know of his safety. Going a little inadvance of the others, he suddenly rushed forward into her teepee, exclaiming: 'Mother, your ten brothers are coming--prepare a feast!'

"For some time after this they all lived happily together. Stone Boyoccupied himself with solitary hunting. He was particularly fond ofhunting the fiercer wild animals. He killed them wantonly and broughthome only the ears, teeth and claws as his spoil, and with these heplayed as he laughingly recounted his exploits. His mother and unclesprotested, and begged him at least to spare the lives of those animalsheld sacred by the Dakotas, but Stone Boy relied upon his supernaturalpowers to protect him from harm. 

"One evening, however, he was noticeably silent and upon being pressedto give the reason, replied as follows:

"'For some days past I have heard the animals talking of a conspiracyagainst us. I was going west the other morning when I heard a crierannouncing a general war upon Stone Boy and his people. The crier wasa Buffalo, going at full speed from west to east. Again, I heard theBeaver conversing with the Musk-rat, and both said that their serviceswere already promised to overflow the lakes and rivers and cause adestructive flood. I heard, also, the little Swallow holding a secretcouncil with all the birds of the air. He said that he had beenappointed a messenger to the Thunder Birds, and that at a certain signalthe doors of the sky would be opened and rains descend to drown StoneBoy. Old Badger and the Grizzly Bear are appointed to burrow underneathour fortifications. 

"'However, I am not at all afraid for myself, but I am anxious for you, Mother, and for my uncles. '

"'Ugh!' grunted all the uncles, 'we told you that you would get intotrouble by killing so many of our sacred animals for your own amusement. 

"'But, ' continued Stone Boy, 'I shall make a good resistance, and Iexpect you all to help me. '

"Accordingly they all worked under his direction in preparing for thedefence. First of all, he threw a pebble into the air, and behold agreat rocky wall around their teepee. A second, third, fourth and fifthpebble became other walls without the first. From the sixth and seventhwere formed two stone lodges, one upon the other. The uncles meantime, made numbers of bows and quivers full of arrows, which were ranged atconvenient distances along the tops of the walls. His mother preparedgreat quantities of food and made many moccasins for her boy, whodeclared that he would defend the fortress alone. 

"At last they saw the army of beasts advancing, each tribe by itselfand commanded by a leader of extraordinary size. The onset was terrific. They flung themselves against the high walls with savage cries, whilethe badgers and other burrowing animals ceaselessly worked to underminethem. Stone Boy aimed his sharp arrows with such deadly effect that hisenemies fell by thousands. So great was their loss that the dead bodiesof the animals formed a barrier higher than the first, and the armiesretired in confusion. 

"But reinforcements were at hand. The rain fell in torrents; the beavershad dammed all the rivers and there was a great flood. The besieged allretreated into the innermost lodge, but the water poured in throughthe burrows made by the badgers and gophers, and rose until Stone Boy'smother and his ten uncles were all drowned. Stone Boy himself could notbe entirely destroyed, but he was overcome by his enemies and left halfburied in the earth, condemned never to walk again, and there we findhim to this day. 

"This was because he abused his strength, and destroyed for mereamusement the lives of the creatures given him for use only. "

VI. EVENING IN THE LODGE

I: Evening in the Lodge

I HAD been skating on that part of the lake where there was an overflow, and came home somewhat cold. I cannot say just how cold it was, but itmust have been intensely so, for the trees were cracking all aboutme like pistol shots. I did not mind, because I was wrapped up in mybuffalo robe with the hair inside, and a wide leather belt held it aboutmy loins. My skates were nothing more than strips of basswood bark boundupon my feet. 

I had taken off my frozen moccasins and put on dry ones in their places. 

"Where have you been and what have you been doing?" Uncheedah asked asshe placed before me some roast venison in a wooden bowl. "Did you seeany tracks of moose or bear?"

"No, grandmother, I have only been playing at the lower end of thelake. I have something to ask you, " I said, eating my dinner and suppertogether with all the relish of a hungry boy who has been skating in thecold for half a day. 

"I found this feather, grandmother, and I could not make out what tribewear feathers in that shape. "

"Ugh, I am not a man; you had better ask your uncle. Besides, you shouldknow it yourself by this time. You are now old enough to think abouteagle feathers. "

I felt mortified by this reminder of my ignorance. It seemed areflection on me that I was not ambitious enough to have found all suchmatters out before. 

"Uncle, you will tell me, won't you?" I said, in an appealing tone. 

"I am surprised, my boy, that you should fail to recognize this feather. It is a Cree medicine feather, and not a warrior's. "

"Then, " I said, with much embarrassment, "you had better tell me again, uncle, the language of the feathers. I have really forgotten it all. "

The day was now gone; the moon had risen; but the cold had not lessened, for the trunks of the trees were still snapping all around our teepee, which was lighted and warmed by the immense logs which Uncheedah'sindustry had provided. My uncle, White Foot-print, now undertook toexplain to me the significance of the eagle's feather. 

"The eagle is the most war-like bird, " he began, "and the most kinglyof all birds; besides, his feathers are unlike any others, and these arethe reasons why they are used by our people to signify deeds of bravery. 

"It is not true that when a man wears a feather bonnet, each one ofthe feathers represents the killing of a foe or even a coup. When a manwears an eagle feather upright upon his head, he is supposed to havecounted one of four coups upon his enemy. "

"Well, then, a coup does not mean the killing of an enemy?"

"No, it is the after-stroke or touching of the body after he falls. Itis so ordered, because oftentimes the touching of an enemy is much moredifficult to accomplish than the shooting of one from a distance. Itrequires a strong heart to face the whole body of the enemy, in order tocount the coup on the fallen one, who lies under cover of his kinsmen'sfire. Many a brave man has been lost in the attempt. 

"When a warrior approaches his foe, dead or alive, he calls upon theother warriors to witness by saying: 'I, Fearless Bear, your brave, again perform the brave deed of counting the first (or second orthird or fourth) coup upon the body of the bravest of your enemies. 'Naturally, those who are present will see the act and be able to testifyto it. When they return, the heralds, as you know, announce publicly allsuch deeds of valor, which then become a part of the man's war record. Any brave who would wear the eagle's feather must give proof of hisright to do so. 

"When a brave is wounded in the same battle where he counted his coup, he wears the feather hanging downward. When he is wounded, but makes nocount, he trims his feather and in that case, it need not be an eaglefeather. All other feathers are merely ornaments. When a warrior wearsa feather with a round mark, it means that he slew his enemy. When themark is cut into the feather and painted red, it means that he took thescalp. 

"A brave who has been successful in ten battles is entitled to awar-bonnet; and if he is a recognized leader, he is permitted to wearone with long, trailing plumes. Also those who have counted many coupsmay tip the ends of the feathers with bits of white or colored down. Sometimes the eagle feather is tipped with a strip of weasel skin; thatmeans the wearer had the honor of killing, scalping and counting thefirst coup upon the enemy all at the same time. 

"This feather you have found was worn by a Cree--it is indiscriminatelypainted. All other feathers worn by the common Indians mean nothing, " headded. 

"Tell me, uncle, whether it would be proper for me to wear any feathersat all if I have never gone upon the war-path. "

"You could wear any other kind of feathers, but not an eagle's, " repliedmy uncle, "although sometimes one is worn on great occasions by thechild of a noted man, to indicate the father's dignity and position. "

The fire had gone down somewhat, so I pushed the embers together andwrapped my robe more closely about me. Now and then the ice on thelake would burst with a loud report like thunder. Uncheedah was busyre-stringing one of uncle's old snow-shoes. There were two differentkinds that he wore; one with a straight toe and long; the other shorterand with an upturned toe. She had one of the shoes fastened toe down, between sticks driven into the ground, while she put in some new stringsand tightened the others. Aunt Four Stars was beading a new pair ofmoccasins. 

Wabeda, the dog, the companion of my boyhood days, was in troublebecause he insisted upon bringing his extra bone into the teepee, whileUncheedah was determined that he should not. I sympathized with him, because I saw the matter as he did. If he should bury it in the snowoutside, I knew Shunktokecha (the coyote) would surely steal it. I knewjust how anxious Wabeda was about his bone. It was a fat bone--I mean abone of a fat deer; and all Indians know how much better they are thanthe other kind. 

Wabeda always hated to see a good thing go to waste. His eyes spokewords to me, for he and I had been friends for a long time. When I wasafraid of anything in the woods, he would get in front of me at once andgently wag his tail. He always made it a point to look directly in myface. His kind, large eyes gave me a thousand assurances. When I wasperplexed, he would hang about me until he understood the situation. Many times I believed he saved my life by uttering the dog word in time. 

Most animals, even the dangerous grizzly, do not care to be seen whenthe two-legged kind and his dog are about. When I feared a surprise bya bear or a grey wolf, I would say to Wabeda: "Now, my dog, give yourwar-whoop:" and immediately he would sit up on his haunches and bark"to beat the band" as you white boys say. When a bear or wolf heard thenoise, he would be apt to retreat. 

Sometimes I helped Wabeda and gave a warwhoop of my own. This drove thedeer away as well, but it relieved my mind. 

When he appealed to me on this occasion, therefore, I said: "Come, mydog, let us bury your bone so that no Shunktokecha will take it. "

He appeared satisfied with my suggestion, so we went out together. 

We dug in the snow and buried our bone wrapped up in a piece of oldblanket, partly burned; then we covered it up again with snow. We knewthat the coyote would not touch anything burnt. I did not put it up atree because Wabeda always objected to that, and I made it a point toconsult his wishes whenever I could. 

I came in and Wabeda followed me with two short rib bones in his mouth. Apparently he did not care to risk those delicacies. 

"There, " exclaimed Uncheedah, "you still insist upon bringing in somesort of bone!" but I begged her to let him gnaw them inside because itwas so cold. Having been granted this privilege, he settled himself atmy back and I became absorbed in some specially nice arrows that unclewas making. 

"O, uncle, you must put on three feathers to all of them so that theycan fly straight, " I suggested. 

"Yes, but if there are only two feathers, they will fly faster, " heanswered. 

"Woow!" Wabeda uttered his suspicions. 

"Woow!" he said again, and rushed for the entrance of the teepee. Hekicked me over as he went and scattered the burning embers. 

"En na he na!" Uncheedah exclaimed, but he was already outside. 

"Wow, wow, wow! Wow, Wow, wow!"

A deep guttural voice answered him. 

Out I rushed with my bow and arrows in my hand. 

"Come, uncle, come! A big cinnamon bear!" I shouted as I emerged fromthe teepee. 

Uncle sprang out and in a moment he had sent a swift arrow through thebear's heart. The animal fell dead. He had just begun to dig up Wabeda'sbone, when the dog's quick ear had heard the sound. 

"Ah, uncle, Wabeda and I ought to have at least a little eaglet'sfeather for this. I too sent my small arrow into the bear before hefell, " I exclaimed. "But I thought all bears ought to be in their lodgesin the winter time. What was this one doing at this time of the year andnight?"

"Well, " said my uncle, "I will tell you. Among the tribes, some arenaturally lazy. The cinnamon bear is the lazy one of his tribe. He alonesleeps out of doors in the winter and because he has not a warm bed, heis soon hungry. Sometimes he lives in the hollow trunk of a tree, wherehe has made a bed of dry grass; but when the night is very cold, liketo-night, he has to move about to keep himself from freezing and as heprowls around, he gets hungry. "

We dragged the huge carcass within our lodge. "O, what nice claws hehas, uncle!" I exclaimed eagerly. "Can I have them for my necklace?"

"It is only the old medicine men who wear them regularly. The son ofa great warrior who has killed a grizzly may wear them upon a publicoccasion, " he explained. 

"And you are just like my father and are considered the best hunteramong the Santees and Sissetons. You have killed many grizzlies so thatno one can object to my bear's-claws necklace, " I said appealingly. 

White Foot-print smiled. "My boy, you shall have them, " he said, "but itis always better to earn them yourself. " He cut the claws off carefullyfor my use. 

"Tell me, uncle, whether you could wear these claws all the time?" Iasked. 

"Yes, I am entitled to wear them, but they are so heavy anduncomfortable, " he replied, with a superior air. 

At last the bear had been skinned and dressed and we all resumed ourusual places. Uncheedah was particularly pleased to have some more fatfor her cooking. 

"Now, grandmother, tell me the story of the bear's fat. I shall be sohappy if you will, " I begged. 

"It is a good story and it is true. You should know it by heart and gaina lesson from it, " she replied. "It was in the forests of Minnesota, in the country that now belongs to the Ojibways. From the BedawakantonSioux village a young married couple went into the woods to get freshvenison. The snow was deep; the ice was thick. Far away in the woodsthey pitched their lonely teepee. The young man was a well-known hunterand his wife a good maiden of the village. 

"He hunted entirely on snow-shoes, because the snow was very deep. Hiswife had to wear snow-shoes too, to get to the spot where they pitchedtheir tent. It was thawing the day they went out, so their path wasdistinct after the freeze came again. 

"The young man killed many deer and bears. His wife was very busy curingthe meat and trying out the fat while he was away hunting each day. In the evenings she kept on trying the fat. He sat on one side of theteepee and she on the other. 

"One evening, she had just lowered a kettle of fat to cool, and as shelooked into the hot fat she saw the face of an Ojibway scout lookingdown at them through the smoke-hole. She said nothing, nor did shebetray herself in any way. 

"After a little she said to her husband in a natural voice:'Marpeetopah, some one is looking at us through the smoke hole, and Ithink it is an enemy's scout. '

"Then Marpeetopah (Four-skies) took up his bow and arrows and began tostraighten and dry them for the next day's hunt, talking and laughingmeanwhile. Suddenly he turned and sent an arrow upward, killing theOjibway, who fell dead at their door. 

"'Quick, Wadutah!' he exclaimed; 'you must hurry home upon our trail. Iwill stay here. When this scout does not return, the warparty may comein a body or send another scout. If only one comes, I can soon dispatchhim and then I will follow you. If I do not do that, they will overtakeus in our flight. '

"Wadutah (Scarlet) protested and begged to be allowed to stay with herhusband, but at last she came away to get reinforcements. 

"Then Marpeetopah (Four-skies) put more sticks on the fire so that theteepee might be brightly lit and show him the way. He then took thescalp of the enemy and proceeded on his track, until he came to theupturned root of a great tree. There he spread out his arrows and laidout his tomahawk. 

"Soon two more scouts were sent by the Ojibway war-party to see what wasthe trouble and why the first one failed to come back. He heard them asthey approached. They were on snowshoes. When they came close to him, heshot an arrow into the foremost. As for the other, in his effort toturn quickly his snow-shoes stuck in the deep snow and detained him, soMarpeetopah killed them both. 

"Quickly he took the scalps and followed Wadutah. He ran hard. But theOjibways suspected something wrong and came to the lonely teepee, to find all their scouts had been killed. They followed the path ofMarpeetopah and Wadutah to the main village, and there a great battlewas fought on the ice. Many were killed on both sides. It was after thisthat the Sioux moved to the Mississippi river. "

I was sleepy by this time and I rolled myself up in my buffalo robe andfell asleep. 

II. Adventures of My Uncle

IT was a beautiful fall day--'a gopher's last look back, ' as we used tosay of the last warm days of the late autumn. We were encamped besidea wild rice lake, where two months before we had harvested our wateryfields of grain, and where we had now returned for the duck-hunting. All was well with us. Ducks were killed in countless numbers, and in theevenings the men hunted deer in canoes by torchlight along the shores ofthe lake. But alas! life is made up of good times and bad times, and itis when we are perfectly happy that we should expect some overwhelmingmisfortune. 

"So it was that upon this peaceful and still morning, all of a sudden aharsh and terrible war-cry was heard! Your father was then quite a youngman, and a very ambitious warrior, so that I was always frightened onhis account whenever there was a chance of fighting. But I did not thinkof your uncle, Mysterious Medicine, for he was not over fifteen at thetime; besides, he had never shown any taste for the field. 

"Our camp was thrown into great excitement; and as the warriors advancedto meet the enemy, I was almost overcome by the sight of your uncleamong them! It was of no use for me to call him back--I think I prayedin that moment to the Great Mystery to bring my boy safely home. 

"I shall never forget, as long as I live, the events of that day. Manybrave men were killed; among them two of your uncle's intimate friends. But when the battle was over, my boy came back; only his face wasblackened in mourning for his friends, and he bore several wounds in hisbody. I knew that he had proved himself a true warrior. 

"This was the beginning of your uncle's career, He has surpassed yourfather and your grandfather; yes, all his ancestors except JinglingThunder, in daring and skill. "

Such was my grandmother's account of the maiden battle of her thirdson, Mysterious Medicine. He achieved many other names; among them BigHunter, Long Rifle and White Footprint. He had a favorite Kentucky riflewhich he carried for many years. The stock was several times broken, but he always made another. With this gun he excelled most ofhis contemporaries in accuracy of aim. He used to call the weaponIshtahbopopa--a literal translation would be "Pops-the-eye. "

My uncle, who was a father to me for ten years of my life, was almost agiant in his proportions, very symmetrical and "straight as an arrow. "His face was not at all handsome. He had very quiet and reserved mannersand was a man of action rather than of unnecessary words. Behind theveil of Indian reticence he had an inexhaustible fund of wit and humor;but this part of his character only appeared before his family and veryintimate friends. Few men know nature more thoroughly than he. Nothingirritated him more than to hear some natural fact misrepresented. Ihave often thought that with education he might have made a Darwin or anAgassiz. 

He was always modest and unconscious of self in relating his adventures. "I have often been forced to realize my danger, " he used to say, "butnot in such a way as to overwhelm me. Only twice in my life have I beenreally frightened, and for an instant lost my presence of mind. 

"Once I was in full pursuit of a large buck deer that I had wounded. It was winter, and there was a very heavy fall of fresh snow upon theground. All at once I came upon the body of the deer lying dead on thesnow. I began to make a hasty examination, but before I had made anydiscoveries, I spied the tips of two ears peeping just above the surfaceof the snow about twenty feet from me. I made a feint of not seeinganything at all, but moved quickly in the direction of my gun, which wasleaning against a tree. Feeling, somehow, that I was about to be takenadvantage of, I snatched at the same moment my knife from my belt. 

"The panther (for such it was) made a sudden and desperate spring. I tried to dodge, but he was too quick for me. He caught me by theshoulder with his great paw, and threw me down. Somehow, he did notretain his hold, but made another leap and again concealed himself inthe snow. Evidently he was preparing to make a fresh attack. 

"I was partially stunned and greatly confused by the blow; therefore Ishould have been an easy prey for him at the moment. But when he leftme, I came to my senses; and I had been thrown near my gun! I arose andaimed between the tips of his ears--all that was visible of him--andfired. I saw the fresh snow fly from the spot. The panther leaped aboutsix feet straight up into the air, and fell motionless. I gave two goodwarwhoops, because I had conquered a very formidable enemy. I sat downon the dead body to rest, and my heart beat as if it would knock out allmy ribs. I had not been expecting any danger, and that was why I was sotaken by surprise. 

"The other time was on the plains, in summer. I was accustomed tohunting in the woods, and never before had hunted buffalo on horseback. Being a young man, of course I was eager to do whatever other men did. Therefore I saddled my pony for the hunt. I had a swift pony and a goodgun, but on this occasion I preferred a bow and arrows. 

"It was the time of year when the buffalo go in large herds and thebulls are vicious. But this did not trouble me at all; indeed, I thoughtof nothing but the excitement and honor of the chase. 

"A vast plain near the Souris river was literally covered with animmense herd. The day was fair, and we came up with them very easily. Ihad a quiver full of arrows, with a sinew-backed bow. 

"My pony carried me in far ahead of all the others. I found myself inthe midst of the bulls first, for they are slow. They threw towardme vicious glances, so I hastened my pony on to the cows. Soon I wasenveloped in a thick cloud of dust, and completely surrounded by theherd, who were by this time in the act of fleeing, their hoofs making anoise like thunder. 

"I could not think of anything but my own situation, which confused mefor the moment. It seemed to me to be a desperate one. If my pony, whichwas going at full speed, should step into a badger hole, I should bethrown to the ground and trampled under foot in an instant. If I were tostop, they would knock me over, pony and all. Again, it seemed as if myhorse must fall from sheer exhaustion; and then what would become of me?

"At last I awoke to a calm realization of my own power. I uttered a yelland began to shoot right and left. Very soon there were only a few oldbulls who remained near me. The herd had scattered, and I was miles awayfrom my companions. 

"It is when we think of our personal danger that we are apt to be ata loss to do the best thing under the circumstances. One should beunconscious of self in order to do his duty. We are very apt to thinkourselves brave, when we are most timid. I have discovered that half ouryoung men give the war-whoop when they are frightened, because they fearlest their silence may betray their state of mind. I think we are reallybravest when most calm and slow to action. "

I urged my uncle to tell me more of his adventures. 

"Once, " said he, "I had a somewhat peculiar experience, which I thinkI never related to you before. It was at the time of the fall hunt. Oneafternoon when I was alone I discovered that I was too far away to reachthe camp before dark, so I looked about for a good place to spend thenight. This was on the Upper Missouri, before there were any whitepeople there, and when we were in constant danger from wild beasts aswell as from hostile Indians. It was necessary to use every precautionand the utmost vigilance. 

"I selected a spot which appeared to be well adapted to defense. I hadkilled two deer, and I hung up pieces of the meat at certain distancesin various directions. I knew that any wolf would stop for the meat, Agrizzly bear would sometimes stop, but not a mountain lion or a panther. Therefore I made a fire. Such an animal would be apt to attack asolitary fire. There was a full moon that night, which was much in myfavor. 

"Having cooked and eaten some of the venison, I rolled myself in myblanket and lay down by the fire, taking my Ishtahbopopa for a bedfellow. I hugged it very closely, for I felt that I should need itduring the night. I had scarcely settled myself when I heard what seemedto be ten or twelve coyotes set up such a howling that I was quite sureof a visit from them. Immediately after-. Ward I heard another sound, which was like the screaming of a small child. This was a porcupine, which had doubtless smelled the meat. 

"I watched until a coyote appeared upon a flat rock fifty yards away. He sniffed the air in every direction; then, sitting partly upon hishaunches, swung round in a circle with his hind legs sawing the air, andhowled and barked in many different keys. It was a great feat! I couldnot help wondering whether I should be able to imitate him. What hadseemed to be the voices of many coyotes was in reality only one animal. His mate soon appeared and then they both seemed satisfied, and showedno signs of a wish to invite another to join them. Presently they bothsuddenly and quietly disappeared. 

"At this moment a slight noise attracted my attention, and I saw thatthe porcupine had arrived. He had climbed up to the piece of meatnearest me, and was helping himself without any ceremony. I thought itwas fortunate that he came, for he would make a good watch dog for me. Very soon, in fact, he interrupted his meal, and caused all his quillsto stand out in defiance. I glanced about me and saw the two coyotesslyly approaching my open camp from two different directions. 

"I took the part of the porcupine! I rose in a sitting posture, and senta swift arrow to each of my unwelcome visitors. They both ran away withhowls of surprise and pain. 

"The porcupine saw the whole from his perch, but his meal was not at alldisturbed, for he began eating again with apparent relish. Indeed, I wassoon furnished with another of these unconscious protectors. This onecame from the opposite direction to a point where I had hung a splendidham of venison. He cared to go no further, but seated himself at once ona convenient branch and began his supper. 

"The canon above me was full of rocks and trees. From this directioncame a startling noise, which caused me more concern than anything I hadthus far heard. It sounded much like a huge animal stretching himself, and giving a great yawn which ended in a scream. I knew this for thevoice of a mountain lion, and it decided me to perch upon a limb for therest of the night. 

"I got up and climbed into the nearest large tree, taking my weaponswith me; but first I rolled a short log of wood in my blanket and laidit in my place by the fire. 

"As I got up, the two porcupines began to descend, but I paid noattention to them, and they soon returned to their former positions. Very soon I heard a hissing sound from one of them, and knew that anintruder was near. Two grey wolves appeared. 

"I had hung the hams by the ham strings, and they were fully eightfeet from the ground. At first the wolves came boldly forward, but thewarning of the porcupines caused them to stop, and hesitate to jump forthe meat. However, they were hungry, and began to leap savagely for thehams, although evidently they proved good targets for the quills of theprickly ones, for occasionally one of them would squeal and rub his nosedesperately against the tree. 

"At last one of the wolves buried his teeth too deeply in a toughportion of the flesh, and having jumped to reach it, his own weightmade it impossible for him to loosen his upper jaw. There the grey wolfdangled, kicking and yelping, until the tendon of the ham gave way, andboth fell heavily to the ground. From my hiding-place I sent two arrowsinto his body, which ended his life. The other one ran away to a littledistance and remained there a long time, as if waiting for her mate. 

"I was now very weary, but I had seen many grizzly bears' tracks in thevicinity, and besides, I had not forgotten the dreadful scream of themountain lion. I determined to continue my watch. 

"As I had half expected, there came presently a sudden heavy fall, andat the same time the burning embers were scattered about and the firealmost extinguished. My blanket with the log in it was rolled overseveral times, amid snarls and growls. Then the assailant of my camp--apanther--leaped back into the thick underbrush, but not before my arrowhad penetrated his side. He snarled and tried to bite off the shaft, butafter a time became exhausted and lay still. 

"I could now distinguish the grey dawn in the east. I was exceedinglydrowsy, so I fastened myself by a rope of raw-hide to the trunk of thetree against which I leaned. I was seated on a large limb, and soon fellasleep. 

"I was rudely awakened by the report of a gun directly under me. Atthe same time, I thought some one was trying to shake me off the tree, Instantly I reached for my gun. Alas! it was gone! At the first shakeof the tree by my visitor, a grizzly bear, the gun had fallen, and as itwas cocked, it went off. 

"The bear picked up the weapon and threw it violently away; then heagain shook the tree with all his strength. I shouted:

"'I have still a bow and a quiver full of arrows; you had better let mealone. '

"He replied to this with a rough growl. I sent an arrow into his side, and he groaned like a man as he tried hard to pull it out. I had to givehim several more before he went a short distance away, and died. It wasnow daylight, so I came down from my perch. I was stiff, and scarcelyable to walk. I found that the bear had killed both of my littlefriends, the porcupines, and eaten most of the meat. 

"Perhaps you wonder, Ohiyesa, why I did not use my gun in the beginning;but I had learned that if I once missed my aim with it, I had no secondchance. I have told of this particular adventure, because it was anunusual experience to see so many different animals in one night. I haveoften been in similar places, and killed one or two. Once a common blackbear stole a whole deer from me without waking me. But all this life isfast disappearing, and the world is becoming different. "

VII. THE END OF THE BEAR DANCE

IT was one of the superstitions of the Santee Sioux to treat diseasefrom the standpoint of some animal or inanimate thing. That person who, according to their belief, had been commissioned to become a medicineman or a war chief, must not disobey the bear or other creature orthing which gave him his commission. If he ever ventured to do so, theoffender must pay for his insubordination with his life, or that of hisown child or dearest friend. It was supposed to be necessary that thesupernatural orders be carried into effect at a particular age and acertain season of the year. Occasionally a very young man, who excusedhimself on the ground of youth and modesty, might be forgiven. 

One of my intimate friends had been a sufferer from what, I suppose, must have been consumption. He, like myself, had a grandmother in whomhe had unlimited faith. But she was a very ambitious and pretentiouswoman. Among her many claims was that of being a great "medicine woman, "and many were deceived by it; but really she was a fraud, for she didnot give any medicine, but "conjured" the sick exclusively. 

At this time my little friend was fast losing ground, in spite ofhis grandmother's great pretensions. At last I hinted to him that mygrandmother was a herbalist, and a skilful one. But he hinted back to methat 'most any old woman who could dig roots could be a herbalist, andthat without a supernatural commission there was no power that couldcope with disease. I defended my ideal on the ground that there aresupernatural powers in the herbs themselves; hence those who understandthem have these powers at their command. 

"But, " insisted my friend, "one must get his knowledge from the GreatMystery!"

This completely silenced my argument, but did not shake my faith in mygrandmother's ability. 

Redhorn was a good boy, and I loved him. I visited him often, and foundhim growing weaker day by day. 

"Ohiyesa, " he said to me one day, "my grandmother has discovered thecause of my sickness. "

I eagerly interrupted him by shouting: "And can she cure you now, Redhorn?"

"Of course, " he replied, "she cannot until I have fulfilled thecommandment. I have confessed to her that two years ago I received mycommission, and I should have made a Bear Dance and proclaimed myself amedicine man last spring, when I had seen thirteen winters. You see, Iwas ashamed to proclaim myself a medicine man, being so young; and forthis I am punished. However, my grandmother says it is not yet too late. But, Ohiyesa, I am as weak now as a rheumatic old man. I can scarcelystand up. They say that I can appoint some one else to act for me. Hewill be the active bear--I shall have to remain in the hole. Would you, Ohiyesa, be willing to act the bear for me? You know he has to chase thedancers away from his den. "

"Redhorn, " I replied with much embarrassment, "I should be happy to doanything that I could for you, but I cannot be a bear. I feel that Iam not fit. I am not large enough; I am not strong enough; and I don'tunderstand the habits of the animal well enough. I do not think youwould be pleased with me as your substitute. "

Redhorn finally decided that he would engage a larger boy to performfor him. A few days later, it was announced by the herald that my friendwould give a Bear Dance, at which he was to be publicly proclaimed amedicine man. It would be the great event of his short existence, forthe disease had already exhausted his strength and vitality. Of course, we all understood that there would be an active youth to exhibit theferocious nature of the beast after which the dance is named. 

The Bear Dance was an entertainment, a religious rite, a method oftreating disease--all in one. A strange thing about it was that no womanwas allowed to participate in the orgies, unless she was herself thebear. 

The den was usually dug about two hundred yards from the camp, on someconspicuous plain. It was about two feet deep and six feet square andover it was constructed an arbor of boughs with four openings. When thebear man sang, all the men and boys would gather and dance about theden; and when he came out and pursued them there was a hasty retreat. Itwas supposed that whoever touched the bear without being touched by himwould overcome a foe in the field. If one was touched, the reverse wasto be expected. The thing which caused most anxiety among the dancerswas the superstition that if one of them should accidentally trip andfall while pursued by the bear, a sudden death would visit him or hisnearest relative. 

Boys of my age were disposed to run some risk in this dance; they wouldtake every opportunity to strike at the bear man with a short switch, while the older men shot him with powder. It may as well be admittedthat one reason for my declining the honor offered me by my friendRedhorn was that I was afraid of powder, and I much preferred to beone of the dancers and take my chances of touching the bear man withoutbeing touched. 

It was a beautiful summer's day. The forest behind our camp was sweetwith the breath of blossoming flowers. The teepees faced a large lake, which we called Bedatanka. Its gentle waves cooled the atmosphere. The water-fowl disported themselves over its surface, and the birds ofpassage overhead noisily expressed their surprise at the excitement andconfusion in our midst. 

The herald, with his brassy voice, again went the rounds, announcing theday's event and the tardy fulfillment of the boy's commission. Thencame the bustle of preparation. The out-door toilet of the peoplewas performed with care. I cannot describe just how I was attired orpainted, but I am under the impression that there was but little of mybrown skin that was not uncovered. The others were similarly dressed infeathers, paint and tinkling ornaments. 

I soon heard the tom-tom's doleful sound from the direction of thebear's den, and a few warwhoops from the throats of the youthfulwarriors. As I joined the motley assembly, I noticed that the bear man'sdrum was going in earnest, and soon after he began to sing. This was theinvitation to the dance. 

An old warrior gave the signal and we all started for the den, very muchlike a group of dogs attacking a stranger. Frantically we yelled andwhooped, running around the sheltering arbor in a hop, skip and jumpfashion. In spite of the apparent confusion, however, every participantwas on the alert for the slightest movement of the bear man. 

All of a sudden, a brave gave the warning, and we scattered in aninstant over the little plain between the den and our village. Everybodyseemed to be running for dear life, and I soon found myself some yardsbehind the rest. I had gone in boldly, partly because of conversationswith certain boys who proposed to participate, and whom I usuallyoutdistanced in foot races. But it seemed that they had not carriedout their intentions and I was left alone. I looked back once or twice, although I was pretty busy with my legs, and I imagined that my pursuer, the bear man, looked twice as fearful as a real bear. He was dressed andpainted up with a view to terrify the crowd. I did not want the othersto guess that I was at all dismayed, so I tried to give the war-whoop;but my throat was so dry at the moment that I am sure I must have givenit very poorly. 

Just as it seemed that I was about to be overtaken, the dancers whohad deserted me suddenly slackened their speed, and entered upon theamusement of tormenting the bear man with gunpowder and switches, withwhich they touched him far from gently upon his naked body. They nowchased him in turn, and he again retreated to his den. 

We rested until we heard the tom-tom and the song once more, and thenwe rushed forth with fresh eagerness to the mimic attack. This time Iobserved all necessary precautions for my own safety. I started inmy flight even before the warning was given, for I saw the bear mangathering himself up to spring upon the dancers. Thus I had plenty ofleeway to observe what occurred. The bear man again pursued the yellingand retreating mob, and was dealt with unmercifully by the swift-footed. He became much excited as he desperately chased a middle-aged man, whooccasionally turned and fired off his gun, but was suddenly tripped byan ant-hill and fell to the ground, with the other on top of him. Theexcitement was intense. The bear man returned to his companion, and thedancers gathered in little knots to exchange whispers. 

"Is it not a misfortune?" "The most surefooted of us all!" "Will hedie?" "Must his beautiful daughter be sacrificed?"

The man who was the subject of all this comment did not speak a word. His head hung down. Finally he raised it and said in a resolute voice:

"We all have our time to go, and when the Great Mystery calls us we mustanswer as cheerfully as at the call of one of our own war-chiefs hereon earth. I am not sad for myself, but my heart is not willing that myWinona (first-born daughter) should be called. "

No one replied. Presently the last tom-tom was heard and the dancersrallied once more. The man who had fallen did not join them, but turnedto the council lodge, where the wise old men were leisurely enjoying thecalumet. They beheld him enter with some surprise; but he threw himselfupon a buffalo robe, and resting his head upon his right hand, relatedwhat had happened to him. Thereupon the aged men exclaimed as with onevoice: "It never fails!" After this, he spoke no more. 

Meanwhile, we were hilariously engaged in our last dance, and when thebear man finally retired, we gathered about the arbor to congratulatethe sick bear man. But, to our surprise, his companion did not re-enterthe den. "He is dead! Redhorn, the bear man, is dead!" We all rushed tothe spot. My poor friend, Redhorn, lay dead in the den. 

At this instant there was another commotion in the camp. Everybody wasrunning toward the council lodge. A well-known medicine man was loudlysummoned thither. But, alas! the man who fell in the dance had suddenlydropped dead. 

To the people, another Indian superstition had been verified. 

VIII. THE MAIDENS' FEAST

THERE were many peculiar customs among the Indians of an earlier period, some of which tended to strengthen the character of the people andpreserve their purity. Perhaps the most unique of these was the annual"feast of maidens. " The casual observer would scarcely understand thefull force and meaning of this ceremony. 

The last one that I ever witnessed was given at Fort Ellis, Manitoba, about the year 1871. Upon the table land just back of the old tradingpost and fully a thousand feet above the Assiniboine river, surroundedby groves, there was a natural amphitheatre. At one end stood the oldfort where since 1830 the northern tribes had come to replenish theirpowder horns and lead sacks and to dispose of their pelts. 

In this spot there was a reunion of all the renegade Sioux on the onehand and of the Assiniboines and Crees, the Canadian tribes, on theother. They were friendly. The matter was not formally arranged, but itwas usual for all the tribes to meet here in the month of July. 

The Hudson Bay Company always had a good supply of red, blue, green andwhite blankets, also cloth of brilliant dye, so that when their summerfestival occurred the Indians did not lack gayly colored garments. Paints were bought by them at pleasure. Short sleeves were the fashionin their buckskin dresses, and beads and porcupine quills were theprincipal decorations. 

When circumstances are favorable, the Indians are the happiest people inthe world. There were entertainments every single day, which everybodyhad the fullest opportunity to see and enjoy. If anything, the poorestprofited the most by these occasions, because a feature in each case wasthe giving away of savage wealth to the needy in honor of the event. Atany public affair, involving the pride and honor of a prominent family, there must always be a distribution of valuable presents. 

One bright summer morning, while we were still at our meal of jerkedbuffalo meat, we heard the herald of the Wahpeton band upon his calicopony as he rode around our circle. 

"White Eagle's daughter, the maiden Red Star, invites all the maidensof all the tribes to come and partake of her feast. It will be in theWahpeton camp, before the sun reaches the middle of the sky. All puremaidens are invited. Red Star also invites the young men to be present, to see that no unworthy maiden should join in the feast. "

The herald soon completed the rounds of the different camps, and it wasnot long before the girls began to gather in great numbers. The fortwas fully alive to the interest of these savage entertainments. Thisparticular feast was looked upon as a semi-sacred affair. It would bedesecration for any to attend who was not perfectly virtuous. Henceit was regarded as an opportune time for the young men to satisfythemselves as to who were the virtuous maids of the tribe. 

There were apt to be surprises before the end of the day. Any young manwas permitted to challenge any maiden whom he knew to be unworthy. Butwoe to him who could not prove his case. It meant little short of deathto the man who endeavored to disgrace a woman without cause. 

The youths had a similar feast of their own, in which the eligibles werethose who had never spoken to a girl in the way of courtship. It wasconsidered ridiculous so to do before attaining some honor as a warrior, and the novices prided themselves greatly upon their self control. 

From the various camps the girls came singly or in groups, dressed inbright-colored calicoes or in heavily fringed and beaded buckskin. Theirsmooth cheeks and the central part of their glossy hair was touched withvermilion. All brought with them wooden basins to eat from. Some whocame from a considerable distance were mounted upon ponies; a few, forcompany or novelty's sake, rode double. 

The maidens' circle was formed about a coneshaped rock which stood uponits base. This was painted red. Beside it two new arrows were lightlystuck into the ground. This is a sort of altar, to which each maidencomes before taking her assigned place in the circle, and lightlytouches first the stone and then the arrows. By this oath she declaresher purity. Whenever a girl approaches the altar there is a stir amongthe spectators, and sometimes a rude youth would call out:

"Take care! You will overturn the rock, or pull out the arrows!"

Such a remark makes the girls nervous, and especially one who is notsure of her composure. 

Immediately behind the maidens' circle is the old women's or chaperons'circle. This second circle is almost as interesting to look at as theinner one. The old women watched every movement of their respectivecharges with the utmost concern, having previously instructed them howthey should conduct themselves in any event. 

There was never a more gorgeous assembly of the kind than this one. The day was perfect. The Crees, displaying their characteristichorsemanship, came in groups; the Assiniboines, with their curiouspompadour well covered with red paint. The various bands of Sioux allcarefully observed the traditional peculiarities of dress and behavior. The attaches of the fort were fully represented at the entertainment, and it was not unusual to see a pale-face maiden take part in the feast. 

The whole population of the region had assembled, and the maidens cameshyly into the circle. The simple ceremonies observed prior to theserving of the food were in progress, when among a group of WahpetonSioux young men there was a stir of excitement. All the maidens glancednervously toward the scene of the disturbance. Soon a tall youth emergedfrom the throng of spectators and advanced toward the circle. Every oneof the chaperons glared at him as if to deter him from his purpose. Butwith a steady step he passed them by and approached the maidens' circle. 

At last he stopped behind a pretty Assiniboine maiden of good family andsaid:

"I am sorry, but, according to custom, you should not be here. "

The girl arose in confusion, but she soon recovered her self-control. 

"What do you mean?" she demanded, indignantly. "Three times you havecome to court me, but each time I have refused to listen to you. Iturned my back upon you. Twice I was with Mashtinna. She can tell thepeople that this is true. The third time I had gone for water when youintercepted me and begged me to stop and listen. I refused because I didnot know you. My chaperon, Makatopawee, knows that I was gone but a fewminutes. I never saw you anywhere else. "

The young man was unable to answer this unmistakable statement of facts, and it became apparent that he had sought to revenge himself for herrepulse. 

"Woo! woo! Carry him out!" was the order of the chief of the Indianpolice, and the audacious youth was hurried away into the nearest ravineto be chastised. 

The young woman who had thus established her good name returned to thecircle, and the feast was served. The "maidens' song" was sung, and fourtimes they danced in a ring around the altar. Each maid as she departedonce more took her oath to remain pure until she should meet herhusband. 

IX. MORE LEGENDS

I: A Legend of Devil's Lake

AFTER the death of Smoky Day, old Weyuha was regarded as the greateststory-teller among the Wahpeton Sioux. 

"Tell me, good Weyuha, a legend of your father's country, " I said to himone evening, for I knew the country which is now known as North Dakotaand Southern Manitoba was their ancient hunting-ground. I was promptedby Uncheedah to make this request, after the old man had eaten in ourlodge. 

"Many years ago, " he began, as he passed the pipe to uncle, "we traveledfrom the Otter-tail to Minnewakan (Devil's Lake). At that time themound was very distinct where Chotanka lies buried. The people of hisimmediate band had taken care to preserve it. 

"This mound under which lies the great medicine man is upon the summitof Minnewakan Chantay, the highest hill in all that region. It is shapedlike an animal's heart placed on its base, with the apex upward. 

"The reason why this hill is called Minnewakan Chantay, or the Heart ofthe Mysterious Land, I will now tell you. It has been handed downfrom generation to generation, far beyond the memory of ourgreat-grandparents. It was in Chotanka's line of descent that theselegends were originally kept, but when he died the stories becameeverybody's, and then no one believed in them. It was told in this way. "

I sat facing him, wholly wrapped in the words of the story-teller, andnow I took a deep breath and settled myself so that I might not disturbhim by the slightest movement while he was reciting his tale. We weretaught this courtesy to our elders, but I was impulsive and sometimesforgot. 

"A long time ago, " resumed Weyuha, "the red people were many in number, and they inhabited all the land from the coldest place to the region ofperpetual summer time. It seemed that they were all of one tongue, andall were friends. 

"All the animals were considered people in those days. The buffalo, theelk, the antelope, were tribes of considerable importance. The bearswere a smaller band, but they obeyed the mandates of the Great Mysteryand were his favorites, and for this reason they have always known moreabout the secrets of medicine. So they were held in much honor. Thewolves, too, were highly regarded at one time. But the buffalo, elk, moose, deer and antelope were the ruling people. 

"These soon became conceited and considered themselves very important, and thought no one could withstand them. The buffalo made war upon thesmaller tribes, and destroyed many. So one day the Great Mystery thoughtit best to change the people in form and in language. 

"He made a great tent and kept it dark for ten days. Into this tent heinvited the different bands, and when they came out they were greatlychanged, and some could not talk at all after that. However, there isa sign language given to all the animals that no man knows except somemedicine men, and they are under a heavy penalty if they should tell it. 

"The buffalo came out of the darkened tent the clumsiest of allthe animals. The elk and moose were burdened with their heavy andmany-branched horns, while the antelope and deer were made the mostdefenseless of animals, only that they are fleet of foot. The bear andthe wolf were made to prey upon all the others. 

"Man was alone then. When the change came, the Great Mystery allowed himto keep his own shape and language. He was king over all the animals, but they did not obey him. From that day, man's spirit may live with thebeasts before he is born a man. He will then know the animal languagebut he cannot tell it in human speech. He always retains his sympathywith them, and can converse with them in dreams. 

"I must not forget to tell you that the Great Mystery pitched his tentin this very region. Some legends say that the Minnewakan Chantay wasthe tent itself, which afterward became earth and stones. Many ofthe animals were washed and changed in this lake, the Minnewakan, orMysterious Water. It is the only inland water we know that is salt. Noanimal has ever swum in this lake and lived. "

"Tell me, " I eagerly asked, "is it dangerous to man also?"

"Yes, " he replied, "we think so; and no Indian has ever ventured in thatlake to my knowledge. That is why the lake is called Mysterious, " herepeated. 

"I shall now tell you of Chotanka. He was the greatest of medicinemen. He declared that he was a grizzly bear before he was born in humanform. " Weyuha seemed to become very earnest when he reached this pointin his story. "Listen to Chotanka's life as a grizzly bear. "

"'As a bear, ' he used to say, 'my home was in sight of the MinnewakanChantay. I lived with my mother only one winter, and I only saw myfather when I was a baby. Then we lived a little way from the Chantayto the north, among scattered oak upon a hillside overlooking theMinnewakan. 

"'When I first remember anything, I was playing outside of our home witha buffalo skull that I had found near by. I saw something that lookedstrange. It walked upon two legs, and it carried a crooked stick, andsome red willows with feathers tied to them. It threw one of the willowsat me, and I showed my teeth and retreated within our den. 

"'Just then my father and mother came home with a buffalo calf. Theythrew down the dead calf, and ran after the queer thing. He had longhair upon a round head. His face was round, too. He ran and climbed upinto a small oak tree. 

"'My father and mother shook him down, but not before he had shot someof his red willows into their sides. Mother was very sick, but shedug some roots and ate them and she was well again. ' It was thus thatChotanka was first taught the use of certain roots for curing wounds andsickness, " Weyuha added. 

"'One day'"--he resumed the grizzly's story--"'when I was out huntingwith my mother-my father had gone away and never came back--we founda buffalo cow with her calf in a ravine. She advised me to follow herclosely, and we crawled along on our knees. All at once mother croucheddown under the grass, and I did the same. We saw some of those queerbeings that we called "two legs, " riding upon big-tail deer (ponies). They yelled as they rode toward us. Mother growled terribly and rushedupon them. She caught one, but many more came with their dogs and droveus into a thicket. They sent the red willows singing after us, and twoof them stuck in mother's side. When we got away at last she tried topull them out, but they hurt her terribly. She pulled them both out atlast, but soon after she lay down and died. 

"'I stayed in the woods alone for two days then I went around theMinnewakan Chantay on the south side and there made my lonely den. ThereI found plenty of hazel nuts, acorns and wild plums. Upon the plains theteepsinna were abundant, and I saw nothing of my enemies. 

"'One day I found a footprint not unlike my own. I followed it tosee who the stranger might be. Upon the bluffs among the oak grovesI discovered a beautiful young female gathering acorns. She was of adifferent band from mine, for she wore a jet black dress. 

"'At first she was disposed to resent my intrusion; but when I told herof my lonely life she agreed to share it with me. We came back to myhome on the south side of the hill. There we lived happy for a wholeyear. When the autumn came again Woshepee, for this was her name, saidthat she must make a warm nest for the winter, and I was left aloneagain. '

"Now, " said Weyuha, "I have come to a part of my story that few peopleunderstand. All the long winter Chotanka slept in his den, and withthe early spring there came a great thunder storm. He was aroused by afrightful crash that seemed to shake the hills; and lo! a handsome youngman stood at his door. He looked, but was not afraid, for he saw thatthe stranger carried none of those red willows with feathered tips. Hewas unarmed and smiling. 

"'I come, ' said he, 'with a challenge to run a race. Whoever wins willbe the hero of his kind, and the defeated must do as the winner saysthereafter. This is a rare honor that I have brought you. The wholeworld will see the race. The animal world will shout for you, and thespirits will cheer me on. You are not a coward, and therefore you willnot refuse my challenge. '

"'No, ' replied Chotanka, after a short hesitation. The young man wasfine-looking, but lightly built. 

"'We shall start from the Chantay, and that will be our goal. Come, letus go, for the universe is waiting!' impatiently exclaimed the stranger. 

"He passed on in advance, and just then an old, old wrinkled man came toChotanka's door. He leaned forward upon his staff. 

"'My son, ' he said to him, 'I don't want to make you a coward, butthis young man is the greatest gambler of the universe. He has powerfulmedicine. He gambles for life; be careful! My brothers and I are theonly ones who have ever beaten him. But he is safe, for if he is killedhe can resurrect himself--I tell you he is great medicine. 

"'However, I think that I can save you--listen! He will run behind youall the way until you are within a short distance of the goal. Then hewill pass you by in a flash, for his name is ZigZag Fire! (lightning). Here is my medicine. ' So speaking, he gave me a rabbit skin and the gumof a certain plant. 'When you come near the goal, rub yourself with thegum, and throw the rabbit skin between you. He cannot pass you. '

"'And who are you, grandfather?' Chotanka inquired. 

"'I am the medicine turtle, ' the old man replied. 'The gambler is aspirit from heaven, and those whom he outruns must shortly die. You haveheard, no doubt, that all animals know beforehand when they are to bekilled; and any man who understands these mysteries may also know whenhe is to die. '

"The race was announced to the world. The buffalo, elk, wolves and allthe animals came to look on. All the spirits of the air came also tocheer for their comrade. In the sky the trumpet was sounded--the greatmedicine drum was struck. It was the signal for a start. The coursewas around the Minnewakan. (That means around the earth or the ocean. )Everywhere the multitude cheered as the two sped by. 

"The young man kept behind Chotanka all the time until they came oncemore in sight of the Chantay. Then he felt a slight shock and he threwhis rabbit skin back. The stranger tripped and fell. Chotanka rubbedhimself with the gum, and ran on until he reached the goal. There wasa great shout that echoed over the earth, but in the heavens there wasmuttering and grumbling. The referee declared that the winner would liveto a good old age, and Zig-Zag Fire promised to come at his call. He wasindeed great medicine, " Weyuha concluded. 

"But you have not told me how Chotanka became a man, " I said. 

"One night a beautiful woman came to him in his sleep. She enticed himinto her white teepee to see what she had there. Then she shut the doorof the teepee and Chotanka could not get out. But the woman was kindand petted him so that he loved to stay in the white teepee. Then it wasthat he became a human born. This is a long story, but I think, Ohiyesa, that you will remember it, " said Weyuha, and so I did. 

II. Manitoshaw's Hunting

IT was in the winter, in the Moon of Difficulty (January). We had eatenour venison roast for supper, and the embers were burning brightly. Our teepee was especially cheerful. Uncheedah sat near the entrance, myuncle and his wife upon the opposite side, while I with my pets occupiedthe remaining space. 

Wabeda, the dog, lay near the fire in a half doze, watching out of thecorners of his eyes the tame raccoon, which snuggled back againstthe walls of the teepee, his shrewd brain, doubtless, concocting somemischief for the hours of darkness. I had already recited a legend ofour people. All agreed that I had done well. Having been generouslypraised, I was eager to earn some more compliments by learning a newone, so I begged my uncle to tell me a story. Musingly he replied:

"I can give you a Sioux-Cree tradition, " and immediately began:

"Many winters ago, there were six teepees standing on the southern slopeof Moose mountain in the Moon of Wild Cherries (September). The men towhom these teepees belonged had been attacked by the Sioux while huntingbuffalo, and nearly all killed. Two or three who managed to get hometo tell their sad story were mortally wounded, and died soon afterward. There was only one old man and several small boys left to hunt andprovide for this unfortunate little band of women and children. 

"They lived upon teepsinna (wild turnips) and berries for many days. They were almost famished for meat. The old man was too feeble to huntsuccessfully. One day in this desolate camp a young Cree maiden--forsuch they were--declared that she could no longer sit still and see herpeople suffer. She took down her dead father's second bow and quiverfull of arrows, and begged her old grandmother to accompany her to LakeWanagiska, where she knew that moose had oftentimes been found. I forgotto tell you that her name was Manitoshaw. 

"This Manitoshaw and her old grandmother, Nawakewee, took each a ponyand went far up into the woods on the side of the mountain. They pitchedtheir wigwam just out of sight of the lake, and hobbled their ponies. Then the old woman said to Manitoshaw:

"'Go, my granddaughter, to the outlet of the Wanagiska, and see if thereare any moose tracks there. When I was a young woman, I came here withyour father's father, and we pitched our tent near this spot. In thenight there came three different moose. Bring me leaves of the birch andcedar twigs; I will make medicine for moose, ' she added. 

"Manitoshaw obediently disappeared in the woods. It was a grove ofbirch and willow, with two good springs. Down below was a marshy place. Nawakewee had bidden the maiden look for nibbled birch and willow twigs, for the moose loves to eat them, and to have her arrow ready upon thebow-string. 'I have seen this very place many a time, ' added my uncle, and this simple remark gave to the story an air of reality. 

"The Cree maiden went first to the spring, and there found fresh tracksof the animal she sought. She gathered some cedar berries and chewedthem, and rubbed some of them on her garments so that the moose mightnot scent her. The sun was already set, and she felt she must return toNawakewee. 

"Just then Hinhankaga, the hooting owl, gave his doleful night call. Thegirl stopped and listened attentively. 

"'I thought it was a lover's call, ' she whispered to herself. A singularchallenge pealed across the lake. She recognized the alarm call of theloon, and fancied that the bird might have caught a glimpse of her game. 

"Soon she was within a few paces of the temporary lodge of pine boughsand ferns which the grandmother had constructed. The old woman met heron the trail. 

"'Ah, my child, you have returned none too soon. I feared you hadventured too far away; for the Sioux often come to this place to hunt. You must not expose yourself carelessly on the shore. '

"As the two women lay down to sleep they could hear the ponies munchthe rich grass in an open spot near by. Through the smoke hole of thepine-bough wigwam Manitoshaw gazed up into the starry sky, and dreamedof what she would do on the morrow when she should surprise the wilymoose. Her grandmother was already sleeping so noisily that it wasenough to scare away the game. At last the maiden, too, lost herself insleep. 

"Old Nawakewee awoke early. First of all she made a fire and burnedcedar and birch so that the moose might not detect the human smell. Thenshe quickly prepared a meal of wild turnips and berries, and awoke themaiden, who was surprised to see that the sun was already up. She randown to the spring and hastily splashed handsful of the cold water inher face; then she looked for a moment in its mirror-like surface. There was the reflection of two moose by the open shore and beyond themManitoshaw seemed to see a young man standing. In another moment allthree had disappeared. 

"'What is the matter with my eyes? I am not fully awake yet, and Iimagine things. Ugh, it is all in my eyes, ' the maiden repeated toherself. She hastened back to Nawakewee. The vision was so unexpectedand so startling that she could not believe in its truth, and she saidnothing to the old woman. 

"Breakfast eaten, Manitoshaw threw off her robe and appeared in herscantily cut gown of buckskin with long fringes, and moccasins andleggings trimmed with quills of the porcupine. Her father's bow andquiver were thrown over one shoulder, and the knife dangled from herbelt in its handsome sheath. She ran breathlessly along the shore towardthe outlet. 

"Way off near the island Medoza the loon swam with his mate, occasionally uttering a cry of joy. Here and there the playful Hogan, the trout, sprang gracefully out of the water, in a shower of fallingdew. As the maiden hastened along she scared up Wadawasee, thekingfisher, who screamed loudly. 

"'Stop, Wadawasee, stop--you will frighten my game!'

"At last she had reached the outlet. She saw at once that the moosehad been there during the night. They had torn up the ground and brokenbirch and willow twigs in a most disorderly way. "

"Ah!" I exclaimed, "I wish I had been with Manitoshaw then!"

"Hush, my boy; never interrupt a storyteller. "

I took a stick and began to level off the ashes in front of me, and todraw a map of the lake, the outlet, the moose and Manitoshaw. Away offto one side was the solitary wigwam, Nawakewee and the ponies. 

"Manitoshaw's heart was beating so loud that she could not hearanything, " resumed my uncle. "She took some leaves of the wintergreenand chewed them to calm herself. She did not forget to throw in passinga pinch of pulverized tobacco and paint into the spring for Manitou, thespirit. 

"Among the twinkling leaves of the birch her eye was caught by a movingform, and then another. She stood motionless, grasping her heavy bow. The moose, not suspecting any danger, walked leisurely toward thespring. One was a large female moose; the other a yearling. 

"As they passed Manitoshaw, moving so naturally and looking so harmless, she almost forgot to let fly an arrow. The mother moose seemed tolook in her direction, but did not see her. They had fairly passed herhiding-place when she stepped forth and sent a swift arrow into the sideof the larger moose. Both dashed into the thick woods, but it was toolate. The Cree maiden had already loosened her second arrow. Both felldead before reaching the shore. "

"Uncle, she must have had a splendid aim, for in the woods the manylittle twigs make an arrow bound off to one side, " I interrupted ingreat excitement. 

"Yes, but you must remember she was very near the moose. "

"It seems to me, then, uncle, that they must have scented her, foryou have told me that they possess the keenest nose of any animal, " Ipersisted. 

"Doubtless the wind was blowing the other way. But, nephew, you must letme finish my story. 

"Overjoyed by her success, the maiden hastened back to Nawakawee, but shewas gone! The ponies were gone, too, and the wigwam of branches had beendemolished. While Manitoshaw stood there, frightened and undecided whatto do, a soft voice came from behind a neighboring thicket:

"'Manitoshaw! Manitoshaw! I am here!'

"She at once recognized, the voice and found it to be Nawakeewee, whotold a strange story. That morning a canoe had crossed the Wanagiskacarrying two men. They were Sioux. The old grandmother had seen themcoming, and to deceive them she at once pulled down her temporarywigwam, and drove the ponies off toward home. Then she hid herself inthe bushes near by, for she knew that Manitoshaw must return there. 

"'Come, my granddaughter, we must hasten home by another way, ' cried theold woman. 

"But the maiden said, 'No, let us go first to my two moose that I killedthis morning and take some meat with us. '

"'No, no, my child; the Sioux are cruel. They have killed many ofour people. If we stay here they will find us. I fear, I fear them, Manitoshaw!'

"At last the brave maid convinced her grandmother, and the more easilyas she too was hungry for meat. They went to where the big game layamong the bushes, and began to dress the moose. "

"I think, if I were they, I would hide all day. I would wait until theSioux had gone; then I would go back to my moose, " I interrupted for thethird time. 

"I will finish the story first; then you may tell us what you would do, "said my uncle reprovingly. 

"The two Sioux were father and son. They too had come to the lake formoose; but as the game usually retreated to the island, Chatansapa hadlanded his son Kangiska to hunt them on the shore while he returned inhis canoe to intercept their flight. The young man sped along the sandybeach and soon discovered their tracks. He followed them up and foundblood on the trail. This astonished him. Cautiously he followed on untilhe found them both lying dead. He examined them and found that in eachmoose there was a single Cree arrow. Wishing to surprise the hunter ifpossible, Kangiska lay hidden in the bushes. 

"After a little while the two women returned to the spot. They passedhim as close as the moose had passed the maiden in the morning. He sawat once that the maiden had arrows in her quiver like those that hadslain the big moose. He lay still. 

"Kangiska looked upon the beautiful Cree maiden and loved her. Finallyhe forgot himself and made a slight motion. Manitoshaw's quick eyecaught the little stir among the bushes, but she immediately looked theother way and Kangiska believed that she had not seen anything, At lasther eyes met his, and something told both that all was well. Then themaiden smiled, and the young man could not remain still any longer. He arose suddenly and the old woman nearly fainted from fright. ButManitoshaw said:

"'Fear not, grandmother; we are two and he is only one. '

"While the two women continued to cut up the meat, Kangiska made a fireby rubbing cedar chips together, and they all ate of the moose meat. Then the old woman finished her work, while the young people sat downupon a log in the shade, and told each other all their minds. 

"Kangiska declared by signs that he would go home with Manitoshaw to theCree camp, for he loved her. They went home, and the young man huntedfor the unfortunate Cree band during the rest of his life. 

"His father waited a long time on the island and afterward searched theshore, but never saw him again. He supposed that those footprints he sawwere made by Crees who had killed his son. "

"Is that story true, uncle?" I asked eagerly. 

"'Yes, the facts are well known. There are some Sioux mixed bloods amongthe Crees to this day who are descendants of Kangiska. "

X. INDIAN LIFE AND ADVENTURE

I: Life in the Woods

THE month of September recalls to every Indian's mind the season of thefall hunt. I remember one such expedition which is typical of many. Ourparty appeared on the northwestern side of Turtle mountain; for we hadbeen hunting buffaloes all summer, in the region of the Mouse river, between that mountain and the upper Missouri. 

As our cone-shaped teepees rose in clusters along the outskirts of theheavy forest that clothes the sloping side of the mountain, the scenebelow was gratifying to a savage eye. The rolling yellow plains werecheckered with herds of buffaloes. Along the banks of the streams thatran down from the mountains were also many elk, which usually appearat morning and evening, and disappear into the forest during the warmerpart of the day. Deer, too, were plenty, and the brooks were alive withtrout. Here and there the streams were dammed by the industrious beaver. 

In the interior of the forest there were lakes with many islands, wheremoose, elk, deer and bears were abundant. The water-fowl were wont togather here in great numbers, among them the crane, the swan, the loon, and many of the smaller kinds. The forest also was filled with a greatvariety of birds. Here the partridge drummed his loudest, while thewhippoorwill sang with spirit, and the hooting owl reigned in the night. 

To me, as a boy, this wilderness was a paradise. It was a land ofplenty. To be sure, we did not have any of the luxuries of civilization, but we had every convenience and opportunity and luxury of Nature. Wehad also the gift of enjoying our good fortune, whatever dangers mightlurk about us; and the truth is that we lived in blessed ignorance ofany life that was better than our own. 

As soon as hunting in the woods began, the customs regulating it wereestablished. The council teepee no longer existed. A hunting bonfire waskindled every morning at day-break, at which each brave must appear andreport. The man who failed to do this before the party set out on theday's hunt was harassed by ridicule. As a rule, the hunters startedbefore sunrise, and the brave who was announced throughout the camp asthe first one to return with a deer on his back, was a man to be envied. 

The legend-teller, old Smoky Day, was chosen herald of the camp, and itwas he who made the announcements. After supper was ended, we heard hispowerful voice resound among the teepees in the forest. He would thenname a man to kindle the bonfire the next morning. His suit of fringedbuckskin set off his splendid physique to advantage. 

Scarcely had the men disappeared in the woods each morning than all theboys sallied forth, apparently engrossed in their games and sports, but in reality competing actively with one another in quickness ofobservation. As the day advanced, they all kept the sharpest possiblelookout. Suddenly there would come the shrill "Woo-coohoo!" at the topof a boy's voice, announcing the bringing in of a deer. Immediately allthe other boys took up the cry, each one bent on getting ahead of therest. Now we all saw the brave Wacoota fairly bent over by his burden, alarge deer which he carried on his shoulders. His fringed buckskin shirtwas besprinkled with blood. He threw down the deer at the door of hiswife's mother's home, according to custom, and then walked proudlyto his own. At the door of his father's teepee he stood for a momentstraight as a pine-tree, and then entered. 

When a bear was brought in, a hundred or more of these urchins were wontto make the woods resound with their voices: "Wah! wah! wah! Wah! wah!wah! The brave White Rabbit brings a bear! Wah! wah! wah!"

All day these sing-song cheers were kept up, as the game was broughtin. At last, toward the close of the afternoon, all the hunters hadreturned, and happiness and contentment reigned absolute, in a fashionwhich I have never observed among the white people, even in the bestof circumstances. The men were lounging and smoking; the women activelyengaged in the preparation of the evening meal, and the care of themeat. The choicest of the game was cooked and offered to the GreatMystery, with all the accompanying ceremonies. This we called the"medicine feast. " Even the women, as they lowered the boiling pot, or the fragrant roast of venison ready to serve, would first whisper:"Great Mystery, do thou partake of this venison, and still be gracious!"This was the commonly said "grace. "

Everything went smoothly with us, on this occasion, when we firstentered the woods. Nothing was wanting to our old way of living. Thekilling of deer and elk and moose had to be stopped for a time, sincemeat was so abundant that we had no use for them any longer. Only thehunting for pelts, such as those of the bear, beaver, marten, and otterwas continued. But whenever we lived in blessed abundance, our braveswere wont to turn their thoughts to other occupations--especially thehot-blooded youths whose ambition it was to do something noteworthy. 

At just such moments as this there are always a number of priests inreadiness, whose vocation it is to see into the future, and each of whomconsults his particular interpreter of the Great Mystery. (This ceremonyis called by the white people "making medicine. ") To the priests theyouthful braves hint their impatience for the war-path. Soon comes thedesired dream or prophecy or vision to favor their departure. 

Our young men presently received their sign, and for a few days all washurry and excitement. On the appointed morning we heard the songs of thewarriors and the wailing of the women, by which they bade adieu toeach other, and the eligible braves, headed by an experienced man--oldHotanka or Loud-Voiced Raven--set out for the Gros Ventre country. 

Our older heads, to be sure, had expressed some disapproval of theundertaking, for the country in which we were roaming was not our own, and we were likely at any time to be taken to task by its rightfulowners. The plain truth of the matter was that we were intruders. Hencethe more thoughtful among us preferred to be at home, and to achievewhat renown they could get by defending their homes and families. Theyoung men, however, were so eager for action and excitement that theymust needs go off in search of it. 

From the early morning when these braves left us, led by the oldwar-priest, Loud-Voiced Raven, the anxious mothers, sisters andsweethearts counted the days. Old Smoky Day would occasionally get upearly in the morning, and sing a "strong-heart" song for his absentgrandson. I still seem to hear the hoarse, cracked voice of the ancientsinger as it resounded among the woods. For a long time our rovingcommunity enjoyed unbroken peace, and we were spared any trouble ordisturbance. Our hunters often brought in a deer or elk or bear forfresh meat. The beautiful lakes furnished us with fish and wild-fowlfor variety. Their placid waters, as the autumn advanced, reflected thevariegated colors of the changing foliage. 

It is my recollection that we were at this time encamped in the vicinityof the "Turtle Mountain's Heart. " It is to the highest cone-shaped peakthat the Indians aptly give this appellation. Our camping-ground for twomonths was within a short distance of the peak, and the men made it apoint to often send one of their number to the top. It was understoodbetween them and the war party that we were to remain near this spot;and on their return trip the latter were to give the "smoke sign, " whichwe would answer from the top of the hill. 

One day, as we were camping on the shore of a large lake with severalislands, signs of moose were discovered, and the men went off to them onrafts, carrying their flint-lock guns in anticipation of finding two orthree of the animals. We little fellows, as usual, were playing down bythe sandy shore, when we spied what seemed like the root of a great treefloating toward us. But on a closer scrutiny we discovered our error. It was the head of a huge moose, swimming for his life! Fortunately forhim, none of the men had remained at home. 

According to our habit, we little urchins disappeared in an instant, like young prairie chickens, in the long grass. I was not more thaneight years old, yet I tested the strength of my bowstring and adjustedmy sharpest and best arrow for immediate service. My heart leapedviolently as the homely but imposing animal neared the shore. I wasundecided for a moment whether I would not leave my hiding-place andgive a war-whoop as soon as he touched the sand. Then I thought I wouldkeep still and let him have my boy weapon; and the only regret thatI had was that he would, in all probability, take it with him, and Ishould be minus one good arrow. 

"Still, " I thought, "I shall claim to be the smallest boy whose arrowwas ever carried away by a moose. " That was enough. I gathered myselfinto a bunch, all ready to spring. As the long-legged beast pulledhimself dripping out of the water, and shook off the drops from his longhair, I sprang to my feet. I felt some of the water in my face! I gavehim my sharpest arrow with all the force I could master, right among thefloating ribs. Then I uttered my warwhoop. 

The moose did not seem to mind the miniature weapon, but he was verymuch frightened by our shrill yelling. He took to his long legs, and ina minute was out of sight. 

The leaves had now begun to fall, and the heavy frosts made the nightsvery cold. We were forced to realize that the short summer of thatregion had said adieu! Still we were gay and lighthearted, for we hadplenty of provisions, and no misfortune had yet overtaken us in ourwanderings over the country for nearly three months. 

One day old Smoky Day returned from the daily hunt with an alarm. He hadseen a sign-a "smoke sign. " This had not appeared in the quarter thatthey were anxiously watching--it came from the east. After a longconsultation among the men, it was concluded from the nature andduration of the smoke that it proceeded from an accidental fire. It wasfurther surmised that the fire was not made by Sioux, since it was outof their country, but by a war-party of Ojibways, who were accustomedto use matches when lighting their pipes, and to throw them carelesslyaway. It was thought that a little time had been spent in an attempt toput it out. 

The council decreed that a strict look-out should be established inbehalf of our party. Every day a scout was appointed to reconnoitre inthe direction of the smoke. It was agreed that no gun should be firedfor twelve days. All our signals were freshly rehearsed among the men. The women and old men went so far as to dig little convenient holesaround their lodges, for defense in case of a sudden attack. And yet anOjibway scout would not have suspected, from the ordinary appearance ofthe camp, that the Sioux had become aware of their neighborhood! Scoutswere stationed just outside of the village at night. They had been sotrained as to rival an owl or a cat in their ability to see in the dark. 

The twelve days passed by, however, without bringing any evidence ofthe nearness of the supposed Ojibway war-party, and the "lookout"established for purposes of protection was abandoned. Soon after this, one morning at dawn, we were aroused by the sound of the unwelcomewarwhoop. Although only a child, I sprang up and was about to rush out, as I had been taught to do; but my good grandmother pulled me down, andgave me a sign to lay flat on the ground. I sharpened my ears and laystill. 

All was quiet in camp, but at some little distance from us there was alively encounter. I could distinctly hear the old herald, shouting andyelling in exasperation. "Whoo! whoo!" was the signal of distress, and Icould almost hear the pulse of my own blood-vessels. 

Closer and closer the struggle came, and still the women appeared togrow more and more calm. At last a tremendous charge by the Sioux putthe enemy to flight; there was a burst of yelling; alas! my friend andteacher, old Smoky Day, was silent. He had been pierced to the heart byan arrow from the Ojibways. 

Although successful, we had lost two of our men, Smoky Day and WhiteCrane, and this incident, although hardly unexpected, darkened ourpeaceful sky. The camp was filled with songs of victory, mingled withthe wailing of the relatives of the slain. The mothers of the youths whowere absent on the war-path could no longer conceal their anxiety. 

One frosty morning--for it was then near the end of October--the weirdsong of a solitary brave was heard. In an instant the camp was throwninto indescribable confusion. The meaning of this was clear as day toeverybody--all of our war-party were killed, save the one whose mournfulsong announced the fate of his companions. The lonely warrior was BaldEagle. 

The village was convulsed with grief; for in sorrow, as in joy, everyIndian shares with all the others. The old women stood still, whereverthey might be, and wailed dismally, at intervals chanting the praisesof the departed warriors. The wives went a little way from their teepeesand there audibly mourned; but the young maidens wandered further awayfrom the camp, where no one could witness their grief. The old menjoined in the crying and singing. To all appearances the most unmoved ofall were the warriors, whose tears must be poured forth in the countryof the enemy to embitter their vengeance. These sat silently withintheir lodges, and strove to conceal their feelings behind a stoicalcountenance; but they would probably have failed had not the soothingweed come to their relief. 

The first sad shock over, then came the change of habiliments. Insavage usage, the outward expression of mourning surpasses that ofcivilization. The Indian mourner gives up all his good clothing, andcontents himself with scanty and miserable garments. Blankets are cut intwo, and the hair is cropped short. Often a devoted mother wouldscarify her arms or legs; a sister or a young wife would cut off all herbeautiful hair and disfigure herself by undergoing hardships. Fathersand brothers blackened their faces, and wore only the shabbiestgarments. Such was the spectacle that our people presented when thebright autumn was gone and the cold shadow of winter and misfortunehad fallen upon us. "We must suffer, " said they--"the Great Mystery isoffended. "

II. A Winter Camp

WHEN I was about twelve years old we wintered upon the Mouse river, westof Turtle mountain. It was one of the coldest winters I ever knew, andwas so regarded by the old men of the tribe. The summer before there hadbeen plenty of buffalo upon that side of the Missouri, and our peoplehad made many packs of dried buffalo meat and cached them in differentplaces, so that they could get them in case of need. There were manyblack-tailed deer and elk along the river, and grizzlies were to befound in the open country. Apparently there was no danger of starvation, so our people thought to winter there; but it proved to be a hardwinter. 

There was a great snow-fall, and the cold was intense. The snow wastoo deep for hunting, and the main body of the buffalo had crossed theMissouri, where it was too far to go after them. But there were somesmaller herds of the animals scattered about in our vicinity, thereforethere was still fresh meat to be had, but it was not secured without agreat deal of difficulty. 

No ponies could be used. The men hunted on snow-shoes until after theMoon of Sore Eyes (March), when after a heavy thaw a crust was formedon the snow which would scarcely hold a man. It was then that our peoplehunted buffalo with dogs--an unusual expedient. 

Sleds were made of buffalo ribs and hickory saplings, the runners boundwith rawhide with the hair side down. These slipped smoothly over theicy crust. Only small men rode on the sleds. When buffalo were reportedby the hunting-scouts, everybody had his dog team ready. All went underorders from the police, and approached the herd under cover until theycame within charging distance. 

The men had their bows and arrows, and a few had guns. The huge animalscould not run fast in the deep snow. They all followed a leader, trampling out a narrow path. The dogs with their drivers soon caught upwith them on each side, and the hunters brought many of them down. 

I remember when the party returned, late in the night. The men camein single file, well loaded, and each dog following his master with anequally heavy load. Both men and animals were white with frost. 

We boys had waited impatiently for their arrival. As soon as we spiedthem coming a buffalo hunting whistle was started, and every urchin inthe village added his voice to the weird sound, while the dogs who hadbeen left at home joined with us in the chorus. The men, wearing theirbuffalo moccasins with the hair inside and robes of the same, came homehungry and exhausted. 

It is often supposed that the dog in the Indian camp is a useless memberof society, but it is not so in the wild life. We found him one of themost useful of domestic animals, especially in an emergency. 

While at this camp a ludicrous incident occurred that is still toldabout the camp-fires of the Sioux. One day the men were hunting onsnow-shoes, and contrived to get within a short distance of the buffalobefore they made the attack. It was impossible to run fast, but the hugeanimals were equally unable to get away. Many were killed. Just as theherd reached an open plain one of the buffaloes stopped and finally laydown. Three of the men who were pursuing him shortly came up. The animalwas severely wounded, but not dead. 

"I shall crawl up to him from behind and stab him, " said Wamedee; "wecannot wait here for him to die. " The others agreed. Wamedee was notconsidered especially brave; but he took out his knife and held itbetween his teeth. He then approached the buffalo from behind andsuddenly jumped astride his back. 

The animal was dreadfully frightened and struggled to his feet. Wamedee's knife fell to the ground, but he held on by the long shaggyhair. He had a bad seat, for he was upon the buffalo's hump. There wasno chance to jump off; he had to stay on as well as he could. 

"Hurry! hurry! shoot! shoot!" he screamed, as the creature plunged andkicked madly in the deep snow. Wamedee's face looked deathly, they said;but his two friends could not help laughing. He was still calling uponthem to shoot, but when the others took aim he would cry: "Don't shoot!don't shoot! you will kill me!" At last the animal fell down with him;but Wamedee's two friends also fell down exhausted with laughter. He wasridiculed as a coward thereafter. 

It was on this very hunt that the chief Mato was killed by a buffalo. Ithappened in this way. He had wounded the animal, but not fatally; sohe shot two more arrows at him from a distance. Then the buffalo becamedesperate and charged upon him. In his flight Mato was tripped bysticking one of his snow-shoes into a snowdrift, from which he could notextricate himself in time. The bull gored him to death. The creek uponwhich this happened is now called Mato creek. 

A little way from our camp there was a log village of French Canadianhalf-breeds, but the two villages did not intermingle. About the Moon ofDifficulty (January) we were initiated into some of the peculiar customsof our neighbors. In the middle of the night there was a firing ofguns throughout their village. Some of the people thought they had beenattacked, and went over to assist them, but to their surprise they weretold that this was the celebration of the birth of the new year!

Our men were treated to minnewakan or "spirit water, " and they came homecrazy and foolish. They talked loud and sang all the rest of the night. Finally our head chief ordered his young men to tie these men up and putthem in a lodge by themselves. He gave orders to untie them "when theevil spirit had gone away. "

During the next day all our people were invited to attend thehalf-breeds' dance. I never knew before that a new year begins inmid-winter. We had always counted that the year ends when the winterends, and a new year begins with the new life in the springtime. 

I was now taken for the first time to a white man's dance in a loghouse. I thought it was the dizziest thing I ever saw. One man sat ina corner, sawing away at a stringed board, and all the while he wasstamping the floor with his foot and giving an occasional shout. When hecalled out, the dancers seemed to move faster. 

The men danced with women--something that we Indians never do--and whenthe man in the corner shouted they would swing the women around. Itlooked very rude to me, as I stood outside with the other boys andpeeped through the chinks in the logs. At one time a young man and womanfacing each other danced in the middle of the floor. I thought theywould surely wear their moccasins out against the rough boards; butafter a few minutes they were relieved by another couple. 

Then an old man with long curly hair and a fox-skin cap danced alone inthe middle of the room, slapping the floor with his moccasined foot ina lightning fashion that I have never seen equalled. He seemed to bea leader among them. When he had finished, the old man invited ourprincipal chief into the middle of the floor, and after the Indian hadgiven a great whoop, the two drank in company. After this, there was somuch drinking and loud talking among the men, that it was thought bestto send us children back to the camp. 

It was at this place that we found many sand boulders like a big "whiteman's house. " There were holes in them like rooms, and we played inthese cave-like holes. One day, in the midst of our game, we found theskeleton of a great bear. Evidently he had been wounded and came thereto die, for there were several arrows on the floor of the cave. 

The most exciting event of this year was the attack that the GrosVentres made upon us just as we moved our camp upon the table land backof the river in the spring. We had plenty of meat then and everybody washappy. The grass was beginning to appear and the ponies to grow fat. 

One night there was a war dance. A few of our young men had planned toinvade the Gros Ventres country, but it seemed that they too had beenthinking of us. Everybody was interested in the proposed war party. 

"Uncle, are you going too?" I eagerly asked him. 

"No, " he replied, with a long sigh. "It is the worst time of year to goon the war-path. We shall have plenty of fighting this summer, as we aregoing to trench upon their territory in our hunts, " he added. 

The night was clear and pleasant. The war drum was answered by the howlsof coyotes on the opposite side of the Mouse river. I was in the throng, watching the braves who were about to go out in search of glory. "I wishI were old enough; I would surely go with this party, " I thought. Myfriend Tatanka was to go. He was several years older than I, and ahero in my eyes. I watched him as he danced with the rest until nearlymidnight. Then I came back to our teepee and rolled myself in my buffalorobe and was soon lost in sleep. 

Suddenly I was aroused by loud war cries. "'Woo! woo! hay-ay! hay-ay! Uwe do! U we do!'" I jumped upon my feet, snatched my bow and arrows andrushed out of the teepee, frantically yelling as I went. 

"Stop! stop!" screamed Uncheedah, and caught me by my long hair. 

By this time the Gros Ventres had encircled our camp, sending volleysof arrows and bullets into our midst. The women were digging ditches inwhich to put their children. 

My uncle was foremost in the battle. The Sioux bravely withstood theassault, although several of our men had already fallen. Many of theenemy were killed in the field around our teepees. The Sioux at last gottheir ponies and made a counter charge, led by Oyemakasan (my uncle). They cut the Gros Ventre party in two, and drove them off. 

My friend Tatanka was killed. I took one of his eagle feathers, thinkingI would wear it the first time that I ever went upon the war-path. Ithought I would give anything for the opportunity to go against the GrosVentres, because they killed my friend. The war songs, the wailing forthe dead, the howling of the dogs was intolerable to me. Soon after thiswe broke up our camp and departed for new scenes. 

III. Wild Harvests

WHEN our people lived in Minnesota, a good part of their naturalsubsistence was furnished by the wild rice, which grew abundantly in allof that region. Around the shores and all over some of the innumerablelakes of the "Land of Sky-blue Water" was this wild cereal found. Indeed, some of the watery fields in those days might be comparedin extent and fruitfulness with the fields of wheat on Minnesota'smagnificent farms to-day. 

The wild rice harvesters came in groups of fifteen to twenty familiesto a lake, depending upon the size of the harvest. Some of the Indianshunted buffalo upon the prairie at this season, but there were more whopreferred to go to the lakes to gather wild rice, fish, gather berriesand hunt the deer. There was an abundance of water-fowls among thegrain; and really no season of the year was happier than this. 

The camping-ground was usually an attractive spot, with shade and coolbreezes off the water. The people, while they pitched their teepees uponthe heights, if possible, for the sake of a good outlook, actually livedin their canoes upon the placid waters. The happiest of all, perhaps, were the young maidens, who were all day long in their canoes, in twosor threes, and when tired of gathering the wild cereal, would sit in theboats doing their needle-work. 

These maidens learned to imitate the calls of the different water-fowlsas a sort of signal to the members of a group. Even the old women andthe boys adopted signals, so that while the population of the villagewas lost to sight in a thick field of wild rice, a meeting could bearranged without calling any one by his or her own name. It was a greatconvenience for those young men who sought opportunity to meet certainmaidens, for there were many canoe paths through the rice. 

August is the harvest month. There were many preliminary feasts of fish, ducks and venison, and offerings in honor of the "Water Chief, " sothat there might not be any drowning accident during the harvest. Thepreparation consisted of a series of feasts and offerings for many days, while women and men were making birch canoes, for nearly every memberof the family must be provided with one for this occasion. The blueberryand huckleberry-picking also preceded the rice-gathering. 

There were social events which enlivened the camp of the harvesters;such as maidens' feasts, dances and a canoe regatta or two, in which notonly the men were participants, but women and young girls as well. 

On the appointed day all the canoes were carried to the shore and placedupon the water with prayer and propitiatory offerings. Each family tookpossession of the allotted field, and tied all the grain in bundles ofconvenient size, allowing it to stand for a few days. Then they againentered the lake, assigning two persons to each canoe. One manipulatedthe paddle, while the foremost one gently drew the heads of each bundletoward him and gave it a few strokes with a light rod. This caused therice to fall into the bottom of the craft. The field was traversed inthis manner back and forth until finished. 

This was the pleasantest and easiest part of the harvest toil. The realwork was when they prepared the rice for use. First of all, it must bemade perfectly dry. They would spread it upon buffalo robes and mats, and sometimes upon layers of coarse swamp grass, and dry it in the sun. If the time was short, they would make a scaffold and spread upon it acertain thickness of the green grass and afterward the rice. Under thisa fire was made, taking care that the grass did not catch fire. 

When all the rice is gathered and dried, the hulling begins. A roundhole is dug about two feet deep and the same in diameter. Then the riceis heated over a fire-place, and emptied into the hole while it is hot. A young man, having washed his feet and put on a new pair of moccasins, treads upon it until all is hulled. The women then pour it upon a robeand begin to shake it so that the chaff will be separated by the wind. Some of the rice is browned before being hulled. 

During the hulling time there were prizes offered to the young men whocan hull quickest and best. There were sometimes from twenty to fiftyyouths dancing with their feet in these holes. 

Pretty moccasins were brought by shy maidens to the youths of theirchoice, asking them to hull rice. There were daily entertainments whichdeserved some such name as "hulling bee"--at any rate, we all enjoyedthem hugely. The girls brought with them plenty of good things to eat. 

When all the rice was prepared for the table, the matter of storing itmust be determined. Caches were dug by each family in a concealedspot, and carefully lined with dry grass and bark. Here they left theirsurplus stores for a time of need. Our people were very ingenious incovering up all traces of the hidden food. A common trick was to builda fire on top of the mound. As much of the rice as could be carriedconveniently was packed in par-fleches, or cases made of rawhide, andbrought back with us to our village. 

After all, the wild Indians could not be justly termed improvident, whentheir manner of life is taken into consideration. They let nothing goto waste, and labored incessantly during the summer and fall to layup provision for the inclement season. Berries of all kinds wereindustriously gathered, and dried in the sun. Even the wild cherrieswere pounded up, stones and all, made into small cakes and dried for usein soups and for mixing with the pounded jerked meat and fat to form amuch-prized Indian delicacy. 

Out on the prairie in July and August the women were wont to digteepsinna with sharpened sticks, and many a bag full was dried and putaway. This teepsinna is the root of a certain plant growing mostly uponhigh sandy soil. It is starchy but solid, with a sweetish taste, and isvery fattening. The fully grown teepsinna is two or three inches long, and has a dark-brown bark not unlike the bark of a young tree. It can beeaten raw or stewed, and is always kept in a dried state, except when itis first dug. 

There was another root that our people gathered in small quantities. Itis a wild sweet potato, found in bottom lands or river beds. 

The primitive housekeeper exerted herself much to secure a variety ofappetizing dishes; she even robbed the field mouse and the muskrat toaccomplish her end. The tiny mouse gathers for her winter use severalexcellent kinds of food. Among these is a wild bean which equals inflavor any domestic bean that I have ever tasted. Her storehouse isusually under a peculiar mound, which the untrained eye would be unableto distinguish from an ant-hill. There are many pockets underneath, intowhich she industriously gathers the harvest of the summer. 

She is fortunate if the quick eye of a native woman does not detect herhiding-place. About the month of September, while traveling over theprairie, a woman is occasionally observed to halt suddenly and waltzaround a suspected mound. Finally the pressure of her heel causes aplace to give way, and she settles contentedly down to rob the poormouse of the fruits of her labor. 

The different kinds of beans are put away in different pockets, butit is the oomenechah she wants. The field mouse loves this savoryvegetable, for she always gathers it more than any other. There is alsosome of the white star-like manakcahkcah, the root of the wild lily. This is a good medicine and good to eat. 

When our people were gathering the wild rice, they always watched foranother plant that grows in the muddy bottom of lakes and ponds. It isa white bulb about the size of an ordinary onion. This is stored awayby the muskrats in their houses by the waterside, and there is often abushel or more of the psinchinchah to be found within. It seemed as ifeverybody was good to the wild Indian; at least we thought so then. 

I have referred to the opportunities for courting upon the wild ricefields. Indian courtship is very peculiar in many respects; but when youstudy their daily life you will see the philosophy of their etiquetteof love-making. There was no parlor courtship; the life was largelyout-of-doors, which was very favorable to the young men

In a nomadic life where the female members of the family have entirecontrol of domestic affairs, the work is divided among them all. Veryoften the bringing of the wood and water devolves upon the young maids, and the spring or the woods become the battle-ground of love's warfare. The nearest water may be some distance from the camp, which is all thebetter. Sometimes, too, there is no wood to be had; and in that case, one would see the young women scattered all over the prairie, gatheringbuffalo chips for fuel. 

This is the way the red men go about to induce the aboriginal maidsto listen to their suit. As soon as the youth has returned from thewar-path or the chase, he puts on his porcupine-quill embroideredmoccasins and leggings, and folds his best robe about him. He brusheshis long, glossy hair with a brush made from the tail of the porcupine, perfumes it with scented grass or leaves, then arranges it in two plaitswith an otter skin or some other ornament. If he is a warrior, he addsan eagle feather or two. 

If he chooses to ride, he takes his best pony. He jumps upon its bareback, simply throwing a part of his robe under him to serve as a saddle, and holding the end of a lariat tied about the animal's neck. He guideshim altogether by the motions of his body. These wily ponies seem toenter into the spirit of the occasion, and very often capture the eyesof the maid by their graceful movements, in perfect obedience to theirmaster. 

The general custom is for the young men to pull their robes over theirheads, leaving only a slit to look through. Sometimes the same is doneby the maiden--especially in public courtship. 

He approaches the girl while she is coming from the spring. He takes uphis position directly in her path. If she is in a hurry or does not careto stop, she goes around him; but if she is willing to stop and listenshe puts down on the ground the vessel of water she is carrying. 

Very often at the first meeting the maiden does not know who her loveris. He does not introduce himself immediately, but waits until a secondmeeting. Sometimes she does not see his face at all; and then she willtry to find out who he is and what he looks like before they meet again. If he is not a desirable suitor, she will go with her chaperon and endthe affair there. 

There are times when maidens go in twos, and then there must be twoyoung men to meet them. 

There is some courtship in the night time; either in the early part ofthe evening, on the outskirts of dances and other public affairs, orafter everybody is supposed to be asleep. This is the secret courtship. The youth may pull up the tentpins just back of his sweetheart andspeak with her during the night. He must be a smart young man to do thatundetected, for the grandmother, her chaperon, is usually "all ears. "

Elopements are common. There are many reasons for a girl or a youth todefer their wedding. It may be from personal pride of one or both. Thewell-born are married publicly, and many things are given away in theirhonor. The maiden may desire to attend a certain number of maidens'feasts before marrying. The youth may be poor, or he may wish to achieveanother honor before surrendering to a woman. 

Sometimes a youth is so infatuated with a maiden that he will followher to any part of the country, even after their respective bands haveseparated for the season. I knew of one such case. Patah Tankah hadcourted a distant relative of my uncle for a long time. There seemed tobe some objection to him on the part of the girl's parents, although thegirl herself was willing. 

The large camp had been broken up for the fall hunt, and my uncle's bandwent one way, while the young man's family went in the other direction. After three days' travelling, we came to a good hunting-ground, and madecamp. One evening somebody saw the young man. He had been following hissweetheart and sleeping out-of-doors all that time, although the nightswere already frosty and cold. He met her every day in secret and shebrought him food, but he would not come near the teepee. Finally herpeople yielded, and she went back with him to his band. 

When we lived our natural life, there was much singing of war songs, medicine, hunting and love songs. Sometimes there were few words ornone, but everything was understood by the inflection. From this I haveoften thought that there must be a language of dumb beasts. 

The crude musical instrument of the Sioux, the flute, was made to appealto the susceptible ears of the maidens late into the night. There comesto me now the picture of two young men with their robes over theirheads, and only a portion of the hand-made and carved chotanka, theflute, protruding from its folds. I can see all the maidens slyly turntheir heads to listen. Now I hear one of the youths begin to sing aplaintive serenade as in days gone by:

 "Hay-ay-ay! Hay-ay-ay! a-ahay-ay!" (This "Listen! you will hear of him-- Maiden, you will hear of him-- Listen! he will shortly go

Wasula feels that she must come out, but she has no good excuse, so shestirs up the embers of the fire and causes an unnecessary smoke in theteepee. Then she has an excuse to come out and fix up the tent flaps. She takes a long time to adjust these pointed ears of the teepee, withtheir long poles, for the wind seems to be unsettled. 

Finally Chotanka ceases to be heard. In a moment a young man appearsghost-like at the maiden's side. 

"So it is you, is it?" she asks. 

"Is your grandmother in?" he inquires. 

"What a brave man you are, to fear an old woman! We are free; thecountry is wide. We can go away, and come back when the storm is over. "

"Ho, " he replies. "It is not that I fear her, or the consequences of anelopement. I fear nothing except that we may be separated!"

The girl goes into the lodge for a moment, then slips out once more. "Now, " she exclaims, "to the wood or the prairie! I am yours!" Theydisappear in the darkness. 

IV. A Meeting on the Plains

WE were encamped at one time on the Souris or Mouse river, a tributaryof the Assiniboine. The buffaloes were still plenty; hence we wereliving on the "fat of the land. " One afternoon a scout came in with theannouncement that a body of United States troops was approaching! Thisreport, of course, caused much uneasiness among our people. 

A council was held immediately, in the course of which the scout was putthrough a rigid examination. Before a decision had been reached, anotherscout came in from the field. He declared that the moving train reportedas a body of troops was in reality a train of Canadian carts. 

The two reports differed so widely that it was deemed wise to sendout more runners to observe this moving body closely, and ascertaindefinitely its character. These soon returned with the positiveinformation that the Canadians were at hand, "for, " said they, "thereare no bright metals in the moving train to send forth flashes of light. The separate bodies are short, like carts with ponies, and not like thelong, four-wheeled wagon drawn by four or six mules, that the soldiersuse. They are not buffaloes, and they cannot be mounted troops, withpack-mules, because the individual bodies are too long for that. Besides, the soldiers usually have their chief, with his guards, leadingthe train; and the little chiefs are also separated from the main bodyand ride at one side!"

From these observations it was concluded that we were soon to meet withthe bois brules, as the French call their mixed-bloods, presumably fromthe color of their complexions. Some say that they are named from the"burned forests" which, as wood-cutters, they are accustomed to leavebehind them. Two or three hours later, at about sunset, our ears beganto distinguish the peculiar music that always accompanied a moving trainof their carts. It is like the grunting and squealing of many animals, and is due to the fact that the wheels and all other parts of thesevehicles are made of wood. Our dogs gleefully augmented the volume ofinharmonious sound. 

They stopped a little way from our camp, upon a grassy plain, and theponies were made to wheel their clumsy burdens into a perfectcircle, the shafts being turned inward. Thus was formed a sort ofbarricade--quite a usual and necessary precaution in their nomadic andadventurous life. Within this circle the tents were pitched, and manycheerful fires were soon kindled. The garcons were hurriedly drivingthe ponies to water, with much cracking of whips and outbursting ofimpatient oaths. 

Our chief and his principal warriors briefly conferred with thestrangers, and it was understood by both parties that no thought ofhostilities lurked in the minds of either. 

After having observed the exchange of presents that always followsa "peace council, " there were friendly and hospitable feasts in bothcamps. The bois brules had been long away from any fort or trading-post, and it so happened that their inevitable whiskey keg was almost empty. They had diluted the few gills remaining with several large kettles fullof water. In order to have any sort of offensive taste, it was necessaryto add cayenne pepper and a little gentian. 

Our men were treated to this concoction; and seeing that two or threeof the half-breeds pretended to become intoxicated, our braves followedtheir example. They made night intolerable with their shouts and singinguntil past midnight, when gradually all disturbance ceased, and bothcamps appeared to be wrapped in deep slumber. 

Suddenly the loud report of a gun stirred the sleepers. Many morereports were heard in quick succession, all coming from the camp of thebois brules. Every man among the Sioux sprang to his feet, weapon inhand, and many ran towards their ponies. But there was one significantpoint about the untimely firing of the guns--they were all directedheavenward! One of our old men, who understood better than any one elsethe manners of the half-breeds, thus proclaimed at the top of his voice:

"Let the people sleep! This that we have heard is the announcement ofa boy's advent into the world! It is their custom to introduce withgunpowder a new-born boy!"

Again quiet was restored in the neighboring camps, and for a time thenight reigned undisturbed. But scarcely had we fallen into a sound sleepwhen we were for the second time rudely aroused by the firing of gunsand the yelling of warriors. This time it was discovered that almost allthe ponies, including those of our neighbors, had been stealthily drivenoff by horse-thieves of another tribe. 

These miscreants were adepts in their profession, for they hadaccomplished their purpose with much skill, almost under the very eyesof the foe, and had it not been for the invincible superstition of SlowDog, they would have met with complete success. As it was, they causedus no little trouble and anxiety, but after a hot pursuit of a wholeday, with the assistance of the halfbreeds our horses were recaptured. 

Slow Dog was one of those Indians who are filled with conceit, andboasting loudly their pretensions as medicine men, without any success, only bring upon themselves an unnecessary amount of embarrassment andridicule. Yet there is one quality always possessed by such persons, among a savage people as elsewhere--namely, great perseverance andtenacity in their self-assertion. So the blessing of ignorance kept SlowDog always cheerful; and he seemed, if anything, to derive some pleasurefrom the endless insinuations and ridicule of the people!

Now Slow Dog had loudly proclaimed, on the night before this event, thathe had received the warning of a bad dream, in which he had seen all theponies belonging to the tribe stampeded and driven westward. 

"But who cares for Slow Dog's dream?" said everybody; "none of thereally great medicine men have had any such visions!"

Therefore our little community, given as they were to superstition, anticipated no special danger. It is true that when the first scoutreported the approach of troops some of the people had weakened, andsaid to one another:

"After all, perhaps poor Slow Dog may be right; but we are always tooready to laugh at him!"

However, this feeling quickly passed away when the jovial Canadiansarrived, and the old man was left alone to brood upon his warning. 

He was faithful to his dream. During all the hilarity of the feast andthe drinking of the mock whiskey, be acted as self-constituted sentinel. Finally, when everybody else had succumbed to sleep, he gatheredtogether several broken and discarded lariats of variousmaterials--leather, buffalo's hair and horse's hair. Having lengthenedthis variegated rope with innumerable knots, he fastened one end of itaround the neck of his old war-horse, and tied the other to his wrist. Instead of sleeping inside the tent as usual, he rolled himself in abuffalo robe and lay down in its shadow. From this place he watcheduntil the moon had disappeared behind the western horizon; and just asthe grey dawn began to appear in the east his eyes were attracted towhat seemed to be a dog moving among the picketed ponies. Upon a closerscrutiny, he saw that its actions were unnatural. 

"Toka abe do! toka abe do!" (the enemy! the enemy!) exclaimed Slow Dog. With a warwhoop he sprang toward the intruder, who rose up and leapedupon the back of Slow Dog's warsteed. He had cut the hobble, as well asthe device of the old medicine man. 

The Sioux now bent his bow to shoot, but it was too late. The otherquickly dodged behind the animal, and from under its chest he sent adeadly arrow to Slow Dog's bosom. Then he remounted the pony and set offat full speed after his comrades, who had already started. 

As the Sioux braves responded to the alarm, and passed by the daring oldwarrior in pursuit of their enemies, who had stampeded most of the looseponies, the old man cried out:

"I, brave Slow Dog, who have so often made a path for you on the fieldof battle, am now about to make one to the land of spirits!"

So speaking, the old man died. The Sioux were joined in the chase by thefriendly mixedbloods, and in the end the Blackfeet were compelled to paydearly for the blood of the poor old man. 

On that beautiful morning all Nature seemed brilliant and smiling, butthe Sioux were mourning and wailing for the death of one who had beenan object of ridicule during most of his life. They appreciated the partthat Slow Dog had played in this last event, and his memory was honoredby all the tribe. 

V. An Adventurous Journey

IT must now be about thirty years since our long journey in search ofnew hunting-grounds, from the Assiniboine river to the Upper Missouri. The buffalo, formerly so abundant between the two rivers, had begun toshun their usual haunts, on account of the great numbers of Canadianhalfbreeds in that part of the country. There was also the first influxof English sportsmen, whose wholesale methods of destruction wroughtsuch havoc with the herds. These seemingly intelligent animals correctlyprophesied to the natives the approach of the pale-face. 

As we had anticipated, we found game very scarce as we travelled slowlyacross the vast plains. There were only herds of antelope and sometimesflocks of waterfowl, with here and there a lonely bull stragglingaimlessly along. At first our party was small, but as we proceededon our way we fell in with some of the western bands of Sioux andAssiniboines, who are close connections. 

Each day the camp was raised and marched from ten to twenty miles. One might wonder how such a cavalcade would look in motion. The onlyvehicles were the primitive travaux drawn by ponies and large Esquimauxdogs. These are merely a pair of shafts fastened on either side of theanimal, and trailing on the ground behind. A large basket suspendedbetween the poles, just above the ground, supplied a place for goods anda safe nest for the babies, or an occasional helpless old woman. Most ofour effects were carried by pack ponies; and an Indian packer excels allothers in quickness and dexterity. 

The train was nearly a mile long, headed by a number of old warriors onfoot, who carried the filled pipe, and decided when and where to stop. A very warm day made much trouble for the women who had charge of themoving household. The pack dogs were especially unmanageable. Theywould become very thirsty and run into the water with their loads. Thescolding of the women, the singing of the old men and the yelps of theIndian dudes made our progress a noisy one, and like that of a town inmotion rather than an ordinary company of travelers. 

This journey of ours was not without its exciting episodes. My uncle hadleft the main body and gone off to the south with a small party, as hewas accustomed to do every summer, to seek revenge of some sort on thewhites for all the injuries that they had inflicted upon our family. This time he met with a company of soldiers between Fort Totten and FortBerthold, in North Dakota. Somehow, these seven Indians surprised thetroopers in broad daylight, while eating their dinner, and captured thewhole outfit, including nearly all their mules and one white horse, withsuch of their provisions as they cared to carry back with them. No doubtthese soldiers reported at the fort that they had been attacked by alarge party of Indians, and I dare say some promotions rewarded theirtale of a brave defense! However, the facts are just as I have statedthem. My uncle brought home the white horse, and the fine Spanish muleswere taken by the others. Among the things they brought back with themwere several loaves of raised bread, the first I had ever seen, and agreat curiosity. We called it aguyape tachangu, or lung bread, from itsspongy consistency. 

Although when a successful war-party returns with so many trophies, there is usually much dancing and hilarity, there was almost nothingof the kind on this occasion. The reason was that the enemy made littleresistance; and then there was our old tradition with regard to thewhites that there is no honor in conquering them, as they fight onlyunder compulsion. Had there really been a battle, and some of our menbeen killed, there would have been some enthusiasm. 

It was upon this journey that a hunter performed the feat of shootingan arrow through three antelopes. This statement may perhaps be doubted, yet I can vouch for its authenticity. He was not alone at the time, andthose who were with him are reliable witnesses. The animals were drivenupon a marshy peninsula, where they were crowded together and almosthelpless. Many were despatched with knives and arrows; and a man by thename of Grey-foot, who was large and tall and an extraordinarily finehunter, actually sent his arrow through three of them. This feat was notaccomplished by mere strength, for it requires a great deal of skill aswell. 

A misfortune occurred near the river which deprived us of one of ourbest young men. There was no other man, except my own uncle, for whom Ihad at that time so great an admiration. Very strangely, as it appearedto me, he bore a Christian name. He was commonly called Jacob. I did notdiscover how he came by such a curious and apparently meaningless nameuntil after I had returned to the United States. His father had beenconverted by one of the early missionaries, before the Minnesotamassacre in 1862, and the boy had been baptized Jacob. He was an idealwoodsman and hunter and really a hero in my eyes. He was one of theparty of seven who had attacked and put to rout the white soldiers. 

The trouble arose thus. Jacob had taken from the soldiers two goodmules, and soon afterward we fell in with some Canadian half-breedswho were desirous of trading for them. However, the young man would nottrade; he was not at all disposed to part with his fine mules. A certainone of the mixed-bloods was intent upon getting possession of theseanimals by fair or unfair means. He invited Jacob to dinner, and treatedhim to whiskey; but the Indian youth declined the liquor. The half-breedpretended to take this refusal to drink as an insult. He seized his gunand shot his guest dead. 

In a few minutes the scene was one of almost unprecedented excitement. Every adult Indian, female as well as male, was bent upon invading thecamp of the bois brules, to destroy the murderer. The confusion wasmade yet more intolerable by the wailing of the women and the singing ofdeath-songs. 

Our number was now ten to one of the halfbreeds. Within the circleformed by their carts they prepared for a desperate resistance. Thehills about their little encampment were covered with warriors, ready topounce upon them at the signal of their chief. 

The older men, however, were discussing in council what should bedemanded of the halfbreeds. It was determined that the murderer must begiven up to us, to be punished according to the laws of the plains. If, however, they should refuse to give him up, the mode of attack decidedupon was to build a fire around the offenders and thus stampede theirhorses, or at the least divide their attention. Meanwhile, the braveswere to make a sudden onset. 

Just then a piece of white, newly-tanned deerskin was hoisted up inthe center of the bois brule encampment. It was a flag of truce. One oftheir number approached the council lodge, unarmed and making the signfor a peaceful communication. He was admitted to the council, whichwas still in session, and offered to give up the murderer. It was alsoproposed, as an alternative, that he be compelled to give everything hehad to the parents of the murdered man. 

The parents were allowed no voice whatever in the discussion whichfollowed, for they were regarded as incompetent judges, under thecircumstances. It was finally decreed by the council that the man'slife should be spared, but that he must be exposed to the indignity ofa public whipping, and resign all his earthly possessions to the parentsof his victim. This sentence was carried into effect. 

In our nomadic life there were a few unwritten laws by which our peoplewere governed. There was a council, a police force, and an executiveofficer, who was not always the chief, but a member of the tribeappointed to this position for a given number of days. There were alsothe wise old men who were constantly in attendance at the council lodge, and acted as judges in the rare event of the commission of a crime. 

This simple government of ours was supported by the issue of littlesticks about five inches long. There were a hundred or so of these, andthey were distributed every few days by the police or soldiers, who keptaccount of them. Whoever received one of these sticks must return itwithin five or ten days, with a load of provisions. If one was heldbeyond the stipulated time the police would call the delinquent warriorto account. In case he did not respond, they could come and destroy histent or take away his weapons. When all the sticks had been returned, they were reissued to other men; and so the council lodge was supported. 

It was the custom that no man who had not distinguished himself uponthe war-path could destroy the home of another. This was a necessaryqualification for the office of an Indian policeman. These policemenmust also oversee the hunt, lest some individuals should be wellprovided with food while others were in want. No man might huntindependently. The game must be carefully watched by the game scouts, and the discovery of a herd reported at once to the council, after whichthe time and manner of the hunt were publicly announced. 

I well recall how the herald announced the near approach of buffaloes. It was supposed that if the little boys could trip up the old man whilegoing his rounds, the success of the hunt was assured. The oftener hewas tripped, the more successful it would be! The signal or call forbuffaloes was a peculiar whistle. As soon as the herald appeared, allthe boys would give the whistle and follow in crowds after the poor oldman. Of course he tried to avoid them, but they were generally too quickfor him. 

There were two kinds of scouts, for hunting and for war. In one senseevery Indian was a scout; but there were some especially appointed toserve for a certain length of time. An Indian might hunt every day, besides the regularly organized hunt; but he was liable to punishment atany time. If he could kill a solitary buffalo or deer without disturbingthe herd, it was allowed. He might also hunt small game. 

In the movable town under such a government as this, there was apt tobe inconvenience and actual suffering, since a great body of people weresupported only by the daily hunt. Hence there was a constant dispositionto break up into smaller parties, in order to obtain food more easilyand freely. Yet the wise men of the Dakotas would occasionally formlarge bands of from two to five thousand people, who camped and movedabout together for a period of some months. It is apparent that so largea body could not be easily supplied with the necessaries of life; but, on the other hand, our enemies respected such a gathering! Of coursethe nomadic government would do its utmost to hold together as long aspossible. The police did all they could to keep in check those partieswho were intent upon stealing away. 

There were many times, however, when individual bands and even familieswere justified in seeking to separate themselves from the rest, in orderto gain a better support. It was chiefly by reason of this foodquestion that the Indians never established permanent towns or organizedthemselves into a more formidable nation. 

There was a sad misfortune which, although it happened many generationsago, was familiarly quoted among us. A certain band became veryindependent and unruly; they went so far as to wilfully disobey theorders of the general government. The police were directed to punishthe leader severely; whereupon the rest defended him and resisted thepolice. But the latter were competent to enforce their authority, and asa result the entire band was annihilated. 

One day, as we were following along the bank of the Upper Missouri, there appeared to be a great disturbance at the head of thecavalcade--so much so that we thought our people had been attacked by awar-party of the Crows or some of the hostile tribes of that region. Inspite of the danger, even the women and children hurried forward to jointhe men--that is to say, as many as were not upon the hunt. Most of thewarriors were out, as usual, and only the large boys and the old menwere travelling with the women and their domestic effects and littleones. 

As we approached the scene of action, we heard loud shouts andthe report of fire-arms; but our party was scattered along for aconsiderable distance, and all was over before we could reach thespot. It was a great grizzly bear who had been bold enough to oppose, single-handed, the progress of several hundred Indians. The council-men, who usually walked a little in advance of the train, were the first tomeet the bear, and he was probably deceived by the sight of this advancebody, and thus audaciously defied them. 

Among these council-men--all retired chiefs and warriors whose ardentzeal for the display of courage had long been cooled, and whose presentduties were those of calm deliberation for their people's welfare--therewere two old, distinguished war-chiefs. Each of these men still carriedhis war-lance, wrapped up in decorated buckskin. As the bear advancedboldly toward them, the two old men promptly threw off their robes--anevidence that there still lurked within their breasts the spirit ofchivalry and ready courage. Spear in hand, they both sprang forward tocombat with the ferocious animal, taking up their positions about tenfeet apart. 

As they had expected, the fearful beast, after getting up on hishaunches and growling savagely, came forward with widely opened jaws. He fixed his eyes upon the left-hand man, who was ready to meet him withuplifted spear, but with one stroke of his powerful paw the weapon wassent to the ground. At the same moment the right-hand man dealt him astab that penetrated the grizzly's side. 

The bear uttered a groan not unlike that of a man, and seized the spearso violently that its owner was thrown to the ground. As the animaldrew the lance from its body, the first man, having recovered his own, stabbed him with it on the other side. Upon this, he turned and knockedthe old man down, and again endeavored to extract the spear. 

By this time all the dogs and men were at hand. Many arrows and ballswere sent into the tough hide of the bear. Yet he would probably havekilled both his assailants, had it not been for the active small dogswho were constantly upon his heels and annoying him. A deadly rifle shotat last brought him down. 

The old men were badly bruised and torn, but both of them recovered, to bear from that day the high-sounding titles of "Fought-the-Bear" and"Conquered-the-Grizzly. "

XI. The Laughing Philosopher

THERE is scarcely anything so exasperating to me as the idea that thenatives of this country have no sense of humor and no faculty for mirth. This phase of their character is well understood by those whose fortuneor misfortune it has been to live among them day in and day out at theirhomes. I don't believe I ever heard a real hearty laugh away from theIndians' fireside. I have often spent an entire evening in laughing withthem until I could laugh no more. There are evenings when the recognizedwit or story-teller of the village gives a free entertainment whichkeeps the rest of the community in a convulsive state until he leavesthem. However, Indian humor consists as much in the gestures andinflections of the voice as in words, and is really untranslatable. 

Matogee (Yellow Bear) was a natural humorous speaker, and a verydiffident man at other times. He usually said little, but when he wasin the mood he could keep a large company in a roar. This was especiallythe case whenever he met his brother-in-law, Tamedokah. 

It was a custom with us Indians to joke more particularly with ourbrothers- and sisters-in-law. But no one ever complained, or resentedany of these jokes, however personal they might be. That would be anunpardonable breach of etiquette. 

"Tamedokah, I heard that you tried to capture a buck by holding onto his tail, " said Matogee, laughing. "I believe that feat cannot beperformed any more; at least, it never has been since the pale-facebrought us the knife, the 'mysterious iron, ' and the pulverized coalthat makes bullets fly. Since our ancestors hunted with stone knives andhatchets, I say, that has never been done. "

The fact was that Tamedokah had stunned a buck that day while hunting, and as he was about to dress him the animal got up and attempted torun, whereupon the Indian launched forth to secure his game. He onlysucceeded in grasping the tail of the deer, and was pulled about allover the meadows and the adjacent woods until the tail came off in hishands. Matogee thought this too good a joke to be lost. 

I sat near the door of the tent, and thoroughly enjoyed the story of thecomical accident. 

"Yes, " Tamedokah quietly replied, "I thought I would do something tobeat the story of the man who rode a young elk, and yelled franticallyfor help, crying like a woman. "

"Ugh! that was only a legend, " retorted Matogee, for it was he who wasthe hero of this tale in his younger days. "But this is a fresh feat ofto-day. Chankpayuhah said he could not tell which was the most scared, the buck or you, " he continued. "He said the deer's eyes were bulgingout of their sockets, while Tamedokah's mouth was constantly enlargingtoward his ears, and his hair floated on the wind, shaking among thebranches of the trees. That will go down with the traditions of ourfathers, " he concluded with an air of satisfaction. 

"It was a singular mishap, " admitted Tamedokah. 

The pipe had been filled by Matogee and passed to Tamedokahgood-naturedly, still with a broad smile on his face. "It must beacknowledged, " he resumed, "that you have the strongest kind of a grip, for no one else could hold on as long as you did, and secure such atrophy besides. That tail will do for an eagle feather holder. "

By this time the teepee was packed to overflowing. Loud laughter hadbeen heard issuing from the lodge of Matogee, and everybody suspectedthat he had something good, so many had come to listen. 

"I think we should hear the whole matter, " said one of the late comers. 

The teepee was brightly lit by the burning embers, and all the men weresitting with their knees up against their chests, held in that positionby wrapping their robes tightly around loins and knees. This fixed themsomething in the fashion of a rocking-chair. 

"Well, no one saw him except Chankpayuhah, " Matogee remarked. 

"Yes, yes, he must tell us about it, " exclaimed a chorus of voices. 

"This is what I saw, " the witness began. "I was tracking a buck and adoe. As I approached a small opening at the creek side 'boom!' came areport of the mysterious iron. I remained in a stooping position, hopingto see a deer cross the opening. In this I was not disappointed, forimmediately after the report a fine buck dashed forth with Tamedokahclose behind him. The latter was holding on to the deer's tail withboth hands and his knife was in his mouth, but it soon dropped out. 'Tamedokah, ' I shouted, 'haven't you got hold of the wrong animal?' butas I spoke they disappeared into the woods. 

"In a minute they both appeared again, and then it was that I beganto laugh. I could not stop. It almost killed me. The deer jumped thelongest jumps I ever saw. Tamedokah walked the longest paces and wasvery swift. His hair was whipping the trees as they went by. Waterpoured down his face. I stood bent forward because I could notstraighten my back-bone, and was ready to fall when they againdisappeared. 

"When they came out for the third time it seemed as if the woods and themeadow were moving too. Tamedokah skipped across the opening as if hewere a grasshopper learning to hop. I fell down. 

"When I came to he was putting water on my face and head, but when Ilooked at him I fell again, and did not know anything until the sun hadpassed the mid-sky. 

"The company was kept roaring all the way through this account, whileTamedokah himself heartily joined in the mirth. 

"Ho, ho, ho!" they said; "he has made his name famous in our annals. This will be told of him henceforth. "

"It reminds me of Chadozee's bear story, " said one. 

"His was more thrilling, because it was really dangerous, " interposedanother. 

"You can tell it to us, Bobdoo, " remarked a third. 

The man thus addressed made no immediate reply. He was smokingcontentedly. At last he silently returned the pipe to Matogee, with whomit had begun its rounds. Deliberately he tightened his robe around him, saying as he did so:

"Ho (Yes). I was with him. It was by a very little that he saved hislife. I will tell you how it happened. 

"I was hunting with these two men, Nageedah and Chadozee. We came tosome wild cherry bushes. I began to eat of the fruit when I saw a largesilver-tip crawling toward us. 'Look out! there is a grizzly here, ' Ishouted, and I ran my pony out on to the prairie; but the others hadalready dismounted. 

"Nageedah had just time to jump upon his pony and get out of the way, but the bear seized hold of his robe and pulled it off. Chadozeestood upon the verge of a steep bank, below which there ran a deep andswift-flowing stream. The bear rushed upon him so suddenly that when hetook a step backward, they both fell into the creek together. It was afall of about twice the height of a man. "

"Did they go out of sight?" some one inquired. 

"Yes, both fell headlong. In his excitement Chadozee laid hold of thebear in the water, and I never saw a bear try so hard to get away from aman as this one did. "

"Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!" they all laughed. 

"When they came to the surface again they were both so eager to get tothe shore that each let go, and they swam as quickly as they could toopposite sides. Chadozee could not get any further, so he clung to astray root, still keeping a close watch of the bear, who was forced todo the same. There they both hung, regarding each other with looks ofcontempt and defiance. "

"Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!" they all laughed again. 

"At last the bear swam along the edge to a lower place, and we pulledChadozee up by means of our lariats. All this time he had been groaningso loud that we supposed he was badly torn; but when I looked for hiswounds I found a mere scratch. "

Again the chorus of appreciation from his hearers. 

"The strangest thing about this affair of mine, " spoke up Tamedokah, "isthat I dreamed the whole thing the night before. "

"There are some dreams come true, and I am a believer in dreams, " oneremarked. 

"Yes, certainly, so are we all. You know Hachah almost lost his life bybelieving in dreams, " commented Matogee. 

"Let us hear that story, " was the general request. 

"You have all heard of Hachah, the great medicine man, who did manywonderful things. He once dreamed four nights in succession of flyingfrom a high cliff over the Minnesota river. He recollected everyparticular of the scene, and it made a great impression upon his mind. 

"The next day after he had dreamed it for the fourth time, he proposedto his wife that they go down to the river to swim, but his real purposewas to see the place of his dream. 

"He did find the place, and it seemed to Hachah exactly like. A crookedtree grew out of the top of the cliff, and the water below was verydeep. "

"Did he really fly?" I called impatiently from the doorway, where I hadbeen listening and laughing with the rest. 

"Ugh, that is what I shall tell you. He was swimming about with hiswife, who was a fine swimmer; but all at once Hachah disappeared. Presently he stood upon the very tree that he had seen in his dream, and gazed out over the water. The tree was very springy, and Hachah feltsure that he could fly; so before long he launched bravely forth fromthe cliff. He kicked out vigorously and swung both arms as he did so, but nevertheless he came down to the bottom of the water like a crowthat had been shot on the wing. "

"Ho, ho, ho! Ho, ho, ho!" and the whole company laughed unreservedly. 

"His wife screamed loudly as Hachah whirled downward and went outof sight like a blue heron after a fish. Then she feared he might bestunned, so she swam to him and dragged him to the shore. He could notspeak, but the woman overwhelmed him with reproaches. 

"'What are you trying to do, you old idiot? Do you want to killyourself?' she screamed again and again. 

"'Woman, be silent, ' he replied, and he said nothing more. He did nottell his dream for many years afterward. Not until he was a very old manand about to die, did Hachah tell any one how he thought he could fly. "

And at this they all laughed louder than ever. 

XII. FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF CIVILIZATION

I WAS scarcely old enough to know anything definite about the "BigKnives, " as we called the white men, when the terrible Minnesotamassacre broke up our home and I was carried into exile. I have alreadytold how I was adopted into the family of my father's younger brother, when my father was betrayed and imprisoned. We all supposed that he hadshared the fate of those who were executed at Mankato, Minnesota. 

Now the savage philosophers looked upon vengeance in the field of battleas a lofty virtue. To avenge the death of a relative or of a dear friendwas considered a great deed. My uncle, accordingly, had spared no painsto instill into my young mind the obligation to avenge the death of myfather and my older brothers. Already I looked eagerly forward tothe day when I should find an opportunity to carry out his teachings. Meanwhile, he himself went upon the war-path and returned with scalpsevery summer. So it may be imagined how I felt toward the Big Knives!

On the other hand, I had heard marvelous things of this people. Insome things we despised them; in others we regarded them as wakan(mysterious), a race whose power bordered upon the supernatural. Ilearned that they had made a "fireboat. " I could not understand howthey could unite two elements which cannot exist together. I thought thewater would put out the fire, and the fire would consume the boat ifit had the shadow of a chance. This was to me a preposterousthing! But when I was told that the Big Knives had created a"fire-boat-walks-on-mountains" (a locomotive) it was too much tobelieve. 

"Why, " declared my informant, "those who saw this monster move said thatit flew from mountain to mountain when it seemed to be excited. Theysaid also that they believed it carried a thunder-bird, for theyfrequently heard his usual war-whoop as the creature sped along!"

Several warriors had observed from a distance one of the first trainson the Northern Pacific, and had gained an exaggerated impression of thewonders of the pale-face. They had seen it go over a bridge that spanneda deep ravine and it seemed to them that it jumped from one bank to theother. I confess that the story almost quenched my ardor and bravery. 

Two or three young men were talking together about this fearfulinvention. 

"However, " said one, "I understand that thisfire-boat-walks-on-mountains cannot move except on the track made forit. "

Although a boy is not expected to join in the conversation of hiselders, I ventured to ask: "Then it cannot chase us into any roughcountry?"

"No, it cannot do that, " was the reply, which I heard with a great dealof relief. 

I had seen guns and various other things brought to us by the FrenchCanadians, so that I had already some notion of the supernatural giftsof the white man; but I had never before heard such tales as I listenedto that morning. It was said that they had bridged the Missouri andMississippi rivers, and that they made immense houses of stone andbrick, piled on top of one another until they were as high as highhills. My brain was puzzled with these things for many a day. FinallyI asked my uncle why the Great Mystery gave such power to the Washechu(the rich)-sometimes we called them by this name--and not to us Dakotas. 

"For the same reason, " he answered, "that he gave to Duta the skill tomake fine bows and arrows, and to Wachesne no skill to make anything. "

"And why do the Big Knives increase so much more in number than theDakotas?" I continued. 

"It has been said, and I think it must be true, that they have largerfamilies than we do. I went into the house of an Eashecha (a German), and I counted no less than nine children. The eldest of them could nothave been over fifteen. When my grandfather first visited them, downat the mouth of the Mississippi, they were comparatively few; later myfather visited their Great Father at Washington, and they had alreadyspread over the whole country. "

"Certainly they are a heartless nation. They have made some of theirpeople servants--yes, slaves! We have never believed in keeping slaves, but it seems that these Washechu do! It is our belief that they paintedtheir servants black a long time ago, to tell them from the rest, andnow the slaves have children born to them of the same color!

"The greatest object of their lives seems to be to acquirepossessions--to be rich. They desire to possess the whole world. Forthirty years they were trying to entice us to sell them our land. Finally the outbreak gave them all, and we have been driven away fromour beautiful country. 

"They are a wonderful people. They have divided the day into hours, likethe moons of the year. In fact, they measure everything. Not one of themwould let so much as a turnip go from his field unless he received fullvalue for it. I understand that their great men make a feast and invitemany, but when the feast is over the guests are required to pay for whatthey have eaten before leaving the house. I myself saw at White Cliff(the name given to St. Paul, Minnesota) a man who kept a brass drum anda bell to call people to his table; but when he got them in he wouldmake them pay for the food!

"I am also informed, " said my uncle, "but this I hardly believe, thattheir Great Chief (President) compels every man to pay him for theland he lives upon and all his personal goods--even for his ownexistence--every year!" (This was his idea of taxation. ) "I am sure wecould not live under such a law. 

"When the outbreak occurred, we thought that our opportunity had come, for we had learned that the Big Knives were fighting among themselves, on account of a dispute over their slaves. It was said that the GreatChief had allowed slaves in one part of the country and not in another, so there was jealousy, and they had to fight it out. We don't know howtrue this was. 

"There were some praying-men who came to us some time before the troublearose. They observed every seventh day as a holy day. On that day theymet in a house that they had built for that purpose, to sing, pray, andspeak of their Great Mystery. I was never in one of these meetings. I understand that they had a large book from which they read. By allaccounts they were very different from all other white men we haveknown, for these never observed any such day, and we never knew them topray, neither did they ever tell us of their Great Mystery. 

"In war they have leaders and war-chiefs of different grades. The commonwarriors are driven forward like a herd of antelopes to face the foe. Itis on account of this manner of fighting--from compulsion and not frompersonal bravery--that we count no coup on them. A lone warrior can domuch harm to a large army of them in a bad country. "

It was this talk with my uncle that gave me my first clear idea of thewhite man. 

I was almost fifteen years old when my uncle presented me with aflint-lock gun. The possession of the "mysterious iron, " and theexplosive dirt, or "pulverized coal, " as it is called, filled me withnew thoughts. All the war-songs that I had ever heard from childhoodcame back to me with their heroes. It seemed as if I were an entirelynew being--the boy had become a man!

"I am now old enough, " said I to myself, "and I must beg my uncle totake me with him on his next war-path. I shall soon be able to go amongthe whites whenever I wish, and to avenge the blood of my father and mybrothers. "

I had already begun to invoke the blessing of the Great Mystery. Scarcely a day passed that I did not offer up some of my game, so thathe might not be displeased with me. My people saw very little of meduring the day, for in solitude I found the strength I needed. I gropedabout in the wilderness, and determined to assume my position as a man. My boyish ways were departing, and a sullen dignity and composure wastaking their place. 

The thought of love did not hinder my ambitions. I had a vague dream ofsome day courting a pretty maiden, after I had made my reputation, andwon the eagle feathers. 

One day, when I was away on the daily hunt, two strangers from theUnited States visited our camp. They had boldly ventured acrossthe northern border. They were Indians, but clad in the white man'sgarments. It was as well that I was absent with my gun. 

My father, accompanied by an Indian guide, after many days' searchinghad found us at last. He had been imprisoned at Davenport, Iowa, withthose who took part in the massacre or in the battles following, andhe was taught in prison and converted by the pioneer missionaries, Drs. Williamson and Riggs. He was under sentence of death, but was among thenumber against whom no direct evidence was found, and who were finallypardoned by President Lincoln. 

When he was released, and returned to the new reservation upon theMissouri river, he soon became convinced that life on a governmentreservation meant physical and moral degradation. Therefore hedetermined, with several others, to try the white man's way of gaining alivelihood. They accordingly left the agency against the persuasions ofthe agent, renounced all government assistance, and took land under theUnited States Homestead law, on the Big Sioux river. After he hadmade his home there, he desired to seek his lost child. It was then adangerous undertaking to cross the line, but his Christian love promptedhim to do it. He secured a good guide, and found his way in time throughthe vast wilderness. 

As for me, I little dreamed of anything unusual to happen on my return. As I approached our camp with my game on my shoulder, I had not theslightest premonition that I was suddenly to be hurled from my savagelife into a life unknown to me hitherto. 

When I appeared in sight my father, who had patiently listened to myuncle's long account of my early life and training, became very muchexcited. He was eager to embrace the child who, as he had just beeninformed, made it already the object of his life to avenge his father'sblood. The loving father could not remain in the teepee and watch theboy coming, so he started to meet him. My uncle arose to go with hisbrother to insure his safety. 

My face burned with the unusual excitement caused by the sight of a manwearing the Big Knives' clothing and coming toward me with my uncle. 

"What does this mean, uncle?"

"My boy, this is your father, my brother, whom we mourned as dead. Hehas come for you. "

My father added: "I am glad that my son is strong and brave. Yourbrothers have adopted the white man's way; I came for you to learn thisnew way, too; and I want you to grow up a good man. "

He had brought me some civilized clothing, At first, I disliked verymuch to wear garments made by the people I had hated so bitterly. Butthe thought that, after all, they had not killed my father and brothers, reconciled me, and I put on the clothes. 

In a few days we started for the States. I felt as if I were dead andtraveling to the Spirit Land; for now all my old ideas were to giveplace to new ones, and my life was to be entirely different from that ofthe past. 

Still, I was eager to see some of the wonderful inventions of thewhite people. When we reached Fort Totten, I gazed about me with livelyinterest and a quick imagination. 

My father had forgotten to tell me that the fire-boat-walks-on-mountainshad its track at Jamestown, and might appear at any moment. As I waswatering the ponies, a peculiar shrilling noise pealed forth from justbeyond the hills. The ponies threw back their heads and listened; thenthey ran snorting over the prairie. Meanwhile, I too had taken alarm. Ileaped on the back of one of the ponies, and dashed off at fullspeed. It was a clear day; I could not imagine what had caused such anunearthly noise. It seemed as if the world were about to burst in two!

I got upon a hill as the train appeared. "O!" I said to myself, "that isthe fire-boat-walkson-mountains that I have heard about!" Then I droveback the ponies. 

My father was accustomed every morning to read from his Bible, andsing a stanza of a hymn. I was about very early with my gun for severalmornings; but at last he stopped me as I was preparing to go out, andbade me wait. 

I listened with much astonishment. The hymn contained the word Jesus. I did not comprehend what this meant; and my father then told me thatJesus was the Son of God who came on earth to save sinners, and that itwas because of him that he had sought me. This conversation made a deepimpression upon my mind. 

Late in the fall we reached the citizen settlement at Flandreau, SouthDakota, where my father and some others dwelt among the whites. Here mywild life came to an end, and my school days began.