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      Indian Boyhood, by Ohiyesa (Charles A. Eastman)
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Project Gutenberg's Indian Boyhood, by [AKA Ohiyesa], Charles A. Eastman

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org


Title: Indian Boyhood

Author: [AKA Ohiyesa], Charles A. Eastman

Release Date: July 5, 2008 [EBook #337]
Last Updated: October 7, 2016

Language: English

Character set encoding: UTF-8

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INDIAN BOYHOOD ***




Produced by Judith Boss, and David Widger





</pre>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <h1>
      INDIAN BOYHOOD
    </h1>
    <p>
      <br />
    </p>
    <h2>
      By Ohiyesa (Charles A. Eastman)
    </h2>
    <p>
      <br /> <br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <br /> <br />
    </p>
    <blockquote>
      <p class="toc">
        <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
      </p>
      <p>
        <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I. EARLIEST RECOLLECTIONS </a><br />
      </p>
      <div class="toc2">
        <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> I. Hadakah, &ldquo;The Pitiful Last&rdquo; </a><br /> <a
        href="#link2H_4_0003"> II. Early Hardships </a><br /> <a
        href="#link2H_4_0004"> III. My Indian Grandmother </a><br /> <a
        href="#link2H_4_0005"> IV. An Indian Sugar Camp </a><br /> <a
        href="#link2H_4_0006"> V. A Midsummer Feast </a><br />
      </div>
      <p>
        <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> II. AN INDIAN BOY&rsquo;S TRAINING </a><br /><br /> <a
        href="#link2H_4_0008"> III. MY PLAYS AND PLAYMATES </a><br />
      </p>
      <div class="toc2">
        <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> I. Games and Sports </a><br /> <a
        href="#link2H_4_0010"> II. My Playmates </a><br /> <a
        href="#link2H_4_0011"> III: The Boy Hunter </a><br /> <a
        href="#link2H_4_0012"> IV. Hakadah&rsquo;s First Offering </a><br /><br />
      </div>
      <p>
        <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> V. FAMILY TRADITIONS </a><br />
      </p>
      <div class="toc2">
        <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> I: A Visit to Smoky Day </a><br /> <a
        href="#link2H_4_0015"> II. The Stone Boy </a><br /><br />
      </div>
      <p>
        <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> VI. EVENING IN THE LODGE </a><br />
      </p>
      <div class="toc2">
        <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> I: Evening in the Lodge </a><br /> <a
        href="#link2H_4_0018"> II. Adventures of My Uncle </a><br /><br />
      </div>
      <p>
        <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> VII. THE END OF THE BEAR DANCE </a><br /><br />
        <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> VIII. THE MAIDENS&rsquo; FEAST </a><br /><br /> <a
        href="#link2H_4_0021"> IX. MORE LEGENDS </a><br />
      </p>
      <div class="toc2">
        <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> I: A Legend of Devil&rsquo;s Lake </a><br /> <a
        href="#link2H_4_0023"> II. Manitoshaw&rsquo;s Hunting </a><br /><br />
      </div>
      <p>
        <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> X. INDIAN LIFE AND ADVENTURE </a><br />
      </p>
      <div class="toc2">
        <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> I: Life in the Woods </a><br /> <a
        href="#link2H_4_0026"> II. A Winter Camp </a><br /> <a
        href="#link2H_4_0027"> III. Wild Harvests </a><br /> <a
        href="#link2H_4_0028"> IV. A Meeting on the Plains </a><br /> <a
        href="#link2H_4_0029"> V. An Adventurous Journey </a><br /> <a
        href="#link2H_4_0030"> XI. The Laughing Philosopher </a><br /><br />
      </div>
      <p>
        <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> XII. FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF CIVILIZATION </a><br />
      </p>
    </blockquote>
    <p>
      <br /> <br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001">
      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      I. EARLIEST RECOLLECTIONS
    </h2>
    <p>
      <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002">
      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      I. Hadakah, &ldquo;The Pitiful Last&rdquo;
     </h2>
    <p>
      WHAT boy would not be an Indian for a while when he thinks of the freest
      life 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 in
      the woods where no one could disturb us, in which the boys impersonated
      their elders, Brave Bull, Standing Elk, High Hawk, Medicine Bear, and the
      rest. They painted and imitated their fathers and grandfathers to the
      minutest detail, and accurately too, because they had seen the real thing
      all their lives.
    </p>
    <p>
      We were not only good mimics but we were close students of nature. We
      studied the habits of animals just as you study your books. We watched the
      men of our people and represented them in our play; then learned to
      emulate them in our lives.
    </p>
    <p>
      No people have a better use of their five senses than the children of the
      wilderness. We could smell as well as hear and see. We could feel and
      taste as well as we could see and hear. Nowhere has the memory been more
      fully developed than in the wild life, and I can still see wherein I owe
      much to my early training.
    </p>
    <p>
      Of course I myself do not remember when I first saw the day, but my
      brothers have often recalled the event with much mirth; for it was a
      custom of the Sioux that when a boy was born his brother must plunge into
      the water, or roll in the snow naked if it was winter time; and if he was
      not big enough to do either of these himself, water was thrown on him. If
      the new-born had a sister, she must be immersed. The idea was that a
      warrior had come to camp, and the other children must display some act of
      hardihood.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was so unfortunate as to be the youngest of five children who, soon
      after I was born, were left motherless. I had to bear the humiliating name
      &ldquo;Hakadah,&rdquo; meaning &ldquo;the pitiful last,&rdquo; until I should earn a more
      dignified and appropriate name. I was regarded as little more than a
      plaything by the rest of the children.
    </p>
    <p>
      My mother, who was known as the handsomest woman of all the Spirit Lake
      and Leaf Dweller Sioux, was dangerously ill, and one of the medicine men
      who attended her said: &ldquo;Another medicine man has come into existence, but
      the mother must die. Therefore let him bear the name &lsquo;Mysterious
      Medicine.&rsquo;&rdquo; But one of the bystanders hastily interfered, saying that an
      uncle of the child already bore that name, so, for the time, I was only
      &ldquo;Hakadah.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      My beautiful mother, sometimes called the &ldquo;Demi-Goddess&rdquo; of the Sioux, who
      tradition says had every feature of a Caucasian descent with the exception
      of her luxuriant black hair and deep black eyes, held me tightly to her
      bosom upon her death-bed, while she whispered a few words to her
      mother-in-law. She said: &ldquo;I give you this boy for your own. I cannot trust
      my own mother with him; she will neglect him and he will surely die.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The woman to whom these words were spoken was below the average in
      stature, remarkably active for her age (she was then fully sixty), and
      possessed of as much goodness as intelligence. My mother&rsquo;s judgment
      concerning her own mother was well founded, for soon after her death that
      old lady appeared, and declared that Hakadah was too young to live without
      a mother. She offered to keep me until I died, and then she would put me
      in my mother&rsquo;s grave. Of course my other grandmother denounced the
      suggestion as a very wicked one, and refused to give me up.
    </p>
    <p>
      The babe was done up as usual in a movable cradle made from an oak board
      two and a half feet long and one and a half feet wide. On one side of it
      was nailed with brass-headed tacks the richly-embroidered sack, which was
      open in front and laced up and down with buckskin strings. Over the arms
      of the infant was a wooden bow, the ends of which were firmly attached to
      the board, so that if the cradle should fall the child&rsquo;s head and face
      would be protected. On this bow were hung curious playthings&mdash;strings
      of artistically carved bones and hoofs of deer, which rattled when the
      little hands moved them.
    </p>
    <p>
      In this upright cradle I lived, played and slept the greater part of the
      time during the first few months of my life. Whether I was made to lean
      against a lodge pole or was suspended from a bough of a tree, while my
      grandmother cut wood, or whether I was carried on her back, or
      conveniently balanced by another child in a similar cradle hung on the
      opposite side of a pony, I was still in my oaken bed.
    </p>
    <p>
      This grandmother, who had already lived through sixty years of hardships,
      was a wonder to the young maidens of the tribe. She showed no less
      enthusiasm over Hakadah than she had done when she held her first-born,
      the boy&rsquo;s father, in her arms. Every little attention that is due to a
      loved child she performed with much skill and devotion. She made all my
      scanty garments and my tiny moccasins with a great deal of taste. It was
      said by all that I could not have had more attention had my mother been
      living.
    </p>
    <p>
      Uncheedah (grandmother) was a great singer. Sometimes, when Hakadah
      wakened too early in the morning, she would sing to him something like the
      following lullaby:
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
    Sleep, sleep, my boy, the Chippewas

      Are far away&mdash;are far away.

    Sleep, sleep, my boy; prepare to meet

      The foe by day&mdash;the foe by day!

    The cowards will not dare to fight

      Till morning break&mdash;till morning break.

    Sleep, sleep, my child, while still &lsquo;tis night;

      Then bravely wake&mdash;then bravely wake!
</pre>
    <p>
      The Dakota women were wont to cut and bring their fuel from the woods and,
      in fact, to perform most of the drudgery of the camp. This of necessity
      fell to their lot, because the men must follow the game during the day.
      Very often my grandmother carried me with her on these excursions; and
      while she worked it was her habit to suspend me from a wild grape vine or
      a springy bough, so that the least breeze would swing the cradle to and
      fro.
    </p>
    <p>
      She has told me that when I had grown old enough to take notice, I was
      apparently capable of holding extended conversations in an unknown dialect
      with birds and red squirrels. Once I fell asleep in my cradle, suspended
      five or six feet from the ground, while Uncheedah was some distance away,
      gathering birch bark for a canoe. A squirrel had found it convenient 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 disapproval of his intrusion was
      so decided that he had to take a sudden and quick flight to another bough,
      and from there he began to pour out his wrath upon me, while I continued
      my objections to his presence so audibly that Uncheedah soon came to my
      rescue, and compelled the bold intruder to go away. It was a common thing
      for birds to alight on my cradle in the woods.
    </p>
    <p>
      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 made
      from choice venison. She also pounded dried venison almost to a flour, and
      kept it in water till the nourishing juices were extracted, then mixed
      with it some pounded maize, which was browned before pounding. This soup
      of wild rice, pounded venison and maize was my main-stay. But soon my
      teeth came&mdash;much earlier than the white children usually cut theirs;
      and then my good nurse gave me a little more varied food, and I did all my
      own grinding.
    </p>
    <p>
      After I left my cradle, I almost walked away from it, she told me. She
      then began calling my attention to natural objects. Whenever I heard the
      song of a bird, she would tell me what bird it came from, something after
      this fashion:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Hakadah, listen to Shechoka (the robin) calling his mate. He says he has
      just found something good to eat.&rdquo; Or &ldquo;Listen to Oopehanska (the thrush);
      he is singing for his little wife. He will sing his best.&rdquo; When in the
      evening the whippoorwill started his song with vim, no further than a
      stone&rsquo;s throw from our tent in the woods, she would say to me:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Hush! It may be an Ojibway scout!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Again, when I waked at midnight, she would say:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Do not cry! Hinakaga (the owl) is watching you from the tree-top.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I usually covered up my head, for I had perfect faith in my grandmother&rsquo;s
      admonitions, and she had given me a dreadful idea of this bird. It was one
      of her legends that a little boy was once standing just outside of the
      teepee (tent), crying vigorously for his mother, when Hinakaga swooped
      down in the darkness and carried the poor little fellow up into the trees.
      It was well known that the hoot of the owl was commonly imitated by Indian
      scouts when on the war-path. There had been dreadful massacres immediately
      following this call. Therefore it was deemed wise to impress the sound
      early upon the mind of the child.
    </p>
    <p>
      Indian children were trained so that they hardly ever cried much in the
      night. This was very expedient and necessary in their exposed life. In my
      infancy it was my grandmother&rsquo;s custom to put me to sleep, as she said,
      with the birds, and to waken me with them, until it became a habit. She
      did this with an object in view. An Indian must always rise early. In the
      first place, as a hunter, he finds his game best at daybreak. Secondly,
      other tribes, when on the war-path, usually make their attack very early
      in the morning. Even when our people are moving about leisurely, we like
      to rise before daybreak, in order to travel when the air is cool, and
      unobserved, perchance, by our enemies.
    </p>
    <p>
      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 character of the
      Indian. As a hunter and warrior it was considered absolutely necessary to
      him, and was thought to lay the foundations of patience and self-control.
      There are times when boisterous mirth is indulged in by our people, but
      the rule is gravity and decorum.
    </p>
    <p>
      After all, my babyhood was full of interest and the beginnings of life&rsquo;s
      realities. The spirit of daring was already whispered into my ears. The
      value 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 my
      uncle&rsquo;s war bonnet and plucked out all its eagle feathers to decorate my
      dog 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.
    </p>
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      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      II. Early Hardships
    </h2>
    <p>
      ONE of the earliest recollections of my adventurous childhood is the ride
      I had on a pony&rsquo;s side. I was passive in the whole matter. A little girl
      cousin of mine was put in a bag and suspended from the horn of an Indian
      saddle; but her weight must be balanced or the saddle would not remain on
      the animal&rsquo;s back. Accordingly, I was put into another sack and made to
      keep the saddle and the girl in position! I did not object at all, for I
      had a very pleasant game of peek-aboo with the little girl, until we came
      to a big snow-drift, where the poor beast was stuck fast and began to lie
      down. Then it was not so nice!
    </p>
    <p>
      This was the convenient and primitive way in which some mothers packed
      their children for winter journeys. However cold the weather might be, the
      inmate of the fur-lined sack was usually very comfortable&mdash;at least I
      used to think so. I believe I was accustomed to all the precarious Indian
      conveyances, and, as a boy, I enjoyed the dog-travaux ride as much as any.
      The travaux consisted of a set of rawhide strips securely lashed to the
      tent-poles, which were harnessed to the sides of the animal as if he stood
      between shafts, while the free ends were allowed to drag on the ground.
      Both ponies and large dogs were used as beasts of burden, and they carried
      in this way the smaller children as well as the baggage.
    </p>
    <p>
      This mode of travelling for children was possible only in the summer, and
      as the dogs were sometimes unreliable, the little ones were exposed to a
      certain amount of danger. For instance, whenever a train of dogs had been
      travelling for a long time, almost perishing with the heat and their heavy
      loads, a glimpse of water would cause them to forget all their
      responsibilities. Some of them, in spite of the screams of the women,
      would swim with their burdens into the cooling stream, and I was thus, on
      more than one occasion, made to partake of an unwilling bath.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was a little over four years old at the time of the &ldquo;Sioux massacre&rdquo; in
      Minnesota. In the general turmoil, we took flight into British Columbia,
      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 and brought home
      for our conveyance.
    </p>
    <p>
      How delighted I was when I learned that we were to ride behind those
      wise-looking animals and in that gorgeously painted wagon! It seemed
      almost 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 along
      squealing like pigs!
    </p>
    <p>
      The boys found a great deal of innocent fun in jumping from the high wagon
      while the oxen were leisurely moving along. My elder brothers soon became
      experts. At last, I mustered up courage enough to join them in this sport.
      I was sure they stepped on the wheel, so I cautiously placed my moccasined
      foot upon it. Alas! before I could realize what had happened, I was under
      the wheels, and had it not been for the neighbor immediately behind us, I
      might have been run over by the next team as well.
    </p>
    <p>
      This was my first experience with a civilized vehicle. I cried out all
      possible reproaches on the white man&rsquo;s team and concluded that a
      dog-travaux was good enough for me. I was really rejoiced that we were
      moving away from the people who made the wagon that had almost ended my
      life, and it did not occur to me that I alone was to blame. I could not be
      persuaded to ride in that wagon again and was glad when we finally left it
      beside the Missouri river.
    </p>
    <p>
      The summer after the &ldquo;Minnesota massacre,&rdquo; General Sibley pursued our
      people across this river. Now the Missouri is considered one of the most
      treacherous rivers in the world. Even a good modern boat is not safe upon
      its uncertain current. We were forced to cross in buffalo-skin boats&mdash;as
      round as tubs!
    </p>
    <p>
      The Washechu (white men) were coming in great numbers with their big guns,
      and while most of our men were fighting them to gain time, the women and
      the old men made and equipped the temporary boats, braced with ribs of
      willow. Some of these were towed by two or three women or men swimming in
      the water and some by ponies. It was not an easy matter to keep them right
      side up, with their helpless freight of little children and such goods as
      we possessed.
    </p>
    <p>
      In our flight, we little folks were strapped in the saddles or held in
      front of an older person, and in the long night marches to get away from
      the soldiers, we suffered from loss of sleep and insufficient food. Our
      meals were eaten hastily, and sometimes in the saddle. Water was not
      always to be found. The people carried it with them in bags formed of
      tripe or the dried pericardium of animals.
    </p>
    <p>
      Now we were compelled to trespass upon the country of hostile tribes and
      were harassed by them almost daily and nightly. Only the strictest
      vigilance saved us.
    </p>
    <p>
      One day we met with another enemy near the British lines. It was a prairie
      fire. We were surrounded. Another fire was quickly made, which saved our
      lives.
    </p>
    <p>
      One of the most thrilling experiences of the following winter was a
      blizzard, which overtook us in our wanderings. Here and there, a family
      lay down in the snow, selecting a place where it was not likely to drift
      much. For a day and a night we lay under the snow. Uncle stuck a long pole
      beside us to tell us when the storm was over. We had plenty of buffalo
      robes and the snow kept us warm, but we found it heavy. After a time, it
      became packed and hollowed out around our bodies, so that we were as
      comfortable as one can be under those circumstances.
    </p>
    <p>
      The next day the storm ceased, and we discovered a large herd of buffaloes
      almost upon us. We dug our way out, shot some of the buffaloes, made a
      fire and enjoyed a good dinner.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was now an exile as well as motherless; yet I was not unhappy. Our
      wanderings from place to place afforded us many pleasant experiences and
      quite as many hardships and misfortunes. There were times of plenty and
      times of scarcity, and we had several narrow escapes from death. In savage
      life, the early spring is the most trying time and almost all the famines
      occurred at this period of the year.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Indians are a patient and a clannish people; their love for one
      another is stronger than that of any civilized people I know. If this were
      not so, I believe there would have been tribes of cannibals among them.
      White people have been known to kill and eat their companions in
      preference to starving; but Indians&mdash;never!
    </p>
    <p>
      In times of famine, the adults often denied themselves in order to make
      the food last as long as possible for the children, who were not able to
      bear hunger as well as the old. As a people, they can live without food
      much longer than any other nation.
    </p>
    <p>
      I once passed through one of these hard springs when we had nothing to eat
      for several days. I well remember the six small birds which constituted
      the breakfast for six families one morning; and then we had no dinner or
      supper to follow! What a relief that was to me&mdash;although I had only a
      small wing of a small bird for my share! Soon after this, we came into a
      region where buffaloes were plenty, and hunger and scarcity were
      forgotten.
    </p>
    <p>
      Such was the Indian&rsquo;s wild life! When game was to be had and the sun
      shone, 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 they
      are forgetful and careless. Much of their suffering might have been
      prevented by a little calculation.
    </p>
    <p>
      During the summer, when Nature is at her best, and provides abundantly for
      the savage, it seems to me that no life is happier than his! Food is free&mdash;lodging
      free&mdash;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 the Indian&rsquo;s health
      was generally good. The Indian boy enjoyed such a life as almost all boys
      dream of and would choose for themselves if they were permitted to do so.
    </p>
    <p>
      The raids made upon our people by other tribes were frequent, and we had
      to be constantly on the watch. I remember at one time a night attack was
      made upon our camp and all our ponies stampeded. Only a few of them were
      recovered, and our journeys after this misfortune were effected mostly by
      means of the dog-travaux.
    </p>
    <p>
      The second winter after the massacre, my father and my two older brothers,
      with several others, were betrayed by a half-breed at Winnipeg to the
      United States authorities. As I was then living with my uncle in another
      part of the country, I became separated from them for ten years. During
      all this time we believed that they had been killed by the whites, and I
      was taught that I must avenge their deaths as soon as I was able to go
      upon the war-path.
    </p>
    <p>
      I must say a word in regard to the character of this uncle, my father&rsquo;s
      brother, who was my adviser and teacher for many years. He was a man about
      six feet two inches in height, very erect and broad-shouldered. He was
      known at that time as one of the best hunters and bravest warriors among
      the Sioux in British America, where he still lives, for to this day we
      have failed to persuade him to return to the United States.
    </p>
    <p>
      He is a typical Indian&mdash;not handsome, but truthful and brave. He had
      a few simple principles from which he hardly ever departed. Some of these
      I shall describe when I speak of my early training.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is wonderful that any children grew up through all the exposures and
      hardships that we suffered in those days! The frail teepee pitched
      anywhere, in the winter as well as in the summer, was all the protection
      that we had against cold and storms. I can recall times when we were
      snowed in and it was very difficult to get fuel. We were once three days
      without much fire and all of this time it stormed violently. There seemed
      to be no special anxiety on the part of our people; they rather looked
      upon all this as a matter of course, knowing that the storm would cease
      when the time came.
    </p>
    <p>
      I could once endure as much cold and hunger as any of them; but now if I
      miss one meal or accidentally wet my feet, I feel it as much as if I had
      never lived in the manner I have described, when it was a matter of course
      to get myself soaking wet many a time. Even if there was plenty to eat, it
      was thought better for us to practice fasting sometimes; and hard exercise
      was kept up continually, both for the sake of health and to prepare the
      body for the extraordinary exertions that it might, at any moment, be
      required to undergo. In my own remembrance, my uncle used often to bring
      home a deer on his shoulder. The distance was sometimes considerable; yet
      he did not consider it any sort of a feat.
    </p>
    <p>
      The usual custom with us was to eat only two meals a day and these were
      served at each end of the day. This rule was not invariable, however, for
      if there should be any callers, it was Indian etiquette to offer either
      tobacco or food, or both. The rule of two meals a day was more closely
      observed by the men&mdash;especially the younger men&mdash;than by the
      women and children. This was when the Indians recognized that a true
      manhood, one of physical activity and endurance, depends upon dieting and
      regular exercise. No such system is practised by the reservation Indians
      of to-day.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      III. My Indian Grandmother
    </h2>
    <p>
      AS a motherless child, I always regarded my good grandmother as the wisest
      of guides and the best of protectors. It was not long before I began to
      realize her superiority to most of her contemporaries. This idea was not
      gained entirely from my own observation, but also from a knowledge of the
      high regard in which she was held by other women. Aside from her native
      talent and ingenuity, she was endowed with a truly wonderful memory. No
      other midwife in her day and tribe could compete with her in skill and
      judgment. Her observations in practice were all preserved in her mind for
      reference, as systematically as if they had been written upon the pages of
      a note-book.
    </p>
    <p>
      I distinctly recall one occasion when she took me with her into the woods
      in search of certain medicinal roots.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Why do you not use all kinds of roots for medicines?&rdquo; said I.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Because,&rdquo; she replied, in her quick, characteristic manner, &ldquo;the Great
      Mystery does not will us to find things too easily. In that case everybody
      would be a medicine-giver, and Ohiyesa must learn that there are many
      secrets which the Great Mystery will disclose only to the most worthy.
      Only those who seek him fasting and in solitude will receive his signs.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      With this and many similar explanations she wrought in my soul wonderful
      and lively conceptions of the &ldquo;Great Mystery&rdquo; and of the effects of prayer
      and solitude. I continued my childish questioning.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But why did you not dig those plants that we saw in the woods, of the
      same kind that you are digging now?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;For the same reason that we do not like the berries we find in the shadow
      of deep woods as well as the ones which grow in sunny places. The latter
      have more sweetness and flavor. Those herbs which have medicinal virtues
      should be sought in a place that is neither too wet nor too dry, and where
      they have a generous amount of sunshine to maintain their vigor.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;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, I must
      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 be a great
      medicine man when he grows up. To be a great warrior is a noble ambition;
      but to be a mighty medicine man is a nobler!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      She said these things so thoughtfully and impressively that I cannot but
      feel and remember them even to this day.
    </p>
    <p>
      Our native women gathered all the wild rice, roots, berries and fruits
      which formed an important part of our food. This was distinctively a
      woman&rsquo;s work. Uncheedah (grandmother) understood these matters perfectly,
      and it became a kind of instinct with her to know just where to look for
      each edible variety and at what season of the year. This sort of labor
      gave the Indian women every opportunity to observe and study Nature after
      their fashion; and in this Uncheedah was more acute than most of the men.
      The abilities of her boys were not all inherited from their father;
      indeed, the stronger family traits came obviously from 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.
    </p>
    <p>
      In bravery she equaled any of the men. This trait, together with her
      ingenuity and alertness of mind, more than once saved her and her people
      from destruction. Once, when we were roaming over a region occupied by
      other 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 few men
      left at home, they were taken by surprise at first and scarcely knew what
      to do, when this woman came forward and advanced alone to meet our foes.
      She had gone some distance when some of the men followed her. She met the
      strangers and offered her hand to them. They accepted her friendly
      greeting; and as a result of her brave act we were left unmolested and at
      peace.
    </p>
    <p>
      Another story of her was related to me by my father. My grandfather, who
      was 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 and his
      wife. One evening, when he returned from the chase, he found to his
      surprise that she had built a stockade around her teepee.
    </p>
    <p>
      She had discovered the danger-sign in a single foot-print, which she saw
      at a glance was not that of her husband, and she was also convinced that
      it was not the foot-print of a Sioux, from the shape of the moccasin. This
      ability to recognize footprints is general among the Indians, but more
      marked in certain individuals.
    </p>
    <p>
      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 a
      double-barrelled gun, with such good effect that the astonished braves
      thought it wise to retreat.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was not more than five or six years old when the Indian soldiers came
      one day and destroyed our large buffalo-skin teepee. It was charged that
      my uncle had hunted alone a large herd of buffaloes. This was not exactly
      true. He had unfortunately frightened a large herd while shooting a deer
      in the edge of the woods. However, it was customary to punish such an act
      severely, even though the offense was accidental.
    </p>
    <p>
      When we were attacked by the police, I was playing in the teepee, and the
      only other person at home was Uncheedah. I had not noticed their approach,
      and when the war-cry was given by thirty or forty Indians with strong
      lungs, I thought my little world was coming to an end. Instantly
      innumerable knives and tomahawks penetrated our frail home, while bullets
      went through the poles and tent-fastenings up above our heads.
    </p>
    <p>
      I hardly know what I did, but I imagine it was just what any other little
      fellow would have done under like circumstances. My first clear
      realization of the situation was when Uncheedah had a dispute with the
      leader, claiming that the matter had not been properly investigated, and
      that none of the policemen had attained to a reputation in war which would
      justify them in touching her son&rsquo;s teepee. But alas! our poor dwelling was
      already an unrecognizable ruin; even the poles were broken into splinters.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Indian women, after reaching middle age, are usually heavy and lack
      agility, but my grandmother was in this also an exception. She was fully
      sixty when I was born; and when I was seven years old she swam across a
      swift and wide stream, carrying me on her back, because she did not wish
      to expose me to accident in one of the clumsy round boats of bull-hide
      which were rigged up to cross the rivers which impeded our way, especially
      in the springtime. Her strength and endurance were remarkable. Even after
      she had attained the age of eighty-two, she one day walked twenty-five
      miles without appearing much fatigued.
    </p>
    <p>
      I marvel now at the purity and elevated sentiment possessed by this woman,
      when I consider the customs and habits of her people at the time. When her
      husband died she was still comparatively a young woman&mdash;still active,
      clever and industrious. She was descended from a haughty chieftain of the
      &ldquo;Dwellers among the Leaves.&rdquo; Although women of her age and position were
      held to be eligible to re-marriage, and she had several persistent suitors
      who were men of her own age and chiefs, yet she preferred to cherish in
      solitude the memory of her husband.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was very small when my uncle brought home two Ojibway young women. In
      the fight in which they were captured, none of the Sioux war party had
      been killed; therefore they were sympathized with and tenderly treated by
      the Sioux women. They were apparently happy, although of course they felt
      deeply the losses sustained at the time of their capture, and they did not
      fail to show their appreciation of the kindnesses received at our hands.
    </p>
    <p>
      As I recall now the remarks made by one of them at the time of their final
      release, they appear to me quite remarkable. They lived in my
      grandmother&rsquo;s family for two years, and were then returned to their people
      at a great peace council of the two nations. When they were about to leave
      my grandmother, the elder of the two sisters first embraced her, and then
      spoke somewhat as follows:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You are a brave woman and a true mother. I understand now why your son so
      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 my father, 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.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I shall never forget your many favors shown to us. But I must go. I
      belong to my tribe and I shall return to them. I will endeavor to be a
      true woman also, and to teach my boys to be generous warriors like your
      son.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Her sister chose to remain among the Sioux all her life, and she married
      one of our young men.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I shall make the Sioux and the Ojibways,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;to be as brothers.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      There are many other instances of intermarriage with captive women. The
      mother of the well-known Sioux chieftain, Wabashaw, was an Ojibway woman.
      I once knew a woman who was said to be a white captive. She was married to
      a noted warrior, and had a fine family of five boys. She was well
      accustomed to the Indian ways, and as a child I should not have suspected
      that she was white. The skins of these people became so sunburned and full
      of paint that it required a keen eye to distinguish them from the real
      Indians.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      IV. An Indian Sugar Camp
    </h2>
    <p>
      WITH the first March thaw the thoughts of the Indian women of my childhood
      days turned promptly to the annual sugarmaking. This industry was chiefly
      followed by the old men and women and the children. The rest of the tribe
      went out upon the spring fur-hunt at this season, leaving us at home to
      make the sugar.
    </p>
    <p>
      The first and most important of the necessary utensils were the huge iron
      and brass kettles for boiling. Everything else could be made, but these
      must be bought, begged or borrowed. A maple tree was felled and a log
      canoe hollowed out, into which the sap was to be gathered. Little troughs
      of basswood and birchen basins were also made to receive the sweet drops
      as they trickled from the tree.
    </p>
    <p>
      As soon as these labors were accomplished, we all proceeded to the bark
      sugar house, which stood in the midst of a fine grove of maples on the
      bank of the Minnesota river. We found this hut partially filled with the
      snows of winter and the withered leaves of the preceding autumn, and it
      must be cleared for our use. In the meantime a tent was pitched outside
      for a few days&rsquo; occupancy. The snow was still deep in the woods, with a
      solid crust upon which we could easily walk; for we usually moved to the
      sugar house before the sap had actually started, the better to complete
      our preparations.
    </p>
    <p>
      My grandmother worked like a beaver in these days (or rather like a
      muskrat, as the Indians say; for this industrious little animal sometimes
      collects as many as six or eight bushels of edible roots for the winter,
      only to be robbed of his store by some of our people). If there was
      prospect of a good sugaring season, she now made a second and even a third
      canoe to contain the sap. These canoes were afterward utilized by the
      hunters for their proper purpose.
    </p>
    <p>
      During our last sugar-making in Minnesota, before the &ldquo;outbreak,&rdquo; my
      grandmother was at work upon a canoe with her axe, while a young aunt of
      mine stood by. We boys were congregated within the large, oval sugar
      house, busily engaged in making arrows for the destruction of the rabbits
      and chipmunks which we knew would come in numbers to drink the sap. The
      birds also were beginning to return, and the cold storms of March would
      drive them to our door. I was then too young to do much except 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 burning in the fire, and
      occasionally cutting a chip from the stick. In their eagerness they paid
      little attention to this circumstance, although they well knew that it was
      strictly forbidden to touch a knife to a burning ember.
    </p>
    <p>
      Suddenly loud screams were heard from without and we all rushed out to see
      what was the matter. It was a serious affair. My grandmother&rsquo;s axe had
      slipped, and by an upward stroke nearly severed three of the fingers of 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 our
      carelessness in regard to the burning embers, pursued us with loud
      reproaches and threats of a whipping. This will seem mysterious to my
      readers, but is easily explained by the Indian superstition, which holds
      that such an offense as we had committed is invariably punished by the
      accidental cutting of some one of the family.
    </p>
    <p>
      My grandmother did not confine herself to canoe-making. She also collected
      a good supply of fuel for the fires, for she would not have much time to
      gather wood when the sap began to flow. Presently the weather moderated
      and the snow began to melt. The month of April brought showers which
      carried most of it off into the Minnesota river. Now the women 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. The trees, like people,
      have their individual characters; some were ready to yield up their
      life-blood, while others were more reluctant. Now one of the birchen
      basins was set under each tree, and a hardwood chip driven deep into the
      cut which the axe had made. From the corners of this chip&mdash;at first
      drop by drop, then more freely-the sap trickled into the little dishes.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is usual to make sugar from maples, but several other trees were also
      tapped by the Indians. From the birch and ash was made a dark-colored
      sugar, with a somewhat bitter taste, which was used for medicinal
      purposes. The box-elder yielded a beautiful white sugar, whose only fault
      was that there was never enough of it!
    </p>
    <p>
      A long fire was now made in the sugar house, and a row of brass kettles
      suspended over the blaze. The sap was collected by the women in tin or
      birchen buckets and poured into the canoes, from which the kettles were
      kept filled. The hearts of the boys beat high with pleasant anticipations
      when they heard the welcome hissing sound of the boiling sap! Each boy
      claimed one kettle for his especial charge. It was his duty to see that
      the fire was kept up under it, to watch lest it boil over, 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 that for the first day or two
      we consumed nearly all that could be made; and it was not until the
      sweetness began to pall that my grandmother set herself in earnest to
      store up sugar for future use. She made it into cakes of various forms, in
      birchen molds, and sometimes in hollow canes or reeds, and the bills of
      ducks and geese. Some of it was pulverized and packed in rawhide cases.
      Being a prudent woman, she did not give it to us after the first month or
      so, except upon special occasions, and it was thus made to last almost the
      year around. The smaller candies were reserved as an occasional treat for
      the little fellows, and the sugar was eaten at feasts with wild rice or
      parched corn, and also with pounded dried meat. Coffee and tea, with their
      substitutes, were all unknown to us in those days.
    </p>
    <p>
      Every pursuit has its trials and anxieties. My grandmother&rsquo;s special
      tribulations, during the sugaring season, were the upsetting and gnawing
      of holes in her birch-bark pans. The transgressors were the rabbit and
      squirrel tribes, and we little boys for once became useful, in shooting
      them 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, and
      then we had a feast.
    </p>
    <p>
      The sugaring season extended well into April, and the returning birds made
      the precincts of our camp joyful with their songs. I often followed my
      older brothers into the woods, although I was then but four or five years
      old. Upon one of these excursions they went so far that I ventured back
      alone. When within sight of our hut, I saw a chipmunk sitting upon a log,
      and uttering the sound he makes when he calls to his mate. How glorious it
      would be, I thought, if I could shoot him with my tiny bow and arrows!
      Stealthily and cautiously I approached, keeping my eyes upon the 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 and ready to
      spring! Forgetful that I was a warrior, I gave a loud scream and started
      backward; but soon recollecting myself, looked down with shame, although
      no one was near. However, I retreated to the inclined trunk of a fallen
      tree, and there, as I have often been told, was overheard soliloquizing in
      the following words: &ldquo;I wonder if a snake can climb a tree!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I remember on this occasion of our last sugar bush in Minnesota, that I
      stood one day outside of our hut and watched the approach of a visitor&mdash;a
      bent old man, his hair almost white, and carrying on his back a large
      bundle of red willow, or kinnikinick, which the Indians use for smoking.
      He threw down his load at the door and thus saluted us: &ldquo;You have indeed
      perfect weather for sugar-making.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      It was my great-grandfather, Cloud Man, whose original village was on the
      shores of Lakes Calhoun and Harriet, now in the suburbs of the city of
      Minneapolis. He was the first Sioux chief to welcome the Protestant
      missionaries among his people, and a well-known character in those pioneer
      days. He brought us word that some of the peaceful sugar-makers near 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 might become the
      victims of an Ojibway war party. Therefore we all felt some uneasiness
      from this time until we returned heavy laden to our village.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      V. A Midsummer Feast
    </h2>
    <p>
      IT was midsummer. Everything that the Santee Sioux had undertaken during
      the year had been unusually successful. The spring fur-hunters had been
      fortunate, and the heavy winter had proved productive of much maple sugar.
      The women&rsquo;s patches of maize and potatoes were already sufficiently
      advanced to use. The Wahpetonwan band of Sioux, the &ldquo;Dwellers among the
      Leaves,&rdquo; were fully awakened to the fact that it was almost time for the
      midsummer festivities of the old, wild days.
    </p>
    <p>
      The invitations were bundles of tobacco, and acceptances were sent back
      from the various bands&mdash;the &ldquo;Light Lodges&rdquo;, &ldquo;Dwellers back from the
      River,&rdquo; and many others, in similar fashion. Blue Earth, chief of the
      &ldquo;Dwellers among the Leaves,&rdquo; was the host.
    </p>
    <p>
      There were to be many different kinds of athletic games; indeed, the
      festival was something like a State fair, in that there were many side
      shows and competitive events. For instance, supposing that (Miss) White
      Rabbit should desire to give a &ldquo;maidens&rsquo; feast,&rdquo; she would employ a crier
      to go among the different bands announcing the fact in a sing-song manner:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Miss White Rabbit will receive her maiden friends to-day at noon, inside
      of the circular encampment of the Kaposia band.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Again, should (Mr.) Sleepy Eye wish to have his child&rsquo;s ears pierced
      publicly, he would have to give away a great deal of savage wealth&mdash;namely,
      otter, bear and beaver skins and ponies&mdash;or the child would not be
      considered as belonging to a family in good standing.
    </p>
    <p>
      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 could boast
      the greater number of fast runners.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Wahpetonwan village on the banks of the Minnesota river was alive with
      the newly-arrived guests and the preparations for the coming event. Meat
      of wild game had been put away with much care during the previous fall in
      anticipation of this feast. There was wild rice and the choicest of dried
      venison that had been kept all winter, as well as freshly dug turnips,
      ripe berries and an abundance of fresh meat.
    </p>
    <p>
      Along the edge of the woods the teepees were pitched in groups or
      semi-circles, each band distinct from the others. The teepee of Mankato or
      Blue Earth was pitched in a conspicuous spot. Just over the entrance was
      painted in red and yellow a picture of a pipe, and directly opposite this
      the rising sun. The painting was symbolic of welcome and good will to men
      under the bright sun.
    </p>
    <p>
      A meeting was held to appoint some &ldquo;medicine man&rdquo; to make the balls that
      were to be used in the lacrosse contest; and presently the herald
      announced that this honor had been conferred upon old Chankpee-yuhah, or
      &ldquo;Keeps the Club,&rdquo; while every other man of his profession was
      disappointed. He was a powerful man physically, who had apparently won the
      confidence of the people by his fine personal appearance and by working
      upon superstitious minds.
    </p>
    <p>
      Towards evening he appeared in the circle, leading by the hand a boy about
      four years old. Closely the little fellow observed every motion of the
      man; nothing escaped his vigilant black eyes, which seemed constantly to
      grow brighter and larger, while his exuberant glossy black hair was
      plaited and wound around his head like that of a Celestial. He wore a bit
      of swan&rsquo;s down in each ear, which formed a striking contrast with the
      child&rsquo;s complexion. Further than this, the boy was painted according to
      the fashion of the age. He held in his hands a miniature bow and arrows.
    </p>
    <p>
      The medicine man drew himself up in an admirable attitude, and proceeded
      to make his short speech:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Wahpetonwans, you boast that you run down the elk; you can outrun the
      Ojibways. Before you all, I dedicate to you this red ball. Kaposias, you
      claim that no one has a lighter foot than you; you declare that you can
      endure running a whole day without water. To you I dedicate this black
      ball. Either you or the Leaf-Dwellers will have to drop your eyes and bow
      your head when the game is over. I wish to announce that if the
      Wahpetonwans should win, this little warrior shall bear the name Ohiyesa
      (winner) through life; but if the Light Lodges should win, let the name be
      given to any child appointed by them.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The ground selected for the great final game was on a narrow strip of land
      between a lake and the river. It was about three quarters of a mile long
      and a quarter of a mile in width. The spectators had already ranged
      themselves all along the two sides, as well as at the two ends, which were
      somewhat higher than the middle. The soldiers appointed to keep order
      furnished much of the entertainment of the day. They painted artistically
      and tastefully, according to the Indian fashion, not only their bodies but
      also their ponies and clubs. They were so strict in enforcing the laws
      that no one could venture with safety within a few feet of the limits of
      the field.
    </p>
    <p>
      Now all of the minor events and feasts, occupying several days&rsquo; time, had
      been observed. Heralds on ponies&rsquo; backs announced that all who intended to
      participate in the final game were requested to repair to the ground; also
      that if any one bore a grudge against another, he was implored to forget
      his ill-feeling until the contest should be over.
    </p>
    <p>
      The most powerful men were stationed at the half-way ground, while the
      fast runners were assigned to the back. It was an impressive spectacle&mdash;a
      fine collection of agile forms, almost stripped of garments and painted in
      wild imitation of the rainbow and sunset sky on human canvas. Some had
      undertaken to depict the Milky Way across their tawny bodies, and one or
      two made a bold attempt to reproduce the lightning. Others contented
      themselves with painting the figure of some fleet animal or swift bird on
      their muscular chests.
    </p>
    <p>
      The coiffure of the Sioux lacrosse player has often been unconsciously
      imitated by the fashionable hair-dressers of modern times. Some banged and
      singed their hair; others did a little more by adding powder. The Grecian
      knot was located on the wrong side of the head, being tied tightly over
      the forehead. A great many simply brushed back their long locks and tied
      them with a strip of otter skin.
    </p>
    <p>
      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 a cock and gave a
      smooth, clear operatic tone. Instantly the little black ball 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 side rushed upon them.
      For a time, a hundred lacrosse sticks vied with each other, and the
      wriggling human flesh and paint were all one could see through the cloud
      of dust. Suddenly there shot swiftly through the air toward the south,
      toward the Kaposias&rsquo; goal, the ball. There was a general cheer from their
      adherents, which echoed back from the white cliff on the opposite side of
      the Minnesota.
    </p>
    <p>
      As the ball flew through the air, two adversaries were ready to receive
      it. The Kaposia quickly met the ball, but failed to catch it in his netted
      bag, for the other had swung his up like a flash. Thus it struck the
      ground, but had no opportunity to bound up when a Wahpeton pounced upon it
      like a cat and slipped out of the grasp of his opponents. A mighty cheer
      thundered through the air.
    </p>
    <p>
      The warrior who had undertaken to pilot the little sphere was risking
      much, for he must dodge a host of Kaposias before he could gain any
      ground. He was alert and agile; now springing like a panther, now leaping
      like a deer over a stooping opponent who tried to seize him around the
      waist. Every opposing player was upon his heels, while those of his own
      side did all in their power to clear the way for him. But it was all in
      vain. He only gained fifty paces.
    </p>
    <p>
      Thus the game went. First one side, then the other would gain an
      advantage, and then it was lost, until the herald proclaimed that it was
      time to change the ball. No victory was in sight for either side.
    </p>
    <p>
      After a few minutes&rsquo; rest, the game was resumed. The red ball was now
      tossed in the air in the usual way. No sooner had it descended than one of
      the rushers caught it and away it went northward; again it was fortunate,
      for it was advanced by one of the same side. The scene was now one of the
      wildest excitement and confusion. At last, the northward flight of the
      ball was checked for a moment and a desperate struggle ensued. Cheers and
      war-whoops became general, such as were never equaled in any concourse of
      savages, and possibly nowhere except at a college game of football.
    </p>
    <p>
      The ball had not been allowed to come to the surface since it reached this
      point, for there were more than a hundred men who scrambled for it.
      Suddenly a warrior shot out of the throng like the ball itself! Then some
      of the players shouted: &ldquo;Look out for Antelope! Look out for Antelope!&rdquo;
       But it was too late. The little sphere had already nestled into Antelope&rsquo;s
      palm and that fleetest of Wahpetons had thrown down his lacrosse stick and
      set a determined eye upon the northern goal.
    </p>
    <p>
      Such a speed! He had cleared almost all the opponents&rsquo; guards&mdash;there
      were but two more. These were exceptional runners of the Kaposias. As he
      approached them in his almost irresistible speed, every savage heart
      thumped louder in the Indian&rsquo;s dusky bosom. In another moment there would
      be a defeat for the Kaposias or a prolongation of the game. The two men,
      with a determined look approached their foe like two panthers prepared to
      spring; yet he neither slackened his speed nor deviated from his course. A
      crash&mdash;a mighty shout!&mdash;the two Kaposias collided, and the swift
      Antelope had won the laurels!
    </p>
    <p>
      The turmoil and commotion at the victors&rsquo; camp were indescribable. A few
      beats of a drum were heard, after which the criers hurried along the
      lines, announcing the last act to be performed at the camp of the &ldquo;Leaf
      Dwellers.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The day had been a perfect one. Every event had been a success; and, as a
      matter of course, the old people were happy, for they largely profited by
      these occasions. Within the circle formed by the general assembly sat in a
      group the members of the common council. Blue Earth arose, and in a few
      appropriate and courteous remarks assured his guests that it was not
      selfishness that led his braves to carry off the honors of the last event,
      but that this was a friendly contest in which each band must assert its
      prowess. In memory of this victory, the boy would now receive his name. A
      loud &ldquo;Ho-o-o&rdquo; of approbation reverberated from the edge of the forest upon
      the Minnesota&rsquo;s bank.
    </p>
    <p>
      Half frightened, the little fellow was now brought into the circle,
      looking very much as if he were about to be executed. Cheer after cheer
      went up for the awe-stricken boy. Chankpee-yuhah, the medicine man,
      proceeded to confer the name.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ohiyesa (or Winner) shall be thy name henceforth. Be brave, be patient
      and thou shalt always win! Thy name is Ohivesa.&rdquo;
     </p>
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    <h2>
      II. AN INDIAN BOY&rsquo;S TRAINING
    </h2>
    <p>
      IT is commonly supposed that there is no systematic education of their
      children among the aborigines of this country. Nothing could be farther
      from the truth. All the customs of this primitive people were held to be
      divinely instituted, and those in connection with the training of children
      were scrupulously adhered to and transmitted from one generation to
      another.
    </p>
    <p>
      The expectant parents conjointly bent all their efforts to the task of
      giving the new-comer the best they could gather from a long line of
      ancestors. A pregnant Indian woman would often choose one of the greatest
      characters of her family and tribe as a model for her child. This hero was
      daily called to mind. She would gather from tradition all of his noted
      deeds and daring exploits, rehearsing them to herself when alone. In order
      that the impression might be more distinct, she avoided company. She
      isolated herself as much as possible, and wandered in solitude, not
      thoughtlessly, but with an eye to the impress given by grand and beautiful
      scenery.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Indians believed, also, that certain kinds of animals would confer
      peculiar gifts upon the unborn, while others would leave so strong an
      adverse impression that the child might become a monstrosity. A case of
      hare-lip was commonly attributed to the rabbit. It was said that a rabbit
      had charmed the mother and given to the babe its own features. Even the
      meat of certain animals was denied the pregnant woman, because it was
      supposed to influence the disposition or features of the child.
    </p>
    <p>
      Scarcely was the embyro warrior ushered into the world, when he was met by
      lullabies that speak of wonderful exploits in hunting and war. Those ideas
      which so fully occupied his mother&rsquo;s mind before his birth are now put
      into words by all about the child, who is as yet quite unresponsive to
      their appeals to his honor and ambition. He is called the future defender
      of his people, whose lives may depend upon his courage and skill. If the
      child is a girl, she is at once addressed as the future mother of a noble
      race.
    </p>
    <p>
      In hunting songs, the leading animals are introduced; they come to the boy
      to offer their bodies for the sustenance of his tribe. The animals are
      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 were often animals
      personified, while pretty maidens were represented by the mink and the
      doe.
    </p>
    <p>
      Very early, the Indian boy assumed the task of preserving and transmitting
      the legends of his ancestors and his race. Almost every evening a myth, or
      a true story of some deed done in the past, was narrated by one of the
      parents or grandparents, while the boy listened with parted lips and
      glistening eyes. On the following evening, he was usually required to
      repeat it. If he was not an apt scholar, he struggled long with his task;
      but, as a rule, the Indian boy is a good listener and has a good memory,
      so that the stories were tolerably well mastered. The household became his
      audience, by which he was alternately criticized and applauded.
    </p>
    <p>
      This sort of teaching at once enlightens the boy&rsquo;s mind and stimulates his
      ambition. His conception of his own future career becomes a vivid and
      irresistible force. Whatever there is for him to learn must be learned;
      whatever qualifications are necessary to a truly great man he must seek at
      any expense of danger and hardship. Such was the feeling of the
      imaginative and brave young Indian. It became apparent to him in early
      life that he must accustom himself to rove alone and not to fear or
      dislike the impression of solitude.
    </p>
    <p>
      It seems to be a popular idea that all the characteristic skill of the
      Indian is instinctive and hereditary. This is a mistake. All the stoicism
      and patience of the Indian are acquired traits, and continual practice
      alone makes him master of the art of wood-craft. Physical training and
      dieting were not neglected. I remember that I was not allowed to have beef
      soup or any warm drink. The soup was for the old men. General rules for
      the young were never to take their food very hot, nor to drink much water.
    </p>
    <p>
      My uncle, who educated me up to the age of fifteen years, was a strict
      disciplinarian and a good teacher. When I left the teepee in the morning,
      he would say: &ldquo;Hakadah, look closely to everything you see&rdquo;; and at
      evening, on my return, he used often to catechize me for an hour or so.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;On which side of the trees is the lighter-colored bark? On which side do
      they have most regular branches?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      It was his custom to let me name all the new birds that I had seen during
      the day. I would name them according to the color or the shape of the bill
      or their song or the appearance and locality of the nest&mdash;in fact,
      anything about the bird that impressed me as characteristic. I made many
      ridiculous errors, I must admit. He then usually informed me of the
      correct name. Occasionally I made a hit and this he would warmly commend.
    </p>
    <p>
      He went much deeper into this science when I was a little older, that is,
      about the age of eight or nine years. He would say, for instance:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;How do you know that there are fish in yonder lake?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Because they jump out of the water for flies at mid-day.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      He would smile at my prompt but superficial reply.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What do you think of the little pebbles grouped together under the
      shallow water? and what made the pretty curved marks in the sandy bottom
      and the little sand-banks? Where do you find the fish-eating birds? Have
      the inlet and the outlet of a lake anything to do with the question?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      He did not expect a correct reply at once to all the voluminous questions
      that he put to me on these occasions, but he meant to make me observant
      and a good student of nature.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Hakadah,&rdquo; he would say to me, &ldquo;you ought to follow the example of the
      shunktokecha (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 final
      retreat. So you must take a second look at everything you see.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It is better to view animals unobserved. I have been a witness to their
      courtships and their quarrels and have learned many of their secrets in
      this way. I was once the unseen spectator of a thrilling battle between a
      pair of grizzly bears and three buffaloes&mdash;a rash act for the bears,
      for it was in the moon of strawberries, when the buffaloes sharpen and
      polish their horns for bloody contests among themselves.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I advise you, my boy, never to approach a grizzly&rsquo;s den from the front,
      but to steal up behind and throw your blanket or a stone in front of the
      hole. He does not usually rush for it, but first puts his head out and
      listens and then comes out very indifferently and sits on his haunches on
      the mound in front of the hole before he makes any attack. While he is
      exposing himself in this fashion, aim at his heart. Always be as cool as
      the animal himself.&rdquo; Thus he armed me against the cunning of savage beasts
      by teaching me how to outwit them.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;In hunting,&rdquo; he would resume, &ldquo;you will be guided by the habits of the
      animal you seek. Remember that a moose stays in swampy or low land or
      between high mountains near a spring or lake, for thirty to sixty days at
      a time. Most large game moves about continually, except the doe in the
      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 signs of the
      presence of either, and then call with your birchen doe-caller.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;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 large
      wild-cat. They understand the characteristic call of the doe perfectly
      well.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;When you have any difficulty with a bear or a wild-cat&mdash;that is, if
      the creature shows signs of attacking you&mdash;you must make him fully
      understand that you have seen him and are aware of his intentions. If you
      are not well equipped for a pitched battle, the only way to make him
      retreat is to take a long sharp-pointed pole for a spear and rush toward
      him. No wild beast will face this unless he is cornered and already
      wounded, These fierce beasts are generally afraid of the common weapon of
      the larger animals&mdash;the horns, and if these are very long and sharp,
      they dare not risk an open fight.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;There is one exception to this rule&mdash;the grey wolf will attack
      fiercely when very hungry. But their courage depends upon their numbers;
      in this they are like white men. One wolf or two will never attack a man.
      They will stampede a herd of buffaloes in order to get at the calves; they
      will rush upon a herd of antelopes, for these are helpless; but they are
      always careful about attacking man.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Of this nature were the instructions of my uncle, who was widely known at
      that time as among the greatest hunters of his tribe.
    </p>
    <p>
      All boys were expected to endure hardship without complaint. In savage
      warfare, a young man must, of course, be an athlete and used to undergoing
      all sorts of privations. He must be able to go without food and water for
      two or three days without displaying any weakness, or to run for a day and
      a night without any rest. He must be able to traverse a pathless and wild
      country without losing his way either in the day or night time. He cannot
      refuse to do any of these things if he aspires to be a warrior.
    </p>
    <p>
      Sometimes my uncle would waken me very early in the morning and challenge
      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 village would know that
      I was fasting for the day. Then the little tempters would make my life a
      misery until the merciful sun hid behind the western hills.
    </p>
    <p>
      I can scarcely recall the time when my stern teacher began to give sudden
      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 ready to
      grasp a weapon of some sort and to give a shrill whoop in reply. If I was
      sleepy or startled and hardly knew what I was about, he would ridicule me
      and say that I need never expect to sell my scalp dear. Often he would
      vary these tactics by shooting off his gun just outside of the lodge while
      I was yet asleep, at the same time giving blood-curdling yells. After a
      time I became used to this.
    </p>
    <p>
      When Indians went upon the war-path, it was their custom to try the new
      warriors thoroughly before coming to an engagement. For instance, when
      they were near a hostile camp, they would select the novices to go after
      the 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 water when
      we camped after dark in a strange place. Perhaps the country was full of
      wild beasts, and, for aught I knew, there might be scouts from hostile
      bands of Indians lurking in that very neighborhood.
    </p>
    <p>
      Yet I never objected, for that would show cowardice. I picked my way
      through the woods, dipped my pail in the water and hurried back, always
      careful to make as little noise as a cat. Being only a boy, my heart would
      leap at every crackling of a dry twig or distant hooting of an owl, until,
      at last, I reached our teepee. Then my uncle would perhaps say: &ldquo;Ah,
      Hakadah, you are a thorough warrior,&rdquo; empty out the precious contents of
      the pail, and order me to go a second time.
    </p>
    <p>
      Imagine how I felt! But I wished to be a brave man as much as a white boy
      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 in the
      dark.
    </p>
    <p>
      With all this, our manners and morals were not neglected. I was made to
      respect the adults and especially the aged. I was not allowed to join in
      their discussions, nor even to speak in their presence, unless requested
      to do so. Indian etiquette was very strict, and among the requirements was
      that of avoiding the direct address. A term of relationship or some title
      of courtesy was commonly used instead of the personal name by those who
      wished to show respect. We were taught generosity to the poor and
      reverence for the &ldquo;Great Mystery.&rdquo; Religion was the basis of all Indian
      training.
    </p>
    <p>
      I recall to the present day some of the kind warnings and reproofs that my
      good grandmother was wont to give me. &ldquo;Be strong of heart&mdash;be
      patient!&rdquo; she used to say. She told me of a young chief who was noted for
      his uncontrollable temper. While in one of his rages he attempted to kill
      a woman, for which he was slain by his own band and left unburied as a
      mark of disgrace&mdash;his body was simply covered with green grass. If I
      ever lost my temper, she would say:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Hakadah, control yourself, or you will be like that young man I told you
      of, and lie under a green blanket!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      In the old days, no young man was allowed to use tobacco in any form until
      he had become an acknowledged warrior and had achieved a record. If a
      youth should seek a wife before he had reached the age of twenty-two or
      twenty-three, and been recognized as a brave man, he was sneered at and
      considered an ill-bred Indian. He must also be a skillful hunter. An
      Indian cannot be a good husband unless he brings home plenty of game.
    </p>
    <p>
      These precepts were in the line of our training for the wild life.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      III. MY PLAYS AND PLAYMATES
    </h2>
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    <h2>
      I. Games and Sports
    </h2>
    <p>
      THE Indian boy was a prince of the wilderness. He had but very little work
      to do during the period of his boyhood. His principal occupation was the
      practice of a few simple arts in warfare and the chase. Aside from this,
      he was master of his time.
    </p>
    <p>
      Whatever was required of us boys was quickly performed: then the field was
      clear for our games and plays. There was always keen competition among us.
      We felt very much as our fathers did in hunting and war&mdash;each one
      strove to excel all the others.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is true that our savage life was a precarious one, and full of dreadful
      catastrophes; however, this never prevented us from enjoying our 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 the afternoon! It was
      an uncertain life, to be sure. Yet we observed that the fawns skipped and
      played happily while the gray wolves might be peeping forth from behind
      the hills, ready to tear them limb from limb.
    </p>
    <p>
      Our sports were molded by the life and customs of our people; indeed, we
      practiced only what we expected to do when grown. Our games were feats
      with the bow and arrow, foot and pony races, wrestling, swimming and
      imitation of the customs and habits of our fathers. We had sham fights
      with mud balls and willow wands; we played lacrosse, made war upon bees,
      shot winter arrows (which were used only in that season), and coasted upon
      the ribs of animals and buffalo robes.
    </p>
    <p>
      No sooner did the boys get together than, as a usual thing, they divided
      into squads and chose sides; then a leading arrow was shot at random into
      the air. Before it fell to the ground a volley from the bows of the
      participants followed. Each player was quick to note the direction and
      speed of the leading arrow and he tried to send his own at the same speed
      and at an equal height, so that when it fell it would be closer to the
      first than any of the others.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was considered out of place to shoot by first sighting the object aimed
      at. This was usually impracticable in actual life, because the object was
      almost always in motion, while the hunter himself was often upon the back
      of a pony at full gallop. Therefore, it was the off-hand shot that the
      Indian boy sought to master. There was another game with arrows that was
      characterized by gambling, and was generally confined to the men.
    </p>
    <p>
      The races were an every-day occurrence. At noon the boys were usually
      gathered by some pleasant sheet of water and as soon as the ponies were
      watered, they were allowed to graze for an hour or two, while the boys
      stripped for their noonday sports. A boy might say to some other whom he
      considered his equal:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t run; but I will challenge you to fifty paces.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      A former hero, when beaten, would often explain his defeat by saying: &ldquo;I
      drank too much water.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Boys of all ages were paired for a &ldquo;spin,&rdquo; and the little red men cheered
      on their favorites with spirit.
    </p>
    <p>
      As soon as this was ended, the pony races followed. All the speedy ponies
      were picked out and riders chosen. If a boy declined to ride, there would
      be shouts of derision.
    </p>
    <p>
      Last of all came the swimming. A little urchin would hang to his pony&rsquo;s
      long tail, while the latter, with only his head above water, glided
      sportively along. Finally the animals were driven into a fine field of
      grass and we turned our attention to other games.
    </p>
    <p>
      Lacrosse was an older game and was confined entirely to the Sisseton and
      Santee Sioux. Shinny, such as is enjoyed by white boys on the ice, is
      still played on the open prairie by the western Sioux. The &ldquo;moccasin
      game,&rdquo; although sometimes played by the boys, was intended mainly for
      adults.
    </p>
    <p>
      The &ldquo;mud-and-willow&rdquo; fight was rather a severe and dangerous sport. A lump
      of soft clay was stuck on the end of a limber and springy willow wand and
      thrown as boys throw apples from sticks, with considerable force. When
      there were fifty or a hundred players on each side, the battle became
      warm; but anything to arouse the bravery of Indian boys seemed to them a
      good and wholesome diversion.
    </p>
    <p>
      Wrestling was largely indulged in by us all. It may seem odd,, but
      wrestling was done by a great many boys at once&mdash;from ten to any
      number on 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 as he remained standing within the field, he was open to an attack.
      No one struck with the hand, but all manner of tripping with legs and feet
      and butting with the knees was allowed. Altogether it was an exhausting
      pastime&mdash;fully equal to the American game of football and only the
      young athlete could really enjoy it.
    </p>
    <p>
      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 some
      tribal foe. We all painted and stole cautiously upon the nest; then, with
      a rush and warwhoop, sprang upon the object of our attack and endeavored
      to destroy it. But it seemed that the bees were always on the alert and
      never entirely surprised, for they always raised quite as many scalps as
      did their bold assailants! After the onslaught upon the nest was ended, we
      usually followed it by a pretended scalp dance.
    </p>
    <p>
      On the occasion of my first experience in this mode of warfare, there were
      two other little boys who were also novices. One of them particularly 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 enemy on the battle
      field, to announce the act in a loud voice, we did the same. My friend,
      Little Wound (as I will call him, for I do not remember his name), being
      quite small, was unable to reach the nest until it had been well trampled
      upon and broken and the insects had made a counter charge with such vigor
      as to repulse and scatter our numbers in every direction. However, he
      evidently did not want to retreat without any honors; so he bravely jumped
      upon the nest and yelled:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I, the brave Little Wound, to-day kill the only fierce enemy!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Scarcely were the last words uttered when he screamed as if stabbed to the
      heart. One of his older companions shouted:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Dive into the water! Run! Dive into the water!&rdquo; for there was a lake near
      by. This advice he obeyed.
    </p>
    <p>
      When we had reassembled and were indulging in our mimic dance, Little
      Wound was not allowed to dance. He was considered not to be in existence&mdash;he
      had been killed by our enemies, the Bee tribe. Poor little fellow! His
      swollen face was sad and ashamed as he sat on a fallen log and watched the
      dance. Although he might well have styled himself one of the noble dead
      who had died for their country, yet he was not unmindful that he had
      screamed, and this weakness would be apt to recur to him many times in the
      future.
    </p>
    <p>
      We had some quiet plays which we alternated with the more severe and
      warlike ones. Among them were throwing wands and snow-arrows. In the
      winter we coasted much. We had no &ldquo;double-rippers&rdquo; or toboggans, but six
      or seven of the long ribs of a buffalo, fastened together at the larger
      end, answered all practical purposes. Sometimes a strip of bass-wood bark,
      four feet long and about six inches wide, was used with considerable
      skill. We stood on one end and held the other, using the slippery inside
      of the bark for the outside, and thus coasting down long hills with
      remarkable speed.
    </p>
    <p>
      The spinning of tops was one of the all-absorbing winter sports. We made
      our tops heartshaped of wood, horn or bone. We whipped them with a long
      thong of buckskin. The handle was a stick about a foot long and sometimes
      we whittled the stick to make it spoon-shaped at one end.
    </p>
    <p>
      We played games with these tops&mdash;two to fifty boys at one time. Each
      whips his top until it hums; then one takes the lead and the rest follow
      in a sort of obstacle race. The top must spin all the way through. There
      were bars of snow over which we must pilot our top in the spoon end of our
      whip; then again we would toss it in the air on to another open spot of
      ice or smooth snowcrust from twenty to fifty paces away. The top that
      holds out the longest is the winner.
    </p>
    <p>
      Sometimes we played &ldquo;medicine dance.&rdquo; This, to us, was almost what
      &ldquo;playing church&rdquo; is among white children, but our people seemed to think
      it an act of irreverence to imitate these dances, therefore performances
      of this kind were always enjoyed in secret. We used to observe all the
      important ceremonies and it required something of an actor to reproduce
      the dramatic features of the dance. The real dances occupied a day and a
      night, and the program was long and varied, so that it was not easy to
      execute all the details perfectly; but the Indian children are born
      imitators.
    </p>
    <p>
      The boys built an arbor of pine boughs in some out-of-the-way place and at
      one end of it was a rude lodge. This was the medicine lodge or
      headquarters. All the initiates were there. At the further end or entrance
      were the door-keepers or soldiers, as we called them. The members of each
      lodge entered in a body, standing in single file and facing the
      headquarters. Each stretched out his right hand and a prayer was offered
      by the leader, after which they took the places assigned to them.
    </p>
    <p>
      When the preliminaries had been completed, our leader sounded the big drum
      and we all said &ldquo;A-ho-ho-ho!&rdquo; as a sort of amen. Then the choir began
      their song and whenever they ended a verse, we all said again
      &ldquo;A-ho-ho-ho!&rdquo; At last they struck up the chorus and we all got upon our
      feet and began to dance, by simply lifting up one foot and then the other,
      with a slight swing to the body.
    </p>
    <p>
      Each boy was representing or imitating some one of the medicine men. We
      painted and decorated ourselves just as they did and carried bird or
      squirrel skins, or occasionally live birds and chipmunks as our medicine
      bags and small white shells or pebbles for medicine charms.
    </p>
    <p>
      Then the persons to be initiated were brought in and seated, with much
      ceremony, upon a blanket or buffalo robe. Directly in front of them the
      ground was levelled smooth and here we laid an old pipe filled with dried
      leaves for tobacco. Around it we placed the variously colored feathers of
      the birds we had killed, and cedar and sweetgrass we burned for incense.
    </p>
    <p>
      Finally those of us who had been selected to perform this ceremony
      stretched out our arms at full length, holding the sacred medicine bags
      and aiming them at the new members. After swinging them four times, we
      shot them suddenly forward, but did not let go. The novices then fell
      forward on their faces as if dead. Quickly a chorus was struck up and we
      all joined in a lively dance around the supposed bodies. The girls covered
      them up with their blankets, thus burying the dead. At last we resurrected
      them with our charms and led them to their places among the audience. Then
      came the last general dance and the final feast.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was often selected as choir-master on these occasions, for I had
      happened 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, on
      hearing of these sacrilegious acts (as she called them) warned me that if
      any of the medicine men should discover them, they would punish me
      terribly by shriveling my limbs with slow disease.
    </p>
    <p>
      Occasionally, we also played &ldquo;white man.&rdquo; Our knowledge of the pale-face
      was limited, but we had learned that he brought goods whenever he came and
      that our people exchanged furs for his merchandise. We also knew that his
      complexion was pale, that he had short hair on his head and long hair on
      his face and that he wore coat, trousers, and hat, and did not patronize
      blankets in the daytime. This was the picture we had formed of the white
      man.
    </p>
    <p>
      So we painted two or three of our number with white clay and put on them
      birchen hats which we sewed up for the occasion; fastened a piece of fur
      to their chins for a beard and altered their costumes as much as lay
      within our power. The white of the birch-bark was made to answer for their
      white shirts. Their merchandise consisted of sand for sugar, wild beans
      for coffee, dried leaves for tea, pulverized earth for gun-powder, pebbles
      for bullets and clear water for the dangerous &ldquo;spirit water.&rdquo; We traded
      for these goods with skins of squirrels, rabbits and small birds.
    </p>
    <p>
      When we played &ldquo;hunting buffalo&rdquo; we would send a few good runners off on
      the open prairie with a supply of meat; then start a few equally swift
      boys to chase them and capture the food. Once we were engaged in this
      sport when a real hunt by the men was in progress; yet we did not realize
      that it was so near until, in the midst of our play, we saw an immense
      buffalo coming at full speed directly toward us. Our mimic buffalo hunt
      turned into a very real buffalo scare. Fortunately, we were near the edge
      of the woods and we soon disappeared among the leaves like a covey of
      young prairie-chickens and some hid in the bushes while others took refuge
      in tall trees.
    </p>
    <p>
      We loved to play in the water. When we had no ponies, we often had
      swimming matches of our own and sometimes made rafts with which we crossed
      lakes and rivers. It was a common thing to &ldquo;duck&rdquo; a young or timid boy or
      to carry him into deep water to struggle as best he might.
    </p>
    <p>
      I remember a perilous ride with a companion on an unmanageable log, when
      we were both less than seven years old. The older boys had put us on this
      uncertain bark and pushed us out into the swift current of the river. I
      cannot speak for my comrade in distress, but I can say now that I would
      rather ride on a swift bronco any day than try to stay on and steady a
      short log in a river. I never knew how we managed to prevent a shipwreck
      on that voyage and to reach the shore.
    </p>
    <p>
      We had many curious wild pets. There were young foxes, bears, wolves,
      raccoons, fawns, buffalo calves and birds of all kinds, tamed by various
      boys. My pets were different at different times, but I particularly
      remember one. I once had a grizzly bear for a pet and so far as he and I
      were concerned, our relations were charming and very close. But I hardly
      know whether he made more enemies for me or I for him. It was his habit to
      treat every boy unmercifully who injured me. He was despised for his
      conduct in my interest and I was hated on account of his interference.
    </p>
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    </div>
    <h2>
      II. My Playmates
    </h2>
    <p>
      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 was my
      close companion. He was a handsome boy, and an affectionate comrade. We
      played together, slept together and ate together; and as Chatanna was
      three years the older, I naturally looked up to him as to a superior.
    </p>
    <p>
      Oesedah was a beautiful little character. She was my cousin, and four
      years younger than myself. Perhaps none of my early playmates are more
      vividly remembered than is this little maiden.
    </p>
    <p>
      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 more
      appropriate, hence Oesedah became her common name.
    </p>
    <p>
      Although she had a very good mother, Uncheedah was her efficient teacher
      and chaperon Such knowledge as my grandmother deemed suitable to a maiden
      was duly impressed upon her susceptible mind. When I was not in the woods
      with Chatanna, Oesedah was my companion at home; and when I returned from
      my play at evening, she would have a hundred questions ready for me to
      answer. Some of these were questions concerning our every-day life, and
      others were more difficult problems which had suddenly dawned upon her
      active little mind. Whatever had occurred to interest her during the day
      was immediately repeated for my benefit.
    </p>
    <p>
      There were certain questions upon which Oesedah held me to be authority,
      and asked with the hope of increasing her little store of knowledge. I
      have often heard her declare to her girl companions: &ldquo;I know it is true;
      Ohiyesa said so!&rdquo; Uncheedah was partly responsible for this, for when any
      questions came up which lay within the sphere of man&rsquo;s observation, she
      would say:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ohiyesa ought to know that: he is a man-I am not! You had better ask
      him.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The truth was that she had herself explained to me many of the subjects
      under discussion.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was occasionally referred to little Oesedah in the same manner, and I
      always accepted her childish elucidations of any matter upon which I had
      been advised to consult her, because I knew the source of her wisdom. In
      this simple way we were made to be teachers of one another.
    </p>
    <p>
      Very often we discussed some topic before our common instructor, or
      answered her questions together, in order to show which had the readier
      mind.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;To what tribe does the lizard belong?&rdquo; inquired Uncheedah, upon one of
      these occasions.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;To the four-legged tribe,&rdquo; I shouted.
    </p>
    <p>
      Oesedah, with her usual quickness, flashed out the answer:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It belongs to the creeping tribe.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The Indians divided all animals into four general classes: 1st, those that
      walk upon four legs; 2nd, those that fly; 3rd, those that swim with fins;
      4th, those that creep.
    </p>
    <p>
      Of course I endeavored to support my assertion that the lizard belongs
      where I had placed it, be-. cause he has four distinct legs which propel
      him everywhere, on the ground or in the water. But my opponent claimed
      that the creature under dispute does not walk, but creeps. My strongest
      argument was that it had legs; but Oesedah insisted that its body touches
      the ground as it moves. As a last resort, I volunteered to go find one,
      and demonstrate the point in question.
    </p>
    <p>
      The lizard having been brought, we smoothed off the ground and strewed
      ashes on it so that we could see the track. Then I raised the question:
      &ldquo;What constitutes creeping, and what constitutes walking?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Uncheedah was the judge, and she stated, without any hesitation, that an
      animal must stand clear of the ground on the support of its legs, and walk
      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, regardless of its
      legs, if it has them, drags its body upon the ground. Upon hearing the
      judge&rsquo;s decision, I yielded at once to my opponent.
    </p>
    <p>
      At another time, when I was engaged in a similar discussion with my
      brother Chatanna, Oesedah came to my rescue. Our grandmother had asked us:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What bird shows most judgment in caring for its young?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Chatanna at once exclaimed:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The eagle!&rdquo; but I held my peace for a moment, because I was confused&mdash;so
      many birds came into my mind at once. I finally declared:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It is the oriole!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Chatanna was asked to state all the evidence that he had in support of the
      eagle&rsquo;s good sense in rearing its young. He proceeded with an air of
      confidence:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The eagle is the wisest of all birds. Its nest is made in the safest
      possible place, upon a high and inaccessible cliff. It provides its young
      with an abundance of fresh meat. They have the freshest of air. They are
      brought up under the spell of the grandest scenes, and inspired with lofty
      feelings and bravery. They see that all other beings live beneath them,
      and that they are the children of the King of Birds. A young eagle shows
      the spirit of a warrior while still in the nest.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Being exposed to the inclemency of the weather the young eaglets are
      hardy. They are accustomed to hear the mutterings of the Thunder Bird and
      the sighings of the Great Mystery. Why, the little eagles cannot help
      being as noble as they are, because their parents selected for them so
      lofty and inspiring a home! How happy they must be when they find
      themselves above the clouds, and behold the zigzag flashes of lightning
      all about them! It must be nice to taste a piece of fresh meat up in their
      cool home, in the burning summer-time! Then when they drop down the bones
      of the game they feed upon, wolves and vultures gather beneath them,
      feeding upon their refuse. That alone would show them their chieftainship
      over all the other birds. Isn&rsquo;t that so, grandmother?&rdquo; Thus triumphantly
      he concluded his argument.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was staggered at first by the noble speech of Chatannna, but I soon
      recovered from its effects. The little Oesedah came to my aid by saying:
      &ldquo;Wait until Ohiyesa tells of the loveliness of the beautiful Oriole&rsquo;s
      home!&rdquo; This timely remark gave me courage and I began:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;My grandmother, who was it said that a mother who has a gentle and sweet
      voice will have children of a good disposition? I think the oriole is that
      kind of a parent. It provides both sunshine and shadow for its young. Its
      nest is suspended from the prettiest bough of the most graceful tree,
      where it is rocked by the gentle winds; and the one we found yesterday was
      beautifully lined with soft things, both deep and warm, so that the little
      featherless birdies cannot suffer from the cold and wet.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Here Chatanna interrupted me to exclaim: &ldquo;That is just like the white
      people&mdash;who cares for them? The eagle teaches its young to be
      accustomed to hardships, like young warriors!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Ohiyesa was provoked; he reproached his brother and appealed to the judge,
      saying that he had not finished yet.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But you would not have lived, Chatanna, if you had been exposed like that
      when you were a baby! The oriole shows wisdom in providing for its
      children a good, comfortable home! A home upon a high rock would not be
      pleasant-it would be cold! We climbed a mountain once, and it was cold
      there; and who would care to stay in such a place when it storms? What
      wisdom 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 of starvation. You
      have heard that whoever lives on game killed by some one else is compared
      to an eagle. Isn&rsquo;t that so, grandmother?
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The oriole suspends its nest from the lower side of a horizontal bough so
      that no enemy can approach it. It enjoys peace and beauty and safety.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Oesedah was at Ohiyesa&rsquo;s side during the discussion, and occasionally
      whispered into his ear. Uncheedah decided this time in favor of Ohiyesa.
    </p>
    <p>
      We were once very short of provisions in the winter time. My uncle, our
      only means of support, was sick; and besides, we were separated from the
      rest of the tribe and in a region where there was little game of any kind.
      Oesedah had a pet squirrel, and as soon as we began to economize our food
      had given portions of her allowance to her pet.
    </p>
    <p>
      At last we were reduced very much, and the prospect of obtaining anything
      soon being gloomy, my grandmother reluctantly suggested that the squirrel
      should be killed for food. Thereupon my little cousin cried, and said:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Why cannot we all die alike wanting? The squirrel&rsquo;s life is as dear to
      him as ours to us,&rdquo; and clung to it. Fortunately, relief came in time to
      save her pet.
    </p>
    <p>
      Oesedah lived with us for a portion of the year, and as there were no
      other girls in the family she played much alone, and had many imaginary
      companions. At one time there was a small willow tree which she visited
      regularly, holding long conversations, a part of which she would afterward
      repeat to me. She said the willow tree was her husband, whom some magic
      had compelled to take that form; but no grown person was ever allowed to
      share her secret.
    </p>
    <p>
      When I was about eight years old I had for a playmate the adopted son of a
      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 I first
      became acquainted with him we were on the upper Missouri river. I learned
      from him that he had been taken on the plains, and that both of his
      parents were killed.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was at first sad and lonely, but soon found plenty of consolation in
      his new home. The name of his adopted father was
      &ldquo;Keeps-the-Spotted-Ponies.&rdquo; He was known to have an unusual number of the
      pretty calico ponies; indeed, he had a passion for accumulating property
      in the shape of ponies, painted tents, decorated saddles and all sorts of
      finery. He had lost his only son; but the little pale-face became the
      adopted brother of two handsome young women, his daughters. This made him
      quite popular among the young warriors. He was not slow to adopt the
      Indian customs, and he acquired the Sioux language in a short time.
    </p>
    <p>
      I well remember hearing of his first experience of war. He was not more
      than sixteen when he joined a war-party against the Gros-Ventres and
      Mandans. My uncle reported that he was very brave until he was wounded in
      the ankle; then he begged with tears to be taken back to a safe place.
      Fortunately for him, his adopted father came to the rescue, and saved him
      at the risk of his own life. He was called the &ldquo;pale-face Indian.&rdquo; His
      hair grew very long and he lavished paint on his face and hair so that no
      one might suspect that he was a white man.
    </p>
    <p>
      One day this boy was playing a gambling game with one of the Sioux
      warriors. He was an expert gambler, and won everything from the Indian. At
      a certain point a dispute arose. The Indian was very angry, for he
      discovered that his fellow-player had deliberately cheated him. The
      Indians were strictly honest in those days, even in their gambling.
    </p>
    <p>
      The boy declared that he had merely performed a trick for the benefit of
      his friend, but it nearly cost him his life. The indignant warrior had
      already drawn his bow-string with the intention of shooting the captive,
      but a third person intervened and saved the boy&rsquo;s life. He at once
      explained his trick; and in order to show himself an honorable gambler,
      gave back all the articles that he had won from his opponent. In the midst
      of the confusion, old &ldquo;Keeps-the-Spotted-Ponies&rdquo; came rushing through the
      crowd in a state of great excitement. He thought his pale-face son had
      been killed. When he saw how matters stood, he gave the aggrieved warrior
      a pony, &ldquo;in order,&rdquo; as he said, &ldquo;that there may be no shadow between him
      and my son.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      One spring my uncle took Chatanna to the Canadian trading-post on the
      Assiniboine river, where he went to trade off his furs for ammunition and
      other commodities. When he came back, my brother was not with him!
    </p>
    <p>
      At first my fears were even worse than the reality. The facts were these:
      A Canadian with whom my uncle had traded much had six daughters and no
      son; and when he saw this handsome and intelligent little fellow, he at
      once offered to adopt him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I have no boy in my family,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;and I will deal with him as with a
      son. I am always in these regions trading; so you can see him two or three
      times in a year.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      He further assured my uncle that the possession of the boy would greatly
      strengthen their friendship. The matter was finally agreed upon. At first
      Chatanna was unwilling, but as we were taught to follow the advice of our
      parents and guardians, he was obliged to yield.
    </p>
    <p>
      This was a severe blow to me, and for a long time I could not be consoled.
      Uncheedah was fully in sympathy with my distress. She argued that the
      white man&rsquo;s education was not desirable for her boys; in fact, she urged
      her son so strongly to go back after Chatanna that he promised on his next
      visit to the post to bring him home again.
    </p>
    <p>
      But the trader was a shrewd man. He immediately moved to another part of
      the 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 day
      he lost his way in a blizzard and was frozen to death.
    </p>
    <p>
      My little cousin and I went to school together in later years; but she
      could not endure the confinement of the school-room. Although apparently
      very happy, she suffered greatly from the change to an indoor life, as
      have many of our people, and died six months after our return to the
      United States.
    </p>
    <p>
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      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
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    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      III: The Boy Hunter
    </h2>
    <p>
      IT will be no exaggeration to say that the life of the Indian hunter was a
      life of fascination. From the moment that he lost sight of his rude home
      in the midst of the forest, his untutored mind lost itself in the myriad
      beauties and forces of nature. Yet he never forgot his personal danger
      from some lurking foe or savage beast, however absorbing was his passion
      for the chase.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Indian youth was a born hunter. Every motion, every step expressed an
      inborn dignity and, at the same time, a depth of native caution. His
      moccasined foot fell like the velvet paw of a cat&mdash;noiselessly; his
      glittering black eyes scanned every object that appeared within their
      view. Not a bird, not even a chipmunk, escaped their piercing glance.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was scarcely over three years old when I stood one morning just outside
      our buffalo-skin teepee, with my little bow and arrows in my hand, and
      gazed up among the trees. Suddenly the instinct to chase and kill seized
      me powerfully. Just then a bird flew over my head and then another caught
      my eye, as it balanced itself upon a swaying bough. Everything else was
      forgotten and in that moment I had taken my first step as a hunter.
    </p>
    <p>
      There was almost as much difference between the Indian boys who were
      brought up on the open prairies and those of the woods, as between city
      and country boys. The hunting of the prairie boys was limited and their
      knowledge of natural history imperfect. They were, as a rule, good riders,
      but in all-round physical development much inferior to the red men of the
      forest.
    </p>
    <p>
      Our hunting varied with the season of the year, and the nature of the
      country which was for the time our home. Our chief weapon was the bow and
      arrows, and perhaps, if we were lucky, a knife was possessed by some one
      in the crowd. In the olden times, knives and hatchets were made from bone
      and sharp stones.
    </p>
    <p>
      For fire we used a flint with a spongy piece of dry wood and a stone to
      strike with. Another way of starting fire was for several of the boys to
      sit down in a circle and rub two pieces of dry, spongy wood together, one
      after another, until the wood took fire.
    </p>
    <p>
      We hunted in company a great deal, though it was a common thing for a boy
      to set out for the woods quite alone, and he usually enjoyed himself fully
      as much. Our game consisted mainly of small birds, rabbits, squirrels and
      grouse. Fishing, too, occupied much of our time. We hardly ever 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 were made of wild hemp,
      sinew or horse-hair. We either caught fish with lines, snared or speared
      them, or shot them with bow and arrows. In the fall we charmed them up to
      the surface by gently tickling them with a stick and quickly threw them
      out. We have sometimes dammed the brooks and driven the larger fish into a
      willow basket made for that purpose.
    </p>
    <p>
      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 the
      leaves 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 old
      tree with some scratches on its bark, we concluded that a bear or some
      raccoons must be living there. In that case we did not go any nearer than
      was necessary, but later reported the incident at home. An old deer-track
      would at once bring on a warm discussion as to whether it was the track of
      a buck or a doe. Generally, at noon, we met and compared our game, noting
      at the same time the peculiar characteristics of everything we had killed.
      It was not merely a hunt, for we combined with it the study of animal
      life. We also kept strict account of our game, and thus learned who were
      the best shots among the boys.
    </p>
    <p>
      I am sorry to say that we were merciless toward the birds. We often took
      their eggs and their young ones. My brother Chatanna and I once had a
      disagreeable adventure while bird-hunting. We were accustomed to catch in
      our hands young ducks and geese during the summer, and while doing this we
      happened to find a crane&rsquo;s nest. Of course, we were delighted with our
      good luck. But, as it was already midsummer, the young cranes&mdash;two in
      number&mdash;were rather large and they were a little way from the nest;
      we also observed that the two old cranes were in a swampy place near by;
      but, as it was moulting-time, we did not suppose that they would venture
      on dry land. So we proceeded to chase the young birds; but they were fleet
      runners and it took us some time to come up with them.
    </p>
    <p>
      Meanwhile, the parent birds had heard the cries of their little ones and
      come to their rescue. They were chasing us, while we followed the birds.
      It was really a perilous encounter! Our strong bows finally gained the
      victory in a hand-to-hand struggle with the angry cranes; but after that
      we hardly ever hunted a crane&rsquo;s nest. Almost all birds make some
      resistance when their eggs or young are taken, but they will seldom attack
      man fearlessly.
    </p>
    <p>
      We used to climb large trees for birds of all kinds; but we never
      undertook to get young owls unless they were on the ground. The hooting
      owl especially is a dangerous bird to attack under these circumstances. I
      was once trying to catch a yellow-winged woodpecker in its nest when my
      arm became twisted and lodged in the deep hole so that I could not get it
      out without the aid of a knife; but we were a long way from home and my
      only companion was a deaf mute cousin of mine. I was about fifty feet up
      in the tree, in a very uncomfortable position, but I had to wait there for
      more than an hour before he brought me the knife with which I finally
      released myself.
    </p>
    <p>
      Our devices for trapping small animals were rude, but they were often
      successful. For instance, we used to gather up a peck or so of large,
      sharp-pointed burrs and scatter them in the rabbit&rsquo;s furrow-like path. In
      the morning, we would find the little fellow sitting quietly in his
      tracks, unable to move, for the burrs stuck to his feet.
    </p>
    <p>
      Another way of snaring rabbits and grouse was the following: We made
      nooses of twisted horsehair, which we tied very firmly to the top of a
      limber young tree, then bent the latter down to the track and fastened the
      whole with a slip-knot, after adjusting the noose. When the rabbit runs
      his head through the noose, he pulls the slip-knot and is quickly carried
      up by the spring of the young tree. This is a good plan, for the rabbit is
      out of harm&rsquo;s way as he swings high in the air.
    </p>
    <p>
      Perhaps the most enjoyable of all was the chipmunk hunt. We killed these
      animals at any time of year, but the special time to hunt them was in
      March. After the first thaw, the chipmunks burrow a hole through the snow
      crust and make their first appearance for the season. Sometimes as many as
      fifty will come together and hold a social reunion. These gatherings occur
      early in the morning, from daybreak to about nine o&rsquo;clock.
    </p>
    <p>
      We boys learned this, among other secrets of nature, and got our
      blunt-headed arrows together in good season for the chipmunk expedition.
    </p>
    <p>
      We generally went in groups of six to a dozen or fifteen, to see which
      would get the most. On the evening before, we selected several boys who
      could imitate the chipmunk&rsquo;s call with wild oatstraws and each of these
      provided himself with a supply of straws.
    </p>
    <p>
      The crust will hold the boys nicely at this time of the year. Bright and
      early, they all come together at the appointed place, from which each
      group starts out in a different direction, agreeing to meet somewhere at a
      given position of the sun.
    </p>
    <p>
      My first experience of this kind is still well remembered. It was a fine
      crisp March morning, and the sun had not yet shown himself among the
      distant tree-tops as we hurried along through the ghostly wood. Presently
      we arrived at a place where there were many signs of the animals. Then
      each of us selected a tree and took up his position behind it. The
      chipmunk caller sat upon a log as motionless as he could, and began to
      call.
    </p>
    <p>
      Soon we heard the patter of little feet on the hard snow; then we saw the
      chipmunks approaching from all directions. Some stopped and ran
      experimentally up a tree or a log, as if uncertain of the exact direction
      of the call; others chased one another about.
    </p>
    <p>
      In a few minutes, the chipmunk-caller was besieged with them. Some ran all
      over his person, others under him and still others ran up the tree against
      which he was sitting. Each boy remained immovable until their leader gave
      the signal; then a great shout arose, and the chipmunks in their flight
      all ran up the different trees.
    </p>
    <p>
      Now the shooting-match began. The little creatures seemed to realize their
      hopeless position; they would try again and again to come down the trees
      and flee away from the deadly aim of the youthful hunters. But they were
      shot down very fast; and whenever several of them rushed toward the
      ground, the little red-skin hugged the tree and yelled frantically to
      scare them up again.
    </p>
    <p>
      Each boy shoots always against the trunk of the tree, so that the arrow
      may bound back to him every time; otherwise, when he had shot away all of
      them, he would be helpless, and another, who had cleared his own tree,
      would come and take away his game, so there was warm competition.
      Sometimes a desperate chipmunk would jump from the top of the tree in
      order to escape, which was considered a joke on the boy who lost it and a
      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 sun came
      out and the chipmunks refused to answer the call.
    </p>
    <p>
      When we went out on the prairies we had a different and less lively kind
      of sport. We used to snare with horse-hair and bow-strings all the small
      ground 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 a little
      way from the hole, holding the end of the string. Presently he felt
      something move and pulled in a huge rattlesnake; and to this day, his name
      is &ldquo;Caught-the-Rattlesnake.&rdquo; Very often a boy got a new name in some such
      manner. At another time, we were playing in the woods and found a fawn&rsquo;s
      track. We followed and caught it while asleep; but in the struggle to get
      away, it kicked one boy, who is still called &ldquo;Kicked-by-the-Fawn.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      It became a necessary part of our education to learn to prepare a meal
      while out hunting. It is a fact that most Indians will eat the liver and
      some other portions of large animals raw, but they do not eat fish or
      birds uncooked. Neither will they eat a frog, or an eel. On our boyish
      hunts, we often went on until we found ourselves a long way from our camp,
      when we would kindle a fire and roast a part of our game.
    </p>
    <p>
      Generally we broiled our meat over the coals on a stick. We roasted some
      of it over the open fire. But the best way to cook fish and birds is in
      the ashes, under a big fire. We take the fish fresh from the creek or
      lake, have a good fire on the sand, dig in the sandy ashes and bury it
      deep. The same thing is done in case of a bird, only we wet the feathers
      first. When it is done, the scales or feathers and skin are stripped off
      whole, and the delicious meat retains all its juices and flavor. We pulled
      it off as we ate, leaving the bones undisturbed.
    </p>
    <p>
      Our people had also a method of boiling without pots or kettles. A large
      piece of tripe was thoroughly washed and the ends tied, then suspended
      between four stakes driven into the ground and filled with cold water. The
      meat was then placed in this novel receptacle and boiled by means of the
      addition of red-hot stones.
    </p>
    <p>
      Chatanna was a good hunter. He called the doe and fawn beautifully by
      using a thin leaf of birchbark between two flattened sticks. One morning
      we found the tracks of a doe and fawn who had passed within the hour, for
      the light dew was brushed from the grass.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What shall we do?&rdquo; I asked. &ldquo;Shall we go back to the teepee and tell
      uncle to bring his gun?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;No, no!&rdquo; exclaimed Chatanna. &ldquo;Did not our people kill deer and buffalo
      long 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.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      He had called only a few seconds when the fawn emerged from the thick
      woods and stood before us, prettier than a picture. Then I uttered the
      call, and she threw her tobacco-leaf-like ears toward me, while Chatanna
      threw his lasso. She gave one scream and launched forth into the air,
      almost throwing the boy hunter to the ground. Again and again she flung
      herself desperately into the air, but at last we led her to the nearest
      tree and tied her securely.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;go and get our pets and see what they will do.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      At that time he had a good-sized black bear partly tamed, while I had a
      young red fox and my faithful Ohitika or Brave. I untied Chagoo, the bear,
      and Wanahon, the fox, while Ohitika got up and welcomed me by wagging his
      tail in a dignified way.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Come,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;all three of you. I think we have something you would all
      like to see.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      They seemed to understand me, for Chagoo began to pull his rope with both
      paws, while Wanahon undertook the task of digging up by the roots the
      sapling to which I had tied him.
    </p>
    <p>
      Before we got to the open spot, we already heard Ohitika&rsquo;s joyous bark,
      and the two wild pets began to run, and pulled me along through the
      underbrush. Chagoo soon assumed the utmost precaution and walked as if he
      had splinters in his soles, while Wanahon kept his nose down low and
      sneaked through the trees.
    </p>
    <p>
      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 the motley
      group. The two human rogues looked to her, I presume, just as bad as the
      other three. Chagoo regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and defiance,
      while Wanahon stood as if rooted to the ground, evidently planning how to
      get at her. But Ohitika (Brave), generous Ohitika, his occasional barking
      was only in jest. He did not care to touch the helpless thing.
    </p>
    <p>
      Suddenly the fawn sprang high into the air and then dropped her pretty
      head on the ground.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ohiyesa, the fawn is dead,&rdquo; cried Chatanna. &ldquo;I wanted to keep her.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It is a shame;&rdquo; I chimed in.
    </p>
    <p>
      We five guilty ones came and stood around her helpless form. We all looked
      very sorry; even Chagoo&rsquo;s eyes showed repentance and regret. As for
      Ohitika, he gave two great sighs and then betook himself to a respectful
      distance. Chatanna had two big tears gradually swamping his long, black
      eye-lashes; and I thought it was time to hide my face, for I did not want
      him to look at me.
    </p>
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    </div>
    <h2>
      IV. Hakadah&rsquo;s First Offering
    </h2>
    <p>
      &ldquo;HAKADAH, coowah!&rdquo; was the sonorous call that came from a large teepee in
      the midst of the Indian encampment. In answer to the summons there emerged
      from the woods, which were only a few steps away, a boy, accompanied by a
      splendid black dog. There was little in the appearance of the little
      fellow to distinguish him from the other Sioux boys.
    </p>
    <p>
      He hastened to the tent from which he had been summoned, carrying in his
      hands a bow and arrows gorgeously painted, while the small birds and
      squirrels that he had killed with these weapons dangled from his belt.
    </p>
    <p>
      Within the tent sat two old women, one on each side of the fire. Uncheedah
      was the boy&rsquo;s grandmother, who had brought up the motherless child.
      Wahchewin was only a caller, but she had been invited to remain and assist
      in the first personal offering of Hakadah to the &ldquo;Great Mystery.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      This was a matter which had, for several days, pretty much monopolized
      Uncheedah&rsquo;s mind. It was her custom to see to this when each of her
      children attained the age of eight summers. They had all been celebrated
      as warriors and hunters among their tribe, and she had not hesitated to
      claim for herself a good share of the honors they had achieved, because
      she had brought them early to the notice of the &ldquo;Great Mystery.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      She believed that her influence had helped to regulate and develop the
      characters of her sons to the height of savage nobility and strength of
      manhood.
    </p>
    <p>
      It had been whispered through the teepee village that Uncheedah intended
      to give a feast in honor of her grandchild&rsquo;s first sacrificial offering.
      This was mere speculation, however, for the clearsighted old woman had
      determined to keep this part of the matter secret until the offering
      should be completed, believing that the &ldquo;Great Mystery&rdquo; should be met in
      silence and dignity.
    </p>
    <p>
      The boy came rushing into the lodge, followed by his dog Ohitika who was
      wagging his tail promiscuously, as if to say: &ldquo;Master and I are really
      hunters!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Hakadah breathlessly gave a descriptive narrative of the killing of each
      bird and squirrel as he pulled them off his belt and threw them before his
      grandmother.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;This blunt-headed arrow,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;actually had eyes this morning.
      Before the squirrel can dodge around the tree it strikes him in the head,
      and, as he falls to the ground, my Ohitika is upon him.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      He knelt upon one knee as he talked, his black eyes shining like evening
      stars.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Sit down here,&rdquo; said Uncheedah to the boy; &ldquo;I have something to say to
      you. You see that you are now almost a man. Observe the game you have
      brought me! It will not be long before you will leave me, for a warrior
      must seek opportunities to make him great among his people.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You must endeavor to equal your father and grandfather,&rdquo; she went on.
      &ldquo;They were warriors and feast-makers. But it is not the poor hunter who
      makes many feasts. Do you not remember the &lsquo;Legend of the Feast-Maker,&rsquo; 
      who gave forty feasts in twelve moons? And have you forgotten the story of
      the warrior who sought the will of the Great Mystery? To-day you will make
      your first offering to him.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The concluding sentence fairly dilated the eyes of the young hunter, for
      he felt that a great event was about to occur, in which he would be the
      principal actor. But Uncheedah resumed her speech.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You must give up one of your belongings-whichever is dearest to you&mdash;for
      this is to be a sacrificial offering.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      This somewhat confused the boy; not that he was selfish, but rather
      uncertain as to what would be the most appropriate thing to give. Then,
      too, he supposed that his grandmother referred to his ornaments and
      playthings only. So he volunteered:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I can give up my best bow and arrows, and all the paints I have, and&mdash;and
      my bear&rsquo;s claws necklace, grandmother!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Are these the things dearest to you?&rdquo; she demanded.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Not the bow and arrows, but the paints will be very hard to get, for
      there are no white people near; and the necklace&mdash;it is not easy to
      get one like it again. I will also give up my otterskin head-dress, if you
      think that is not enough.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But think, my boy, you have not yet mentioned the thing that will be a
      pleasant offering to the Great Mystery.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The boy looked into the woman&rsquo;s face with a puzzled expression.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;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 will
      not require a little boy to make him so large a gift. Besides, my uncle
      gave three otter-skins and five eagle-feathers for him and I promised to
      keep him a long while, if the Blackfeet or the Crows do not steal him.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Uncheedah was not fully satisfied with the boy&rsquo;s free offerings. Perhaps
      it had not occurred to him what she really wanted. But Uncheedah knew
      where his affection was vested. His faithful dog, his pet and companion&mdash;Hakadah
      was almost inseparable from the loving beast.
    </p>
    <p>
      She was sure that it would be difficult to obtain his consent to sacrifice
      the animal, but she ventured upon a final appeal.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You must remember,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;that in this offering you will call upon
      him who looks at you from every creation. In the wind you hear him whisper
      to you. He gives his war-whoop in the thunder. He watches you by day with
      his eye, the sun; at night, he gazes upon your sleeping countenance
      through the moon. In short, it is the Mystery of Mysteries, who controls
      all things to whom you will make your first offering. By this act, you
      will ask him to grant to you what he has granted to few men. I know you
      wish to be a great warrior and hunter. I am not prepared to see my Hakadah
      show any cowardice, for the love of possessions is a woman&rsquo;s trait and not
      a brave&rsquo;s.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      During this speech, the boy had been completely aroused to the spirit of
      manliness, and in his excitement was willing to give up anything he had&mdash;even
      his pony! But he was unmindful of his friend and companion, Ohitika, the
      dog! So, scarcely had Uncheedah finished speaking, when he almost shouted:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Grandmother, I will give up any of my possessions for the offering to the
      Great Mystery! You may select what you think will be most pleasing to
      him.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      There were two silent spectators of this little dialogue. One was
      Wahchewin; the other was Ohitika. The woman had been invited to stay,
      although only a neighbor. The dog, by force of habit, had taken up his
      usual 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 very close
      observer of what passed.
    </p>
    <p>
      Had the dog but moved once to attract the attention of his little friend,
      he might have been dissuaded from that impetuous exclamation:
      &ldquo;Grandmother, I will give up any of my possessions!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      It was hard for Uncheedah to tell the boy that he must part with his dog,
      but she was equal to the situation.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Hakadah,&rdquo; she proceeded cautiously, &ldquo;you are a young brave. I know,
      though young, your heart is strong and your courage is great. You will be
      pleased to give up the dearest thing you have for your first offering. 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&mdash;here are four
      bundles of paints and a filled pipe&mdash;let us go to the place.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      When the last words were uttered, Hakadah did not seem to hear them. He
      was simply unable to speak. To a civilized eye, he would have appeared at
      that moment like a little copper statue. His bright black eyes were fast
      melting in floods of tears, when he caught his grandmother&rsquo;s eye and
      recollected her oft-repeated adage: &ldquo;Tears for woman and the war-whoop for
      man to drown sorrow!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      He swallowed two or three big mouthfuls of heart-ache and the little
      warrior was master of the situation.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Grandmother, my Brave will have to die! Let me tie together two of the
      prettiest tails of the squirrels that he and I killed this morning, to
      show to the Great Mystery what a hunter he has been. Let me paint him
      myself.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      This request Uncheedah could not refuse and she left the pair alone for a
      few minutes, while she went to ask Wacoota to execute Ohitika.
    </p>
    <p>
      Every Indian boy knows that, when a warrior is about to meet death, he
      must sing a death dirge. Hakadah thought of his Ohitika as a person who
      would meet his death without a struggle, so he began to sing a dirge for
      him, at the same time hugging him tight to himself. As if he were a human
      being, he whispered in his ear:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Be brave, my Ohitika! I shall remember you the first time I am upon the
      war-path in the Ojibway country.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      At last he heard Uncheedah talking with a man outside the teepee, so he
      quickly took up his paints. Ohitika was a jet-black dog, with a silver tip
      on the end of his tail and on his nose, beside one white paw and a white
      star upon a protuberance between his ears. Hakadah knew that a man who
      prepares for death usually paints with red and black. Nature had partially
      provided Ohitika in this respect, so that only red was required and this
      Hakadah supplied generously.
    </p>
    <p>
      Then he took off a piece of red cloth and tied it around the dog&rsquo;s neck;
      to this he fastened two of the squirrels&rsquo; tails and a wing from the oriole
      they had killed that morning.
    </p>
    <p>
      Just then it occurred to him that good warriors always mourn for their
      departed friends and the usual mourning was black paint. He loosened his
      black braided locks, ground a dead coal, mixed it with bear&rsquo;s oil and
      rubbed it on his entire face.
    </p>
    <p>
      During this time every hole in the tent was occupied with an eye. Among
      the lookers-on was his grandmother. She was very near relenting. Had she
      not feared the wrath of the Great Mystery, she would have been happy to
      call out to the boy: &ldquo;Keep your dear dog, my child!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      As it was, Hakadah came out of the teepee with his face looking like an
      eclipsed moon, leading his beautiful dog, who was even handsomer than ever
      with the red touches on his specks of white.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was now Uncheedah&rsquo;s turn to struggle with the storm and burden in her
      soul. But the boy was emboldened by the people&rsquo;s admiration of his
      bravery, and did not shed a tear. As soon as she was able to speak, the
      loving grandmother said:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;No, my young brave, not so! You must not mourn for your first offering.
      Wash your face and then we will go.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The boy obeyed, submitted Ohitika to Wacoota with a smile, and walked off
      with his grandmother and Wahchewin.
    </p>
    <p>
      They followed a well-beaten foot-path leading along the bank of the
      Assiniboine river, through a beautiful grove of oak, and finally around
      and under a very high cliff. The murmuring of the river came up from just
      below. On the opposite side was a perpendicular white cliff, from which
      extended back a gradual slope of land, clothed with the majestic mountain
      oak. The scene was impressive and wild.
    </p>
    <p>
      Wahchewin had paused without a word when the little party reached the edge
      of the cliff. It had been arranged between her and Uncheedah that she
      should wait there for Wacoota, who was to bring as far as that the portion
      of the offering with which he had been entrusted.
    </p>
    <p>
      The boy and his grandmother descended the bank, following a tortuous
      foot-path until they reached the water&rsquo;s edge. Then they proceeded to the
      mouth of an immense cave, some fifty feet above the river, under the
      cliff. A little stream of limpid water trickled down from a spring within
      the cave. The little watercourse served as a sort of natural staircase for
      the visitors. A cool, pleasant atmosphere exhaled from the mouth of the
      cavern. Really it was a shrine of nature and it is not strange that it was
      so regarded by the tribe.
    </p>
    <p>
      A feeling of awe and reverence came to the boy. &ldquo;It is the home of the
      Great Mystery,&rdquo; he thought to himself; and the impressiveness of his
      surroundings made him forget his sorrow.
    </p>
    <p>
      Very soon Wahchewin came with some difficulty to the steps. She placed the
      body of Ohitika upon the ground in a life-like position and again left the
      two alone.
    </p>
    <p>
      As soon as she disappeared from view, Uncheedah, with all solemnity and
      reverence, unfastened the leather strings that held the four small bundles
      of paints and one of tobacco, while the filled pipe was laid beside the
      dead Ohitika.
    </p>
    <p>
      She scattered paints and tobacco all about. Again they stood a few moments
      silently; then she drew a deep breath and began her prayer to the Great
      Mystery:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;O, Great Mystery, we hear thy voice in the rushing waters below us! We
      hear thy whisper in the great oaks above! Our spirits are refreshed with
      thy breath from within this cave. O, hear our prayer! Behold this little
      boy and bless him! Make him a warrior and a hunter as great as thou didst
      make his father and grandfather.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      And with this prayer the little warrior had completed his first offering.
    </p>
    <p>
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      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      V. FAMILY TRADITIONS
    </h2>
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    <h2>
      I: A Visit to Smoky Day
    </h2>
    <p>
      SMOKY DAY was widely known among us as a preserver of history and legend.
      He was a living book of the traditions and history of his people. Among
      his effects were bundles of small sticks, notched and painted. One bundle
      contained the number of his own years. Another was composed of sticks
      representing the important events of history, each of which was marked
      with the number of years since that particular event occurred. For
      instance, there was the year when so many stars fell from the sky, with
      the number of years since it happened cut into the wood. Another recorded
      the appearance of a comet; and from these heavenly wonders the great
      national catastrophes and victories were reckoned.
    </p>
    <p>
      But I will try to repeat some of his favorite narratives as I heard them
      from his own lips. I went to him one day with a piece of tobacco and an
      eagle-feather; not to buy his MSS., but hoping for the privilege of
      hearing him tell of some of the brave deeds of our people in remote times.
    </p>
    <p>
      The tall and large old man greeted me with his usual courtesy and thanked
      me for my present. As I recall the meeting, I well remember his unusual
      stature, his slow speech and gracious manner.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ah, Ohiyesa!&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;my young warrior&mdash;for such you will be some
      day! I know this by your seeking to hear of the great deeds of your
      ancestors. That is a good sign, and I love to repeat these stories to one
      who is destined to be a brave man. I do not wish to lull you to sleep with
      sweet words; but I know the conduct of your paternal ancestors. They have
      been and are still among the bravest of our tribe. To prove this, I will
      relate what happened in your paternal grandfather&rsquo;s family, twenty years
      ago.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Two of his brothers were murdered by a jealous young man of their own
      band. The deed was committed without just cause; therefore all the braves
      were agreed to punish the murderer with death. When your grandfather was
      approached with this suggestion, he replied that he and the remaining
      brothers could not condescend to spill the blood of such a wretch, but
      that the others might do whatever they thought just with the young man.
      These men were foremost among the warriors of the Sioux, and no one
      questioned their courage; yet when this calamity was brought upon them by
      a villain, they refused to touch him! This, my boy, is a test of true
      bravery. Self-possession and self-control at such a moment is proof of a
      strong heart.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You have heard of Jingling Thunder the elder, whose brave deeds are well
      known to the Villagers of the Lakes. He sought honor &lsquo;in the gates of the
      enemy,&rsquo; as we often say. The Great Mystery was especially kind to him,
      because he was obedient.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Many winters ago there was a great battle, in which Jingling Thunder won
      his first honors. It was forty winters before the falling of many stars,
      which event occurred twenty winters after the coming of the black-robed
      white priest; and that was fourteen winters before the annihilation by our
      people of thirty lodges of the Sac and Fox Indians. I well remember the
      latter event&mdash;it was just fifty winters ago. However, I will count my
      sticks again.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      So saying, Smoky Day produced his bundle of variously colored sticks,
      about five inches long. He counted and gave them to me to verify his
      calculation.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But you,&rdquo; he resumed, &ldquo;do not care to remember the winters that have
      passed. You are young, and care only for the event and the deed. It was
      very many years ago that this thing happened that I am about to tell you,
      and yet our people speak of it with as much enthusiasm as if it were only
      yesterday. Our heroes are always kept alive in the minds of the nation.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Our people lived then on the east bank of the Mississippi, a little south
      of where Imnejah-skah, or White Cliff (St. Paul, Minnesota), now stands.
      After they left Mille Lacs they founded several villages, but finally
      settled in this spot, whence the tribes have gradually dispersed. Here a
      battle occurred which surpassed all others in history. It lasted one whole
      day&mdash;the Sacs and Foxes and the Dakotas against the Ojibways.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;An invitation in the usual form of a filled pipe was brought to the Sioux
      by a brave of the Sac and Fox tribe, to make a general attack upon their
      common enemy. The Dakota braves quickly signified their willingness in the
      same manner, and it having been agreed to meet upon the St. Croix river,
      preparations were immediately begun to despatch a large war-party.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Among our people there were many tried warriors whose names were known,
      and every youth of a suitable age was desirous of emulating them. As these
      young novices issued from every camp and almost every teepee, their
      mothers, sisters, grandfathers and grandmothers were singing for them the
      &lsquo;strong-heart&rsquo; songs. An old woman, living with her only grandchild, the
      remnant of a once large band who had all been killed at three different
      times by different parties of the Ojibways, was conspicuous among the
      singers.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Everyone who heard, cast toward her a sympathetic glance, for it was well
      known that she and her grandson constituted the remnant of a band of
      Sioux, and that her song indicated that her precious child had attained
      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 was Jingling
      Thunder, also familiarly known as &lsquo;The Little Last.&rsquo; He was seen to carry
      with him some family relics in the shape of war-clubs and lances.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The aged woman&rsquo;s song was something like this:
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
    &ldquo;Go, my brave Jingling Thunder!
    Upon the silvery path
    Behold that glittering track&mdash;

    &ldquo;And yet, my child, remember
    How pitiful to live
    Survivor of the young!
    &lsquo;Stablish our name and kin!&rdquo;
 </pre>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The Sacs and Foxes were very daring and confident upon this occasion.
      They proposed to the Sioux that they should engage alone with the enemy at
      first, and let us see how their braves can fight! To this our people
      assented, and they assembled upon the hills to watch the struggle between
      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. Young Jingling Thunder
      was an impatient spectator, and it was The Milky Way&mdash;believed by the
      Dakotas to be the road travelled by the spirits of departed braves hard to
      keep him from rushing forward to meet his foes.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;At last a great shout went up, and the Sacs and Foxes were seen to be
      retreating with heavy loss. Then the Sioux took the field, and were fast
      winning the day, when fresh reinforcements came from the north for the
      Ojibways. Up to this time Jingling Thunder had been among the foremost in
      the battle, and had engaged in several close encounters. But this fresh
      attack of the Ojibways was unexpected, and the Sioux were somewhat tired.
      Besides, they had told the Sacs and Foxes to sit upon the hills and rest
      their weary limbs and take lessons from their friends the Sioux; therefore
      no aid was looked for from any quarter.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;A great Ojibway chief made a fierce onslaught on the Dakotas. This man
      Jingling Thunder now rushed forward to meet. The Ojibway boastfully
      shouted to his warriors that he had met a tender fawn and would reserve to
      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.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The powerful man flashed his tomahawk in the air over the youthful
      warrior&rsquo;s head, but the brave sprang aside as quick as lightning, and in
      the same instant speared his enemy to the heart. As the Ojibway chief gave
      a gasping yell and fell in death, his people lost courage; while the
      success of the brave Jingling Thunder strengthened the hearts of the
      Sioux, for they immediately followed up their advantage and drove the
      enemy out of their territory.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;This was the beginning of Jingling Thunder&rsquo;s career as a warrior. He
      afterwards performed even greater acts of valor. He became the ancestor of
      a famous band of the Sioux, of whom your own father, Ohiyesa, was a
      member. You have doubtless heard his name in connection with many great
      events. Yet he was a patient man, and was never known to quarrel with one
      of his own nation.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      That night I lay awake a long time committing to memory the tradition I
      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:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I would rather have Weyuhah for my teacher. I think he remembers more
      than any of the others. When Weyuhah tells about a battle you can see it
      yourself; you can even hear the war-whoop,&rdquo; he went on with much
      enthusiasm.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;That is what his friends say of him; but those who are not his friends
      say that he brings many warriors into the battle who were not there,&rdquo; I
      answered indignantly, for I could not admit that old Smoky Day could have
      a rival.
    </p>
    <p>
      Before I went to him again Uncheedah had thoughtfully prepared a nice
      venison roast for the teacher, and I was proud to take him something good
      to eat before beginning his story.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;How,&rdquo; was his greeting, &ldquo;so you have begun already, Ohiyesa? Your family
      were ever feastmakers as well as warriors.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Having done justice to the tender meat, he wiped his knife by sticking it
      into the ground several times, and put it away in its sheath, after which
      he cheerfully recommenced:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It came to pass not many winters ago that Wakinyan-tonka, the great
      medicine man, had a vision; whereupon a war-party set out for the Ojibway
      country. There were three brothers of your family among them, all of whom
      were noted for valor and the chase.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Seven battles were fought in succession before they turned to come back.
      They had secured a number of the enemy&rsquo;s birch canoes, and the whole party
      came floating down the Mississippi, joyous and happy because of their
      success.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But one night the war-chief announced that there was misfortune at hand.
      The next day no one was willing to lead the fleet. The youngest of the
      three brothers finally declared that he did not fear death, for it comes
      when least expected and he volunteered to take the lead.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It happened that this young man had left a pretty maiden behind him,
      whose choice needlework adorned his quiver. He was very handsome as well
      as brave.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;At daybreak the canoes were again launched upon the bosom of the great
      river. All was quiet&mdash;a few birds beginning to sing. Just as the sun
      peeped through the eastern tree-tops a great warcry came forth from the
      near shores, and there was a rain of arrows. The birchen canoes were
      pierced, and in the excitement many were capsized.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The Sioux were at a disadvantage. There was no shelter. Their bow-strings
      and the feathers on their arrows were wet. The bold Ojibways saw their
      advantage and pressed closer and closer; but our men fought desperately,
      half in and half out of the water, until the enemy was forced at last to
      retreat. Nevertheless that was a sad day for the Wahpeton Sioux; but
      saddest of all was Winona&rsquo;s fate!
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Morning Star, her lover, who led the canoe fleet that morning, was among
      the slain. For two days the Sioux braves searched in the water for their
      dead, but his body was not recovered.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;At home, meanwhile, the people had been alarmed by ill omens. Winona,
      eldest daughter of the great chief, one day entered her birch canoe alone
      and paddled up the Mississippi, gazing now into the water around her, now
      into the blue sky above. She thought she heard some young men giving
      courtship calls in the distance, just as they do at night when approaching
      the teepee of the beloved; and she knew the voice of Morning Star well!
      Surely she could distinguish his call among the others! Therefore she
      listened yet more intently, and looked skyward as her light canoe glided
      gently up stream.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ah, poor Winona! She saw only six sandhill cranes, looking no larger than
      mosquitoes, as they flew in circles high up in the sky, going east where
      all spirits go. Something said to her: &lsquo;Those are the spirits of some of
      the Sioux braves, and Morning Star is among them!&rsquo; Her eye followed the
      birds as they traveled in a chain of circles.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Suddenly she glanced downward. &lsquo;What is this?&rsquo; she screamed in despair.
      It was Morning Star&rsquo;s body, floating down the river; his quiver, worked by
      her own hands and now dyed with his blood, lay upon the surface of the
      water.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;Ah, Great Mystery! why do you punish a poor girl so? Let me go with the
      spirit of Morning Star!&rsquo; 
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It was evening. The pale moon arose in the east and the stars were
      bright. At this very hour the news of the disaster was brought home by a
      returning scout, and the village was plunged in grief, but Winona&rsquo;s spirit
      had flown away. No one ever saw her again.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;This is enough for to-day, my boy. You may come again to-morrow.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
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    </div>
    <h2>
      II. The Stone Boy
    </h2>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ho, mita koda!&rdquo; (welcome, friend!) was Smoky Day&rsquo;s greeting, as I entered
      his lodge on the third day. &ldquo;I hope you did not dream of a watery combat
      with the Ojibways, after the history I repeated to you yesterday,&rdquo; the old
      sage continued, with a complaisant smile playing upon his face.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; I said, meekly, &ldquo;but, on the other hand, I have wished that the sun
      might travel a little faster, so that I could come for another story.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, this time I will tell you one of the kind we call myths or fairy
      stories. They are about men and women who do wonderful things&mdash;things
      that ordinary people cannot do at all. Sometimes they are not exactly
      human beings, for they partake of the nature of men and beasts, or of men
      and gods. I tell you this beforehand, so that you may not ask any
      questions, or be puzzled by the inconsistency of the actors in these old
      stories.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Once there were ten brothers who lived with their only sister, a young
      maiden of sixteen summers. She was very skilful at her embroidery, and her
      brothers all had beautifully worked quivers and bows embossed with
      porcupine quills. They loved and were kind to her, and the maiden in her
      turn loved her brothers dearly, and was content with her position as their
      housekeeper. They were great hunters, and scarcely ever remained at home
      during the day, but when they returned at evening they would relate to her
      all their adventures.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;One night they came home one by one with their game, as usual, all but
      the eldest, who did not return. It was supposed by the other brothers that
      he had pursued a deer too far from the lodge, or perhaps shot more game
      than he could well carry; but the sister had a presentiment that something
      dreadful had befallen him. She was partially consoled by the second
      brother, who offered to find the lost one in the morning.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Accordingly, he went in search of him, while the rest set out on the hunt
      as usual. Toward evening all had returned safely, save the brother who
      went in search of the absent. Again, the next older brother went to look
      for the others, and he too returned no more. All the young men disappeared
      one by one in this manner, leaving their sister alone.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The maiden&rsquo;s sorrow was very great. She wandered everywhere, weeping and
      looking for her brothers, but found no trace of them. One day she was
      walking beside a beautiful little stream, whose clear waters went laughing
      and singing on their way. She could see the gleaming pebbles at the
      bottom, and one in particular seemed so lovely to her tear-bedimmed eyes,
      that she stooped and picked it up, dropping it within her skin garment
      into her bosom. For the first time since her misfortunes she had forgotten
      herself and her sorrow.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;At last she went home, much happier than she had been, though she could
      not have told the reason why. On the following day she sought again the
      place where she had found the pebble, and this time she fell asleep on the
      banks of the stream, When she awoke, there lay a beautiful babe in her
      bosom.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;She took it up and kissed it many times. And the child was a boy, but it
      was heavy like a stone, so she called him a &lsquo;Little Stone Boy.&rsquo; The maiden
      cried no more, for she was very happy with her baby. The child was
      unusually knowing, and walked almost from its birth.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;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:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;Wait, my son, until you are a young man.&rsquo; She made him some little ones,
      and with these he soon learned to hunt, and killed small game enough to
      support them both. When he had grown to be a big boy, he insisted upon
      knowing whose were the ten bows that still hung upon the walls of his
      mother&rsquo;s lodge.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;At last she was obliged to tell him the sad story of her loss.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;Mother, I shall go in search of my uncles,&rsquo; exclaimed the Stone Boy.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;But you will be lost like them,&rsquo; she replied, &lsquo;and then I shall die of
      grief.&rsquo; 
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;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 upon end.
      Watch this, for as long as I am living the pillow will stay as I put it.
      Mother, give me some food and some moccasins with which to travel!&rsquo; 
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;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 to every
      animal he met, asking for news of his lost uncles. Sometimes he called to
      them at the top of his voice. Once he thought he heard an answer, so he
      walked in the direction of the sound. But it was only a great grizzly bear
      who had wantonly mimicked the boy&rsquo;s call. Then Stone Boy was greatly
      provoked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;Was it you who answered my call, you longface?&rsquo; he exclaimed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Upon this the latter growled and said:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;You had better be careful how you address me, or you may be sorry for
      what you say!&rsquo; 
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;Who cares for you, you red-eyes, you ugly thing!&rsquo; the boy replied;
      whereupon the grizzly immediately set upon him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But the boy&rsquo;s flesh became as hard as stone, and the bear&rsquo;s great teeth
      and 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, which greatly
      aggravated the bear. Finally Stone Boy pushed him aside and sent an arrow
      to his heart.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He walked on for some distance until he came to a huge fallen pine tree,
      which had evidently been killed by lightning. The ground near by bore
      marks of a struggle, and Stone Boy picked up several arrows exactly like
      those of his uncles, which he himself carried.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;While he was examining these things, he heard a sound like that of a
      whirlwind, far up in the heavens. He looked up and saw a black speck which
      grew rapidly larger until it became a dense cloud. Out of it came a flash
      and then a thunderbolt. The boy was obliged to wink; and when he opened
      his eyes, behold! a stately man stood before him and challenged him to
      single combat.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Stone Boy accepted the challenge and they grappled with one another. The
      man from the clouds was gigantic in stature and very powerful. But Stone
      Boy was both strong and unnaturally heavy and hard to hold. The great
      warrior from the sky sweated from his exertions, and there came a heavy
      shower. Again and again the lightnings flashed about them as the two
      struggled there. At last Stone Boy threw his opponent, who lay motionless.
      There was a murmuring sound throughout the heavens and the clouds rolled
      swiftly away.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;Now,&rsquo; thought the hero, &lsquo;this man must have slain all my uncles. I shall
      go to his home and find out what has become of them.&rsquo; With this he
      unfastened from the dead man&rsquo;s scalp-lock a beautiful bit of scarlet down.
      He breathed gently upon it, and as it floated upward he followed into the
      blue heavens.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Away went Stone Boy to the country of the Thunder Birds. It was a
      beautiful land, with lakes, rivers, plains and mountains. The young
      adventurer found himself looking down from the top of a high mountain, and
      the country appeared to be very populous, for he saw lodges all about him
      as far as the eye could reach. He particularly noticed a majestic tree
      which towered above all the others, and in its bushy top bore an enormous
      nest. Stone Boy descended from the mountain and soon arrived at the foot
      of the tree; but there were no limbs except those at the top and it was so
      tall that he did not attempt to climb it. He simply took out his bit of
      down, breathed upon it and floated gently upward.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;When he was able to look into the nest he saw there innumerable eggs of
      various sizes, and all of a remarkable red color. He was nothing but a boy
      after all, and had all a boy&rsquo;s curiosity and recklessness. As he was
      handling the eggs carelessly, his notice was attracted to a sudden
      confusion in the little village below. All of the people seemed to be
      running toward the tree. He mischievously threw an egg at them, and in the
      instant that it broke he saw one of the men drop dead. Then all began to
      cry out pitifully, &lsquo;Give me my heart!&rsquo; 
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;Ah,&rsquo; exclaimed Stone Boy, exulting,&rsquo; so these are the hearts of the
      people who destroyed my uncles! I shall break them all!&rsquo; 
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And he really did break all of the eggs but four small ones which he took
      in his hand. Then he descended the tree, and wandered among the silent and
      deserted lodges in search of some trace of his lost uncles. He found four
      little boys, the sole survivors of their race, and these he commanded to
      tell him where their bones were laid.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;They showed him the spot where a heap of bones was bleaching on the
      ground. Then he bade one of the boys bring wood, a second water, a third
      stones, 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 the stones
      and collected within the lodge all the bones of his ten uncles.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;As he poured the water upon the hot stones faint sounds could be heard
      from within the magic bath. These changed to the murmuring of voices, and
      finally to the singing of medicine songs. Stone Boy opened the door and
      his ten uncles came forth in the flesh, thanking him and blessing him for
      restoring them to life. Only the little finger of the youngest uncle was
      missing. Stone Boy now heartlessly broke the four remaining eggs, and took
      the little finger of the largest boy to supply the missing bone.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;They all returned to earth again and Stone Boy conducted his uncles to
      his mother&rsquo;s lodge. She had never slept during his entire absence, but
      watched incessantly the pillow upon which her boy was wont to rest his
      head, and by which she was to know of his safety. Going a little in
      advance of the others, he suddenly rushed forward into her teepee,
      exclaiming: &lsquo;Mother, your ten brothers are coming&mdash;prepare a feast!&rsquo; 
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;For some time after this they all lived happily together. Stone Boy
      occupied himself with solitary hunting. He was particularly fond of
      hunting the fiercer wild animals. He killed them wantonly and brought home
      only the ears, teeth and claws as his spoil, and with these he played as
      he laughingly recounted his exploits. His mother and uncles protested, and
      begged him at least to spare the lives of those animals held sacred by the
      Dakotas, but Stone Boy relied upon his supernatural powers to protect him
      from harm.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;One evening, however, he was noticeably silent and upon being pressed to
      give the reason, replied as follows:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;For some days past I have heard the animals talking of a conspiracy
      against us. I was going west the other morning when I heard a crier
      announcing a general war upon Stone Boy and his people. The crier was a
      Buffalo, going at full speed from west to east. Again, I heard the Beaver
      conversing with the Musk-rat, and both said that their services were
      already promised to overflow the lakes and rivers and cause a destructive
      flood. I heard, also, the little Swallow holding a secret council with all
      the birds of the air. He said that he had been appointed a messenger to
      the Thunder Birds, and that at a certain signal the doors of the sky would
      be opened and rains descend to drown Stone Boy. Old Badger and the Grizzly
      Bear are appointed to burrow underneath our fortifications.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;However, I am not at all afraid for myself, but I am anxious for you,
      Mother, and for my uncles.&rsquo; 
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;Ugh!&rsquo; grunted all the uncles, &lsquo;we told you that you would get into
      trouble by killing so many of our sacred animals for your own amusement.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;But,&rsquo; continued Stone Boy, &lsquo;I shall make a good resistance, and I expect
      you all to help me.&rsquo; 
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Accordingly they all worked under his direction in preparing for the
      defence. First of all, he threw a pebble into the air, and behold a great
      rocky wall around their teepee. A second, third, fourth and fifth pebble
      became other walls without the first. From the sixth and seventh were
      formed two stone lodges, one upon the other. The uncles meantime, made
      numbers of bows and quivers full of arrows, which were ranged at
      convenient distances along the tops of the walls. His mother prepared
      great quantities of food and made many moccasins for her boy, who declared
      that he would defend the fortress alone.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;At last they saw the army of beasts advancing, each tribe by itself and
      commanded by a leader of extraordinary size. The onset was terrific. They
      flung themselves against the high walls with savage cries, while the
      badgers and other burrowing animals ceaselessly worked to undermine them.
      Stone Boy aimed his sharp arrows with such deadly effect that his enemies
      fell by thousands. So great was their loss that the dead bodies of the
      animals formed a barrier higher than the first, and the armies retired in
      confusion.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But reinforcements were at hand. The rain fell in torrents; the beavers
      had dammed all the rivers and there was a great flood. The besieged all
      retreated into the innermost lodge, but the water poured in through the
      burrows made by the badgers and gophers, and rose until Stone Boy&rsquo;s mother
      and his ten uncles were all drowned. Stone Boy himself could not be
      entirely destroyed, but he was overcome by his enemies and left half
      buried in the earth, condemned never to walk again, and there we find him
      to this day.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;This was because he abused his strength, and destroyed for mere amusement
      the lives of the creatures given him for use only.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016">
      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      VI. EVENING IN THE LODGE
    </h2>
    <p>
      <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017">
      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      I: Evening in the Lodge
    </h2>
    <p>
      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 it
      must have been intensely so, for the trees were cracking all about me like
      pistol shots. I did not mind, because I was wrapped up in my buffalo robe
      with the hair inside, and a wide leather belt held it about my loins. My
      skates were nothing more than strips of basswood bark bound upon my feet.
    </p>
    <p>
      I had taken off my frozen moccasins and put on dry ones in their places.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Where have you been and what have you been doing?&rdquo; Uncheedah asked as she
      placed before me some roast venison in a wooden bowl. &ldquo;Did you see any
      tracks of moose or bear?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;No, grandmother, I have only been playing at the lower end of the lake. I
      have something to ask you,&rdquo; I said, eating my dinner and supper together
      with all the relish of a hungry boy who has been skating in the cold for
      half a day.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I found this feather, grandmother, and I could not make out what tribe
      wear feathers in that shape.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ugh, I am not a man; you had better ask your uncle. Besides, you should
      know it yourself by this time. You are now old enough to think about eagle
      feathers.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I felt mortified by this reminder of my ignorance. It seemed a reflection
      on me that I was not ambitious enough to have found all such matters out
      before.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Uncle, you will tell me, won&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; I said, in an appealing tone.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I am surprised, my boy, that you should fail to recognize this feather.
      It is a Cree medicine feather, and not a warrior&rsquo;s.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; I said, with much embarrassment, &ldquo;you had better tell me again,
      uncle, the language of the feathers. I have really forgotten it all.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      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&rsquo;s
      industry had provided. My uncle, White Foot-print, now undertook to
      explain to me the significance of the eagle&rsquo;s feather.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The eagle is the most war-like bird,&rdquo; he began, &ldquo;and the most kingly of
      all birds; besides, his feathers are unlike any others, and these are the
      reasons why they are used by our people to signify deeds of bravery.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It is not true that when a man wears a feather bonnet, each one of the
      feathers represents the killing of a foe or even a coup. When a man wears
      an eagle feather upright upon his head, he is supposed to have counted one
      of four coups upon his enemy.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, then, a coup does not mean the killing of an enemy?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;No, it is the after-stroke or touching of the body after he falls. It is
      so ordered, because oftentimes the touching of an enemy is much more
      difficult to accomplish than the shooting of one from a distance. It
      requires a strong heart to face the whole body of the enemy, in order to
      count the coup on the fallen one, who lies under cover of his kinsmen&rsquo;s
      fire. Many a brave man has been lost in the attempt.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;When a warrior approaches his foe, dead or alive, he calls upon the other
      warriors to witness by saying: &lsquo;I, Fearless Bear, your brave, again
      perform the brave deed of counting the first (or second or third or
      fourth) coup upon the body of the bravest of your enemies.&rsquo; Naturally,
      those who are present will see the act and be able to testify to it. When
      they return, the heralds, as you know, announce publicly all such deeds of
      valor, which then become a part of the man&rsquo;s war record. Any brave who
      would wear the eagle&rsquo;s feather must give proof of his right to do so.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;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 no
      count, he trims his feather and in that case, it need not be an eagle
      feather. All other feathers are merely ornaments. When a warrior wears a
      feather with a round mark, it means that he slew his enemy. When the mark
      is cut into the feather and painted red, it means that he took the scalp.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;A brave who has been successful in ten battles is entitled to a
      war-bonnet; and if he is a recognized leader, he is permitted to wear one
      with long, trailing plumes. Also those who have counted many coups may 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; that means the wearer
      had the honor of killing, scalping and counting the first coup upon the
      enemy all at the same time.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;This feather you have found was worn by a Cree&mdash;it is
      indiscriminately painted. All other feathers worn by the common Indians
      mean nothing,&rdquo; he added.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Tell me, uncle, whether it would be proper for me to wear any feathers at
      all if I have never gone upon the war-path.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You could wear any other kind of feathers, but not an eagle&rsquo;s,&rdquo; replied
      my uncle, &ldquo;although sometimes one is worn on great occasions by the child
      of a noted man, to indicate the father&rsquo;s dignity and position.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The fire had gone down somewhat, so I pushed the embers together and
      wrapped my robe more closely about me. Now and then the ice on the lake
      would burst with a loud report like thunder. Uncheedah was busy
      re-stringing one of uncle&rsquo;s old snow-shoes. There were two different kinds
      that he wore; one with a straight toe and long; the other shorter and 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 strings and
      tightened the others. Aunt Four Stars was beading a new pair of moccasins.
    </p>
    <p>
      Wabeda, the dog, the companion of my boyhood days, was in trouble because
      he insisted upon bringing his extra bone into the teepee, while Uncheedah
      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 snow outside, I knew
      Shunktokecha (the coyote) would surely steal it. I knew just how anxious
      Wabeda was about his bone. It was a fat bone&mdash;I mean a bone of a fat
      deer; and all Indians know how much better they are than the other kind.
    </p>
    <p>
      Wabeda always hated to see a good thing go to waste. His eyes spoke words
      to me, for he and I had been friends for a long time. When I was afraid of
      anything in the woods, he would get in front of me at once and gently wag
      his tail. He always made it a point to look directly in my face. His kind,
      large eyes gave me a thousand assurances. When I was perplexed, 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.
    </p>
    <p>
      Most animals, even the dangerous grizzly, do not care to be seen when the
      two-legged kind and his dog are about. When I feared a surprise by a bear
      or a grey wolf, I would say to Wabeda: &ldquo;Now, my dog, give your war-whoop:&rdquo;
       and immediately he would sit up on his haunches and bark &ldquo;to beat the
      band&rdquo; as you white boys say. When a bear or wolf heard the noise, he would
      be apt to retreat.
    </p>
    <p>
      Sometimes I helped Wabeda and gave a warwhoop of my own. This drove the
      deer away as well, but it relieved my mind.
    </p>
    <p>
      When he appealed to me on this occasion, therefore, I said: &ldquo;Come, my dog,
      let us bury your bone so that no Shunktokecha will take it.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      He appeared satisfied with my suggestion, so we went out together.
    </p>
    <p>
      We dug in the snow and buried our bone wrapped up in a piece of old
      blanket, partly burned; then we covered it up again with snow. We knew
      that the coyote would not touch anything burnt. I did not put it up a tree
      because Wabeda always objected to that, and I made it a point to consult
      his wishes whenever I could.
    </p>
    <p>
      I came in and Wabeda followed me with two short rib bones in his mouth.
      Apparently he did not care to risk those delicacies.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;There,&rdquo; exclaimed Uncheedah, &ldquo;you still insist upon bringing in some sort
      of bone!&rdquo; but I begged her to let him gnaw them inside because it was so
      cold. Having been granted this privilege, he settled himself at my back
      and I became absorbed in some specially nice arrows that uncle was making.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;O, uncle, you must put on three feathers to all of them so that they can
      fly straight,&rdquo; I suggested.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, but if there are only two feathers, they will fly faster,&rdquo; he
      answered.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Woow!&rdquo; Wabeda uttered his suspicions.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Woow!&rdquo; he said again, and rushed for the entrance of the teepee. He
      kicked me over as he went and scattered the burning embers.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;En na he na!&rdquo; Uncheedah exclaimed, but he was already outside.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Wow, wow, wow! Wow, Wow, wow!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      A deep guttural voice answered him.
    </p>
    <p>
      Out I rushed with my bow and arrows in my hand.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Come, uncle, come! A big cinnamon bear!&rdquo; I shouted as I emerged from the
      teepee.
    </p>
    <p>
      Uncle sprang out and in a moment he had sent a swift arrow through the
      bear&rsquo;s heart. The animal fell dead. He had just begun to dig up Wabeda&rsquo;s
      bone, when the dog&rsquo;s quick ear had heard the sound.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ah, uncle, Wabeda and I ought to have at least a little eaglet&rsquo;s feather
      for this. I too sent my small arrow into the bear before he fell,&rdquo; I
      exclaimed. &ldquo;But I thought all bears ought to be in their lodges in the
      winter time. What was this one doing at this time of the year and night?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said my uncle, &ldquo;I will tell you. Among the tribes, some are
      naturally lazy. The cinnamon bear is the lazy one of his tribe. He alone
      sleeps out of doors in the winter and because he has not a warm bed, he is
      soon hungry. Sometimes he lives in the hollow trunk of a tree, where he
      has made a bed of dry grass; but when the night is very cold, like
      to-night, he has to move about to keep himself from freezing and as he
      prowls around, he gets hungry.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      We dragged the huge carcass within our lodge. &ldquo;O, what nice claws he has,
      uncle!&rdquo; I exclaimed eagerly. &ldquo;Can I have them for my necklace?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It is only the old medicine men who wear them regularly. The son of a
      great warrior who has killed a grizzly may wear them upon a public
      occasion,&rdquo; he explained.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And you are just like my father and are considered the best hunter among
      the Santees and Sissetons. You have killed many grizzlies so that no one
      can object to my bear&rsquo;s-claws necklace,&rdquo; I said appealingly.
    </p>
    <p>
      White Foot-print smiled. &ldquo;My boy, you shall have them,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;but it
      is always better to earn them yourself.&rdquo; He cut the claws off carefully
      for my use.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Tell me, uncle, whether you could wear these claws all the time?&rdquo; I
      asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, I am entitled to wear them, but they are so heavy and
      uncomfortable,&rdquo; he replied, with a superior air.
    </p>
    <p>
      At last the bear had been skinned and dressed and we all resumed our usual
      places. Uncheedah was particularly pleased to have some more fat for her
      cooking.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Now, grandmother, tell me the story of the bear&rsquo;s fat. I shall be so
      happy if you will,&rdquo; I begged.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It is a good story and it is true. You should know it by heart and gain a
      lesson from it,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;It was in the forests of Minnesota, in the
      country that now belongs to the Ojibways. From the Bedawakanton Sioux
      village a young married couple went into the woods to get fresh venison.
      The snow was deep; the ice was thick. Far away in the woods they pitched
      their lonely teepee. The young man was a well-known hunter and his wife a
      good maiden of the village.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He hunted entirely on snow-shoes, because the snow was very deep. His
      wife had to wear snow-shoes too, to get to the spot where they pitched
      their tent. It was thawing the day they went out, so their path was
      distinct after the freeze came again.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The young man killed many deer and bears. His wife was very busy curing
      the 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 the teepee and
      she on the other.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;One evening, she had just lowered a kettle of fat to cool, and as she
      looked into the hot fat she saw the face of an Ojibway scout looking down
      at them through the smoke-hole. She said nothing, nor did she betray
      herself in any way.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;After a little she said to her husband in a natural voice: &lsquo;Marpeetopah,
      some one is looking at us through the smoke hole, and I think it is an
      enemy&rsquo;s scout.&rsquo; 
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Then Marpeetopah (Four-skies) took up his bow and arrows and began to
      straighten and dry them for the next day&rsquo;s hunt, talking and laughing
      meanwhile. Suddenly he turned and sent an arrow upward, killing the
      Ojibway, who fell dead at their door.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;Quick, Wadutah!&rsquo; he exclaimed; &lsquo;you must hurry home upon our trail. I
      will stay here. When this scout does not return, the warparty may come in
      a body or send another scout. If only one comes, I can soon dispatch him
      and then I will follow you. If I do not do that, they will overtake us in
      our flight.&rsquo; 
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Wadutah (Scarlet) protested and begged to be allowed to stay with her
      husband, but at last she came away to get reinforcements.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Then Marpeetopah (Four-skies) put more sticks on the fire so that the
      teepee might be brightly lit and show him the way. He then took the scalp
      of the enemy and proceeded on his track, until he came to the upturned
      root of a great tree. There he spread out his arrows and laid out his
      tomahawk.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Soon two more scouts were sent by the Ojibway war-party to see what was
      the trouble and why the first one failed to come back. He heard them as
      they approached. They were on snowshoes. When they came close to him, he
      shot an arrow into the foremost. As for the other, in his effort to turn
      quickly his snow-shoes stuck in the deep snow and detained him, so
      Marpeetopah killed them both.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Quickly he took the scalps and followed Wadutah. He ran hard. But the
      Ojibways suspected something wrong and came to the lonely teepee, to find
      all their scouts had been killed. They followed the path of Marpeetopah
      and Wadutah to the main village, and there a great battle was fought on
      the ice. Many were killed on both sides. It was after this that the Sioux
      moved to the Mississippi river.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I was sleepy by this time and I rolled myself up in my buffalo robe and
      fell asleep.
    </p>
    <p>
      <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018">
      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      II. Adventures of My Uncle
    </h2>
    <p>
      IT was a beautiful fall day&mdash;&lsquo;a gopher&rsquo;s last look back,&rsquo; as we used
      to say of the last warm days of the late autumn. We were encamped beside a
      wild rice lake, where two months before we had harvested our watery fields
      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 the evenings the
      men hunted deer in canoes by torchlight along the shores of the lake. But
      alas! life is made up of good times and bad times, and it is when we are
      perfectly happy that we should expect some overwhelming misfortune.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;So it was that upon this peaceful and still morning, all of a sudden a
      harsh and terrible war-cry was heard! Your father was then quite a young
      man, and a very ambitious warrior, so that I was always frightened on his
      account whenever there was a chance of fighting. But I did not think of
      your uncle, Mysterious Medicine, for he was not over fifteen at the time;
      besides, he had never shown any taste for the field.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Our camp was thrown into great excitement; and as the warriors advanced
      to meet the enemy, I was almost overcome by the sight of your uncle among
      them! It was of no use for me to call him back&mdash;I think I prayed in
      that moment to the Great Mystery to bring my boy safely home.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I shall never forget, as long as I live, the events of that day. Many
      brave men were killed; among them two of your uncle&rsquo;s intimate friends.
      But when the battle was over, my boy came back; only his face was
      blackened in mourning for his friends, and he bore several wounds in his
      body. I knew that he had proved himself a true warrior.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;This was the beginning of your uncle&rsquo;s career, He has surpassed your
      father and your grandfather; yes, all his ancestors except Jingling
      Thunder, in daring and skill.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Such was my grandmother&rsquo;s account of the maiden battle of her third son,
      Mysterious Medicine. He achieved many other names; among them Big Hunter,
      Long Rifle and White Footprint. He had a favorite Kentucky rifle which he
      carried for many years. The stock was several times broken, but he always
      made another. With this gun he excelled most of his contemporaries in
      accuracy of aim. He used to call the weapon Ishtahbopopa&mdash;a literal
      translation would be &ldquo;Pops-the-eye.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      My uncle, who was a father to me for ten years of my life, was almost a
      giant in his proportions, very symmetrical and &ldquo;straight as an arrow.&rdquo; His
      face was not at all handsome. He had very quiet and reserved manners and
      was a man of action rather than of unnecessary words. Behind the veil of
      Indian reticence he had an inexhaustible fund of wit and humor; but this
      part of his character only appeared before his family and very intimate
      friends. Few men know nature more thoroughly than he. Nothing irritated
      him more than to hear some natural fact misrepresented. I have often
      thought that with education he might have made a Darwin or an Agassiz.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was always modest and unconscious of self in relating his adventures.
      &ldquo;I have often been forced to realize my danger,&rdquo; he used to say, &ldquo;but not
      in such a way as to overwhelm me. Only twice in my life have I been really
      frightened, and for an instant lost my presence of mind.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;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 the ground.
      All at once I came upon the body of the deer lying dead on the snow. I
      began to make a hasty examination, but before I had made any discoveries,
      I spied the tips of two ears peeping just above the surface of the snow
      about twenty feet from me. I made a feint of not seeing anything at all,
      but moved quickly in the direction of my gun, which was leaning against a
      tree. Feeling, somehow, that I was about to be taken advantage of, I
      snatched at the same moment my knife from my belt.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;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 the shoulder with
      his great paw, and threw me down. Somehow, he did not retain his hold, but
      made another leap and again concealed himself in the snow. Evidently he
      was preparing to make a fresh attack.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I was partially stunned and greatly confused by the blow; therefore I
      should have been an easy prey for him at the moment. But when he left me,
      I came to my senses; and I had been thrown near my gun! I arose and aimed
      between the tips of his ears&mdash;all that was visible of him&mdash;and
      fired. I saw the fresh snow fly from the spot. The panther leaped about
      six feet straight up into the air, and fell motionless. I gave two good
      warwhoops, because I had conquered a very formidable enemy. I sat down on
      the dead body to rest, and my heart beat as if it would knock out all my
      ribs. I had not been expecting any danger, and that was why I was so taken
      by surprise.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The other time was on the plains, in summer. I was accustomed to hunting
      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 good gun, but on
      this occasion I preferred a bow and arrows.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It was the time of year when the buffalo go in large herds and the bulls
      are vicious. But this did not trouble me at all; indeed, I thought of
      nothing but the excitement and honor of the chase.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;A vast plain near the Souris river was literally covered with an immense
      herd. The day was fair, and we came up with them very easily. I had a
      quiver full of arrows, with a sinew-backed bow.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;My pony carried me in far ahead of all the others. I found myself in the
      midst of the bulls first, for they are slow. They threw toward me vicious
      glances, so I hastened my pony on to the cows. Soon I was enveloped in a
      thick cloud of dust, and completely surrounded by the herd, who were by
      this time in the act of fleeing, their hoofs making a noise like thunder.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I could not think of anything but my own situation, which confused me for
      the moment. It seemed to me to be a desperate one. If my pony, which was
      going at full speed, should step into a badger hole, I should be thrown to
      the ground and trampled under foot in an instant. If I were to stop, they
      would knock me over, pony and all. Again, it seemed as if my horse must
      fall from sheer exhaustion; and then what would become of me?
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;At last I awoke to a calm realization of my own power. I uttered a yell
      and began to shoot right and left. Very soon there were only a few old
      bulls who remained near me. The herd had scattered, and I was miles away
      from my companions.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It is when we think of our personal danger that we are apt to be at a
      loss to do the best thing under the circumstances. One should be
      unconscious of self in order to do his duty. We are very apt to think
      ourselves brave, when we are most timid. I have discovered that half our
      young men give the war-whoop when they are frightened, because they fear
      lest their silence may betray their state of mind. I think we are really
      bravest when most calm and slow to action.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I urged my uncle to tell me more of his adventures.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Once,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;I had a somewhat peculiar experience, which I think I
      never related to you before. It was at the time of the fall hunt. One
      afternoon when I was alone I discovered that I was too far away to reach
      the camp before dark, so I looked about for a good place to spend the
      night. This was on the Upper Missouri, before there were any white people
      there, and when we were in constant danger from wild beasts as well as
      from hostile Indians. It was necessary to use every precaution and the
      utmost vigilance.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I selected a spot which appeared to be well adapted to defense. I had
      killed two deer, and I hung up pieces of the meat at certain distances in
      various directions. I knew that any wolf would stop for the meat, A
      grizzly 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 a solitary
      fire. There was a full moon that night, which was much in my favor.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Having cooked and eaten some of the venison, I rolled myself in my
      blanket and lay down by the fire, taking my Ishtahbopopa for a bed fellow.
      I hugged it very closely, for I felt that I should need it during the
      night. I had scarcely settled myself when I heard what seemed to be ten or
      twelve coyotes set up such a howling that I was quite sure of 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.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I watched until a coyote appeared upon a flat rock fifty yards away. He
      sniffed the air in every direction; then, sitting partly upon his
      haunches, swung round in a circle with his hind legs sawing the air, and
      howled and barked in many different keys. It was a great feat! I could not
      help wondering whether I should be able to imitate him. What had seemed to
      be the voices of many coyotes was in reality only one animal. His mate
      soon appeared and then they both seemed satisfied, and showed no signs of
      a wish to invite another to join them. Presently they both suddenly and
      quietly disappeared.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;At this moment a slight noise attracted my attention, and I saw that the
      porcupine had arrived. He had climbed up to the piece of meat nearest me,
      and was helping himself without any ceremony. I thought it was 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 quills to stand out in
      defiance. I glanced about me and saw the two coyotes slyly approaching my
      open camp from two different directions.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I took the part of the porcupine! I rose in a sitting posture, and sent a
      swift arrow to each of my unwelcome visitors. They both ran away with
      howls of surprise and pain.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The porcupine saw the whole from his perch, but his meal was not at all
      disturbed, for he began eating again with apparent relish. Indeed, I was
      soon furnished with another of these unconscious protectors. This one came
      from the opposite direction to a point where I had hung a splendid ham of
      venison. He cared to go no further, but seated himself at once on a
      convenient branch and began his supper.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The canon above me was full of rocks and trees. From this direction came
      a startling noise, which caused me more concern than anything I had thus
      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 the voice of
      a mountain lion, and it decided me to perch upon a limb for the rest of
      the night.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I got up and climbed into the nearest large tree, taking my weapons with
      me; but first I rolled a short log of wood in my blanket and laid it in my
      place by the fire.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;As I got up, the two porcupines began to descend, but I paid no attention
      to them, and they soon returned to their former positions. Very soon I
      heard a hissing sound from one of them, and knew that an intruder was
      near. Two grey wolves appeared.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I had hung the hams by the ham strings, and they were fully eight feet
      from the ground. At first the wolves came boldly forward, but the warning
      of the porcupines caused them to stop, and hesitate to jump for the meat.
      However, they were hungry, and began to leap savagely for the hams,
      although evidently they proved good targets for the quills of the prickly
      ones, for occasionally one of them would squeal and rub his nose
      desperately against the tree.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;At last one of the wolves buried his teeth too deeply in a tough portion
      of the flesh, and having jumped to reach it, his own weight made it
      impossible for him to loosen his upper jaw. There the grey wolf dangled,
      kicking and yelping, until the tendon of the ham gave way, and both fell
      heavily to the ground. From my hiding-place I sent two arrows into his
      body, which ended his life. The other one ran away to a little distance
      and remained there a long time, as if waiting for her mate.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I was now very weary, but I had seen many grizzly bears&rsquo; tracks in the
      vicinity, and besides, I had not forgotten the dreadful scream of the
      mountain lion. I determined to continue my watch.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;As I had half expected, there came presently a sudden heavy fall, and at
      the same time the burning embers were scattered about and the fire almost
      extinguished. My blanket with the log in it was rolled over several times,
      amid snarls and growls. Then the assailant of my camp&mdash;a panther&mdash;leaped
      back into the thick underbrush, but not before my arrow had penetrated his
      side. He snarled and tried to bite off the shaft, but after a time became
      exhausted and lay still.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I could now distinguish the grey dawn in the east. I was exceedingly
      drowsy, so I fastened myself by a rope of raw-hide to the trunk of the
      tree against which I leaned. I was seated on a large limb, and soon fell
      asleep.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I was rudely awakened by the report of a gun directly under me. At the
      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 shake of
      the tree by my visitor, a grizzly bear, the gun had fallen, and as it was
      cocked, it went off.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The bear picked up the weapon and threw it violently away; then he again
      shook the tree with all his strength. I shouted:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;I have still a bow and a quiver full of arrows; you had better let me
      alone.&rsquo; 
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;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 give him
      several more before he went a short distance away, and died. It was now
      daylight, so I came down from my perch. I was stiff, and scarcely able to
      walk. I found that the bear had killed both of my little friends, the
      porcupines, and eaten most of the meat.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;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 second
      chance. I have told of this particular adventure, because it was an
      unusual experience to see so many different animals in one night. I have
      often been in similar places, and killed one or two. Once a common black
      bear stole a whole deer from me without waking me. But all this life is
      fast disappearing, and the world is becoming different.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019">
      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      VII. THE END OF THE BEAR DANCE
    </h2>
    <p>
      IT was one of the superstitions of the Santee Sioux to treat disease from
      the standpoint of some animal or inanimate thing. That person who,
      according to their belief, had been commissioned to become a medicine man
      or a war chief, must not disobey the bear or other creature or thing which
      gave him his commission. If he ever ventured to do so, the offender must
      pay for his insubordination with his life, or that of his own child or
      dearest friend. It was supposed to be necessary that the supernatural
      orders be carried into effect at a particular age and a certain season of
      the year. Occasionally a very young man, who excused himself on the ground
      of youth and modesty, might be forgiven.
    </p>
    <p>
      One of my intimate friends had been a sufferer from what, I suppose, must
      have been consumption. He, like myself, had a grandmother in whom he had
      unlimited faith. But she was a very ambitious and pretentious woman. Among
      her many claims was that of being a great &ldquo;medicine woman,&rdquo; and many were
      deceived by it; but really she was a fraud, for she did not give any
      medicine, but &ldquo;conjured&rdquo; the sick exclusively.
    </p>
    <p>
      At this time my little friend was fast losing ground, in spite of his
      grandmother&rsquo;s great pretensions. At last I hinted to him that my
      grandmother was a herbalist, and a skilful one. But he hinted back to me
      that &lsquo;most any old woman who could dig roots could be a herbalist, and
      that without a supernatural commission there was no power that could cope
      with disease. I defended my ideal on the ground that there are
      supernatural powers in the herbs themselves; hence those who understand
      them have these powers at their command.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; insisted my friend, &ldquo;one must get his knowledge from the Great
      Mystery!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      This completely silenced my argument, but did not shake my faith in my
      grandmother&rsquo;s ability.
    </p>
    <p>
      Redhorn was a good boy, and I loved him. I visited him often, and found
      him growing weaker day by day.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ohiyesa,&rdquo; he said to me one day, &ldquo;my grandmother has discovered the cause
      of my sickness.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I eagerly interrupted him by shouting: &ldquo;And can she cure you now,
      Redhorn?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;she cannot until I have fulfilled the
      commandment. I have confessed to her that two years ago I received my
      commission, and I should have made a Bear Dance and proclaimed myself a
      medicine man last spring, when I had seen thirteen winters. You see, I was
      ashamed to proclaim myself a medicine man, being so young; and for this 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 scarcely stand up.
      They say that I can appoint some one else to act for me. He will be the
      active bear&mdash;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 the dancers
      away from his den.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Redhorn,&rdquo; I replied with much embarrassment, &ldquo;I should be happy to do
      anything that I could for you, but I cannot be a bear. I feel that I am
      not fit. I am not large enough; I am not strong enough; and I don&rsquo;t
      understand the habits of the animal well enough. I do not think you would
      be pleased with me as your substitute.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Redhorn finally decided that he would engage a larger boy to perform for
      him. A few days later, it was announced by the herald that my friend would
      give a Bear Dance, at which he was to be publicly proclaimed a medicine
      man. It would be the great event of his short existence, for the disease
      had already exhausted his strength and vitality. Of course, we all
      understood that there would be an active youth to exhibit the ferocious
      nature of the beast after which the dance is named.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Bear Dance was an entertainment, a religious rite, a method of
      treating disease&mdash;all in one. A strange thing about it was that no
      woman was allowed to participate in the orgies, unless she was herself the
      bear.
    </p>
    <p>
      The den was usually dug about two hundred yards from the camp, on some
      conspicuous plain. It was about two feet deep and six feet square and over
      it was constructed an arbor of boughs with four openings. When the bear
      man sang, all the men and boys would gather and dance about the den; and
      when he came out and pursued them there was a hasty retreat. It was
      supposed that whoever touched the bear without being touched by him would
      overcome a foe in the field. If one was touched, the reverse was to be
      expected. The thing which caused most anxiety among the dancers was the
      superstition that if one of them should accidentally trip and fall while
      pursued by the bear, a sudden death would visit him or his nearest
      relative.
    </p>
    <p>
      Boys of my age were disposed to run some risk in this dance; they would
      take 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 admitted that
      one reason for my declining the honor offered me by my friend Redhorn was
      that I was afraid of powder, and I much preferred to be one of the dancers
      and take my chances of touching the bear man without being touched.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was a beautiful summer&rsquo;s day. The forest behind our camp was sweet with
      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 of passage overhead
      noisily expressed their surprise at the excitement and confusion in our
      midst.
    </p>
    <p>
      The herald, with his brassy voice, again went the rounds, announcing the
      day&rsquo;s event and the tardy fulfillment of the boy&rsquo;s commission. Then came
      the bustle of preparation. The out-door toilet of the people was performed
      with care. I cannot describe just how I was attired or painted, but I am
      under the impression that there was but little of my brown skin that was
      not uncovered. The others were similarly dressed in feathers, paint and
      tinkling ornaments.
    </p>
    <p>
      I soon heard the tom-tom&rsquo;s doleful sound from the direction of the bear&rsquo;s
      den, and a few warwhoops from the throats of the youthful warriors. As I
      joined the motley assembly, I noticed that the bear man&rsquo;s drum was going
      in earnest, and soon after he began to sing. This was the invitation to
      the dance.
    </p>
    <p>
      An old warrior gave the signal and we all started for the den, very much
      like a group of dogs attacking a stranger. Frantically we yelled and
      whooped, running around the sheltering arbor in a hop, skip and jump
      fashion. In spite of the apparent confusion, however, every participant
      was on the alert for the slightest movement of the bear man.
    </p>
    <p>
      All of a sudden, a brave gave the warning, and we scattered in an instant
      over the little plain between the den and our village. Everybody seemed to
      be running for dear life, and I soon found myself some yards behind the
      rest. I had gone in boldly, partly because of conversations with certain
      boys who proposed to participate, and whom I usually outdistanced in foot
      races. But it seemed that they had not carried out 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 and painted up with a view to
      terrify the crowd. I did not want the others to 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 given it very poorly.
    </p>
    <p>
      Just as it seemed that I was about to be overtaken, the dancers who had
      deserted me suddenly slackened their speed, and entered upon the amusement
      of tormenting the bear man with gunpowder and switches, with which they
      touched him far from gently upon his naked body. They now chased him in
      turn, and he again retreated to his den.
    </p>
    <p>
      We rested until we heard the tom-tom and the song once more, and then we
      rushed forth with fresh eagerness to the mimic attack. This time I
      observed all necessary precautions for my own safety. I started in my
      flight even before the warning was given, for I saw the bear man gathering
      himself up to spring upon the dancers. Thus I had plenty of leeway to
      observe what occurred. The bear man again pursued the yelling and
      retreating mob, and was dealt with unmercifully by the swift-footed. He
      became much excited as he desperately chased a middle-aged man, who
      occasionally turned and fired off his gun, but was suddenly tripped by an
      ant-hill and fell to the ground, with the other on top of him. The
      excitement was intense. The bear man returned to his companion, and the
      dancers gathered in little knots to exchange whispers.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Is it not a misfortune?&rdquo; &ldquo;The most surefooted of us all!&rdquo; &ldquo;Will he die?&rdquo;
       &ldquo;Must his beautiful daughter be sacrificed?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      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:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;We all have our time to go, and when the Great Mystery calls us we must
      answer as cheerfully as at the call of one of our own war-chiefs here on
      earth. I am not sad for myself, but my heart is not willing that my Winona
      (first-born daughter) should be called.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      No one replied. Presently the last tom-tom was heard and the dancers
      rallied once more. The man who had fallen did not join them, but turned to
      the council lodge, where the wise old men were leisurely enjoying the
      calumet. They beheld him enter with some surprise; but he threw himself
      upon a buffalo robe, and resting his head upon his right hand, related
      what had happened to him. Thereupon the aged men exclaimed as with one
      voice: &ldquo;It never fails!&rdquo; After this, he spoke no more.
    </p>
    <p>
      Meanwhile, we were hilariously engaged in our last dance, and when the
      bear man finally retired, we gathered about the arbor to congratulate the
      sick bear man. But, to our surprise, his companion did not re-enter the
      den. &ldquo;He is dead! Redhorn, the bear man, is dead!&rdquo; We all rushed to the
      spot. My poor friend, Redhorn, lay dead in the den.
    </p>
    <p>
      At this instant there was another commotion in the camp. Everybody was
      running toward the council lodge. A well-known medicine man was loudly
      summoned thither. But, alas! the man who fell in the dance had suddenly
      dropped dead.
    </p>
    <p>
      To the people, another Indian superstition had been verified.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      VIII. THE MAIDENS&rsquo; FEAST
    </h2>
    <p>
      THERE were many peculiar customs among the Indians of an earlier period,
      some of which tended to strengthen the character of the people and
      preserve their purity. Perhaps the most unique of these was the annual
      &ldquo;feast of maidens.&rdquo; The casual observer would scarcely understand the full
      force and meaning of this ceremony.
    </p>
    <p>
      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 trading post
      and fully a thousand feet above the Assiniboine river, surrounded by
      groves, there was a natural amphitheatre. At one end stood the old fort
      where since 1830 the northern tribes had come to replenish their powder
      horns and lead sacks and to dispose of their pelts.
    </p>
    <p>
      In this spot there was a reunion of all the renegade Sioux on the one hand
      and of the Assiniboines and Crees, the Canadian tribes, on the other. They
      were friendly. The matter was not formally arranged, but it was usual for
      all the tribes to meet here in the month of July.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Hudson Bay Company always had a good supply of red, blue, green and
      white blankets, also cloth of brilliant dye, so that when their summer
      festival occurred the Indians did not lack gayly colored garments. Paints
      were bought by them at pleasure. Short sleeves were the fashion in their
      buckskin dresses, and beads and porcupine quills were the principal
      decorations.
    </p>
    <p>
      When circumstances are favorable, the Indians are the happiest people in
      the world. There were entertainments every single day, which everybody had
      the fullest opportunity to see and enjoy. If anything, the poorest
      profited the most by these occasions, because a feature in each case was
      the giving away of savage wealth to the needy in honor of the event. At
      any public affair, involving the pride and honor of a prominent family,
      there must always be a distribution of valuable presents.
    </p>
    <p>
      One bright summer morning, while we were still at our meal of jerked
      buffalo meat, we heard the herald of the Wahpeton band upon his calico
      pony as he rode around our circle.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;White Eagle&rsquo;s daughter, the maiden Red Star, invites all the maidens of
      all the tribes to come and partake of her feast. It will be in the
      Wahpeton camp, before the sun reaches the middle of the sky. All pure
      maidens are invited. Red Star also invites the young men to be present, to
      see that no unworthy maiden should join in the feast.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The herald soon completed the rounds of the different camps, and it was
      not long before the girls began to gather in great numbers. The fort was
      fully alive to the interest of these savage entertainments. This
      particular feast was looked upon as a semi-sacred affair. It would be
      desecration for any to attend who was not perfectly virtuous. Hence it was
      regarded as an opportune time for the young men to satisfy themselves as
      to who were the virtuous maids of the tribe.
    </p>
    <p>
      There were apt to be surprises before the end of the day. Any young man
      was permitted to challenge any maiden whom he knew to be unworthy. But woe
      to him who could not prove his case. It meant little short of death to the
      man who endeavored to disgrace a woman without cause.
    </p>
    <p>
      The youths had a similar feast of their own, in which the eligibles were
      those who had never spoken to a girl in the way of courtship. It was
      considered ridiculous so to do before attaining some honor as a warrior,
      and the novices prided themselves greatly upon their self control.
    </p>
    <p>
      From the various camps the girls came singly or in groups, dressed in
      bright-colored calicoes or in heavily fringed and beaded buckskin. Their
      smooth cheeks and the central part of their glossy hair was touched with
      vermilion. All brought with them wooden basins to eat from. Some who came
      from a considerable distance were mounted upon ponies; a few, for company
      or novelty&rsquo;s sake, rode double.
    </p>
    <p>
      The maidens&rsquo; circle was formed about a coneshaped rock which stood upon
      its base. This was painted red. Beside it two new arrows were lightly
      stuck into the ground. This is a sort of altar, to which each maiden comes
      before taking her assigned place in the circle, and lightly touches first
      the stone and then the arrows. By this oath she declares her purity.
      Whenever a girl approaches the altar there is a stir among the spectators,
      and sometimes a rude youth would call out:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Take care! You will overturn the rock, or pull out the arrows!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Such a remark makes the girls nervous, and especially one who is not sure
      of her composure.
    </p>
    <p>
      Immediately behind the maidens&rsquo; circle is the old women&rsquo;s or chaperons&rsquo; 
      circle. This second circle is almost as interesting to look at as the
      inner one. The old women watched every movement of their respective
      charges with the utmost concern, having previously instructed them how
      they should conduct themselves in any event.
    </p>
    <p>
      There was never a more gorgeous assembly of the kind than this one. The
      day was perfect. The Crees, displaying their characteristic horsemanship,
      came in groups; the Assiniboines, with their curious pompadour well
      covered with red paint. The various bands of Sioux all carefully 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.
    </p>
    <p>
      The whole population of the region had assembled, and the maidens came
      shyly into the circle. The simple ceremonies observed prior to the serving
      of the food were in progress, when among a group of Wahpeton Sioux young
      men there was a stir of excitement. All the maidens glanced nervously
      toward the scene of the disturbance. Soon a tall youth emerged from the
      throng of spectators and advanced toward the circle. Every one of the
      chaperons glared at him as if to deter him from his purpose. But with a
      steady step he passed them by and approached the maidens&rsquo; circle.
    </p>
    <p>
      At last he stopped behind a pretty Assiniboine maiden of good family and
      said:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I am sorry, but, according to custom, you should not be here.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The girl arose in confusion, but she soon recovered her self-control.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; she demanded, indignantly. &ldquo;Three times you have come
      to court me, but each time I have refused to listen to you. I turned my
      back upon you. Twice I was with Mashtinna. She can tell the people that
      this is true. The third time I had gone for water when you intercepted me
      and begged me to stop and listen. I refused because I did not know you. My
      chaperon, Makatopawee, knows that I was gone but a few minutes. I never
      saw you anywhere else.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The young man was unable to answer this unmistakable statement of facts,
      and it became apparent that he had sought to revenge himself for her
      repulse.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Woo! woo! Carry him out!&rdquo; was the order of the chief of the Indian
      police, and the audacious youth was hurried away into the nearest ravine
      to be chastised.
    </p>
    <p>
      The young woman who had thus established her good name returned to the
      circle, and the feast was served. The &ldquo;maidens&rsquo; song&rdquo; was sung, and four
      times they danced in a ring around the altar. Each maid as she departed
      once more took her oath to remain pure until she should meet her husband.
    </p>
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      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      IX. MORE LEGENDS
    </h2>
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    <h2>
      I: A Legend of Devil&rsquo;s Lake
    </h2>
    <p>
      AFTER the death of Smoky Day, old Weyuha was regarded as the greatest
      story-teller among the Wahpeton Sioux.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Tell me, good Weyuha, a legend of your father&rsquo;s country,&rdquo; I said to him
      one evening, for I knew the country which is now known as North Dakota and
      Southern Manitoba was their ancient hunting-ground. I was prompted by
      Uncheedah to make this request, after the old man had eaten in our lodge.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Many years ago,&rdquo; he began, as he passed the pipe to uncle, &ldquo;we traveled
      from the Otter-tail to Minnewakan (Devil&rsquo;s Lake). At that time the mound
      was very distinct where Chotanka lies buried. The people of his immediate
      band had taken care to preserve it.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;This mound under which lies the great medicine man is upon the summit of
      Minnewakan Chantay, the highest hill in all that region. It is shaped like
      an animal&rsquo;s heart placed on its base, with the apex upward.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The reason why this hill is called Minnewakan Chantay, or the Heart of
      the Mysterious Land, I will now tell you. It has been handed down from
      generation to generation, far beyond the memory of our great-grandparents.
      It was in Chotanka&rsquo;s line of descent that these legends were originally
      kept, but when he died the stories became everybody&rsquo;s, and then no one
      believed in them. It was told in this way.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I sat facing him, wholly wrapped in the words of the story-teller, and now
      I took a deep breath and settled myself so that I might not disturb him by
      the slightest movement while he was reciting his tale. We were taught this
      courtesy to our elders, but I was impulsive and sometimes forgot.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;A long time ago,&rdquo; resumed Weyuha, &ldquo;the red people were many in number,
      and they inhabited all the land from the coldest place to the region of
      perpetual summer time. It seemed that they were all of one tongue, and all
      were friends.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;All the animals were considered people in those days. The buffalo, the
      elk, the antelope, were tribes of considerable importance. The bears were
      a smaller band, but they obeyed the mandates of the Great Mystery and were
      his favorites, and for this reason they have always known more about the
      secrets of medicine. So they were held in much honor. The wolves, too,
      were highly regarded at one time. But the buffalo, elk, moose, deer and
      antelope were the ruling people.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;These soon became conceited and considered themselves very important, and
      thought no one could withstand them. The buffalo made war upon the smaller
      tribes, and destroyed many. So one day the Great Mystery thought it best
      to change the people in form and in language.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He made a great tent and kept it dark for ten days. Into this tent he
      invited the different bands, and when they came out they were greatly
      changed, and some could not talk at all after that. However, there is a
      sign language given to all the animals that no man knows except some
      medicine men, and they are under a heavy penalty if they should tell it.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The buffalo came out of the darkened tent the clumsiest of all the
      animals. The elk and moose were burdened with their heavy and
      many-branched horns, while the antelope and deer were made the most
      defenseless of animals, only that they are fleet of foot. The bear and the
      wolf were made to prey upon all the others.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Man was alone then. When the change came, the Great Mystery allowed him
      to keep his own shape and language. He was king over all the animals, but
      they did not obey him. From that day, man&rsquo;s spirit may live with the
      beasts before he is born a man. He will then know the animal language but
      he cannot tell it in human speech. He always retains his sympathy with
      them, and can converse with them in dreams.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I must not forget to tell you that the Great Mystery pitched his tent in
      this very region. Some legends say that the Minnewakan Chantay was the
      tent itself, which afterward became earth and stones. Many of the animals
      were washed and changed in this lake, the Minnewakan, or Mysterious Water.
      It is the only inland water we know that is salt. No animal has ever swum
      in this lake and lived.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; I eagerly asked, &ldquo;is it dangerous to man also?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;we think so; and no Indian has ever ventured in that
      lake to my knowledge. That is why the lake is called Mysterious,&rdquo; he
      repeated.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I shall now tell you of Chotanka. He was the greatest of medicine men. He
      declared that he was a grizzly bear before he was born in human form.&rdquo;
       Weyuha seemed to become very earnest when he reached this point in his
      story. &ldquo;Listen to Chotanka&rsquo;s life as a grizzly bear.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;As a bear,&rsquo; he used to say, &lsquo;my home was in sight of the Minnewakan
      Chantay. I lived with my mother only one winter, and I only saw my father
      when I was a baby. Then we lived a little way from the Chantay to the
      north, among scattered oak upon a hillside overlooking the Minnewakan.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;When I first remember anything, I was playing outside of our home with a
      buffalo skull that I had found near by. I saw something that looked
      strange. It walked upon two legs, and it carried a crooked stick, and some
      red willows with feathers tied to them. It threw one of the willows at me,
      and I showed my teeth and retreated within our den.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;Just then my father and mother came home with a buffalo calf. They threw
      down the dead calf, and ran after the queer thing. He had long hair upon a
      round head. His face was round, too. He ran and climbed up into a small
      oak tree.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;My father and mother shook him down, but not before he had shot some of
      his red willows into their sides. Mother was very sick, but she dug some
      roots and ate them and she was well again.&rsquo; It was thus that Chotanka was
      first taught the use of certain roots for curing wounds and sickness,&rdquo;
       Weyuha added.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;One day&rsquo;&rdquo;&mdash;he resumed the grizzly&rsquo;s story&mdash;&ldquo;&lsquo;when I was out
      hunting with my mother-my father had gone away and never came back&mdash;we
      found a buffalo cow with her calf in a ravine. She advised me to follow
      her closely, and we crawled along on our knees. All at once mother
      crouched down under the grass, and I did the same. We saw some of those
      queer beings that we called &ldquo;two legs,&rdquo; riding upon big-tail deer
      (ponies). They yelled as they rode toward us. Mother growled terribly and
      rushed upon them. She caught one, but many more came with their dogs and
      drove us into a thicket. They sent the red willows singing after us, and
      two of them stuck in mother&rsquo;s side. When we got away at last she tried to
      pull them out, but they hurt her terribly. She pulled them both out at
      last, but soon after she lay down and died.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;I stayed in the woods alone for two days then I went around the
      Minnewakan Chantay on the south side and there made my lonely den. There I
      found plenty of hazel nuts, acorns and wild plums. Upon the plains the
      teepsinna were abundant, and I saw nothing of my enemies.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;One day I found a footprint not unlike my own. I followed it to see who
      the stranger might be. Upon the bluffs among the oak groves I discovered a
      beautiful young female gathering acorns. She was of a different band from
      mine, for she wore a jet black dress.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;At first she was disposed to resent my intrusion; but when I told her of
      my lonely life she agreed to share it with me. We came back to my home on
      the south side of the hill. There we lived happy for a whole year. When
      the autumn came again Woshepee, for this was her name, said that she must
      make a warm nest for the winter, and I was left alone again.&rsquo; 
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said Weyuha, &ldquo;I have come to a part of my story that few people
      understand. All the long winter Chotanka slept in his den, and with the
      early spring there came a great thunder storm. He was aroused by a
      frightful crash that seemed to shake the hills; and lo! a handsome young
      man stood at his door. He looked, but was not afraid, for he saw that the
      stranger carried none of those red willows with feathered tips. He was
      unarmed and smiling.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;I come,&rsquo; said he, &lsquo;with a challenge to run a race. Whoever wins will be
      the hero of his kind, and the defeated must do as the winner says
      thereafter. This is a rare honor that I have brought you. The whole world
      will see the race. The animal world will shout for you, and the spirits
      will cheer me on. You are not a coward, and therefore you will not refuse
      my challenge.&rsquo; 
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;No,&rsquo; replied Chotanka, after a short hesitation. The young man was
      fine-looking, but lightly built.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;We shall start from the Chantay, and that will be our goal. Come, let us
      go, for the universe is waiting!&rsquo; impatiently exclaimed the stranger.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He passed on in advance, and just then an old, old wrinkled man came to
      Chotanka&rsquo;s door. He leaned forward upon his staff.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;My son,&rsquo; he said to him, &lsquo;I don&rsquo;t want to make you a coward, but this
      young man is the greatest gambler of the universe. He has powerful
      medicine. He gambles for life; be careful! My brothers and I are the only
      ones who have ever beaten him. But he is safe, for if he is killed he can
      resurrect himself&mdash;I tell you he is great medicine.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;However, I think that I can save you&mdash;listen! He will run behind
      you all the way until you are within a short distance of the goal. Then he
      will pass you by in a flash, for his name is ZigZag Fire! (lightning).
      Here is my medicine.&rsquo; So speaking, he gave me a rabbit skin and the gum of
      a certain plant. &lsquo;When you come near the goal, rub yourself with the gum,
      and throw the rabbit skin between you. He cannot pass you.&rsquo; 
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;And who are you, grandfather?&rsquo; Chotanka inquired.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;I am the medicine turtle,&rsquo; the old man replied. &lsquo;The gambler is a spirit
      from heaven, and those whom he outruns must shortly die. You have heard,
      no doubt, that all animals know beforehand when they are to be killed; and
      any man who understands these mysteries may also know when he is to die.&rsquo; 
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The race was announced to the world. The buffalo, elk, wolves and all the
      animals came to look on. All the spirits of the air came also to cheer for
      their comrade. In the sky the trumpet was sounded&mdash;the great medicine
      drum was struck. It was the signal for a start. The course was around the
      Minnewakan. (That means around the earth or the ocean.) Everywhere the
      multitude cheered as the two sped by.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The young man kept behind Chotanka all the time until they came once more
      in sight of the Chantay. Then he felt a slight shock and he threw his
      rabbit skin back. The stranger tripped and fell. Chotanka rubbed himself
      with the gum, and ran on until he reached the goal. There was a great
      shout that echoed over the earth, but in the heavens there was muttering
      and grumbling. The referee declared that the winner would live to a good
      old age, and Zig-Zag Fire promised to come at his call. He was indeed
      great medicine,&rdquo; Weyuha concluded.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But you have not told me how Chotanka became a man,&rdquo; I said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;One night a beautiful woman came to him in his sleep. She enticed him
      into her white teepee to see what she had there. Then she shut the door of
      the teepee and Chotanka could not get out. But the woman was kind and
      petted him so that he loved to stay in the white teepee. Then it was that
      he became a human born. This is a long story, but I think, Ohiyesa, that
      you will remember it,&rdquo; said Weyuha, and so I did.
    </p>
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      <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023">
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    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      II. Manitoshaw&rsquo;s Hunting
    </h2>
    <p>
      IT was in the winter, in the Moon of Difficulty (January). We had eaten
      our venison roast for supper, and the embers were burning brightly. Our
      teepee was especially cheerful. Uncheedah sat near the entrance, my uncle
      and his wife upon the opposite side, while I with my pets occupied the
      remaining space.
    </p>
    <p>
      Wabeda, the dog, lay near the fire in a half doze, watching out of the
      corners of his eyes the tame raccoon, which snuggled back against the
      walls of the teepee, his shrewd brain, doubtless, concocting some mischief
      for the hours of darkness. I had already recited a legend of our people.
      All agreed that I had done well. Having been generously praised, I was
      eager to earn some more compliments by learning a new one, so I begged my
      uncle to tell me a story. Musingly he replied:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I can give you a Sioux-Cree tradition,&rdquo; and immediately began:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Many winters ago, there were six teepees standing on the southern slope
      of Moose mountain in the Moon of Wild Cherries (September). The men to
      whom these teepees belonged had been attacked by the Sioux while hunting
      buffalo, and nearly all killed. Two or three who managed to get home to
      tell their sad story were mortally wounded, and died soon afterward. There
      was only one old man and several small boys left to hunt and provide for
      this unfortunate little band of women and children.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;They lived upon teepsinna (wild turnips) and berries for many days. They
      were almost famished for meat. The old man was too feeble to hunt
      successfully. One day in this desolate camp a young Cree maiden&mdash;for
      such they were&mdash;declared that she could no longer sit still and see
      her people suffer. She took down her dead father&rsquo;s second bow and quiver
      full of arrows, and begged her old grandmother to accompany her to Lake
      Wanagiska, where she knew that moose had oftentimes been found. I forgot
      to tell you that her name was Manitoshaw.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;This Manitoshaw and her old grandmother, Nawakewee, took each a pony and
      went far up into the woods on the side of the mountain. They pitched their
      wigwam just out of sight of the lake, and hobbled their ponies. Then the
      old woman said to Manitoshaw:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;Go, my granddaughter, to the outlet of the Wanagiska, and see if there
      are any moose tracks there. When I was a young woman, I came here with
      your father&rsquo;s father, and we pitched our tent near this spot. In the night
      there came three different moose. Bring me leaves of the birch and cedar
      twigs; I will make medicine for moose,&rsquo; she added.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Manitoshaw obediently disappeared in the woods. It was a grove of birch
      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 the
      bow-string. &lsquo;I have seen this very place many a time,&rsquo; added my uncle, and
      this simple remark gave to the story an air of reality.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The Cree maiden went first to the spring, and there found fresh tracks of
      the animal she sought. She gathered some cedar berries and chewed them,
      and rubbed some of them on her garments so that the moose might not scent
      her. The sun was already set, and she felt she must return to Nawakewee.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Just then Hinhankaga, the hooting owl, gave his doleful night call. The
      girl stopped and listened attentively.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;I thought it was a lover&rsquo;s call,&rsquo; she whispered to herself. A singular
      challenge pealed across the lake. She recognized the alarm call of the
      loon, and fancied that the bird might have caught a glimpse of her game.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Soon she was within a few paces of the temporary lodge of pine boughs and
      ferns which the grandmother had constructed. The old woman met her on the
      trail.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;Ah, my child, you have returned none too soon. I feared you had ventured
      too far away; for the Sioux often come to this place to hunt. You must not
      expose yourself carelessly on the shore.&rsquo; 
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;As the two women lay down to sleep they could hear the ponies munch the
      rich grass in an open spot near by. Through the smoke hole of the
      pine-bough wigwam Manitoshaw gazed up into the starry sky, and dreamed of
      what she would do on the morrow when she should surprise the wily moose.
      Her grandmother was already sleeping so noisily that it was enough to
      scare away the game. At last the maiden, too, lost herself in sleep.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Old Nawakewee awoke early. First of all she made a fire and burned cedar
      and birch so that the moose might not detect the human smell. Then she
      quickly prepared a meal of wild turnips and berries, and awoke the maiden,
      who was surprised to see that the sun was already up. She ran down to the
      spring and hastily splashed handsful of the cold water in her 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 them Manitoshaw
      seemed to see a young man standing. In another moment all three had
      disappeared.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;What is the matter with my eyes? I am not fully awake yet, and I imagine
      things. Ugh, it is all in my eyes,&rsquo; the maiden repeated to herself. She
      hastened back to Nawakewee. The vision was so unexpected and so startling
      that she could not believe in its truth, and she said nothing to the old
      woman.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Breakfast eaten, Manitoshaw threw off her robe and appeared in her
      scantily cut gown of buckskin with long fringes, and moccasins and
      leggings trimmed with quills of the porcupine. Her father&rsquo;s bow and quiver
      were thrown over one shoulder, and the knife dangled from her belt in its
      handsome sheath. She ran breathlessly along the shore toward the outlet.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;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 falling dew. As the maiden
      hastened along she scared up Wadawasee, the kingfisher, who screamed
      loudly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;Stop, Wadawasee, stop&mdash;you will frighten my game!&rsquo; 
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;At last she had reached the outlet. She saw at once that the moose had
      been there during the night. They had torn up the ground and broken birch
      and willow twigs in a most disorderly way.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; I exclaimed, &ldquo;I wish I had been with Manitoshaw then!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Hush, my boy; never interrupt a storyteller.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I took a stick and began to level off the ashes in front of me, and to
      draw a map of the lake, the outlet, the moose and Manitoshaw. Away off to
      one side was the solitary wigwam, Nawakewee and the ponies.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Manitoshaw&rsquo;s heart was beating so loud that she could not hear anything,&rdquo;
       resumed my uncle. &ldquo;She took some leaves of the wintergreen and chewed them
      to calm herself. She did not forget to throw in passing a pinch of
      pulverized tobacco and paint into the spring for Manitou, the spirit.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Among the twinkling leaves of the birch her eye was caught by a moving
      form, and then another. She stood motionless, grasping her heavy bow. The
      moose, not suspecting any danger, walked leisurely toward the spring. One
      was a large female moose; the other a yearling.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;As they passed Manitoshaw, moving so naturally and looking so harmless,
      she almost forgot to let fly an arrow. The mother moose seemed to look in
      her direction, but did not see her. They had fairly passed her
      hiding-place when she stepped forth and sent a swift arrow into the side
      of the larger moose. Both dashed into the thick woods, but it was too
      late. The Cree maiden had already loosened her second arrow. Both fell
      dead before reaching the shore.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Uncle, she must have had a splendid aim, for in the woods the many little
      twigs make an arrow bound off to one side,&rdquo; I interrupted in great
      excitement.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, but you must remember she was very near the moose.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It seems to me, then, uncle, that they must have scented her, for you
      have told me that they possess the keenest nose of any animal,&rdquo; I
      persisted.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Doubtless the wind was blowing the other way. But, nephew, you must let
      me finish my story.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Overjoyed by her success, the maiden hastened back to Nawakawee, but she
      was gone! The ponies were gone, too, and the wigwam of branches had been
      demolished. While Manitoshaw stood there, frightened and undecided what to
      do, a soft voice came from behind a neighboring thicket:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;Manitoshaw! Manitoshaw! I am here!&rsquo; 
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;She at once recognized, the voice and found it to be Nawakeewee, who told
      a strange story. That morning a canoe had crossed the Wanagiska carrying
      two men. They were Sioux. The old grandmother had seen them coming, and to
      deceive them she at once pulled down her temporary wigwam, and drove the
      ponies off toward home. Then she hid herself in the bushes near by, for
      she knew that Manitoshaw must return there.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;Come, my granddaughter, we must hasten home by another way,&rsquo; cried the
      old woman.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But the maiden said, &lsquo;No, let us go first to my two moose that I killed
      this morning and take some meat with us.&rsquo; 
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;No, no, my child; the Sioux are cruel. They have killed many of our
      people. If we stay here they will find us. I fear, I fear them,
      Manitoshaw!&rsquo; 
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;At last the brave maid convinced her grandmother, and the more easily as
      she too was hungry for meat. They went to where the big game lay among the
      bushes, and began to dress the moose.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I think, if I were they, I would hide all day. I would wait until the
      Sioux had gone; then I would go back to my moose,&rdquo; I interrupted for the
      third time.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I will finish the story first; then you may tell us what you would do,&rdquo;
       said my uncle reprovingly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The two Sioux were father and son. They too had come to the lake for
      moose; but as the game usually retreated to the island, Chatansapa had
      landed his son Kangiska to hunt them on the shore while he returned in his
      canoe to intercept their flight. The young man sped along the sandy beach
      and soon discovered their tracks. He followed them up and found blood on
      the trail. This astonished him. Cautiously he followed on until he found
      them both lying dead. He examined them and found that in each moose there
      was a single Cree arrow. Wishing to surprise the hunter if possible,
      Kangiska lay hidden in the bushes.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;After a little while the two women returned to the spot. They passed him
      as close as the moose had passed the maiden in the morning. He saw at once
      that the maiden had arrows in her quiver like those that had slain the big
      moose. He lay still.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Kangiska looked upon the beautiful Cree maiden and loved her. Finally he
      forgot himself and made a slight motion. Manitoshaw&rsquo;s quick eye caught the
      little stir among the bushes, but she immediately looked the other way and
      Kangiska believed that she had not seen anything, At last her eyes met
      his, and something told both that all was well. Then the maiden smiled,
      and the young man could not remain still any longer. He arose suddenly and
      the old woman nearly fainted from fright. But Manitoshaw said:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;Fear not, grandmother; we are two and he is only one.&rsquo; 
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;While the two women continued to cut up the meat, Kangiska made a fire by
      rubbing cedar chips together, and they all ate of the moose meat. Then the
      old woman finished her work, while the young people sat down upon a log in
      the shade, and told each other all their minds.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Kangiska declared by signs that he would go home with Manitoshaw to the
      Cree camp, for he loved her. They went home, and the young man hunted for
      the unfortunate Cree band during the rest of his life.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;His father waited a long time on the island and afterward searched the
      shore, but never saw him again. He supposed that those footprints he saw
      were made by Crees who had killed his son.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Is that story true, uncle?&rdquo; I asked eagerly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;Yes, the facts are well known. There are some Sioux mixed bloods among
      the Crees to this day who are descendants of Kangiska.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
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      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      X. INDIAN LIFE AND ADVENTURE
    </h2>
    <p>
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    <h2>
      I: Life in the Woods
    </h2>
    <p>
      THE month of September recalls to every Indian&rsquo;s mind the season of the
      fall hunt. I remember one such expedition which is typical of many. Our
      party appeared on the northwestern side of Turtle mountain; for we had
      been hunting buffaloes all summer, in the region of the Mouse river,
      between that mountain and the upper Missouri.
    </p>
    <p>
      As our cone-shaped teepees rose in clusters along the outskirts of the
      heavy forest that clothes the sloping side of the mountain, the scene
      below was gratifying to a savage eye. The rolling yellow plains were
      checkered with herds of buffaloes. Along the banks of the streams that ran
      down from the mountains were also many elk, which usually appear at
      morning and evening, and disappear into the forest during the warmer part
      of the day. Deer, too, were plenty, and the brooks were alive with trout.
      Here and there the streams were dammed by the industrious beaver.
    </p>
    <p>
      In the interior of the forest there were lakes with many islands, where
      moose, elk, deer and bears were abundant. The water-fowl were wont to
      gather 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 great
      variety of birds. Here the partridge drummed his loudest, while the
      whippoorwill sang with spirit, and the hooting owl reigned in the night.
    </p>
    <p>
      To me, as a boy, this wilderness was a paradise. It was a land of plenty.
      To be sure, we did not have any of the luxuries of civilization, but we
      had every convenience and opportunity and luxury of Nature. We had also
      the gift of enjoying our good fortune, whatever dangers might lurk about
      us; and the truth is that we lived in blessed ignorance of any life that
      was better than our own.
    </p>
    <p>
      As soon as hunting in the woods began, the customs regulating it were
      established. The council teepee no longer existed. A hunting bonfire was
      kindled every morning at day-break, at which each brave must appear and
      report. The man who failed to do this before the party set out on the
      day&rsquo;s hunt was harassed by ridicule. As a rule, the hunters started before
      sunrise, and the brave who was announced throughout the camp as the first
      one to return with a deer on his back, was a man to be envied.
    </p>
    <p>
      The legend-teller, old Smoky Day, was chosen herald of the camp, and it
      was he who made the announcements. After supper was ended, we heard his
      powerful voice resound among the teepees in the forest. He would then name
      a man to kindle the bonfire the next morning. His suit of fringed buckskin
      set off his splendid physique to advantage.
    </p>
    <p>
      Scarcely had the men disappeared in the woods each morning than all the
      boys sallied forth, apparently engrossed in their games and sports, but in
      reality competing actively with one another in quickness of observation.
      As the day advanced, they all kept the sharpest possible lookout. Suddenly
      there would come the shrill &ldquo;Woo-coohoo!&rdquo; at the top of a boy&rsquo;s voice,
      announcing the bringing in of a deer. Immediately all the other boys took
      up the cry, each one bent on getting ahead of the rest. Now we all saw the
      brave Wacoota fairly bent over by his burden, a large deer which he
      carried on his shoulders. His fringed buckskin shirt was besprinkled with
      blood. He threw down the deer at the door of his wife&rsquo;s mother&rsquo;s home,
      according to custom, and then walked proudly to his own. At the door of
      his father&rsquo;s teepee he stood for a moment straight as a pine-tree, and
      then entered.
    </p>
    <p>
      When a bear was brought in, a hundred or more of these urchins were wont
      to make the woods resound with their voices: &ldquo;Wah! wah! wah! Wah! wah!
      wah! The brave White Rabbit brings a bear! Wah! wah! wah!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      All day these sing-song cheers were kept up, as the game was brought in.
      At last, toward the close of the afternoon, all the hunters had returned,
      and happiness and contentment reigned absolute, in a fashion which I have
      never observed among the white people, even in the best of circumstances.
      The men were lounging and smoking; the women actively engaged in the
      preparation of the evening meal, and the care of the meat. The choicest of
      the game was cooked and offered to the Great Mystery, with all the
      accompanying ceremonies. This we called the &ldquo;medicine feast.&rdquo; Even the
      women, as they lowered the boiling pot, or the fragrant roast of venison
      ready to serve, would first whisper: &ldquo;Great Mystery, do thou partake of
      this venison, and still be gracious!&rdquo; This was the commonly said &ldquo;grace.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Everything went smoothly with us, on this occasion, when we first entered
      the woods. Nothing was wanting to our old way of living. The killing of
      deer and elk and moose had to be stopped for a time, since meat was so
      abundant that we had no use for them any longer. Only the hunting for
      pelts, such as those of the bear, beaver, marten, and otter was continued.
      But whenever we lived in blessed abundance, our braves were wont to turn
      their thoughts to other occupations&mdash;especially the hot-blooded
      youths whose ambition it was to do something noteworthy.
    </p>
    <p>
      At just such moments as this there are always a number of priests in
      readiness, whose vocation it is to see into the future, and each of whom
      consults his particular interpreter of the Great Mystery. (This ceremony
      is called by the white people &ldquo;making medicine.&rdquo;) To the priests the
      youthful braves hint their impatience for the war-path. Soon comes the
      desired dream or prophecy or vision to favor their departure.
    </p>
    <p>
      Our young men presently received their sign, and for a few days all was
      hurry and excitement. On the appointed morning we heard the songs of the
      warriors and the wailing of the women, by which they bade adieu to each
      other, and the eligible braves, headed by an experienced man&mdash;old
      Hotanka or Loud-Voiced Raven&mdash;set out for the Gros Ventre country.
    </p>
    <p>
      Our older heads, to be sure, had expressed some disapproval of the
      undertaking, 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 rightful owners. The
      plain truth of the matter was that we were intruders. Hence the more
      thoughtful among us preferred to be at home, and to achieve what renown
      they could get by defending their homes and families. The young men,
      however, were so eager for action and excitement that they must needs go
      off in search of it.
    </p>
    <p>
      From the early morning when these braves left us, led by the old
      war-priest, Loud-Voiced Raven, the anxious mothers, sisters and
      sweethearts counted the days. Old Smoky Day would occasionally get up
      early in the morning, and sing a &ldquo;strong-heart&rdquo; song for his absent
      grandson. I still seem to hear the hoarse, cracked voice of the ancient
      singer as it resounded among the woods. For a long time our roving
      community enjoyed unbroken peace, and we were spared any trouble or
      disturbance. Our hunters often brought in a deer or elk or bear for fresh
      meat. The beautiful lakes furnished us with fish and wild-fowl for
      variety. Their placid waters, as the autumn advanced, reflected the
      variegated colors of the changing foliage.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is my recollection that we were at this time encamped in the vicinity
      of the &ldquo;Turtle Mountain&rsquo;s Heart.&rdquo; It is to the highest cone-shaped peak
      that the Indians aptly give this appellation. Our camping-ground for two
      months was within a short distance of the peak, and the men made it a
      point to often send one of their number to the top. It was understood
      between them and the war party that we were to remain near this spot; and
      on their return trip the latter were to give the &ldquo;smoke sign,&rdquo; which we
      would answer from the top of the hill.
    </p>
    <p>
      One day, as we were camping on the shore of a large lake with several
      islands, signs of moose were discovered, and the men went off to them on
      rafts, carrying their flint-lock guns in anticipation of finding two or
      three of the animals. We little fellows, as usual, were playing down by
      the sandy shore, when we spied what seemed like the root of a great tree
      floating toward us. But on a closer scrutiny we discovered our error. It
      was the head of a huge moose, swimming for his life! Fortunately for him,
      none of the men had remained at home.
    </p>
    <p>
      According to our habit, we little urchins disappeared in an instant, like
      young prairie chickens, in the long grass. I was not more than eight years
      old, yet I tested the strength of my bowstring and adjusted my sharpest
      and best arrow for immediate service. My heart leaped violently as the
      homely but imposing animal neared the shore. I was undecided for a moment
      whether I would not leave my hiding-place and give a war-whoop as soon as
      he touched the sand. Then I thought I would keep still and let him have my
      boy weapon; and the only regret that I had was that he would, in all
      probability, take it with him, and I should be minus one good arrow.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Still,&rdquo; I thought, &ldquo;I shall claim to be the smallest boy whose arrow was
      ever carried away by a moose.&rdquo; That was enough. I gathered myself into a
      bunch, all ready to spring. As the long-legged beast pulled himself
      dripping out of the water, and shook off the drops from his long hair, I
      sprang to my feet. I felt some of the water in my face! I gave him my
      sharpest arrow with all the force I could master, right among the floating
      ribs. Then I uttered my warwhoop.
    </p>
    <p>
      The moose did not seem to mind the miniature weapon, but he was very much
      frightened by our shrill yelling. He took to his long legs, and in a
      minute was out of sight.
    </p>
    <p>
      The leaves had now begun to fall, and the heavy frosts made the nights
      very cold. We were forced to realize that the short summer of that region
      had said adieu! Still we were gay and lighthearted, for we had plenty of
      provisions, and no misfortune had yet overtaken us in our wanderings over
      the country for nearly three months.
    </p>
    <p>
      One day old Smoky Day returned from the daily hunt with an alarm. He had
      seen a sign-a &ldquo;smoke sign.&rdquo; This had not appeared in the quarter that they
      were anxiously watching&mdash;it came from the east. After a long
      consultation among the men, it was concluded from the nature and duration
      of the smoke that it proceeded from an accidental fire. It was further
      surmised that the fire was not made by Sioux, since it was out of their
      country, but by a war-party of Ojibways, who were accustomed to use
      matches when lighting their pipes, and to throw them carelessly away. It
      was thought that a little time had been spent in an attempt to put it out.
    </p>
    <p>
      The council decreed that a strict look-out should be established in behalf
      of our party. Every day a scout was appointed to reconnoitre in the
      direction of the smoke. It was agreed that no gun should be fired for
      twelve days. All our signals were freshly rehearsed among the men. The
      women and old men went so far as to dig little convenient holes around
      their lodges, for defense in case of a sudden attack. And yet an Ojibway
      scout would not have suspected, from the ordinary appearance of the camp,
      that the Sioux had become aware of their neighborhood! Scouts were
      stationed just outside of the village at night. They had been so trained
      as to rival an owl or a cat in their ability to see in the dark.
    </p>
    <p>
      The twelve days passed by, however, without bringing any evidence of the
      nearness of the supposed Ojibway war-party, and the &ldquo;lookout&rdquo; established
      for purposes of protection was abandoned. Soon after this, one morning at
      dawn, we were aroused by the sound of the unwelcome warwhoop. 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, and gave me a sign to lay
      flat on the ground. I sharpened my ears and lay still.
    </p>
    <p>
      All was quiet in camp, but at some little distance from us there was a
      lively encounter. I could distinctly hear the old herald, shouting and
      yelling in exasperation. &ldquo;Whoo! whoo!&rdquo; was the signal of distress, and I
      could almost hear the pulse of my own blood-vessels.
    </p>
    <p>
      Closer and closer the struggle came, and still the women appeared to grow
      more and more calm. At last a tremendous charge by the Sioux put the enemy
      to flight; there was a burst of yelling; alas! my friend and teacher, old
      Smoky Day, was silent. He had been pierced to the heart by an arrow from
      the Ojibways.
    </p>
    <p>
      Although successful, we had lost two of our men, Smoky Day and White
      Crane, and this incident, although hardly unexpected, darkened our
      peaceful sky. The camp was filled with songs of victory, mingled with the
      wailing of the relatives of the slain. The mothers of the youths who were
      absent on the war-path could no longer conceal their anxiety.
    </p>
    <p>
      One frosty morning&mdash;for it was then near the end of October&mdash;the
      weird song of a solitary brave was heard. In an instant the camp was
      thrown into indescribable confusion. The meaning of this was clear as day
      to everybody&mdash;all of our war-party were killed, save the one whose
      mournful song announced the fate of his companions. The lonely warrior was
      Bald Eagle.
    </p>
    <p>
      The village was convulsed with grief; for in sorrow, as in joy, every
      Indian shares with all the others. The old women stood still, wherever
      they might be, and wailed dismally, at intervals chanting the praises of
      the departed warriors. The wives went a little way from their teepees and
      there audibly mourned; but the young maidens wandered further away from
      the camp, where no one could witness their grief. The old men joined in
      the crying and singing. To all appearances the most unmoved of all were
      the warriors, whose tears must be poured forth in the country of the enemy
      to embitter their vengeance. These sat silently within their lodges, and
      strove to conceal their feelings behind a stoical countenance; but they
      would probably have failed had not the soothing weed come to their relief.
    </p>
    <p>
      The first sad shock over, then came the change of habiliments. In savage
      usage, the outward expression of mourning surpasses that of civilization.
      The Indian mourner gives up all his good clothing, and contents himself
      with scanty and miserable garments. Blankets are cut in two, and the hair
      is cropped short. Often a devoted mother would scarify her arms or legs; a
      sister or a young wife would cut off all her beautiful hair and disfigure
      herself by undergoing hardships. Fathers and brothers blackened their
      faces, and wore only the shabbiest garments. Such was the spectacle that
      our people presented when the bright autumn was gone and the cold shadow
      of winter and misfortune had fallen upon us. &ldquo;We must suffer,&rdquo; said they&mdash;&ldquo;the
      Great Mystery is offended.&rdquo;
     </p>
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    <h2>
      II. A Winter Camp
    </h2>
    <p>
      WHEN I was about twelve years old we wintered upon the Mouse river, west
      of Turtle mountain. It was one of the coldest winters I ever knew, and was
      so regarded by the old men of the tribe. The summer before there had been
      plenty of buffalo upon that side of the Missouri, and our people had made
      many packs of dried buffalo meat and cached them in different places, so
      that they could get them in case of need. There were many black-tailed
      deer and elk along the river, and grizzlies were to be found in the open
      country. Apparently there was no danger of starvation, so our people
      thought to winter there; but it proved to be a hard winter.
    </p>
    <p>
      There was a great snow-fall, and the cold was intense. The snow was too
      deep for hunting, and the main body of the buffalo had crossed the
      Missouri, where it was too far to go after them. But there were some
      smaller herds of the animals scattered about in our vicinity, therefore
      there was still fresh meat to be had, but it was not secured without a
      great deal of difficulty.
    </p>
    <p>
      No ponies could be used. The men hunted on snow-shoes until after the Moon
      of Sore Eyes (March), when after a heavy thaw a crust was formed on the
      snow which would scarcely hold a man. It was then that our people hunted
      buffalo with dogs&mdash;an unusual expedient.
    </p>
    <p>
      Sleds were made of buffalo ribs and hickory saplings, the runners bound
      with rawhide with the hair side down. These slipped smoothly over the icy
      crust. Only small men rode on the sleds. When buffalo were reported by the
      hunting-scouts, everybody had his dog team ready. All went under orders
      from the police, and approached the herd under cover until they came
      within charging distance.
    </p>
    <p>
      The men had their bows and arrows, and a few had guns. The huge animals
      could not run fast in the deep snow. They all followed a leader, trampling
      out a narrow path. The dogs with their drivers soon caught up with them on
      each side, and the hunters brought many of them down.
    </p>
    <p>
      I remember when the party returned, late in the night. The men came in
      single file, well loaded, and each dog following his master with an
      equally heavy load. Both men and animals were white with frost.
    </p>
    <p>
      We boys had waited impatiently for their arrival. As soon as we spied them
      coming a buffalo hunting whistle was started, and every urchin in the
      village added his voice to the weird sound, while the dogs who had been
      left at home joined with us in the chorus. The men, wearing their buffalo
      moccasins with the hair inside and robes of the same, came home hungry and
      exhausted.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is often supposed that the dog in the Indian camp is a useless member
      of society, but it is not so in the wild life. We found him one of the
      most useful of domestic animals, especially in an emergency.
    </p>
    <p>
      While at this camp a ludicrous incident occurred that is still told about
      the camp-fires of the Sioux. One day the men were hunting on snow-shoes,
      and contrived to get within a short distance of the buffalo before they
      made the attack. It was impossible to run fast, but the huge animals were
      equally unable to get away. Many were killed. Just as the herd reached an
      open plain one of the buffaloes stopped and finally lay down. Three of the
      men who were pursuing him shortly came up. The animal was severely
      wounded, but not dead.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I shall crawl up to him from behind and stab him,&rdquo; said Wamedee; &ldquo;we
      cannot wait here for him to die.&rdquo; The others agreed. Wamedee was not
      considered especially brave; but he took out his knife and held it between
      his teeth. He then approached the buffalo from behind and suddenly jumped
      astride his back.
    </p>
    <p>
      The animal was dreadfully frightened and struggled to his feet. Wamedee&rsquo;s
      knife fell to the ground, but he held on by the long shaggy hair. He had a
      bad seat, for he was upon the buffalo&rsquo;s hump. There was no chance to jump
      off; he had to stay on as well as he could.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Hurry! hurry! shoot! shoot!&rdquo; he screamed, as the creature plunged and
      kicked madly in the deep snow. Wamedee&rsquo;s face looked deathly, they said;
      but his two friends could not help laughing. He was still calling upon
      them to shoot, but when the others took aim he would cry: &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t shoot!
      don&rsquo;t shoot! you will kill me!&rdquo; At last the animal fell down with him; but
      Wamedee&rsquo;s two friends also fell down exhausted with laughter. He was
      ridiculed as a coward thereafter.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was on this very hunt that the chief Mato was killed by a buffalo. It
      happened in this way. He had wounded the animal, but not fatally; so he
      shot two more arrows at him from a distance. Then the buffalo became
      desperate and charged upon him. In his flight Mato was tripped by sticking
      one of his snow-shoes into a snowdrift, from which he could not extricate
      himself in time. The bull gored him to death. The creek upon which this
      happened is now called Mato creek.
    </p>
    <p>
      A little way from our camp there was a log village of French Canadian
      half-breeds, but the two villages did not intermingle. About the Moon of
      Difficulty (January) we were initiated into some of the peculiar customs
      of our neighbors. In the middle of the night there was a firing of guns
      throughout their village. Some of the people thought they had been
      attacked, and went over to assist them, but to their surprise they were
      told that this was the celebration of the birth of the new year!
    </p>
    <p>
      Our men were treated to minnewakan or &ldquo;spirit water,&rdquo; and they came home
      crazy 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 put
      them in a lodge by themselves. He gave orders to untie them &ldquo;when the evil
      spirit had gone away.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      During the next day all our people were invited to attend the half-breeds&rsquo; 
      dance. I never knew before that a new year begins in mid-winter. We had
      always counted that the year ends when the winter ends, and a new year
      begins with the new life in the springtime.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was now taken for the first time to a white man&rsquo;s dance in a log house.
      I thought it was the dizziest thing I ever saw. One man sat in a corner,
      sawing away at a stringed board, and all the while he was stamping the
      floor with his foot and giving an occasional shout. When he called out,
      the dancers seemed to move faster.
    </p>
    <p>
      The men danced with women&mdash;something that we Indians never do&mdash;and
      when the man in the corner shouted they would swing the women around. It
      looked very rude to me, as I stood outside with the other boys and peeped
      through the chinks in the logs. At one time a young man and woman facing
      each other danced in the middle of the floor. I thought they would surely
      wear their moccasins out against the rough boards; but after a few minutes
      they were relieved by another couple.
    </p>
    <p>
      Then an old man with long curly hair and a fox-skin cap danced alone in
      the middle of the room, slapping the floor with his moccasined foot in a
      lightning fashion that I have never seen equalled. He seemed to be a
      leader among them. When he had finished, the old man invited our principal
      chief into the middle of the floor, and after the Indian had given a great
      whoop, the two drank in company. After this, there was so much drinking
      and loud talking among the men, that it was thought best to send us
      children back to the camp.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was at this place that we found many sand boulders like a big &ldquo;white
      man&rsquo;s house.&rdquo; There were holes in them like rooms, and we played in these
      cave-like holes. One day, in the midst of our game, we found the skeleton
      of a great bear. Evidently he had been wounded and came there to die, for
      there were several arrows on the floor of the cave.
    </p>
    <p>
      The most exciting event of this year was the attack that the Gros Ventres
      made upon us just as we moved our camp upon the table land back of the
      river in the spring. We had plenty of meat then and everybody was happy.
      The grass was beginning to appear and the ponies to grow fat.
    </p>
    <p>
      One night there was a war dance. A few of our young men had planned to
      invade the Gros Ventres country, but it seemed that they too had been
      thinking of us. Everybody was interested in the proposed war party.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Uncle, are you going too?&rdquo; I eagerly asked him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he replied, with a long sigh. &ldquo;It is the worst time of year to go on
      the war-path. We shall have plenty of fighting this summer, as we are
      going to trench upon their territory in our hunts,&rdquo; he added.
    </p>
    <p>
      The night was clear and pleasant. The war drum was answered by the howls
      of 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. &ldquo;I wish I
      were old enough; I would surely go with this party,&rdquo; I thought. My friend
      Tatanka was to go. He was several years older than I, and a hero in my
      eyes. I watched him as he danced with the rest until nearly midnight. Then
      I came back to our teepee and rolled myself in my buffalo robe and was
      soon lost in sleep.
    </p>
    <p>
      Suddenly I was aroused by loud war cries. &ldquo;&lsquo;Woo! woo! hay-ay! hay-ay! U we
      do! U we do!&rsquo;&rdquo; I jumped upon my feet, snatched my bow and arrows and
      rushed out of the teepee, frantically yelling as I went.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Stop! stop!&rdquo; screamed Uncheedah, and caught me by my long hair.
    </p>
    <p>
      By this time the Gros Ventres had encircled our camp, sending volleys of
      arrows and bullets into our midst. The women were digging ditches in which
      to put their children.
    </p>
    <p>
      My uncle was foremost in the battle. The Sioux bravely withstood the
      assault, although several of our men had already fallen. Many of the enemy
      were killed in the field around our teepees. The Sioux at last got their
      ponies and made a counter charge, led by Oyemakasan (my uncle). They cut
      the Gros Ventre party in two, and drove them off.
    </p>
    <p>
      My friend Tatanka was killed. I took one of his eagle feathers, thinking I
      would wear it the first time that I ever went upon the war-path. I thought
      I would give anything for the opportunity to go against the Gros Ventres,
      because they killed my friend. The war songs, the wailing for the dead,
      the howling of the dogs was intolerable to me. Soon after this we broke up
      our camp and departed for new scenes.
    </p>
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      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      III. Wild Harvests
    </h2>
    <p>
      WHEN our people lived in Minnesota, a good part of their natural
      subsistence was furnished by the wild rice, which grew abundantly in all
      of that region. Around the shores and all over some of the innumerable
      lakes of the &ldquo;Land of Sky-blue Water&rdquo; was this wild cereal found. Indeed,
      some of the watery fields in those days might be compared in extent and
      fruitfulness with the fields of wheat on Minnesota&rsquo;s magnificent farms
      to-day.
    </p>
    <p>
      The wild rice harvesters came in groups of fifteen to twenty families to a
      lake, depending upon the size of the harvest. Some of the Indians hunted
      buffalo upon the prairie at this season, but there were more who preferred
      to go to the lakes to gather wild rice, fish, gather berries and hunt the
      deer. There was an abundance of water-fowls among the grain; and really no
      season of the year was happier than this.
    </p>
    <p>
      The camping-ground was usually an attractive spot, with shade and cool
      breezes off the water. The people, while they pitched their teepees upon
      the heights, if possible, for the sake of a good outlook, actually lived
      in their canoes upon the placid waters. The happiest of all, perhaps, were
      the young maidens, who were all day long in their canoes, in twos or
      threes, and when tired of gathering the wild cereal, would sit in the
      boats doing their needle-work.
    </p>
    <p>
      These maidens learned to imitate the calls of the different water-fowls as
      a sort of signal to the members of a group. Even the old women and the
      boys adopted signals, so that while the population of the village was lost
      to sight in a thick field of wild rice, a meeting could be arranged
      without calling any one by his or her own name. It was a great convenience
      for those young men who sought opportunity to meet certain maidens, for
      there were many canoe paths through the rice.
    </p>
    <p>
      August is the harvest month. There were many preliminary feasts of fish,
      ducks and venison, and offerings in honor of the &ldquo;Water Chief,&rdquo; so that
      there might not be any drowning accident during the harvest. The
      preparation consisted of a series of feasts and offerings for many days,
      while women and men were making birch canoes, for nearly every member of
      the family must be provided with one for this occasion. The blueberry and
      huckleberry-picking also preceded the rice-gathering.
    </p>
    <p>
      There were social events which enlivened the camp of the harvesters; such
      as maidens&rsquo; feasts, dances and a canoe regatta or two, in which not only
      the men were participants, but women and young girls as well.
    </p>
    <p>
      On the appointed day all the canoes were carried to the shore and placed
      upon the water with prayer and propitiatory offerings. Each family took
      possession of the allotted field, and tied all the grain in bundles of
      convenient size, allowing it to stand for a few days. Then they again
      entered the lake, assigning two persons to each canoe. One manipulated the
      paddle, while the foremost one gently drew the heads of each bundle toward
      him and gave it a few strokes with a light rod. This caused the rice to
      fall into the bottom of the craft. The field was traversed in this manner
      back and forth until finished.
    </p>
    <p>
      This was the pleasantest and easiest part of the harvest toil. The real
      work was when they prepared the rice for use. First of all, it must be
      made 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 a certain
      thickness of the green grass and afterward the rice. Under this a fire was
      made, taking care that the grass did not catch fire.
    </p>
    <p>
      When all the rice is gathered and dried, the hulling begins. A round hole
      is dug about two feet deep and the same in diameter. Then the rice is
      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 robe and
      begin to shake it so that the chaff will be separated by the wind. Some of
      the rice is browned before being hulled.
    </p>
    <p>
      During the hulling time there were prizes offered to the young men who can
      hull quickest and best. There were sometimes from twenty to fifty youths
      dancing with their feet in these holes.
    </p>
    <p>
      Pretty moccasins were brought by shy maidens to the youths of their
      choice, asking them to hull rice. There were daily entertainments which
      deserved some such name as &ldquo;hulling bee&rdquo;&mdash;at any rate, we all enjoyed
      them hugely. The girls brought with them plenty of good things to eat.
    </p>
    <p>
      When all the rice was prepared for the table, the matter of storing it
      must be determined. Caches were dug by each family in a concealed spot,
      and carefully lined with dry grass and bark. Here they left their surplus
      stores for a time of need. Our people were very ingenious in covering up
      all traces of the hidden food. A common trick was to build a fire on top
      of the mound. As much of the rice as could be carried conveniently was
      packed in par-fleches, or cases made of rawhide, and brought back with us
      to our village.
    </p>
    <p>
      After all, the wild Indians could not be justly termed improvident, when
      their manner of life is taken into consideration. They let nothing go to
      waste, and labored incessantly during the summer and fall to lay up
      provision for the inclement season. Berries of all kinds were
      industriously gathered, and dried in the sun. Even the wild cherries were
      pounded up, stones and all, made into small cakes and dried for use in
      soups and for mixing with the pounded jerked meat and fat to form a
      much-prized Indian delicacy.
    </p>
    <p>
      Out on the prairie in July and August the women were wont to dig teepsinna
      with sharpened sticks, and many a bag full was dried and put away. This
      teepsinna is the root of a certain plant growing mostly upon high sandy
      soil. It is starchy but solid, with a sweetish taste, and is very
      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 be eaten raw
      or stewed, and is always kept in a dried state, except when it is first
      dug.
    </p>
    <p>
      There was another root that our people gathered in small quantities. It is
      a wild sweet potato, found in bottom lands or river beds.
    </p>
    <p>
      The primitive housekeeper exerted herself much to secure a variety of
      appetizing dishes; she even robbed the field mouse and the muskrat to
      accomplish her end. The tiny mouse gathers for her winter use several
      excellent kinds of food. Among these is a wild bean which equals in flavor
      any domestic bean that I have ever tasted. Her storehouse is usually under
      a peculiar mound, which the untrained eye would be unable to distinguish
      from an ant-hill. There are many pockets underneath, into which she
      industriously gathers the harvest of the summer.
    </p>
    <p>
      She is fortunate if the quick eye of a native woman does not detect her
      hiding-place. About the month of September, while traveling over the
      prairie, a woman is occasionally observed to halt suddenly and waltz
      around a suspected mound. Finally the pressure of her heel causes a place
      to give way, and she settles contentedly down to rob the poor mouse of the
      fruits of her labor.
    </p>
    <p>
      The different kinds of beans are put away in different pockets, but it is
      the oomenechah she wants. The field mouse loves this savory vegetable, for
      she always gathers it more than any other. There is also some of the white
      star-like manakcahkcah, the root of the wild lily. This is a good medicine
      and good to eat.
    </p>
    <p>
      When our people were gathering the wild rice, they always watched for
      another plant that grows in the muddy bottom of lakes and ponds. It is a
      white bulb about the size of an ordinary onion. This is stored away by the
      muskrats in their houses by the waterside, and there is often a bushel or
      more of the psinchinchah to be found within. It seemed as if everybody was
      good to the wild Indian; at least we thought so then.
    </p>
    <p>
      I have referred to the opportunities for courting upon the wild rice
      fields. Indian courtship is very peculiar in many respects; but when you
      study their daily life you will see the philosophy of their etiquette of
      love-making. There was no parlor courtship; the life was largely
      out-of-doors, which was very favorable to the young men
    </p>
    <p>
      In a nomadic life where the female members of the family have entire
      control of domestic affairs, the work is divided among them all. Very
      often the bringing of the wood and water devolves upon the young maids,
      and the spring or the woods become the battle-ground of love&rsquo;s warfare.
      The nearest water may be some distance from the camp, which is all the
      better. Sometimes, too, there is no wood to be had; and in that case, one
      would see the young women scattered all over the prairie, gathering
      buffalo chips for fuel.
    </p>
    <p>
      This is the way the red men go about to induce the aboriginal maids to
      listen to their suit. As soon as the youth has returned from the war-path
      or the chase, he puts on his porcupine-quill embroidered moccasins and
      leggings, and folds his best robe about him. He brushes his 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 plaits with an otter skin
      or some other ornament. If he is a warrior, he adds an eagle feather or
      two.
    </p>
    <p>
      If he chooses to ride, he takes his best pony. He jumps upon its bare
      back, 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&rsquo;s neck. He guides
      him altogether by the motions of his body. These wily ponies seem to enter
      into the spirit of the occasion, and very often capture the eyes of the
      maid by their graceful movements, in perfect obedience to their master.
    </p>
    <p>
      The general custom is for the young men to pull their robes over their
      heads, leaving only a slit to look through. Sometimes the same is done by
      the maiden&mdash;especially in public courtship.
    </p>
    <p>
      He approaches the girl while she is coming from the spring. He takes up
      his position directly in her path. If she is in a hurry or does not care
      to stop, she goes around him; but if she is willing to stop and listen she
      puts down on the ground the vessel of water she is carrying.
    </p>
    <p>
      Very often at the first meeting the maiden does not know who her lover is.
      He does not introduce himself immediately, but waits until a second
      meeting. Sometimes she does not see his face at all; and then she will try
      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 end the
      affair there.
    </p>
    <p>
      There are times when maidens go in twos, and then there must be two young
      men to meet them.
    </p>
    <p>
      There is some courtship in the night time; either in the early part of the
      evening, on the outskirts of dances and other public affairs, or after
      everybody is supposed to be asleep. This is the secret courtship. The
      youth may pull up the tentpins just back of his sweetheart and speak with
      her during the night. He must be a smart young man to do that undetected,
      for the grandmother, her chaperon, is usually &ldquo;all ears.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Elopements are common. There are many reasons for a girl or a youth to
      defer their wedding. It may be from personal pride of one or both. The
      well-born are married publicly, and many things are given away in their
      honor. The maiden may desire to attend a certain number of maidens&rsquo; feasts
      before marrying. The youth may be poor, or he may wish to achieve another
      honor before surrendering to a woman.
    </p>
    <p>
      Sometimes a youth is so infatuated with a maiden that he will follow her
      to any part of the country, even after their respective bands have
      separated for the season. I knew of one such case. Patah Tankah had
      courted a distant relative of my uncle for a long time. There seemed to be
      some objection to him on the part of the girl&rsquo;s parents, although the girl
      herself was willing.
    </p>
    <p>
      The large camp had been broken up for the fall hunt, and my uncle&rsquo;s band
      went one way, while the young man&rsquo;s family went in the other direction.
      After three days&rsquo; travelling, we came to a good hunting-ground, and made
      camp. One evening somebody saw the young man. He had been following his
      sweetheart and sleeping out-of-doors all that time, although the nights
      were already frosty and cold. He met her every day in secret and she
      brought him food, but he would not come near the teepee. Finally her
      people yielded, and she went back with him to his band.
    </p>
    <p>
      When we lived our natural life, there was much singing of war songs,
      medicine, hunting and love songs. Sometimes there were few words or none,
      but everything was understood by the inflection. From this I have often
      thought that there must be a language of dumb beasts.
    </p>
    <p>
      The crude musical instrument of the Sioux, the flute, was made to appeal
      to the susceptible ears of the maidens late into the night. There comes to
      me now the picture of two young men with their robes over their heads, and
      only a portion of the hand-made and carved chotanka, the flute, protruding
      from its folds. I can see all the maidens slyly turn their heads to
      listen. Now I hear one of the youths begin to sing a plaintive serenade as
      in days gone by:
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
    &ldquo;Hay-ay-ay! Hay-ay-ay! a-ahay-ay!&rdquo; (This
    &ldquo;Listen! you will hear of him&mdash;
     Maiden, you will hear of him&mdash;
     Listen! he will shortly go
</pre>
    <p>
      Wasula feels that she must come out, but she has no good excuse, so she
      stirs up the embers of the fire and causes an unnecessary smoke in the
      teepee. 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, with their
      long poles, for the wind seems to be unsettled.
    </p>
    <p>
      Finally Chotanka ceases to be heard. In a moment a young man appears
      ghost-like at the maiden&rsquo;s side.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;So it is you, is it?&rdquo; she asks.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Is your grandmother in?&rdquo; he inquires.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What a brave man you are, to fear an old woman! We are free; the country
      is wide. We can go away, and come back when the storm is over.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ho,&rdquo; he replies. &ldquo;It is not that I fear her, or the consequences of an
      elopement. I fear nothing except that we may be separated!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The girl goes into the lodge for a moment, then slips out once more.
      &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; she exclaims, &ldquo;to the wood or the prairie! I am yours!&rdquo; They
      disappear in the darkness.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      IV. A Meeting on the Plains
    </h2>
    <p>
      WE were encamped at one time on the Souris or Mouse river, a tributary of
      the Assiniboine. The buffaloes were still plenty; hence we were living on
      the &ldquo;fat of the land.&rdquo; One afternoon a scout came in with the announcement
      that a body of United States troops was approaching! This report, of
      course, caused much uneasiness among our people.
    </p>
    <p>
      A council was held immediately, in the course of which the scout was put
      through a rigid examination. Before a decision had been reached, another
      scout came in from the field. He declared that the moving train reported
      as a body of troops was in reality a train of Canadian carts.
    </p>
    <p>
      The two reports differed so widely that it was deemed wise to send out
      more runners to observe this moving body closely, and ascertain definitely
      its character. These soon returned with the positive information that the
      Canadians were at hand, &ldquo;for,&rdquo; said they, &ldquo;there are 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 the long, four-wheeled wagon
      drawn by four or six mules, that the soldiers use. They are not buffaloes,
      and they cannot be mounted troops, with pack-mules, because the individual
      bodies are too long for that. Besides, the soldiers usually have their
      chief, with his guards, leading the train; and the little chiefs are also
      separated from the main body and ride at one side!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      From these observations it was concluded that we were soon to meet with
      the bois brules, as the French call their mixed-bloods, presumably from
      the color of their complexions. Some say that they are named from the
      &ldquo;burned forests&rdquo; which, as wood-cutters, they are accustomed to leave
      behind them. Two or three hours later, at about sunset, our ears began to
      distinguish the peculiar music that always accompanied a moving train of
      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 these vehicles are
      made of wood. Our dogs gleefully augmented the volume of inharmonious
      sound.
    </p>
    <p>
      They stopped a little way from our camp, upon a grassy plain, and the
      ponies were made to wheel their clumsy burdens into a perfect circle, the
      shafts being turned inward. Thus was formed a sort of barricade&mdash;quite
      a usual and necessary precaution in their nomadic and adventurous life.
      Within this circle the tents were pitched, and many cheerful fires were
      soon kindled. The garcons were hurriedly driving the ponies to water, with
      much cracking of whips and outbursting of impatient oaths.
    </p>
    <p>
      Our chief and his principal warriors briefly conferred with the strangers,
      and it was understood by both parties that no thought of hostilities
      lurked in the minds of either.
    </p>
    <p>
      After having observed the exchange of presents that always follows a
      &ldquo;peace council,&rdquo; there were friendly and hospitable feasts in both camps.
      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 full of water.
      In order to have any sort of offensive taste, it was necessary to add
      cayenne pepper and a little gentian.
    </p>
    <p>
      Our men were treated to this concoction; and seeing that two or three of
      the half-breeds pretended to become intoxicated, our braves followed their
      example. They made night intolerable with their shouts and singing until
      past midnight, when gradually all disturbance ceased, and both camps
      appeared to be wrapped in deep slumber.
    </p>
    <p>
      Suddenly the loud report of a gun stirred the sleepers. Many more reports
      were heard in quick succession, all coming from the camp of the bois
      brules. Every man among the Sioux sprang to his feet, weapon in hand, and
      many ran towards their ponies. But there was one significant point about
      the untimely firing of the guns&mdash;they were all directed heavenward!
      One of our old men, who understood better than any one else the manners of
      the half-breeds, thus proclaimed at the top of his voice:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Let the people sleep! This that we have heard is the announcement of a
      boy&rsquo;s advent into the world! It is their custom to introduce with
      gunpowder a new-born boy!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Again quiet was restored in the neighboring camps, and for a time the
      night reigned undisturbed. But scarcely had we fallen into a sound sleep
      when we were for the second time rudely aroused by the firing of guns and
      the yelling of warriors. This time it was discovered that almost all the
      ponies, including those of our neighbors, had been stealthily driven off
      by horse-thieves of another tribe.
    </p>
    <p>
      These miscreants were adepts in their profession, for they had
      accomplished their purpose with much skill, almost under the very eyes of
      the foe, and had it not been for the invincible superstition of Slow Dog,
      they would have met with complete success. As it was, they caused us no
      little trouble and anxiety, but after a hot pursuit of a whole day, with
      the assistance of the halfbreeds our horses were recaptured.
    </p>
    <p>
      Slow Dog was one of those Indians who are filled with conceit, and
      boasting loudly their pretensions as medicine men, without any success,
      only bring upon themselves an unnecessary amount of embarrassment and
      ridicule. Yet there is one quality always possessed by such persons, among
      a savage people as elsewhere&mdash;namely, great perseverance and tenacity
      in their self-assertion. So the blessing of ignorance kept Slow Dog always
      cheerful; and he seemed, if anything, to derive some pleasure from the
      endless insinuations and ridicule of the people!
    </p>
    <p>
      Now Slow Dog had loudly proclaimed, on the night before this event, that
      he had received the warning of a bad dream, in which he had seen all the
      ponies belonging to the tribe stampeded and driven westward.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But who cares for Slow Dog&rsquo;s dream?&rdquo; said everybody; &ldquo;none of the really
      great medicine men have had any such visions!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Therefore our little community, given as they were to superstition,
      anticipated no special danger. It is true that when the first scout
      reported the approach of troops some of the people had weakened, and said
      to one another:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;After all, perhaps poor Slow Dog may be right; but we are always too
      ready to laugh at him!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      However, this feeling quickly passed away when the jovial Canadians
      arrived, and the old man was left alone to brood upon his warning.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was faithful to his dream. During all the hilarity of the feast and the
      drinking of the mock whiskey, be acted as self-constituted sentinel.
      Finally, when everybody else had succumbed to sleep, he gathered together
      several broken and discarded lariats of various materials&mdash;leather,
      buffalo&rsquo;s hair and horse&rsquo;s hair. Having lengthened this variegated rope
      with innumerable knots, he fastened one end of it around 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 a buffalo robe and lay down in its
      shadow. From this place he watched until the moon had disappeared behind
      the western horizon; and just as the grey dawn began to appear in the east
      his eyes were attracted to what seemed to be a dog moving among the
      picketed ponies. Upon a closer scrutiny, he saw that its actions were
      unnatural.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Toka abe do! toka abe do!&rdquo; (the enemy! the enemy!) exclaimed Slow Dog.
      With a warwhoop he sprang toward the intruder, who rose up and leaped upon
      the back of Slow Dog&rsquo;s warsteed. He had cut the hobble, as well as the
      device of the old medicine man.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Sioux now bent his bow to shoot, but it was too late. The other
      quickly dodged behind the animal, and from under its chest he sent a
      deadly arrow to Slow Dog&rsquo;s bosom. Then he remounted the pony and set off
      at full speed after his comrades, who had already started.
    </p>
    <p>
      As the Sioux braves responded to the alarm, and passed by the daring old
      warrior in pursuit of their enemies, who had stampeded most of the loose
      ponies, the old man cried out:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I, brave Slow Dog, who have so often made a path for you on the field of
      battle, am now about to make one to the land of spirits!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      So speaking, the old man died. The Sioux were joined in the chase by the
      friendly mixedbloods, and in the end the Blackfeet were compelled to pay
      dearly for the blood of the poor old man.
    </p>
    <p>
      On that beautiful morning all Nature seemed brilliant and smiling, but the
      Sioux were mourning and wailing for the death of one who had been an
      object of ridicule during most of his life. They appreciated the part that
      Slow Dog had played in this last event, and his memory was honored by all
      the tribe.
    </p>
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    <h2>
      V. An Adventurous Journey
    </h2>
    <p>
      IT must now be about thirty years since our long journey in search of new
      hunting-grounds, from the Assiniboine river to the Upper Missouri. The
      buffalo, formerly so abundant between the two rivers, had begun to shun
      their usual haunts, on account of the great numbers of Canadian halfbreeds
      in that part of the country. There was also the first influx of English
      sportsmen, whose wholesale methods of destruction wrought such havoc with
      the herds. These seemingly intelligent animals correctly prophesied to the
      natives the approach of the pale-face.
    </p>
    <p>
      As we had anticipated, we found game very scarce as we travelled slowly
      across the vast plains. There were only herds of antelope and sometimes
      flocks of waterfowl, with here and there a lonely bull straggling
      aimlessly along. At first our party was small, but as we proceeded on our
      way we fell in with some of the western bands of Sioux and Assiniboines,
      who are close connections.
    </p>
    <p>
      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 only vehicles
      were the primitive travaux drawn by ponies and large Esquimaux dogs. These
      are merely a pair of shafts fastened on either side of the animal, and
      trailing on the ground behind. A large basket suspended between the poles,
      just above the ground, supplied a place for goods and a safe nest for the
      babies, or an occasional helpless old woman. Most of our effects were
      carried by pack ponies; and an Indian packer excels all others in
      quickness and dexterity.
    </p>
    <p>
      The train was nearly a mile long, headed by a number of old warriors on
      foot, 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 the moving
      household. The pack dogs were especially unmanageable. They would become
      very thirsty and run into the water with their loads. The scolding of the
      women, the singing of the old men and the yelps of the Indian dudes made
      our progress a noisy one, and like that of a town in motion rather than an
      ordinary company of travelers.
    </p>
    <p>
      This journey of ours was not without its exciting episodes. My uncle had
      left the main body and gone off to the south with a small party, as he was
      accustomed to do every summer, to seek revenge of some sort on the whites
      for all the injuries that they had inflicted upon our family. This time he
      met with a company of soldiers between Fort Totten and Fort Berthold, in
      North Dakota. Somehow, these seven Indians surprised the troopers in broad
      daylight, while eating their dinner, and captured the whole outfit,
      including nearly all their mules and one white horse, with such of their
      provisions as they cared to carry back with them. No doubt these soldiers
      reported at the fort that they had been attacked by a large party of
      Indians, and I dare say some promotions rewarded their tale of a brave
      defense! However, the facts are just as I have stated them. My uncle
      brought home the white horse, and the fine Spanish mules were taken by the
      others. Among the things they brought back with them were several loaves
      of raised bread, the first I had ever seen, and a great curiosity. We
      called it aguyape tachangu, or lung bread, from its spongy consistency.
    </p>
    <p>
      Although when a successful war-party returns with so many trophies, there
      is usually much dancing and hilarity, there was almost nothing of the kind
      on this occasion. The reason was that the enemy made little resistance;
      and then there was our old tradition with regard to the whites that there
      is no honor in conquering them, as they fight only under compulsion. Had
      there really been a battle, and some of our men been killed, there would
      have been some enthusiasm.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was upon this journey that a hunter performed the feat of shooting an
      arrow through three antelopes. This statement may perhaps be doubted, yet
      I can vouch for its authenticity. He was not alone at the time, and those
      who were with him are reliable witnesses. The animals were driven upon a
      marshy peninsula, where they were crowded together and almost helpless.
      Many were despatched with knives and arrows; and a man by the name of
      Grey-foot, who was large and tall and an extraordinarily fine hunter,
      actually sent his arrow through three of them. This feat was not
      accomplished by mere strength, for it requires a great deal of skill as
      well.
    </p>
    <p>
      A misfortune occurred near the river which deprived us of one of our best
      young men. There was no other man, except my own uncle, for whom I had at
      that time so great an admiration. Very strangely, as it appeared to me, he
      bore a Christian name. He was commonly called Jacob. I did not discover
      how he came by such a curious and apparently meaningless name until after
      I had returned to the United States. His father had been converted by one
      of the early missionaries, before the Minnesota massacre in 1862, and the
      boy had been baptized Jacob. He was an ideal woodsman and hunter and
      really a hero in my eyes. He was one of the party of seven who had
      attacked and put to rout the white soldiers.
    </p>
    <p>
      The trouble arose thus. Jacob had taken from the soldiers two good mules,
      and soon afterward we fell in with some Canadian half-breeds who were
      desirous of trading for them. However, the young man would not trade; he
      was not at all disposed to part with his fine mules. A certain one of the
      mixed-bloods was intent upon getting possession of these animals by fair
      or unfair means. He invited Jacob to dinner, and treated him to whiskey;
      but the Indian youth declined the liquor. The half-breed pretended to take
      this refusal to drink as an insult. He seized his gun and shot his guest
      dead.
    </p>
    <p>
      In a few minutes the scene was one of almost unprecedented excitement.
      Every adult Indian, female as well as male, was bent upon invading the
      camp of the bois brules, to destroy the murderer. The confusion was made
      yet more intolerable by the wailing of the women and the singing of
      death-songs.
    </p>
    <p>
      Our number was now ten to one of the halfbreeds. Within the circle formed
      by their carts they prepared for a desperate resistance. The hills about
      their little encampment were covered with warriors, ready to pounce upon
      them at the signal of their chief.
    </p>
    <p>
      The older men, however, were discussing in council what should be demanded
      of the halfbreeds. It was determined that the murderer must be given 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 decided upon was to build
      a fire around the offenders and thus stampede their horses, or at the
      least divide their attention. Meanwhile, the braves were to make a sudden
      onset.
    </p>
    <p>
      Just then a piece of white, newly-tanned deerskin was hoisted up in the
      center of the bois brule encampment. It was a flag of truce. One of their
      number approached the council lodge, unarmed and making the sign for a
      peaceful communication. He was admitted to the council, which was still in
      session, and offered to give up the murderer. It was also proposed, as an
      alternative, that he be compelled to give everything he had to the parents
      of the murdered man.
    </p>
    <p>
      The parents were allowed no voice whatever in the discussion which
      followed, for they were regarded as incompetent judges, under the
      circumstances. It was finally decreed by the council that the man&rsquo;s life
      should be spared, but that he must be exposed to the indignity of a public
      whipping, and resign all his earthly possessions to the parents of his
      victim. This sentence was carried into effect.
    </p>
    <p>
      In our nomadic life there were a few unwritten laws by which our people
      were governed. There was a council, a police force, and an executive
      officer, who was not always the chief, but a member of the tribe appointed
      to this position for a given number of days. There were also the 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.
    </p>
    <p>
      This simple government of ours was supported by the issue of little sticks
      about five inches long. There were a hundred or so of these, and they were
      distributed every few days by the police or soldiers, who kept account of
      them. Whoever received one of these sticks must return it within five or
      ten days, with a load of provisions. If one was held beyond the stipulated
      time the police would call the delinquent warrior to account. In case he
      did not respond, they could come and destroy his tent 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.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was the custom that no man who had not distinguished himself upon the
      war-path could destroy the home of another. This was a necessary
      qualification for the office of an Indian policeman. These policemen must
      also oversee the hunt, lest some individuals should be well provided with
      food while others were in want. No man might hunt independently. The game
      must be carefully watched by the game scouts, and the discovery of a herd
      reported at once to the council, after which the time and manner of the
      hunt were publicly announced.
    </p>
    <p>
      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 while going
      his rounds, the success of the hunt was assured. The oftener he was
      tripped, the more successful it would be! The signal or call for buffaloes
      was a peculiar whistle. As soon as the herald appeared, all the boys would
      give the whistle and follow in crowds after the poor old man. Of course he
      tried to avoid them, but they were generally too quick for him.
    </p>
    <p>
      There were two kinds of scouts, for hunting and for war. In one sense
      every Indian was a scout; but there were some especially appointed to
      serve for a certain length of time. An Indian might hunt every day,
      besides the regularly organized hunt; but he was liable to punishment at
      any time. If he could kill a solitary buffalo or deer without disturbing
      the herd, it was allowed. He might also hunt small game.
    </p>
    <p>
      In the movable town under such a government as this, there was apt to be
      inconvenience and actual suffering, since a great body of people were
      supported only by the daily hunt. Hence there was a constant disposition
      to break up into smaller parties, in order to obtain food more easily and
      freely. Yet the wise men of the Dakotas would occasionally form large
      bands of from two to five thousand people, who camped and moved about
      together for a period of some months. It is apparent that so large a body
      could not be easily supplied with the necessaries of life; but, on the
      other hand, our enemies respected such a gathering! Of course the nomadic
      government would do its utmost to hold together as long as possible. The
      police did all they could to keep in check those parties who were intent
      upon stealing away.
    </p>
    <p>
      There were many times, however, when individual bands and even families
      were justified in seeking to separate themselves from the rest, in order
      to gain a better support. It was chiefly by reason of this food question
      that the Indians never established permanent towns or organized themselves
      into a more formidable nation.
    </p>
    <p>
      There was a sad misfortune which, although it happened many generations
      ago, was familiarly quoted among us. A certain band became very
      independent and unruly; they went so far as to wilfully disobey the orders
      of the general government. The police were directed to punish the leader
      severely; whereupon the rest defended him and resisted the police. But the
      latter were competent to enforce their authority, and as a result the
      entire band was annihilated.
    </p>
    <p>
      One day, as we were following along the bank of the Upper Missouri, there
      appeared to be a great disturbance at the head of the cavalcade&mdash;so
      much so that we thought our people had been attacked by a war-party of the
      Crows or some of the hostile tribes of that region. In spite of the
      danger, even the women and children hurried forward to join the men&mdash;that
      is to say, as many as were not upon the hunt. Most of the warriors were
      out, as usual, and only the large boys and the old men were travelling
      with the women and their domestic effects and little ones.
    </p>
    <p>
      As we approached the scene of action, we heard loud shouts and the report
      of fire-arms; but our party was scattered along for a considerable
      distance, and all was over before we could reach the spot. 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 to meet the bear, and he
      was probably deceived by the sight of this advance body, and thus
      audaciously defied them.
    </p>
    <p>
      Among these council-men&mdash;all retired chiefs and warriors whose ardent
      zeal for the display of courage had long been cooled, and whose present
      duties were those of calm deliberation for their people&rsquo;s welfare&mdash;there
      were two old, distinguished war-chiefs. Each of these men still carried
      his war-lance, wrapped up in decorated buckskin. As the bear advanced
      boldly toward them, the two old men promptly threw off their robes&mdash;an
      evidence that there still lurked within their breasts the spirit of
      chivalry and ready courage. Spear in hand, they both sprang forward to
      combat with the ferocious animal, taking up their positions about ten feet
      apart.
    </p>
    <p>
      As they had expected, the fearful beast, after getting up on his haunches
      and growling savagely, came forward with widely opened jaws. He fixed his
      eyes upon the left-hand man, who was ready to meet him with uplifted
      spear, but with one stroke of his powerful paw the weapon was sent to the
      ground. At the same moment the right-hand man dealt him a stab that
      penetrated the grizzly&rsquo;s side.
    </p>
    <p>
      The bear uttered a groan not unlike that of a man, and seized the spear so
      violently that its owner was thrown to the ground. As the animal drew 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 knocked the old man
      down, and again endeavored to extract the spear.
    </p>
    <p>
      By this time all the dogs and men were at hand. Many arrows and balls were
      sent into the tough hide of the bear. Yet he would probably have killed
      both his assailants, had it not been for the active small dogs who were
      constantly upon his heels and annoying him. A deadly rifle shot at last
      brought him down.
    </p>
    <p>
      The old men were badly bruised and torn, but both of them recovered, to
      bear from that day the high-sounding titles of &ldquo;Fought-the-Bear&rdquo; and
      &ldquo;Conquered-the-Grizzly.&rdquo;
     </p>
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    <h2>
      XI. The Laughing Philosopher
    </h2>
    <p>
      THERE is scarcely anything so exasperating to me as the idea that the
      natives of this country have no sense of humor and no faculty for mirth.
      This phase of their character is well understood by those whose fortune or
      misfortune it has been to live among them day in and day out at their
      homes. I don&rsquo;t believe I ever heard a real hearty laugh away from the
      Indians&rsquo; fireside. I have often spent an entire evening in laughing with
      them until I could laugh no more. There are evenings when the recognized
      wit or story-teller of the village gives a free entertainment which keeps
      the rest of the community in a convulsive state until he leaves them.
      However, Indian humor consists as much in the gestures and inflections of
      the voice as in words, and is really untranslatable.
    </p>
    <p>
      Matogee (Yellow Bear) was a natural humorous speaker, and a very diffident
      man at other times. He usually said little, but when he was in the mood he
      could keep a large company in a roar. This was especially the case
      whenever he met his brother-in-law, Tamedokah.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was a custom with us Indians to joke more particularly with our
      brothers- and sisters-in-law. But no one ever complained, or resented any
      of these jokes, however personal they might be. That would be an
      unpardonable breach of etiquette.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Tamedokah, I heard that you tried to capture a buck by holding on to his
      tail,&rdquo; said Matogee, laughing. &ldquo;I believe that feat cannot be performed
      any more; at least, it never has been since the pale-face brought us the
      knife, the &lsquo;mysterious iron,&rsquo; and the pulverized coal that makes bullets
      fly. Since our ancestors hunted with stone knives and hatchets, I say,
      that has never been done.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      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 to run,
      whereupon the Indian launched forth to secure his game. He only succeeded
      in grasping the tail of the deer, and was pulled about all over the
      meadows and the adjacent woods until the tail came off in his hands.
      Matogee thought this too good a joke to be lost.
    </p>
    <p>
      I sat near the door of the tent, and thoroughly enjoyed the story of the
      comical accident.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; Tamedokah quietly replied, &ldquo;I thought I would do something to beat
      the story of the man who rode a young elk, and yelled frantically for
      help, crying like a woman.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ugh! that was only a legend,&rdquo; retorted Matogee, for it was he who was the
      hero of this tale in his younger days. &ldquo;But this is a fresh feat of
      to-day. Chankpayuhah said he could not tell which was the most scared, the
      buck or you,&rdquo; he continued. &ldquo;He said the deer&rsquo;s eyes were bulging out of
      their sockets, while Tamedokah&rsquo;s mouth was constantly enlarging toward his
      ears, and his hair floated on the wind, shaking among the branches of the
      trees. That will go down with the traditions of our fathers,&rdquo; he concluded
      with an air of satisfaction.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It was a singular mishap,&rdquo; admitted Tamedokah.
    </p>
    <p>
      The pipe had been filled by Matogee and passed to Tamedokah
      good-naturedly, still with a broad smile on his face. &ldquo;It must be
      acknowledged,&rdquo; he resumed, &ldquo;that you have the strongest kind of a grip,
      for no one else could hold on as long as you did, and secure such a trophy
      besides. That tail will do for an eagle feather holder.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      By this time the teepee was packed to overflowing. Loud laughter had been
      heard issuing from the lodge of Matogee, and everybody suspected that he
      had something good, so many had come to listen.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I think we should hear the whole matter,&rdquo; said one of the late comers.
    </p>
    <p>
      The teepee was brightly lit by the burning embers, and all the men were
      sitting with their knees up against their chests, held in that position by
      wrapping their robes tightly around loins and knees. This fixed them
      something in the fashion of a rocking-chair.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, no one saw him except Chankpayuhah,&rdquo; Matogee remarked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, yes, he must tell us about it,&rdquo; exclaimed a chorus of voices.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;This is what I saw,&rdquo; the witness began. &ldquo;I was tracking a buck and a doe.
      As I approached a small opening at the creek side &lsquo;boom!&rsquo; came a report of
      the mysterious iron. I remained in a stooping position, hoping to see a
      deer cross the opening. In this I was not disappointed, for immediately
      after the report a fine buck dashed forth with Tamedokah close behind him.
      The latter was holding on to the deer&rsquo;s tail with both hands and his knife
      was in his mouth, but it soon dropped out. &lsquo;Tamedokah,&rsquo; I shouted,
      &lsquo;haven&rsquo;t you got hold of the wrong animal?&rsquo; but as I spoke they
      disappeared into the woods.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;In a minute they both appeared again, and then it was that I began to
      laugh. I could not stop. It almost killed me. The deer jumped the longest
      jumps I ever saw. Tamedokah walked the longest paces and was very swift.
      His hair was whipping the trees as they went by. Water poured down his
      face. I stood bent forward because I could not straighten my back-bone,
      and was ready to fall when they again disappeared.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;When they came out for the third time it seemed as if the woods and the
      meadow were moving too. Tamedokah skipped across the opening as if he were
      a grasshopper learning to hop. I fell down.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;When I came to he was putting water on my face and head, but when I
      looked at him I fell again, and did not know anything until the sun had
      passed the mid-sky.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The company was kept roaring all the way through this account, while
      Tamedokah himself heartily joined in the mirth.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ho, ho, ho!&rdquo; they said; &ldquo;he has made his name famous in our annals. This
      will be told of him henceforth.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It reminds me of Chadozee&rsquo;s bear story,&rdquo; said one.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;His was more thrilling, because it was really dangerous,&rdquo; interposed
      another.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You can tell it to us, Bobdoo,&rdquo; remarked a third.
    </p>
    <p>
      The man thus addressed made no immediate reply. He was smoking
      contentedly. At last he silently returned the pipe to Matogee, with whom
      it had begun its rounds. Deliberately he tightened his robe around him,
      saying as he did so:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ho (Yes). I was with him. It was by a very little that he saved his life.
      I will tell you how it happened.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I was hunting with these two men, Nageedah and Chadozee. We came to some
      wild cherry bushes. I began to eat of the fruit when I saw a large
      silver-tip crawling toward us. &lsquo;Look out! there is a grizzly here,&rsquo; I
      shouted, and I ran my pony out on to the prairie; but the others had
      already dismounted.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;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. Chadozee stood upon
      the verge of a steep bank, below which there ran a deep and swift-flowing
      stream. The bear rushed upon him so suddenly that when he took a step
      backward, they both fell into the creek together. It was a fall of about
      twice the height of a man.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Did they go out of sight?&rdquo; some one inquired.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, both fell headlong. In his excitement Chadozee laid hold of the bear
      in the water, and I never saw a bear try so hard to get away from a man as
      this one did.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!&rdquo; they all laughed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;When they came to the surface again they were both so eager to get to the
      shore that each let go, and they swam as quickly as they could to opposite
      sides. Chadozee could not get any further, so he clung to a stray root,
      still keeping a close watch of the bear, who was forced to do the same.
      There they both hung, regarding each other with looks of contempt and
      defiance.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha!&rdquo; they all laughed again.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;At last the bear swam along the edge to a lower place, and we pulled
      Chadozee up by means of our lariats. All this time he had been groaning so
      loud that we supposed he was badly torn; but when I looked for his wounds
      I found a mere scratch.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Again the chorus of appreciation from his hearers.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The strangest thing about this affair of mine,&rdquo; spoke up Tamedokah, &ldquo;is
      that I dreamed the whole thing the night before.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;There are some dreams come true, and I am a believer in dreams,&rdquo; one
      remarked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, certainly, so are we all. You know Hachah almost lost his life by
      believing in dreams,&rdquo; commented Matogee.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Let us hear that story,&rdquo; was the general request.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You have all heard of Hachah, the great medicine man, who did many
      wonderful things. He once dreamed four nights in succession of flying from
      a high cliff over the Minnesota river. He recollected every particular of
      the scene, and it made a great impression upon his mind.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The next day after he had dreamed it for the fourth time, he proposed to
      his wife that they go down to the river to swim, but his real purpose was
      to see the place of his dream.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He did find the place, and it seemed to Hachah exactly like. A crooked
      tree grew out of the top of the cliff, and the water below was very deep.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Did he really fly?&rdquo; I called impatiently from the doorway, where I had
      been listening and laughing with the rest.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ugh, that is what I shall tell you. He was swimming about with his wife,
      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 felt sure that he could
      fly; so before long he launched bravely forth from the 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 crow that had been shot on the
      wing.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ho, ho, ho! Ho, ho, ho!&rdquo; and the whole company laughed unreservedly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;His wife screamed loudly as Hachah whirled downward and went out of sight
      like a blue heron after a fish. Then she feared he might be stunned, so
      she swam to him and dragged him to the shore. He could not speak, but the
      woman overwhelmed him with reproaches.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;What are you trying to do, you old idiot? Do you want to kill yourself?&rsquo; 
      she screamed again and again.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;Woman, be silent,&rsquo; he replied, and he said nothing more. He did not tell
      his dream for many years afterward. Not until he was a very old man and
      about to die, did Hachah tell any one how he thought he could fly.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      And at this they all laughed louder than ever.
    </p>
    <p>
      <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031">
      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      XII. FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF CIVILIZATION
    </h2>
    <p>
      I WAS scarcely old enough to know anything definite about the &ldquo;Big
      Knives,&rdquo; as we called the white men, when the terrible Minnesota massacre
      broke up our home and I was carried into exile. I have already told how I
      was adopted into the family of my father&rsquo;s younger brother, when my father
      was betrayed and imprisoned. We all supposed that he had shared the fate
      of those who were executed at Mankato, Minnesota.
    </p>
    <p>
      Now the savage philosophers looked upon vengeance in the field of battle
      as a lofty virtue. To avenge the death of a relative or of a dear friend
      was considered a great deed. My uncle, accordingly, had spared no pains to
      instill into my young mind the obligation to avenge the death of my father
      and my older brothers. Already I looked eagerly forward to the day when I
      should find an opportunity to carry out his teachings. Meanwhile, he
      himself went upon the war-path and returned with scalps every summer. So
      it may be imagined how I felt toward the Big Knives!
    </p>
    <p>
      On the other hand, I had heard marvelous things of this people. In some
      things we despised them; in others we regarded them as wakan (mysterious),
      a race whose power bordered upon the supernatural. I learned that they had
      made a &ldquo;fireboat.&rdquo; I could not understand how they could unite two
      elements which cannot exist together. I thought the water would put out
      the fire, and the fire would consume the boat if it had the shadow of a
      chance. This was to me a preposterous thing! But when I was told that the
      Big Knives had created a &ldquo;fire-boat-walks-on-mountains&rdquo; (a locomotive) it
      was too much to believe.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Why,&rdquo; declared my informant, &ldquo;those who saw this monster move said that
      it flew from mountain to mountain when it seemed to be excited. They said
      also that they believed it carried a thunder-bird, for they frequently
      heard his usual war-whoop as the creature sped along!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Several warriors had observed from a distance one of the first trains on
      the Northern Pacific, and had gained an exaggerated impression of the
      wonders of the pale-face. They had seen it go over a bridge that spanned a
      deep ravine and it seemed to them that it jumped from one bank to the
      other. I confess that the story almost quenched my ardor and bravery.
    </p>
    <p>
      Two or three young men were talking together about this fearful invention.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;However,&rdquo; said one, &ldquo;I understand that this fire-boat-walks-on-mountains
      cannot move except on the track made for it.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Although a boy is not expected to join in the conversation of his elders,
      I ventured to ask: &ldquo;Then it cannot chase us into any rough country?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;No, it cannot do that,&rdquo; was the reply, which I heard with a great deal of
      relief.
    </p>
    <p>
      I had seen guns and various other things brought to us by the French
      Canadians, so that I had already some notion of the supernatural gifts of
      the white man; but I had never before heard such tales as I listened to
      that morning. It was said that they had bridged the Missouri and
      Mississippi rivers, and that they made immense houses of stone and brick,
      piled on top of one another until they were as high as high hills. My
      brain was puzzled with these things for many a day. Finally I asked my
      uncle why the Great Mystery gave such power to the Washechu (the
      rich)-sometimes we called them by this name&mdash;and not to us Dakotas.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;For the same reason,&rdquo; he answered, &ldquo;that he gave to Duta the skill to
      make fine bows and arrows, and to Wachesne no skill to make anything.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And why do the Big Knives increase so much more in number than the
      Dakotas?&rdquo; I continued.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It has been said, and I think it must be true, that they have larger
      families 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 not have
      been over fifteen. When my grandfather first visited them, down at the
      mouth of the Mississippi, they were comparatively few; later my father
      visited their Great Father at Washington, and they had already spread over
      the whole country.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Certainly they are a heartless nation. They have made some of their
      people servants&mdash;yes, slaves! We have never believed in keeping
      slaves, but it seems that these Washechu do! It is our belief that they
      painted their servants black a long time ago, to tell them from the rest,
      and now the slaves have children born to them of the same color!
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The greatest object of their lives seems to be to acquire possessions&mdash;to
      be rich. They desire to possess the whole world. For thirty years they
      were trying to entice us to sell them our land. Finally the outbreak gave
      them all, and we have been driven away from our beautiful country.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;They are a wonderful people. They have divided the day into hours, like
      the moons of the year. In fact, they measure everything. Not one of them
      would let so much as a turnip go from his field unless he received full
      value for it. I understand that their great men make a feast and invite
      many, but when the feast is over the guests are required to pay for what
      they 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 and a bell
      to call people to his table; but when he got them in he would make them
      pay for the food!
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I am also informed,&rdquo; said my uncle, &ldquo;but this I hardly believe, that
      their Great Chief (President) compels every man to pay him for the land he
      lives upon and all his personal goods&mdash;even for his own existence&mdash;every
      year!&rdquo; (This was his idea of taxation.) &ldquo;I am sure we could not live under
      such a law.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;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 Great Chief
      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&rsquo;t know how true this
      was.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;There were some praying-men who came to us some time before the trouble
      arose. They observed every seventh day as a holy day. On that day they met
      in a house that they had built for that purpose, to sing, pray, and speak
      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 all accounts they were
      very different from all other white men we have known, for these never
      observed any such day, and we never knew them to pray, neither did they
      ever tell us of their Great Mystery.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;In war they have leaders and war-chiefs of different grades. The common
      warriors are driven forward like a herd of antelopes to face the foe. It
      is on account of this manner of fighting&mdash;from compulsion and not
      from personal bravery&mdash;that we count no coup on them. A lone warrior
      can do much harm to a large army of them in a bad country.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      It was this talk with my uncle that gave me my first clear idea of the
      white man.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was almost fifteen years old when my uncle presented me with a
      flint-lock gun. The possession of the &ldquo;mysterious iron,&rdquo; and the explosive
      dirt, or &ldquo;pulverized coal,&rdquo; as it is called, filled me with new thoughts.
      All the war-songs that I had ever heard from childhood came back to me
      with their heroes. It seemed as if I were an entirely new being&mdash;the
      boy had become a man!
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I am now old enough,&rdquo; said I to myself, &ldquo;and I must beg my uncle to take
      me with him on his next war-path. I shall soon be able to go among the
      whites whenever I wish, and to avenge the blood of my father and my
      brothers.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      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 that he might not
      be displeased with me. My people saw very little of me during the day, for
      in solitude I found the strength I needed. I groped about in the
      wilderness, and determined to assume my position as a man. My boyish ways
      were departing, and a sullen dignity and composure was taking their place.
    </p>
    <p>
      The thought of love did not hinder my ambitions. I had a vague dream of
      some day courting a pretty maiden, after I had made my reputation, and won
      the eagle feathers.
    </p>
    <p>
      One day, when I was away on the daily hunt, two strangers from the United
      States visited our camp. They had boldly ventured across the northern
      border. They were Indians, but clad in the white man&rsquo;s garments. It was as
      well that I was absent with my gun.
    </p>
    <p>
      My father, accompanied by an Indian guide, after many days&rsquo; searching had
      found us at last. He had been imprisoned at Davenport, Iowa, with those
      who took part in the massacre or in the battles following, and he was
      taught in prison and converted by the pioneer missionaries, Drs.
      Williamson and Riggs. He was under sentence of death, but was among the
      number against whom no direct evidence was found, and who were finally
      pardoned by President Lincoln.
    </p>
    <p>
      When he was released, and returned to the new reservation upon the
      Missouri river, he soon became convinced that life on a government
      reservation meant physical and moral degradation. Therefore he determined,
      with several others, to try the white man&rsquo;s way of gaining a livelihood.
      They accordingly left the agency against the persuasions of the agent,
      renounced all government assistance, and took land under the United States
      Homestead law, on the Big Sioux river. After he had made his home there,
      he desired to seek his lost child. It was then a dangerous undertaking to
      cross the line, but his Christian love prompted him to do it. He secured a
      good guide, and found his way in time through the vast wilderness.
    </p>
    <p>
      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 the slightest
      premonition that I was suddenly to be hurled from my savage life into a
      life unknown to me hitherto.
    </p>
    <p>
      When I appeared in sight my father, who had patiently listened to my
      uncle&rsquo;s long account of my early life and training, became very much
      excited. He was eager to embrace the child who, as he had just been
      informed, made it already the object of his life to avenge his father&rsquo;s
      blood. The loving father could not remain in the teepee and watch the boy
      coming, so he started to meet him. My uncle arose to go with his brother
      to insure his safety.
    </p>
    <p>
      My face burned with the unusual excitement caused by the sight of a man
      wearing the Big Knives&rsquo; clothing and coming toward me with my uncle.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What does this mean, uncle?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;My boy, this is your father, my brother, whom we mourned as dead. He has
      come for you.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      My father added: &ldquo;I am glad that my son is strong and brave. Your brothers
      have adopted the white man&rsquo;s way; I came for you to learn this new way,
      too; and I want you to grow up a good man.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      He had brought me some civilized clothing, At first, I disliked very much
      to wear garments made by the people I had hated so bitterly. But the
      thought that, after all, they had not killed my father and brothers,
      reconciled me, and I put on the clothes.
    </p>
    <p>
      In a few days we started for the States. I felt as if I were dead and
      traveling to the Spirit Land; for now all my old ideas were to give place
      to new ones, and my life was to be entirely different from that of the
      past.
    </p>
    <p>
      Still, I was eager to see some of the wonderful inventions of the white
      people. When we reached Fort Totten, I gazed about me with lively interest
      and a quick imagination.
    </p>
    <p>
      My father had forgotten to tell me that the fire-boat-walks-on-mountains
      had its track at Jamestown, and might appear at any moment. As I was
      watering the ponies, a peculiar shrilling noise pealed forth from just
      beyond the hills. The ponies threw back their heads and listened; then
      they ran snorting over the prairie. Meanwhile, I too had taken alarm. I
      leaped on the back of one of the ponies, and dashed off at full speed. It
      was a clear day; I could not imagine what had caused such an unearthly
      noise. It seemed as if the world were about to burst in two!
    </p>
    <p>
      I got upon a hill as the train appeared. &ldquo;O!&rdquo; I said to myself, &ldquo;that is
      the fire-boat-walkson-mountains that I have heard about!&rdquo; Then I drove
      back the ponies.
    </p>
    <p>
      My father was accustomed every morning to read from his Bible, and sing a
      stanza of a hymn. I was about very early with my gun for several mornings;
      but at last he stopped me as I was preparing to go out, and bade me wait.
    </p>
    <p>
      I listened with much astonishment. The hymn contained the word Jesus. I
      did not comprehend what this meant; and my father then told me that Jesus
      was the Son of God who came on earth to save sinners, and that it was
      because of him that he had sought me. This conversation made a deep
      impression upon my mind.
    </p>
    <p>
      Late in the fall we reached the citizen settlement at Flandreau, South
      Dakota, where my father and some others dwelt among the whites. Here my
      wild life came to an end, and my school days began.
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">





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