IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) V ^ A // y i<'^ er antl tiic hunter us well as the i)r()spector. For our real West, therefore, tlio typical li<,aircs arc the Indiau, the explorer, the sol- dier, the miner, the ranchnuiu, the tra})per, if we take iuto consideration the northern fur trade, and the railroad builder. The re])resentative explorer may bo found in Lewis and Clarke, or I'ike or Fremont, or that more remote and romantic Argonaut, Coronado. The soldier has never received a tithe of justice for the heroism of his lonely and perilous service on the plains. The miner's kaleidoscopic career, ranging from the grub-staked prospector to the millionaire gambling on the stock exchange with loaded dice, has been too obvious to be neglected in the past, and the comi)lete story, as illustrated "on the Comstock," will be unfolded by Mr. KShinn. AVith these figures the AVest has oiTered us the cowboy, that most individual and picturesque of types, and, following tiie soldier and oftentimes preceding settlement, the railroad builder. 'I'lie hitter's perilous reconnaissances, stormy life in the construction camps, and warfare with Indians, thugs, and sometimes with rival builders, deserve well of the historian who cares for human in- terest and not merely for the engineering diflticulties overcome, and the financial results. There are other types, like the one afforded by the noble figure of Father Junipero Serra and by the hunter, the pony express rider, the road agent, and later the men of the wheat and fruit ranches, and the irrigating ditch, and those curious children of Islimael, the " boomer " and " sooner." But if we take the phases typified in the figures which I have emphasized it is plain that the series of pictures will be Individ- EDITOR'S NOTE. \n iial, nicy of tlic Western soil in tlie truest sense, und also of permanent historical value, since they will preserve in delinite form these picturesque and original aspects of Western development of which we are ai)t to catch only distorted and fleeting glimpses. This is the object of a series planned through the editor's knowledge of the real West, a knowledge gained by actual ex])eriences of ranch and mining and Indian life between Sonora and Van- couver and Texas and Dakota, and also through a love for the types illustrated, a desire to record their characteristics before they have entirely vanished, and a hearty belief in what 1 may term their pictorial value for the historian. There is no word simpler and more elastic than the word story to describe the plan of the series, and al- though we shall deal with the realities of liistory, the liumbler term seems more broadly significant. These books are intended to be stories of human interest, not categories of facts. Air. (jirinnell, for example, might have written a history of the Indian tribes west of the ]\Iissouri, which would have been onlv a valuable re- pository of facts. But, instead of this, Mr. Crinnell takes us directly to the camp fire and the council. He shows ns the Indian as a man subject to like passions and infirmities with ourselves. He shows ns how the Indian wooed and fought, how he hunted aiid prayed, how he ate and slept — in short, we are admitted to the real life of the red man, and as we learn to know him we discard two familiar images : the red man of the would-be philanthropic sentimentalist, and the raw-head-and-bloody-bones figure that has whooped through so many pages of fiction. A typical explorer and a typical mine will be the subjects of volumes I Vlll KDlTUlfS NoTi:. closely following this. In cacli case tho clTort will ho to embody tho t'sscntijil IVatiiivs of the general theme in one de&cri])tive history with one central point of interest, thus forming a series free from cumbersome details, but breathing the spirit and preserving the cpudities of reality. Since the subjects form a })art of our hit'.ory tliey will bo treated with a view to the his- torical student's denumd for exactness of statement and souiulncss of inference, and since these stories illustrate a most ronumtic phase of our ])ast, the ele- ments of colour and atmosphere and quick human interest are insei)arable from the treatment. Either older or younger readers who care to live over again certain wholly individual phases of our country's his- tory may, it is lioped, draw from these volumes some such sense of the reality of romantic liistory as Park- man lias left us in his pictures of the earlier phases of Canadian life and history, in his Oregon Trail and his Discovery of the Great West. iXTijonrcTioy I Tins volume nii^ht be eiilled one of recollections, for in it luive been set down niany memories of Indian life. I'he scenes described I have witnessed with my own eyes; the stories related are tliose which have been told me by the Indians themselves. These stories are introduced freely l)ecausc the con- crete example conveys a clearer idea of an event than an abstract statement, and because the story of the Indian should not be told wholly from the point of view of a race alien in thought, feeling, and culture. No narrative about any peo])le can do them justice if written by one who is not in some degree in sympathy with them, and acquainted with their ways of thought and with the motives which govern them. Before an intelligent account of it can be given, the stranger race jnust be comprehended. Long association with Indi- ans enables a white man ultimately to share their thought and feelings ; and he who has reached this point nnderstands the Indian. He understands that the red man is a savage and has savage qualities, yet he sees also that the most impressive characteristic of the Indian is his humanity. For in his simplicity, his vanity, his sensitiveness to ridicule, his desire for re- venge, and his fear of the supernatural, he is a child and acts like one. IX X INTUODICTKlV. \Vo .'ire too ft{)t to forgot that tlicsc poojilc arc liu- nmn like oursi'lvi's; that thoy are fathers and niolliers, Inishaiuls and wives, brothers and sisters ; men and women with emotions and ])assions like our own, even ti»oii<^h these feelings aro not well regnlated and di- rected in the ealin, smoothly flowing channels of civil- ized life. Kot until wo recognise this common hu- manity may we attain the broader view and the wider sym])athy which shall give us a true comprehension of the character of the Indian. 'J'he })resent volume professes to give only a general view of Indian life, and many interesting toi>ics have necessarily been referred to only incidentally. In t!io stories given 1 have followed the language of the in- ter[)reters through whom 1 received their narratives directly from the Indians. Mr. James Mooney, of the Bureau of Kthnology, has very kindly read the chapter on the ^.'orth Ameri- cans, on which he nuule a number of valuable sugges- tions, and for which he furnished most of the transla- tions of the tribal names. My friend Mr. Charles H. lieynolds has read over the whole manuscript, and the form of the book owes much to his kindly criticisms. To both these gentlemen my acknowledgements aro due. CONTENTS. ciiaptkh I.— Ills rioME II. — RlX'KKATroNS . III.— A MARRIACiK . IV. — Sl'HSISTKXCK . v.— His JIlntixu . VI.-TuE War Trail VI [.—Fortunes of War VIII.— Prairie Battlefields . IX.— Implements and Industries . X.— Man and Nature .... XI. — Ills Creation ^^^- — 'J'he World of the Dead XIII.— Pawnee Kelumon .... XIV.— The Old Faith and the New ^V.— The Coming of the White Man . Appendix.— The Xortii Americans — Yesti To-day Index . DA V AND PAOB 1 10 yo 48 71 87 101 125 14;j iCa 183 105 203 314 234 341 2Gl> XI HH- LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. Till: Distant Camp , Pawnee Woman Dressing a IIiue . Pawnee Woman and Child PiEGAN Women and Children . Indian Village, Knight's Inlet, British SHOWING Totem Poles .... I5lacki'o<)t Ijodges ..... Sioux Chief Crooked Hand, a Pawnee Brave . PlEGAN TrAVOIS Quatsen.\ Village, West Coast Vancoivkr I Cree Lodge and Red River Cart . Pawnee Dirt Lodge Group oe Sapalelle la Tltes, West Coas VER Island Painted Lodge Skin Navajo Weaver Group of Assiniboines .... J FAriNO PAGE frontispiece . G . 24 . 4G Columbia, . 06 . 93 . 104 . 125 . loO SLANl) 103 . 170 . 103 T Vancou- . 214 . 244 . 254 200 I^HB i m 1 TlIK STOPvY OF THE LXDIAN. CHAPTER I. HIS HOME. Yi: i.i.ow im(]cr the burning suii lies tlie far-streteh- ing i)raii-i('. Jn o!ie direction the rounded swells rise and fall like the heaving breast of ocean after a storm lias passed ; in atiother, the ragged ravine-seamed soil rears sharp crests like billows tossed by the storm in fury. In the distance the level sweep of the horizon is broken by high buttes, some square-topped and vertical-sided, others slender and sharp-pointed— like huge fortix-sses or cathedral spires. All are dotted here and there with gnarled, stunted black pines and cedars, that, with tenacious grip, cling to the bare rocks from which they draw a sustenance — scanty, vet sufficient. Scattered over the })rairie far and near are the wild denizens of this land : brown buffalo feeding or resting, yellow antelope singly or in groups, a fam- ily of wolves playing at the mouth of a ravine, prairie dogs in their towns, little birds swinging on the tops of the sage bushes, and over all a blue arch in which swings motionless a broad-winged eagle. Away to the westward, so far that the forest-clad mammamm w 1 o Till-: STORV OF Till-: INDIAN. i footliills aro purple witli distimcc aiul tlic roiigli rock slopes gniy with luize, staiuls the mighty wall of the Continental Divide. White and grey and hrown, snow fields and rock peaks, and high naked plateaus rear rough outlines against the hlue of tlie summer sky, or are blotted out mile by mile when black storm clouds creep down from the j)eaks toward the 2)lains, which the summer storms never reach. This is the country of the Indian of the West. Here the prairie is split by a great crooked gash — a river's course — to which the ravines all run. Down in the valley the silvery leaves of cottonwood tremble, copses of willow and bits of fresh growing grass stand along the stream, and there is the shimmer of flowing water, coolness, and shade. This is the Indian's home. The cone-shaped dwellings stand in a rough circle which touches the river bank. Some of the lodges are newly made, clean, and white ; others are patched, grey with weather stain, and smoke browned near the top. Each conical home terminates in a sheaf of cross- ing lodge poles, and between the extended " ears " shows a wide dark opening from which rise curling wreaths of blue smoke. Some of the lodges are painted in gay colours with odd angular figures of men, and animals, and guns, and camp fires, which tell in red, black, or green of the coups of the owner — his brave deeds or strange adventures. Here and there from the lodge poles of some leading man hangs a bufTalo tail, or one or two eagle feathers are turning in the breeze, or a string of little hoof sheaths, which rattle as they are shaken in the wind, runs from the lodge poles nearly to the ground. Leaning against the lodges, and, if standing on end, quite equalling the lodge poles in height, are the I HIS IIUMK. ?y 5? on the tnivois, tlic universal vehiclo. Ik'fore or bt'liind tlie lodges of meilicino men, cliiefs, iind noted braves hung the inedieiiio ))uiidles of the doetors and })riests, and the arms and war dresses of the warriors. 'I'ri- pods of slender poles support the sacks or bundles, or s(»metimcs a lance is thrust iu the ground, and to it is tied the warrior's equipment. The eagle featliers, scalps, and fringes with which these things are orna- mented, wave gaily in the breeze. ^'ear the stream bank, above and below the camp, stand curious low frames, woven of willow branches, and looking somewhat like large bird cages of wicker- work. Some arc oval and others hemispherical, and in the ground which forms their floor a little hollow is dug out in the centre, in which are ashes and a num- ber of stones which show the marks of fire, liesides this, ou the ground outside each one, is a spot where a little fire has been built, and near the fireplace are other round stones. These are the sweat lodges of the camp, wliere are taken the steam l)aths used in hcjd- ing and in certain religious rites. Up and down the stream valley, and scattered over the bordering blutTs, are the horses, for the most part wandering at will, though here and there a group is herded by a boy or young man who spends most of his time lying on the ground in the shade of his horse, but now and then clambers on its back and gathers together his little baiul or drives away others that seem disposed to mingle with it. There are hun- dreds — perhaps thousiinds — of horses in sight, dot- ting the valley, the blutTs, aiul even the distant upper plains. Here and there on little elevations, on the points of the bluffs or ou the river bank— usually on some 2 TIIR STORY OF THE iNDIAX. f ooinmiindhif^ cniincnoc — are single figures of men. Closely \vra])ped in his robe or liis summer sheet, eacii one renuiins apart from all the others, and sits or stands for hours motionless. These men have left the camp and retired to smdi places to be alone. Some of them are praying ; some are acting as sentries, looking over the country to see if enemies are a])proaching ; some desire to tliink out their projects without fear of interruption ; while it is possible that among the mo- tionless figures may be one who belongs to some hostile tribe and has ventured thus boldly to expose himself in order to learn the ways of the camp, to find out how the watchers are disposed, wb.cre the swiftest horses fire kept, at what points an attack may be made with best prospects of success. If such a s])y is here, he is for the i)resent safe from detection. lie feels sure that no one will approach him or speak to him, for when a man goes oif in this way by himself it is un- derstood by all that he wishes to be alone, and this wish, is respected. Within the circle of the camp the daily life of the people is going on. Gloving forms, clad in bright colours, })ass to aiul fro, and people are clustered in the shade of the lodges. Tied near most of the doors are one or two horses for immediate use. Now and then the bark of a dog falls upon the ear, and above the indistinct hum of camp life are heard the whoops or shrieks of children at play. Everywhere groups of men are seated in the shade, smoking, cliattin.g, or sleeping. Some are naked, some clad only in a blanket, but most wear leggings of deer or cow skin and are wrapped in sheets of dressed cow skin. Here with infinite care a young dandy is paint- ing himself; there a man is sharpening arrowheads; HIS HOME. a third is iiieiuling a siuldle ; iiiiothor faslii()iiin TIIH STUUV OF TUK INDIAN. nit'diciiie swrat, aiul tlio voiini; men wlio huve taken part ill it arc al)oiit to start oil' on the \var[)atli. All (lay loii^j; the women who have remained in camp have heen at work tanning hides, sewing lodges, making dried meat,and i)oui\diiig pemmi('an,and they are still husy, though soon these tasks will i)e laid asido for the day. As yet they are still bent double over the green hides, (!hi])j)ing at them with lleshers, and now and then raising themselves for a moment's rest, and with one hand brushing away the overhnnging hair from their foreheads, while with hands on hi])S they bend baek to streteh themselves and ease their museles. In the shade of the lodges sit other women, with stone hammers jiounding ehoke cherries on flat stones. The tasks are not performed in silence. The little groups that work near to one another keep uj) a lively tire of gossip and jest which give rise to abun- dant merriment. A woman who has an established reputation for wit is telling with monotonous un- changing voice and without a particle of expression in her face a story tliat overwhelms her sisters with mirth. They cackle forth shrill laughter, and ex- change delighted comment, but the story goes on without interruption. The women wear sleeveless leather gowns reach- ing to below the knees and belted at the waist, and from this belt dangle by small chains or leather thongs the knife, fire steel, and sewing bag, which arc a part of each one's equipment. The gowns of the older women are often old and worn, patched here and there, and black with blood, grease, and dirt. The clothing of the younger ones, the daughters or wives of men well to do, is handsome, being clean, tanned very white, heavily beaded and ornamented % iC ■/J 7; a o I HIS IIOMK. with elk tnslios, trimmed with red and l)liie cluth, and fringed at the ed^j^cs. As a ride, the y()un<,a'r women are hetter dressed and nuicli more earet'nl of tiicir personal appearanee than those older, thou<^'li some- times the latter are neat and ^dve sotne attention to their hair. Ihit for the women it is not all hard work. Here and there <,M'oups are to he seen se\vin<; moccasins or fashioidiii,' for hushand or children bnckskin lc<;;,Mngs, shirts, or other aj)parel, or ornamenting snch elothin<]f with headwork or with beantifully stained (piills of the porcupine. Jn these tasks much taste is dis- jilayed, sava<;e thouaiiit(l oiilv liy a .-istcr or yoiiii;; "rirl friend. As the siiii falls ti»\vai'(l the western hori/on the as- pect of the eatnjt lK\i,Mns to change ; there is more ae- tivity, more jieople are movin*; ahoiit. 'The wotnen \w'/\n to put aside the work of dressini; hides, to kin- dle their tires anew, and to ;jo to the stream fnr water. From u|i and down the ereek and from over the hlnlT, f;in;j:l(' liiiures and small ;;ronpsof people are approaeii- iiiLT tile eatnp. Some of these are wonu'n who have made \n]\'j^ jdurneys to secure a supply of wood, which they hrini,' home (»n their ha(d\s or piled hi^di on the do,L^ travois. Most of those who are com in<; in are men who have been olT hunting; on the plains, killing; food. 'I'he camp is in a hulTalo eountry and there has been a general ciiase. 'I'he eircde of the lod<;i'S has hi'en al- nu)st deserted durinij the early ))art of the day, for men and women uVikv have been olT to the Inmt, tlie men to do the killing and the women to bring the meat and hides to camp. 'I'he last of these are now returning in little groups, and almost every one is perelied on top(»f the load of dripping meat borne by the horse slie rides, and leading one or two })ack horses still more lieavily laden. All through the day more or less feasting has been going on, but this takes place chielly toward evetung. One who desires to entertain his friends has directed his wife to prepare the food for his guests, and when all is ready either sends a messenger about through the cam}) to invite them, or has him loudly shout out their names from his own lodge door. JJiit little time elapses before the guests begin to arrive, and one by one to enter the lodge. Each is welcomed by the usual salu- 10 TIIK STURY OF THE INDIAN. tiition Jiml liis scut i.s iiidicjitecl to him, the more im- })ort;int men bein^j^ seated fiirtliest buck in the \u{]y^o uiid nearest to the host's left liand. After a prayer and the sacrifiec of a portion of the fo(jd, the eating begins witliout mneh waste of words. Tiie portion set before caeh man is all he is to receive, he will not be helped a second time. Among some tribes it is not good man- ners for a gnest to leave any food on the dish set be- fore him, but among others, if the man does not care to eat it all, he may carry away with him that which is left. Usually the host does not eat with his guests. While they are disposing of their food, he is cutting up and mixing the tol)acco for the smokes which are to follow. As the eating draws to a close, conversation begins, and at length the host, having fdled the l)ipe, passes it to a son or a servant on his right, who lights and then returns it. The host makes the ceremonial smokes — to the sky, to tlie earth, and to the four car- diiud points — })rays and then hands the stem to his left hand neighbor, who, after smoking and praying, passes it to the man next him, and so it goes from hand to hand round the circle. It is during this smoking tliat the formal speech-making — if there is any — takes place. The subjects touched on are as various as the speakers, and it is noticeable that each one is listened to with patience and courtesy, jind is neyer interrupted. lie finishes what he has to say before another man be- gins to speak. About a lodge where a feast is going on, a number of uninvited people gather to listen to these speeches, and now — for it is summer and the lodge skins are raised for air — such listeners sitting about on the ground are in full view of the feasters. No one recognises any impropriety in such an outside gathering. If the number of guests at a feast be small, •i §-1 HIS HOME. 11 all the men sit at the right of the door — on the host's left — and the family, the women and children, are on the left of the door, in that i)la('e in the lodge which belongs to them ; but if tl. :■ number of guests is large, the fauiilv moves out of the lodge for the time bein t'liildreii and dipping them benoatli the wjitor, from Mhich they cniorgo squirming and kicking but silent. Tlio older boys dash into the water, and are riotously si)lashing about, shouting, and diving. Soon all again have sought the bank, and the men, donning their robes, return to the lodges. Jlere the pots have been boiling for some time, and when Three Suns has put on his leggings and moccasins, combed out liis long hair, and again belted his robe about him, his first wife sets before him a horn jilatter, on which are some choice pieces of buifalo meat. Then the chil- dren are served, and the women help themselves; and when all have eaten, the men start olf to hunt, the women set about their daily work in the camp, and the children disperse to their play. So goes the round of Indian life. Another day has begun. CHAPTER II. » IlECUKATTONS. It is a oloar, ])riglit nioriiin<;. The horizon's out- line is sliarply defined against tiie sky's unbroken bhie, and the sliadows are growing shorter as the sun elinibs higlier. Tlie first meal has been eaten. Tlie men have gone about tlieir daily pursuits, and now only the last of the hunting jiarties nuiy yet be seen, some riding ol! down the vallev and others climbing tlie blulTs. Many men are in the camp, because the buffalo are not near by ; but other animals which people eat, and whose skins are good for clothing, are j)lenty not far away — antelope on the prairies, deer and elk in the wooded ravines and river bottoms, and sheep ou the buttes and rough bad lands. In the camp the daily life goes on. White-haired old men, holding their robes as close about them as if it were winter, crouch, two or three together, by the lodges, and hold slow-voiced converse with one an- other; young men are sitting in the bright sun braid- ing their hair and painting their faces ; women are tanning hides, or making dried meat, or pounding pemmican. Close by some of the old men, sit groups of boys, eagerly listening to the talk ; and most of the women have — on their backs or hung up near to them — stolid fat brown babies. Dogs lie curled up in the IG m KECUKATIOXS. 17 sun, iiiul liorsos stimd before tlio lodges witli heuda held low and droo])iiig ears. Of the home-stay iiig folk the children form the most active and most noisy groups. They are every- wliere, and the sound of their voices is lieard contin- ually, 'i'hey run, play, shout, and etlervcsce with life and s[)irits, like youth the world over. Like other young animals, these children delight to do the thiiiirs which occupy their elders. So vou Avill see each one engaged in some task or sport "which represents the pursuits of the adidts. All the older boys are armed with bows and headless arrows, and Ijractice continually shooting at a mark or for dis- tance, or sending the arrow almost vertically into the air in the elTort to make it fall at some particidar ]M)int. They hunt ground squirrels, blackbirds, aiul even prairie chickens and hares, and, during the sea- sou of migration, lie in wait by the streams and pools for ducks and geese. Some who have not yet reached the age at which they can eifectively use the bow, drag about after them ropes or strings, and try to lasso each other or the unlucky dogs, trotting here and there among the lodges. A set younger still give themselves up to the delights of tormenting the dogs, and armed with pieces of Avood as heavy as they can wield, ttike l)leasure in stealing np to a dog slumbering in the shade and jiounding the poor brute, which yells dis- mally, and at once betakes himself to some more se- cure resting place. Others of the young braves are engaged in sham bat- tles. Small parties conceal themselves beliind neigh- bouring lodges and conduct a mimic fight much after the manner of men. As arrows, even though head- less, would be dangerous in this jDretendcd warfare, 18 TlIK SToIiV OF TIIK INDIAN. tilt' ()])])()siii^ forces iirc jirmcd witli linibiT switches, uiul carry under the left arni a hmip of wet clav. A bit of chiy is pressed on tlie small end of the switcii and thrown as a missile, just as the white boy throws a ^H'een ai)plo with like ini])lement. When the lisj^ht begins, a member of one party sallies out from be- hind his shelter and runs toward the enemy, throw- ing his mud balls at those who are jjceping out at him. Before he has advanced very far two of the op})osing party rush out and attack him. ][e retreats, is re- enforced by others from his own side and drives back the enemy, wlio in turn are strengthened from their own party. There are alarums and excursions, yells of defiance, cries of terror, shouts of fury and excitement from all the small warriors, a plentiful shower of mud balls, and linally each party retreats to shelter for rest and the renewing of ammunition. Such battles are interesting to watch between parties of footmen, but when two or three combatants on liorseback are set upon by a number unmounted, the excitement is much greater. The mounted men charge upon the footmen, who fly to their shelter, throwing back as they run a cloud of mud balls, before which the cavalry retreat to a safe distance. Then a few of the footmen steal from their cover, trying to get within range, yet not venturing so far that they will be overtaken in the event of a charge. Very likely the mounted forces retire to decoy their assailants still further away; but at length they charge, then there is a helter-skelter re- treat, re-enforcements rush forth, and the yelling and excitement are worthy of a real battle. So the fight •will go on for half a day, one of either party now and then having a coup counted on him or being captured. From the river which runs by the camp comes a I ^ KKCHKATIONS. 11) babble of t'liildi.slj voict'S, int('rni[)t('(l now and tlii'ii by jticrfiii;,' yells and sounds of splasliin;,' in tliu water. A gi'oiii) of boys a'/e divin^^ s\viiMniin;^% and wivstlini,' in a pool, as nimble and as nircii at lionie in tbe water as so many lislies ; and near by on llie bank two or three lads, who have come from the watei', are sitting naked in the sun, slowlv and laboriously fashionini; itLTures (»f ehiy, which they carefully support a<,''ainst the bank to dry. 'i'he ima;i:es represent horses, dogs, bulValo, and men, and though rude and often gro- tesque, may sometimes be recognised. To make them is a favourite amusement of tbe children. If the boy at bis })lay rebearscs tbe warlike pursuits of the years to come, not less do the little girls sbare the cares and duties of womaidiood. Close by a lodge several are at play tending their dolls. I'he largest, who may be ten years old, is fasbioiung a p; r of tiny moccasins from some bits of dressed antelope skin. These may be for the baby sbe carries on ber back — a jnippy — whose sharp eager eyes, excited yelps, and occasional inelTectual struggles sbow that be is not altogetber contented witb bis jdaee upon tbe cbiUrs shoulders. At eacb eltort ber ])lay baby nuikcs to get free, the girl bitcbes up ber blaidy and by they will move their camj). Catching some of the old, steady dogs, and harnessing them to the travois, they will pack up their camp, set out on the march, and then going a short distance, put up the lodges again, build their fhvs and go to cooking, pounding berries, dressing hides, and doing all the things that occupy their mothers in the daily life of the camp. On the outskirts of the camp, young i)en])lc are en- gaged in dilTerent games and contests of skill. Young girls and women, tifteen or twenty of them, arc run- ning hither and thither after a large ball of buckskin, stull'ed with antelope or bulTalo hair. This is driven along the ground befoi'c the players with their feet, each one trying to retain the ball as long as jiossible. This is a girl's game, but some of the young married women of the camp are taking part in it, as well as two or three half-grown lads, who have not yet reached the age for hunting or going to war, or at which they feel it necessary to appear dignified. All the players take the greatest interest in the game, which is really a great romp, and tliey shout, scream, laugh, run, and push each other about, like the children that they are. Other 3'Oung people are practising at throwing cer- tain special toys made for this purpose. One of these is a small curved piece of bone four inches in length, i KKCREATIONS. IM 'd 1 as ■«-• I'd t'y 'I'S Uv 'iv nd formed of u si'ction of u l)ii(Tal()'s rih. One end is sharpened and tii>i»e(l witli iiorii, and in eltlier niar^dn of the rib near the otiier end, lioles are drilled diagon- ally, in winch the (|nills of stont feathers are inserted, so that the toy will lly evenly. The contestants east these implements, l»y an nndi'rhand tiirow, liori/ontally over a llat snrfaee, so that the bone shall strike on its convex side and ricochet alon*,^ it. 'J'hese toys are nsed chielly over the ice in winter, and an expert thrower can send one a surprisingly long way. Other boys and girls throw long slender springy sticks, tipped with i)iilTalo horn. U'hesu arc thrown forward bv one end, tiiridng over and over in the air, and when the tip strikes the ground the stick bounds up, turns over sev- eral times, again st likes on the point and bounds into the air, thus advancing by leaps for a h)ng distance. Xo game i)layed l)y men and boys is so popuhir as the stick or ring game. Little children begin to play it as soon as they can run easily, well-grown boys prac- tice it constantly, and young men spend much of their time in camp racing over the course, wininng and los- ing horses, arms, and clothing at the game. The stick game varies in some of its details with ditTerent tribes, hut its essential features are evervwhere the same. It is played with a ring or wheel of rawhide, usually wrapped or cross barred with rawhide strings to give it stillness, and variously adorned with beads and little tags, each of which has some special meaning. Each l)layer is armed with a straight, slender, pointed stick, five feet long, which is thrown at the ring as it is rolled along the ground, the object being to send the stick through the ring. The sticks are some times simple, or in tribes where the game has reached a high degree of development and become more complex, cross bars, TT 00 TIIK ST(»liV OF TIIK IN'DIAN'. I I Iiooks, and oilier projections are la>lie(l to llieiu. When the riii^^ is rolled alon<; the ;,M"oiiiid the jilayers run after it and dart their sticks at it. The relation of the rin^' to some part of the stick determines tho nnmher of points won by the thrower. in every eamp where a huiir stav is made the vouiiir men, before many days iiave jiasscd, clcai' away the grass, stones, and inc(|nalities from a piece of level gronnd, makinjj: a smooth course (»ver which the v'xw^ is to be rolU'd, and at this course, the men (d' th(! camp, yonn<; and old, ^^'lther daily to play ami to look at the ^amc and pimble on it. I{an<(ed alon^ thi! course stand tho spectators, of both sexes, wrapped in their robes. Some are meivly oidookers, too old uv too lazy to take part in the <,'amo. Others await their turn. A few women, interested in the success of lover or newly mariied husband, stand among the nu-n iind eagerly watch the jday. A very large pi-oj)oitio!i of the men in the camp are now, or have been, ])layers of tho game, and the course is the gathering })lace during tho day for all tho idle men in the camp. It is also tho great betting ground, for not oidy do the ])layers contest for a stake, but the sjieetators lay wagers on their favourites, losing and wininng large amounts of property on a single game. These games alTord suj)erb exliibitions of speed and skill. Stripped to breech-cU)ut and moccasins, tho two contestants, holding tlieir sticks in their hands, bend forward, straining like greyhounds in tho sli])s, eager to start on tlio conrse. Their naked bodies, su- perbly developed, are lithe and sinewy rather than muscular, but M'onderfully tongh and enduring, for they are kept at tho very highest pitch of physical training by their simple wholesome food and by the UHCUKATIoNS. 23 constant exercise tluit tlicy an; lakiii.!,' - the lalMUir (»f litinliii^', the \tn\ilo of prop- erty she intends to wager — some bits of red cloth, a few strings of beads, some tobacco, and other things that people nse. These are not })ut up as stakes, but each player's bet is re])rescnted by a stick i)ut \\[) against a similar stick wagered by her o])ponent. The game is not unlike throwing dice. Five plum stones, blackened and then variously marked on one side, are placed on a flat wicker basket about the size and shape of a tea plate, and by a quick jerk are thrown into the air and then caught in tho basket as they come down. 'I'he marks on the upper surface of the stones so caught indicate the vabio of the throw, and the points gained or lost by the line of women on the side of the manipulator of the basket. ^luch mirth accompanies this game, and the talking and laughter are incessant. The winners chaff their opponents, and these reply to their jeers with quick jest and repartee. In the so-ial dances, which are usually given at lit [s 'i T'uwiR'c W'oiiiaii and Cliild. •f: '< RECREATIONS. 25 night, women as well as men take part. The dances are held in a largo lodge, and all the dancers and many onlookers gather there soon after the evening meal is eaten, and long before the dance begins. Men and women alike have pre})ared themselves for the festivities. The hair is neatly combed, newly braided, and shining; line clothing is worn with nniny ornaments, and the faces gleam with fresh red paint. The women sit together on one side of the lodge and the men on the other. Long before the dancers step on to the lloor the singers — chosen for their skill — start the air, which is nsnallv in a minor kev, and keep time to the song by ponnding on a drum or on a partleche which lies on the ground. To an unac- customed ear many of the dance songs sound monot- onous enough, yet often there is a great deal of melody in them. Frequently a single dancer, man or woman, will rise and dance for a long time alone, stamping about with knees half bent ; after a Avhile another joins in and then another, until half a dozen may be dancing at the same time. As these retire and sit down to rest, others take their place. Often a woman gets np and dances for a time alone, and then dancing before a particular man, chooses him for a partner, and the two dance opposite one another with deliberate steps for some time and then sit down, or the woman may throw lier robe over her partner's head and kiss him, and then sit down, leaving him to dance for a time alone. This is an expression of lik- ing for the man and a high compliment to him. In other dances the woman gives to the partner she lias selected some trifling present, and he is expected to make one to her in return. Such dances are partici- pated in for the most part by young people. The II 26 TIIK STORY OF Till-: IXDIAX. dancers keep excellent time, and, while very much in earnest about the whole performance, seem f,M'catly to enjoy themselves. Many of the dances are })erformed in ordinary costume, except that both men and womeii throw olT their robes or blankets to give them greater freedom and coolness, for dancing is hot work, and a lodge crowded with people is not the coolest place in the world. At special times, however, the men dance without any clothing except breech-clouts and moc- casins and spend a great deal of time painting their bodies for the occasion. White clay is a favourite colour for legs and arms, and sometimes for the body ; red is the colour most used for the face, and occa- sionallv green and vellow. At times there takes place a dance, which is al- most wliollv commercial. In the old days, when the tribes manufactured their own clothing, arms, uten- sils, and ornaments, it happened usually that each one was celebrated for some s^^ecial article which it was known to make better than other tribes. It might be tiiat one tribe made handsonu-r war ])onnets, better war shirts, or louder rattles than its neighbours, and occasionally a few men would take a number of these desirable and high-priced articles and visit some neigh- bouring tribe to barter their goods for horses or other property. Hospitably received, they live in the lodges of principal men, and before long give a dance— usu- ally cue of those peculiar to their own tribe — in which perhaps some of the garments or ornaments which they have to sell are worn and so displayed, or if this is not done, the dance is at least an advertisement of their presence and its purpose. Gambling is a universal amusement among In- »' nECREATIOXS. 27 dians, and tlicy bet on all games of skill and chance. The Indiatis of the Southwest have loni; been familiar with playing cards, and with these play some Spanish games, but, even at the present day, they prefer to lay wagers on their own games. 'Vln^y di'light in horse- racing and foot-racing, and hct heavily on these as well as on the stick game; but perha})s no gjimbling game is so widespread and so })opular as that known as " hands." It consists in guessing in which of the two luuuls is held a small marked object, right or wrong guessing being rewarded or penalized by the gain or loss of points. The players sit in lines facing each other, each man betting with the one opposite him. The object held, which is often a small polished bone, is intrusted to the best player on one side, who sits opjiosite to the best jilayer on the other. The wagei's are laid — after more or less discussion and bargaining as to the relative values of things as unlike as an otter- skin quiver on one side and two plugs of tobacco, a yard of cloth, and seven cartridges on the other — and the game begins with a low song, which soon increases in volume and intensity. As the singers become more excited, the man who holds the bone moves his hands in time to the song, brings them together, seems to change the bone rapidly from hand to hand, holds their palms together, puts them behind his back or under his robe, swaying his body back and forth, and doing all he can to mystify the player who is about to try to choose the bone. The other for a time keeps his eyes steadily fixed on the liands of his opponent, and, gradually as the song grows faster, bends for- ward, raises his right liand with extended forefinger above his head, and holds it there, and at last, when he is ready, wdth a swift motion brings it down to a ! !il^ 1 28 THE STORY OF THE INDIAN. liorizoiitiil, pointing at one of the luiiids Mliieh \a iiistiintly oj)eiied. If it contains the hone, the side ^\•hieh was guessing lias won, and cacli man receives a stick from the opposite phiyer. Tiie bone is then passed across to the op})Osite side, tlie song is re- newed, and the others guess. The game olTers oppor- tunities for clieating, but this scUlom takes place. I have known of only one case of the kind, and in that instance the detected gamblers were forced by peace- ful means to return all the property they had won. I'his was during the Crook campaign of 18'iG-''77, when the Cheyenne and Pawnee scouts who accom- panied tlie command gambled against each other. At first the luck of the game varied in the usual way, but at last it turned to the side of the Cheyennes, who were occasionally able to guess which hand held the bone when the Pawnees had it, while the Pawnees never succeeded in guessing right when the Cheyennes had it. This occurred so cojistantly that suspicion was ex- cited and a close watch was kept on the Cheyenne player. When it was believed that he had hidden the bone in his robe, where he could drop his hand on it in a moment, two Pawnees sprang forward, and seizing his two hands held them up in the air closed, in the sight of all the players. They were opened and both were empty. A long wrangle followed in which the Cheyennes disavowed the act of their fellow, and at length agreed to restore, and did restore, all the horses that they had thus unfairly won. Like most games of chance at which men win or lose property, this one has a strong fascination for the Indians, and men spend their nights at play and win and lose heavilv. 1 1^ . RKCREATIOXS. 29 On specitil onoasioiis, when vitsits ure beiiif? paitl by members of unother tribe, horse and foot raeiiig take })hice. Eaeh party brings out some swift jiouy or man, and bets on its champion all they have. If the visitors lose they will very likely receive many presents from their hosts, so that th(n' mav not be obliged to go home poor, but if they win, they may very likely carry with them nearly all the })roperty of the camp, for the intense tribal ])ride of the Jiulian-^his patriotism — leads him to believe that the men, women, chiklren, and ponies of his own tribe can do things better than any others, and he will show his faith in his own by wagering his last })ony and his last blanket on its performance. Such are some of the })rinci})al pastimes of the peo- \)\q during the hours of a fair summer day. There are winter s])orts in which the chiMren engage, sliding down hill on sleds made of bulfalo ribs, spinning t()[)S on the ice, and i)laying half naked in the snow. The tinv children sometimes find an old bulTalo bull wal- lowing through the dee}) snow and delight in running up close to it and shooting at it their headless arrows. In winter the men no longer play at sticks; the women do their gambling in the lodge. But if food is abun- dant the feasting and the dancing and the visiting go on in all weathers. I I I I (CHAPTER IIT. A MARUIA(iE. I>f the circle of the lodges stood one that was hirire and painted on all its sides with the story of its own- er's deeds. From two of the lodge poles bulTulo tails swung in the wind, and on a tripod near at liand hung the bundles which proclaimed the owner of the lodge to be a medicine man and a great warrior. This was the home of Three Suns, the chief of a gens of the people. lie was a great chief, brave, wise, and gener- ous. In the councils of the tribe he thought and spoke for the good of the people, not for himself ; for many years he had been a leader of war parties and all his journeys to war had been lucky, for he had struck many of his enemies and had taken many horses. Most of these he gave away to his friends and rela- tions or to those who were poor or to comfort those who had lost friends or relations in war. Xot far from the lodge of Three Suns, in the circle of the camp, stood the home of Buffalo Iiibs, himself a chief, a brave warrior, successful in his expeditions against his enemies, rich from the spoils of war, a man of kindly heart and generous disposition, Avell thought of by all the tribe. Xow Buffalo Ribs had a son, a young man of marriageable age, who as a servant had been off on two or three war parties, and had done well. He had taken some horses and was a good 30 A MAliHIACJK. 31 liuiitcr. 'riiii yoiuig inuii, whose luime wtis White An- telope, liiid seen tlie oldest dtiughter of Three Suns, and because she wiis pleusiint to look ut he liked her, and he wanted her for his wife. He luid spoken to her too ; in the bei^innini; onlv lookinii' at her and sniilinjj:, and afterward wailing for her outside her father's lodge and talking to her — at lirst onlv a little, for she was afraid and would not wait to listen, but afterward, as she got nsed to him, he had talked to her longer, so that now the two knew eacli other well. When White Antelope had made up his mind that he wanted this girl for his wife, and when he found that she liked him, he spoke to his father about the matter, telling what was in his mind ; and BulTalo Itibs considering it, and remembering that Three Suns' family was good, and that he was a chief, loved by his peoi)le, and rich, and that his wives were good women and kept the lodge well supplied with dressed skins and good clothing, and that the girl was modest, quiet, sensible, and always busy, thought that she would nud-io a good wife for his boy. So, when he had thought of all these things, he sent word to his brothers and near- est kinsfolk, asking them to come to his lodge and eat with him, for he had something to say to them, lie told his .wife to cook food, and she took from the par- fleches dried corn and dried berries and dried meat and backfat, and boiled the food, and before sunset all was read v. When the invited relations had come and all had eaten, and the pipe had been lighted and was passing from hand to hand aronnd the circle, Buffalo Kibs spoke to his relations and told them what was in his mind and asked their opinion about this marriage, whether it ought to take place or not. Then they be- 32 TIIK STOIIV OF TIIR INDIAN. ! ^an to s])Oiik, one at a tliiic, the oldest lirst. and soiiio .said one thiii