Ground arrows are of two kinds. One kind, called “mechá,” is made of the short ribs of buffalo or beef cattle. The rib is cut off four inches from the free end, and two small holes bored, into which sticks, the size of a lead-pencil and about a foot in length, are tightly inserted. The end of each is feathered like an arrow, and they spread out so that the feathered shafts are perhaps nine inches apart. The whole looks much like the white boy’s shuttlecock.

This “mechá” is grasped firmly between the projecting shafts, and thrown against a little mound the size of a pillow, made of snow dampened and packed solidly. From this it rebounds, sails off like a bird, strikes the hard crust to bound up again and again, and finally crawls along like a wounded animal. The goal, which is called the “blanket goal,” is an oblong about six by ten paces in size, drawn on the snow at some fifty yards’ distance. Lengthwise of this oblong are drawn six lines, with seven spaces between. The outer spaces count two, the next four, the next eight, and the center space counts sixteen, if your “mechá” hits it in one throw. Any number may play the game.

The other kind of ground arrow, called “matká,” is shaped like an arrow. It is made of hard wood in one piece, and is about two feet long with a cone-shaped head, burnt and polished to look like horn. The shaft must be limber, and carries a small tuft of feathers to guide it in its flight. Another arrow shows an attached head of elk or buffalo horn, which is better than wood.

The boys throw this in the same manner as the “mechá,” but the course is laid out more elaborately, with obstacles, such as ravines and small hillocks, and a series of five rings each ten feet in diameter, composed of five concentric circles with a “bull’s-eye” in the center. Beside each ring there is a snow mound from which to propel the arrow.

The game is in some ways like golf, and may be played individually or by sides, each player having two strokes in which to reach the next ring, the first a distance throw and the second a push or shove in the direction of the ring. The outer circle counts one, and each inner circle doubles the count, the bull’s-eye counting thirty-two. All the players play in turn, starting from the snow mound nearest the ring where their arrows lie at the beginning of each round. The score is added at the close of the game, the boy or team with the highest number of points being the winner.

This is perhaps the most popular and exciting winter sport for Indian boys ten years of age and upward. Sometimes they send the arrow flying a hundred yards before touching the ground, and half as far again at the first rebound, after which it continues for several shorter flights. The rings are two hundred to three hundred yards apart for young men, or half that distance for small boys; the game may be played on snow-covered lakes or rivers as well as in the open country.

XIV—A WINTER MASQUE

Then, too, each boy makes his own top of every available kind of wood, as well as of horn and bone, and studies its peculiar defects or advantages for the work in hand, so thoroughly that it comes to have for him a kind of personality. He whittles it to a nicety in the regular top shape or any variation of it that he chooses, so long as he can coax and whip it into spinning and humming and singing. He has a stick about a foot long and as big as your thumb; sometimes one end is grooved so that he can pick up the top while spinning. To this stick he ties two or three deer-skin thongs of equal length, making a top whip with which he performs some interesting stunts and plays many amusing games.

There is much artistic taste among our people. Some decorate their tops in stripes, much like a barber’s pole; others with totem paintings; but perhaps the cleverest boy is he who can carve as well as paint. One will carve a tiny toad sitting atop his spinner; another a turtle; but the boy who is quick enough to copy the bumblebee—hum and all—he is a hero! When he proudly whips his black buffalo-horn spinner, he holds the center of the stage, while every other boy must pause for a minute to regard him with envy.

Sometimes a boy will playfully address his top, telling it to sing the bear song, or imitate the lowing of the buffalo bull, at the same time whipping it so vigorously and in such fashion that it seems really to give a semblance of the required imitation! But it is no ordinary bashful boy who does these things; it is the roguish young humorist and actor of the tribe.

When the chiefs selected for our field-day on the ice announce the date, every boy is ready. The chief of each side brings his forces together for a final test of skill, and there is no lack of spectators. In the first place, each displays his peculiar manufactures, priding himself much upon originality of design and careful workmanship. Then there are trials of speed, and trials of duration, and finally the more difficult stunts, such as transferring the top in the spoon end of the whip without interrupting its dance, or whipping it under a light covering of snow, or along an obstacle course. Perhaps no one save an Indian could make a bear cub whip a spinning-top, holding the whip handle in his mouth, as I have seen it done on these field-days. Some of the boys impersonate old men, and some genuine grandfathers are admitted to add to the fun. There is a particular song of the top, and its spinning is said by us to be symbolic of the dance of life.

A white boy feels himself unfortunate when Santa Claus fails to leave at his home a pair of club skates or a swift “flexible flyer.” Still more unfortunate is he who has no hill or pond or river near for coasting and skating. In my day we were independent of all save natural features; no policeman to interfere with our fun, no fences or trespass signs—and no shops or indulgent fathers to purchase our equipment! The trees might be snapping, even bursting open with the severe cold, the ice on the lakes thundering like the cannonade of a distant battle, but, nothing daunted, we boys would sally forth in our warm buffalo calf-skin robes, well belted around the middle, and moccasins stuffed with hair, defying the weather. Our coasters were made of the longest and largest ribs of the buffalo bull, tightly bound together with strong rawhide thongs, and held in position with three flat sticks an inch or two wide and a little longer than the width of the sled. The shape was something like the body of a cutter; it was lined neatly with buffalo hide, and lariats were tied to the curved end as you tie your ropes. We generally coasted standing erect, and the narrower ones were used as skees, with a pole to balance, upon which we sped like lightning down the steep hills amid a din of yells, whoops, and laughter. Other skees were made of basswood or elm bark, stiffened with rawhide or doubled, always with the slippery inner side against the snow. In the very old days there were a kind of skates of peculiar workmanship, made of bones and tusks of animals.

The winter pageant or winter masque on the ice was the crowning event, and here the older people came to realize how closely they had been watched and studied by their children. Your Indian boy is a born mimic and impersonator, and this was his day. The first intimation of the festivity was given by their crier or herald, who entered the camp picturesquely attired, riding on a tame buffalo calf or a big Esquimo dog, announcing the coming of the “old folks” or the “first people.”

When the whole village had poured forth from their wigwams in eager expectation, the head of the procession emerged from the forest upon the field of ice. It was an imposing sight. The first clan, perhaps, would be led by a buffalo bull walking upright and holding his pipe in his hands like a man. Immediately behind him were twelve wise men walking abreast, each wearing a buffalo headdress and carrying a long staff with a buffalo-tail tassel. They were followed by the people of the clan, all clad in hairy skins, some accompanied by tame coyotes, or dragging old-time travois. Here and there, boys in groups were playing their favorite games or fluting and yodeling, while the groups of pretty girls walked more demurely.

The wolf, elk, and bear clans were similarly represented, and the odd characters of ancient legend were all present: Unktómee the tricky one with his many aliases; Heyóka the contrary one, who always says the reverse of what he means, and paints a face or mask on the back of his head so that he seems to be walking backward. Even his dog wears the head of a calf at his rear end, and a tail fixed on the end of his nose. One figure is dressed all in white and moves with a whirling motion, all the time imitating the humming of a top. Even the wild pets join in the fun, and I have heard a tame crow, which had been taught a few simple words, crying out quite naturally as he hopped along: “Wachée po! wachée po!” (Dance, friends, dance!)

XV—AN INDIAN GIRL’S SPORTS

The favorite outdoor sport of the plains-women from remote times is called by them “tap-káp-see-cha,” the original form of “field hockey.” Any level prairie ground is suited to the game, which is especially exciting when it is engaged in by two neighboring camps. The goals are usually two hundred yards apart, and the width of the ground about twenty feet. Twenty-five to fifty or more contestants may play on each side, but not all at once. They are placed in groups or relays, each group not to go beyond its allotted field. When a ball crosses the line, it belongs to the next group. Thus, if there are fifty players on a side, each group of ten runs only forty yards.

The ball, which is of buckskin, about as large as a baseball, but softer, is tossed up with a war-whoop, midway between the goals. Each side then strives to send it on with their hooked sticks toward the opposing goal. It may either be kept rolling along the ground, or driven through the air; and the battle continues until one side or the other succeeds in sending it over the enemy’s goal. The distinctive features of the Indian game are the apportionment of the field to designated groups of players, and the large number taking part, thus reducing the confusion and chances of accident while ensuring an exceedingly picturesque and lively spectacle.

“Pas-ló-han” is played in smaller groups with a wand about eight feet long, heavy at the forward end, which is shaped somewhat like the head of a snake, and tapering gently to about the size of a man’s finger. Sometimes the head is made of buffalo, elk, or deer’s horn. The girls hold it between the thumb, middle, and ring fingers, while the index finger presses against the end. The arm is closely bent at the elbow and held at right angles to the body, bringing the half-opened hand directly over the shoulder, and the wand is then hurled with all the strength of the player’s arm, two or three forward steps being taken at the same time. The head hits the ground slantwise, and the body slides and wriggles after it much like a fleeing snake. The immediate object of the girls, who throw in turn, is to see who can make it go furthest, but grace and swiftness of flight are also points to be considered.

This simple sport brings into use practically all the muscles that are required to throw a baseball, and helps much to make the girls supple and agile. It is easier to play in winter and late fall, as the wands travel much faster over crusty snow or hard-trampled ground.

The Minnesota Sioux used to play a very pretty aquatic game when their homes were in that beautiful lake country. It was really the original Indian game of lacrosse played in birch-bark canoes, and might be christened “water lacrosse” or “canoe ball.”

The ball was twice as large as the one the men used on land; I should say a little larger than a baseball, but much lighter in weight. The sticks used by the Sioux women were about like the ordinary lacrosse stick, only a foot longer and with twice as large a pocket. This pocket is made of vegetable fiber so that the wet does not stretch it, and when the ball is in it, barely one-third shows above the rim.

Ten to twenty girls may play on a side, two to each canoe. We will designate them “ball-player” and “canoeist.” The latter must devote herself entirely to her canoe and that of her opponent. She may not touch the ball nor interfere with the opposing ball-player, but she may use all her skill to obstruct the opposing canoe, and if her partner secures the ball, it is her duty to guard against being thus obstructed. In a skirmish she must be skilful and alert to balance her craft. No canoeist may ram her opponent head on, and if she does so, the game is given to the other side.

The ball-player must throw the ball to one of her own side if possible. Here again special skill is required, for it is nearly as difficult as making a successful “forward pass.” However, she has the privilege of passing it in any direction to one of her own players. It is not allowable to hit the ball while in the water. Each player may carry it on toward her opponent’s goal so long as her canoe is not obstructed, but as soon as her bows are crossed, she must pass it on. Thus the struggle continues until the ball either goes out of bounds, or passes over one of the goals. The field is about a hundred yards long by fifty wide. If the ball goes out of bounds, the referee must toss it up as at the beginning, in the middle of the field between two opposing canoes, the canoeists placing the canoes parallel to each other, while the players struggle for the possession of the ball. Meanwhile, the other players occupy strategic points and hold themselves ready to receive it.

In this feminine game, it is forbidden to throw the ball with a full arm swing; it must be lobbed or tossed with the forearm only, to avoid risk of injury to the players. It develops much nicety of physical equilibrium, and might be successfully revived in a summer camp by girls who are good swimmers. They would do well to wear bathing-suits and be fully prepared for the chances of an upset. In our day, the winners were entertained by the conquered side at a simple feast.

XVI—INDIAN NAMES AND THEIR SIGNIFICANCE

The Sioux had three classes of names; first, birth names; second, honor or public names; third, nicknames. The first indicated the order in which children were born into the family; as “Chaskáy,” first-born son, “Wenónah,” first-born daughter, and so on to the fifth child, who was presumed to be the last. There were a few who carried this childhood name through life.

The nickname usually records some humorous act or odd characteristic of the boy or man. It is seldom a flattering one. There is an imaginary Indian personage called “Wink’tah,” who is supposed to be ever on the watch for an excuse to coin a ridiculous or insinuating name, and such a one will travel like a prairie fire before its owner is aware of it.

It has been written by white men that an Indian child is called after the first noticeable thing its mother sees after its birth. This is not so as a rule, though it is possible such cases may have occurred. Again, it has been declared that some event occurring near the child’s birth establishes its name. This occasionally happens, but only when the event is of unusual importance.

The child’s “honor name” is properly conferred by the clan medicine-man at a public ceremony, some time after the child is able to walk. Such an Indian christening is announced by the herald, a feast made, and gifts presented to the poor of the tribe, in honor of the occasion. These needy old people in their turn go away singing the praises of the child by his new name.

Such a name usually indicates the distinguishing character or famous deeds of the boy’s ancestors, and its bearer is expected to live up to, defend, and pass it on, unstained. Through this ancient custom, he is early recognized by his tribe, impressed with a sense of his personal responsibility, and inspired with the ambition to be worthy of his ancestry. By giving away their property to those in want, his parents intend to teach him love and good-will toward his fellow-men. But if, when he grows up, the boy fails to sustain his honor name, he is no longer called by it.

If he does not fail, but on the other hand performs some special deed of valor, or wins some distinguished honor on his own account, he may later be given a special “deed name,” and the conferring of such was at one time strictly guarded among the Sioux. Our unwritten book of “Who’s Who” is composed of just such heroes.

The deed name is generally given by the war chief, and such naming is not accompanied by gifts. A deed requiring great physical courage is often celebrated by giving the name of some fear-inspiring animal, such as Bear or Buffalo, or one of the nobler bird names—those of Eagle, Hawk, and Owl. The character of the exploit, calling for special strength, swiftness, agility, or endurance, helps to determine the name chosen, or adds a qualifying word descriptive of some poetic or picturesque quality in the action. Examples are “Charging Eagle” and “Conquering Bear.”

Not only bird and animal names, but those of the elements, are commonly used to express temperament. The rash, impetuous man may be called “Storm,” or “Whirlwind.” Loftiness and beauty of character is indicated by a name including the word “sky,” or “cloud,” such as “Red Cloud,” “Touch-the-Cloud,” “Blue Sky,” or “Hole-in-the-Day,” all names of well-known chiefs. Sometimes the idea of bravery or swiftness conveyed by the name of animal or bird is combined with another suggestive of dignity, sacredness, mystery, or magic; as, for example, “Thunder Bear,” or “Spirit Buffalo.”

The highest type of brave deed name is represented by “Thunder,” or “Lightning,” in one of its many variations. “Crazy Bull” and “Crazy Horse” stand for utter fearlessness and unconsciousness of danger, rather than madness. Resourcefulness, generosity, and productiveness are expressed in the name of “Earth” with some of its poetic attributes. “Fire” represents daring and war-like qualities. Colors are used in a purely symbolic sense, thus redeeming from any touch of absurdity such names as “Red Wolf” and “Black Eagle.”

Many Indian names have been roughly handled in translation by illiterate persons, such as were most of the early interpreters. The raven was a dignified bird which disappeared with the buffalo, but its name is generally mistranslated as crow. The Sioux call the crow the “scolding grandmother,” and use its name only as a satirical jest. The famous chief known as “Young-man-afraid-of-his-Horses,” was really called “Man-whose-Horse-is-feared” (by the enemy).

An instance of the highly poetic and figurative name is that of “Wee-yó-tank-ah-loó-tah.” Literally translated, it means “He who in his usual home-going pauses upon an eminence glowing with scarlet light.” The reference is to the Sun, who, at the close of his day’s journey across the prairies of the sky, apparently rests for a moment upon his gorgeous seat at the verge of the horizon. He who bears that name needs no introduction; its beauty is eloquence enough.

Here are some honor names for Boy Scouts.

XVII—INDIAN GIRLS’ NAMES AND SYMBOLIC DECORATIONS

In all genuine Sioux handiwork, the central design is the isosceles triangle (Fig. 11), representing the conical teepee or tent—the home. This is used in many different ways. Two tents with the bases united, forming a diamond (Fig. 12), indicate the four points of the compass, or the whole world. Two tents with the peaks together (Fig. 13) are symbolic of life here and hereafter. The dark tent cut in half with a band of white, yellow, or light blue in the center (Fig. 14) signifies happiness in the home. The tent enclosed in a circle (Fig. 15) means eternal union.

Animal figures are much used in conventionalized designs. The figure of the bear means courage; the buffalo, plenty; the eagle (wings spread), honor; the owl, observation; the wolf, skill; the turtle, wisdom and longevity; the serpent, healing; the hawk, swiftness; the beaver, industry; the deer, love. The figure of a man on horseback represents a warrior.

No Indian girl may wear the skin or any representation of the bear, wolf, or cat, nor wear the feathers of the eagle, since these are masculine emblems. The doe, ermine, otter, and mink are feminine emblems.

It is usually possible to distinguish feminine from masculine personal names by the meaning. The names of the fiercer wild animals, such as bear, wolf, and eagle, are given to boys; girls are called after the fawn, mink, beaver, etc. Either may be called after sky, wind, or water, but the name of Fire is masculine. The syllable “wee” is a feminine termination.

“Na” is a diminutive, used much like “ie” in English.

The following are Sioux feminine names appropriate to “Camp Fire girls,” with their literal and symbolic meanings.

And some Ojibway girls’ names.

XVIII—THE LANGUAGE OF FEATHERS AND CEREMONIAL DRESS

The following birds are held in especially high honor: namely, the eagle, raven, and falcon, commonly called hawk. But it must be borne in mind that as far as the Indian is concerned, there is only one hawk that holds an honorable position: that is the American falcon. He is daring to recklessness in his methods of warfare and hunting, and though not large, is swift and graceful. The raven is held next to the eagle in dignity and wisdom; and the owl comes next on the roll of honored birds. Some of the water-fowl, such as the loon, cormorant, and pelican, play a minor part in our myths and folklore, but in the warriors’ codes and emblems only the dashing and courageous birds of prey are permitted to appear—the American eagle standing first.

The feathers of this bird are highly prized, since they stand for brave deeds and form a warrior’s record. They are variously worn among different tribes. Perhaps the best and completest system was developed by the Sioux nation; a system which was gradually adopted by their neighbors on the plains, and which I shall follow closely.

No Sioux may wear an eagle’s tail-feather unless he has counted a coup, or stroke, upon an enemy, dead or alive. If in a battle, the deed is witnessed by his fellow-warriors; but if he was alone when he made the count, he must have unmistakable proof, or the feather is not awarded. There are four coup counts on each enemy, and these are secured in succession. Even upon a living enemy, if he is overpowered and held captive, these four counts could properly be shared by the warriors. But it is obvious that in most cases they are very difficult to secure. A man may strike an enemy in a hand-to-hand battle, or, as you would say, in a “mix-up,” and he gets away without being killed or even seriously hurt. In this case, only one coup is counted. Again, many foes are killed upon whose bodies no coup at all is counted, because it is impossible to obtain, and upon others, one or two may be taken with much difficulty and superb daring in the face of the enemy’s fire. Herein lies the relative value of individual feathers, and the degree of valor shown or difficulty encountered determines the subsidiary trimmings, tassels, and ornaments.

Primarily, every eagle feather worn by a warrior represents a coup given in battle. This is important to remember. No other feather stands for the same thing, though different degrees of courage and endurance may be expressed by other feathers.

For instance, a group of raven or of Canadian goose feathers trimmed on the sides, indicates that the wearer has been wounded in battle more than once. A single goose feather dyed red and trimmed, means that the wearer was severely wounded in battle. Sometimes a man wears an eagle feather dyed or trimmed, meaning that he was wounded at the time he counted the coup. An eagle feather notched and the cut dyed red, means that the wearer counted the coup and took the scalp also, but was wounded while so doing.

He may have the feather cut off at the tip, showing that he killed his foe and counted the coup on that same enemy. If he fought a desperate battle, with the odds against him, in which he came off victor, he may tip his eagle’s feather with buffalo hair; and if he counted coup in a charge on horseback in the face of imminent danger, he may tip it with hair from a horse’s tail.

Among some tribes, the wearing of a split feather denotes that the wearer has been wounded, and when the feather is clipped off at the tip, that he has taken a scalp. When a warrior wears one eagle feather upright and the rest drooping, it indicates that he was surrounded in company with a party of warriors of whom he was the sole survivor.

As I have said, the Indian might wear as many eagle feathers as he had counted coups. When he had won a number of these in difficult circumstances, and had been held at bay and surrounded by the enemy, but succeeded in getting away, he was entitled to a regular war-bonnet. Only an exceptional record of many battles in which he had shown great coolness, skill, and daring, entitled him to the long, trailing war-bonnet of many plumes.

There are other ornaments and portions of a warrior’s dress that bear a special significance. If he has been in the vanguard of battle more than once and led counter-charges, he may wear the whole skin of a raven on his back in the dances. If he has pursued his enemy into the hostile camp and killed him there, he may wear an otter skin slit up the middle so that his head comes through, and the head of the animal hangs upon his chest. A garter made of skunk’s skin with the head and tail on, shows that he has successfully taken a scalp under the enemy’s fire. He wears a grizzly bear’s claws when he has been surrounded, but charged singly, bear-like, and repulsed the enemy. The paws of a grizzly bear, claws and all, denote that he has knocked off or pulled off the foe in a mounted encounter.

The deer-tail head-gear dyed in shades of red, with a thin square of bone, resembling ivory, in the center, to which one or more eagle feathers are attached, is equivalent to the eagle feather war-bonnet. The quill end of each feather is placed in the hollow of a goose’s wing-bone embossed with the beautiful iridescent neck-skin of a drake, and the whole forms an imposing ornament.

The wearing of the skins of certain animals and birds represents the totem, or, as it were, the coat-of-arms of the Indian. These symbols take a wide range, almost every familiar bird and animal, even fish and reptiles, being used as a sort of charm or talisman, some for healing, and others for protection from harm. But these things are not mere dead feathers or skins to the Indians; they symbolize an appeal to the brotherly spirit of the animal representing their individual lodge or clan, and are honored in recognition of the wonderful intuitive power of the dumb creatures. The Indian believes that instinct comes more directly from the “Great Mystery” than reason even; why else does an animal or child show wisdom without thought?

The addition of an ermine skin to the war-bonnet is an honor that few warriors earned in the old days. It is a degree of the highest type. The man who is recognized as a past master of courage, having achieved all the decorations of a patriot and a true warrior, dauntless in war, yet gentle at home, a friend and a brother—he alone may wear ermine upon his war-bonnet, or trim his ceremonial shirt with the beautiful white fur.

The addition of buffalo-hair trimming to a warrior’s bonnet or shirt or leggings is an indication that he has taken many scalps. If he is a chief, he may even have a buffalo tail dangle from one of his teepee poles. No one may do so without the authority of the tribe. Neither can the councilors confer these degrees without actual proof of service. No favoritism is possible under our system, and the highest degrees are conferred only upon men who have been tried again and again by every conceivable ordeal. Heroism is common, because the universal spirit of gallantry and chivalry requires it.

At a public dance, an Indian may recount some particular brave deed. This he acts out for the benefit of the younger element. He could not add anything to it, because the event is already well known. When the old customs were intact, it was the old warriors who claimed this privilege, and they, too, were allowed to paint their bodies in imitation of their severe wounds.

I remember very well in a great tribal dance that there were many of these old men who enacted their deeds with great spirit, and one had painted the upper half of his face black, with zig-zag lines representing lightning, the whole symbolic of a terrific battle. The lower part of his face, even with the mouth and including it was painted red, with streaks running down upon the chin. Every Indian would know that he had been wounded in the mouth. Another had painted in the middle of his broad chest a red hole, and from it there ran some red streaks, with a fine Crow arrow depicted in realistic fashion.

These customs have their barbarous side, but a really touching feature is that a warrior always shares his honors with his war-horse. Such a horse may wear an eagle plume in his forelock as proudly as his master, his tail or mane may be trimmed and dyed according to his rider’s war record, or he may be made to mourn for him by having it cut quite short.

Sometimes an acknowledged warrior decorates his long pipe-stem or the handle of his war-club. But no person can wear the honorable insignia of another; in fact, he can wear none that have not been awarded to him in due course by the council of his tribe.

The Boy Scouts may, if they choose, adapt this system to the honors counted in their organization, grading the various exploits in accordance with the real manhood needed to accomplish them.

XIX—INDIAN CEREMONIES FOR BOY SCOUTS

The one appointed to act as Leader or Medicine-man lays in a convenient place a pile of dry wood for the ceremonial fire, to which the Scouts are summoned by a herald. He goes the rounds with a camp horn, bidding all come to the Ay´-chay-tee when the sun is at a certain height in the heavens, preferably near sunset. The Medicine-man should be attired in full Indian costume, and prepared to act the part of a man full of years and wisdom. As fire is the symbol of enthusiasm, energy, and devotion, and is with the Indians a strictly masculine emblem, it is fit that the young men gather about it before going upon a journey or “war-path.”

When all have assembled in the usual circle, dressed either in Indian costume or Scout’s uniform, the Leader, standing in the center of the ring beside the prepared wood, kindles a “new fire” by means of the bow and drill, flint and steel, or “rubbing sticks.”

He then takes up the long-handled calumet or peace-pipe, which has previously been filled with dried sumach leaves, red willow bark, or other aromatic herb, kindles it with a coal from the “sacred fire,” and reverently holding it before him in both hands, with the stem pointing upward and forward, exclaims:

“To the Great Spirit (or Great Mystery) who is over all!”

The Scouts answer in unison: “Ho!”

Then, turning the stem of the pipe downward, the Leader says:

“To our Grandmother, the Earth!”

The Scouts answer: “Ho!”

He thus holds the pipe successively toward the four points of the compass, exclaiming as he does so: “To the East Wind! the West Wind! the North Wind! the South Wind!” and each time all answer: “Ho!”

The Leader next holds the stem of the pipe toward the first Scout, who, stepping forward and touching it solemnly, repeats in an audible voice the “Scout’s Oath:”

“I promise to obey my Leader, to seek honor above all things, and that neither pain nor danger shall keep me from doing my duty!”

After the pipe has thus gone round the circle, it is laid beside the fire, and all the Scouts chant, or recite in unison, the Strong Heart Song:

    “We are the Scouts of —— (name of band or brigade);
    We are the strong-hearted;
    We go forward, fearing nothing, to fulfill our vow!”

All now dance around the fire, going through the actions of a Scout on the enemy’s trail. A drum beaten in quick time is the proper accompaniment to this dance, or it may be performed to the chant and hand-clapping of the Leader. (For other songs and musical airs, see Alice Fletcher’s “Indian Story and Song.”) Finally the Scouts leave the ring one by one, each, as he disappears in the shadows, giving the yelp of the wolf—the Indian Scout’s call.

When a Scout returns to camp with news, he is met by the councilors seated in a circle about the fire, and before giving his report, takes the oath of the pipe in the past tense, thus:

“I have obeyed my Leader, have sought honor above all things, and neither pain nor danger has kept me from doing my duty!”

If, however, the matter is urgent, and there is little time for ceremony, he may, on entering the circle, kick down and scatter a small pile of wood which has been placed in readiness, this act constituting his oath that he has faithfully performed his task.