This is one of a class of ceremonies common among Indians, in which the actors masquerade as animals. Bears, wolves, buffalo, elk, and others are represented with elaborate costuming and imagery. The Bear is the emblem of courage.

In this dance one of the players is chosen to represent the Bear, and should be made up if possible with the skin and head of that animal as a disguise, otherwise with a painted mask. A small arbor of green boughs forms the den, from which he issues from time to time in short rushes, growling as savagely as possible, and is teased with switches in the hands of the other players. If any one can touch the Bear without being himself touched, he scores one point, but if touched, he loses five points. If he trips and falls while running, he is out of the game. Whenever the pace becomes too swift for him, the Bear may retreat to his den, where he is safe. This game should last a given number of minutes, say twenty, at the end of which the scores are reckoned by two tellers previously detailed, and the winner announced. The drum and Indian songs may accompany this entertainment, which should be followed by a feast of Indian dishes, such as corn, venison, maple sugar, etc., served in Indian style, all the guests being seated cross-legged in a circle.

This is a very old rite of the Sioux, intended to typify the conquest of the Thunder-Bird, which is supposed to bring the lightning, and is the emblem of destruction.

Cut the figure of the Thunder-Bird from a piece of birch-bark or thin wood, and suspend from the top of a pole fifteen feet high, which is raised in the center of a ring sixty feet in diameter, formed of small bent saplings or willow wands. The ring must have two entrances. At the foot of the pole, place a bowl of clear water to represent the rain which accompanies the lightning. On either side stand two small boys, dressed in red or wearing red about their clothing, and carrying war-clubs in their hands. These boys represent War.

Now all the Scouts enter the ring in single file, dressed in Scouts’ uniform or Indian costume and armed with bow and arrows. The drum beats a slow tattoo as they march about the pole, looking upward toward the figure of the Thunder-Bird and chanting these lines:

    “Hear us, O Thunder!
    Hear us, and tremble!
    We are the soldiers,
    Soldiers of peace!”

At the close of the song, each in turn shoots an arrow at the image, and when it falls, the Scout who brought it down must drink all the water in the bowl. The war-clubs are then taken away from the two little boys representing War, who go out by the western entrance to the ring. At the same time there enter by the eastern entrance two more boys (or preferably girls, if it is a mixed assemblage), clad in blue and carrying calumets, to typify Peace. These lead the second march around the pole, while all chant the second stanza of the song:

    “The Thunder is fallen;
    Lost are his arrows;
    Peace is the victor—
    Our mother is Peace!”

A heavy stick with a large knot or knob on the end will do for a war-club, and if no genuine peace-pipe is obtainable, one may be improvised from a piece of wood.

XX—THE MAIDENS’ FEAST: A CEREMONY FOR GIRLS

This feast is always given at midsummer, in the fullness of bloom and splendor, as befits a gathering of the flower of the village or community. Invitations may be issued by the Guardian of the Camp Fire, or Leader of the band of girls, in the form of thin leaves of birch-bark or small bunches of sweet-grass. Another way of giving the invitation, if all the girls are in camp, is to engage the services of some man with a bugle or camp-horn to act as herald. He should dress in Indian costume and make the rounds early in the morning, blowing the horn and declaiming in a loud voice somewhat as follows:

“Hear ye, hear ye, all the people! The maidens of the ... Camp Fire are summoned to repair at noon to-day to the Sacred Stone in the middle of the encampment, there to hold the annual feast! Hear ye, hear ye!”

The maidens all come in ceremonial attire, and full Indian costume is indispensable to the proper effect. The hair is arranged in forward-turning plaits, and surmounted by a modest wreath or fillet of wild flowers. They advance silently, in single file, and form a ring about the “Sacred Stone,” a rudely heart-shaped or pyramidal boulder, which has been touched lightly with red paint. Beside the Stone, two new arrows are thrust into the earth. The rock symbolizes permanence, or the unchangeable forces of nature; the arrows, nature’s punishment for disobedience.

Now the leader of the maidens steps out of the ring, and laying her right hand upon the summit of the Stone, pronounces in clear tones the “Maidens’ Vow:”

“Upon this Stone I take the maiden’s twofold vow; the vow of purity—my duty to myself; the pledge of service—my duty to others!”

She then steps back and seats herself sidewise on the ground in the ring. Each in turn takes the vow in the same manner until the “maidens’ circle” is complete. Then all rise and chant, or recite in unison, the “Maidens’ Song:”

    “We are the maidens of —— (name of band);
    Our faces are turned toward the morning;
    In our hearts is the summer of promise;
    In our hands” (make cup of both hands) “we hold the new generation!
    United we go to meet the future,
    Armed with truth to ourselves, and with love for all!”

At the close of the song, all take hands and dance four times about the Stone, each time reversing the movement.

Lastly, they seat themselves again in the same order, and the “feast” is served by handing it about the circle, each maiden taking her portion in her own basin, or bowl, and eating it with her own spoon, having brought these with her according to the Indian custom. Appropriate dishes for the feast would be rice with maple sugar (wild rice if obtainable), green corn or succotash, berries and nuts, maize cakes or pop-corn dainties, or any strictly native product. After the food is served, it is permitted for the first time to talk and laugh, all gravity and decorum having been preserved by participants and spectators during the entire ceremony.

The parents and friends of the young women should be invited, if convenient, to witness the “Maidens’ Feast,” and a characteristic Indian feature would be added if some of them should desire to signalize the occasion by gifts to some needy person or cause. Such gifts should be announced at the close of the festival.

XXI—THE GESTURE—LANGUAGE OF THE INDIAN

This language is most fully developed among the tribes of the Great Plains, many of whom speak entirely different tongues, for use in their frequent meetings, either accidental or for the purpose of concluding a treaty of peace. It is also used by deaf mutes among Indians. It has been learned and elaborately written out by several authorities, chief of whom is Captain W. R. Clark of the United States Army. Being understood by few, it will serve excellently as a secret code, so much desired by young people, and is especially appropriate to the ceremonials of Boy Scouts and Camp Fire Girls.

We Indian boys were taught from babyhood to be silent, to listen to the things that nature is saying all about us. But since it is hard for a healthy boy to keep his discoveries and observations entirely to himself, he must devise some outlet. Our silent communication, our “wireless,” was the gesture-language.

It should be remembered that among Indians the whole body speaks, and that all oratory, and even conversation, is accompanied by graceful and significant gestures. The accomplished user will make the signs herein described rapidly and smoothly, investing the whole with genuine charm, as a novel kind of pantomime. For it will be seen that these are no arbitrary signs, but actual air-pictures, and not manual only, since they include a variety of movements and considerable facial expression.

The construction or grammar of the sign-language is simple. Adjectives follow nouns, conjunctions and prepositions are omitted, and verbs are used in the present tense only. The following signs, well-learned, will enable one to carry on a short conversation, and many more may be devised along these lines by an ingenious boy or girl.

Attention, or Question. Hold right hand, palm outward, fingers and thumb separated, well out in front of body at height of shoulder. This is used to begin a conversation.

I understand. Throw right forearm out in front of body with fingers closed, except index finger, which is curved and drawn back. This indicates that you grasp and draw something toward you, and is used occasionally while another is talking. If you do not understand, use the Question sign.

I. Touch breast with index finger of right hand.

Glad. (Sunshine in the heart.) Place compressed right hand, fingers slightly curved, over region of heart; bring left hand, palm downward, in sweeping curve to left of body, at the same time turning it palm upward, as if turning up or unfolding something. The expression of the face should correspond.

Sad. Place the closed fist against the heart. Appropriate facial expression.

Surprised. Cover mouth with palm of right hand, open eyes widely, and move head slightly backward.

Angry. (Mind twisted.) Place closed right fist against forehead and twist from right to left.

Ashamed. (Blanket over face.) Bring both hands, palms inward, fingers touching, in front of and near the face.

Good. (Level with heart.) Hold extended right hand, back up, close to region of heart; move briskly forward and to right.

Bad. (Throw away.) Hold one or both hands, closed, in front of body, backs upward; open with a snap, at the same time moving them outward and downward.

Brave, Strong. Hold firmly closed left hand in front of body, left arm pointing to right and front; bring closed right hand above and a little in front of left, and strike downwards, imitating the blow of a hammer. (This gesture, vigorously made, intensifies any previous statement or description.)

Alone. Hold up index finger.

On Horseback. Place first and second finger of right hand astride left index finger. Motion of galloping may be made, or a Fall from the horse represented.

Tent, or Wigwam. Bring both hands together at the finger tips, forming a cone.

House. Interlock fingers of both hands, holding them at right angles.

Camp. Sign for Tent, then form circle with arms and hands in front of body.

City, or Village. Sign for House, then Camp sign.

Sleep. Incline head to right and rest cheek on right palm. For going into camp, or to indicate the length of a journey, make sign for Sleep and hold up as many fingers as nights were spent on the way.

Time is told by indicating the position of the sun; the Seasons as follows:

Spring. (Little grass.) Hold hands, palms upward, well down in front, fingers and thumbs well separated and slightly curved; separate hands slightly. Then hold right hand in front of body, back to right, closing fingers so that only tip of index finger projects. (This last sign for Little.)

Summer. Sign for Grass, holding hands at height of waist.

Autumn. (Falling leaves.) Hold right hand above head, fingers closed, except index finger and thumb, which form nearly a circle; bring hand slowly downward with wavering motion.

Winter. Hold closed hands in front of body and several inches apart; give shivering motion to hands.

To indicate Age, give sign for Winter and hold up fingers; all counting is done in the same way, in multiples of ten; as, for one hundred, open and close fingers of both hands ten times.

Color is usually indicated by pointing to some object of the color spoken of.

Brother. Touch first and second finger to lips.

Sister. Sign for Brother, and that for Woman.

Woman. (Long hair.) Bring both palms down sides of head, shoulders, and bosom, with sweeping gesture.

Love. Cross both arms over bosom.

Give Me. Hold right hand well out in front of body, palm upward, close, and bring in toward body.

Beautiful. Hold palms up like mirror in front of face; make sign for Good.

Ugly. Same as above, with sign for Bad.

Peace. Clasp both hands in front of body.

Quarrel. Hold index fingers, pointing upward, opposite and a few inches apart; move sharply toward each other, alternating motion.

Liar. (Forked tongue.) Bring separated first and second fingers of right hand close to lips.

Scout. (This is also the sign for Wolf.) Hold first and second fingers of right hand, extended and pointing upward, near right shoulder, to indicate pointed ears.

Trail. Hold extended hands, palms up, side by side in front of body; move right to rear and left to front a few inches; alternate motion.

It is finished. Bring closed hands in front of body, thumbs up, second joints touching; then separate. This sign ends a speech or conversation.

XXII—INDIAN PICTURE-WRITING

Pictorial hieroglyphics are merely crude pictures drawn and painted upon leather or birch-bark, or cut into the trunk of a convenient tree, or perhaps upon a hard clay bank, and sometimes even scratched with a hard stone upon the face of a cliff. In the first place, they represent history and biography, and serve to supplement and authenticate our oral traditions. Others are communications intended for some one who is likely to pass that way, and give important information. The person or persons whom it is desired to reach need not be addressed, but the sender of the message signs his name first, as in a letter of ceremony.

Suppose Charging Eagle is on the war-path and wishes to communicate with his friends. He cuts upon the bark of a conspicuous tree beside the trail the figure of an eagle swooping downward, bearing in its beak a war-club. The news he gives is that his young men brought home a herd of horses taken from the enemy. He draws first a teepee; facing it are several free horses, and immediately behind them two or three riders with war-bonnets on their heads, leading another horse. Last of all are some horses’ footprints. The free horses represent force, and the led horse expresses captivity. The fact that the men wear their war-bonnets, indicates a state of war.

The event is dated by drawing the symbol of the month in which it occurred, followed by the outline of the moon in its first, second, third, or fourth quarter, dark or full, as the case may be. The waxing moon opens toward the right, the waning moon toward the left. To be still more exact, the chief may draw the sun with its rays, followed by an open hand with as many fingers extended as days have passed since the event.

The thirteen moons of the year are named differently by different Indian tribes. I will give the names and symbols commonly used by the Sioux, beginning with nature’s new year, the early spring.

In the old days, there were many different bands of the Sioux, who wandered, during the year, over a wide extent of country. Thus news was spread both by signal communication and by pictographs, when it was impossible to communicate by word of mouth. This particular message of Charging Eagle’s was not only news, but also a warning to travelers to be on their guard, for the enemy might seek to retaliate, and some innocent persons be surprised and made to pay dearly for another’s exploit.

In picture-writing, the head of man or animal is emphasized, with its distinguishing peculiarity of head-gear, or ears, or horns, while the body is barely outlined. The warrior is represented by a rude figure of a man wearing a war-bonnet, or carrying a coup-staff. Warriors returning successful are shown approaching a group of teepees, carrying scalps on poles. If, on the contrary, the writer’s camp has been raided, the figures are seen departing from the teepees. A trail, or journey, is indicated by double wavy lines. If the travelers parted, the trail is branched.

Lightning is represented by zig-zag lines with a suggestion of flames at the points, or by a large bird with zig-zag flashes issuing from his beak. Wind is indicated by tossed clouds; but for the four winds, or four points of the compass, draw a mere cross, or a pair of crossed arrows. For rain, make dots and dashes; for snow, falling stars; for night, stars above a black line, sometimes adding a crescent moon.

The name “Sitting Bull,” for example, is drawn as a buffalo bull sitting upon its haunches, with front feet in the air and tossing head. Spotted Tail is a charger with luxuriant flowing tail, streaked and spotted with white. Hawk Eagle signs his name by drawing a hawk wearing an eagle feather war-bonnet. Big Tent draws a large teepee, with a buffalo tail dangling from the projecting poles, to show dignity and importance. The autograph of Chief Bullhead is the figure of a man with the head of a bull buffalo, perhaps surmounted by a war-bonnet.

The “ghost,” or spirit, is represented by a pair of eyes looking from the sky, or by the outline of a bird with great eyes. Prayer, or the “Great Mystery,” is symbolized by the figure of a man in the Indian’s prayer attitude—standing erect, with head uplifted and the tips of his fingers meeting in a sharp angle in front of his chest, gazing at the figure of the sun.

XXIII—WOOD-CRAFT AND WEATHER WISDOM

How does he find his way so successfully in the pathless jungle without the aid of a compass? you ask. Well, it is no secret. In the first place, his vision is correct; and he is not merely conscious of what he sees, but also sub-consciously he observes the presence of any and all things within the range of his senses.

If you would learn his system, you must note the relative position of all objects, and especially the location of your camp in relation to river, lake, or mountain. The Indian is a close student of the topography of the country, and every landmark—hill, grove, or unusual tree—is noted and remembered. It is customary with the hunters and warriors to tell their stories of adventure most minutely, omitting no geographical and topographical details, so that the boy who has listened to such stories from babyhood can readily identify places he has never before seen.

This kind of knowledge is simple, and, like the every-day meal, it is properly digested and assimilated, and becomes a part of one’s self. It is this instant, intelligent recognition of every object within his vision in his daily roving, which fixes the primitive woodsman’s reckoning of time, distance, and direction.

Time is measured simply by the height of the sun. Shadow is the wild man’s dial; his own shadow is best. Hunger is a good guide when the sun is behind the clouds. Again, the distance traveled is an indicator, when one travels over known distances. In other words, he keeps his soul at one with the world about him, while the over-civilized man is trained to depend upon artificial means. He winds his watch, pins his thought to a chronometer, and disconnects himself from the world-current; then starts off on the well-beaten road. If he is compelled to cut across, he calls for a guide; in other words, he borrows or buys the mind of another. Neither can he trust his memory, but must needs have a notebook!

The wild man has no chronometer, no yardstick, no unit of weight, no field-glass. He is himself a natural being in touch with nature. Some things he does, he scarcely knows why; certainly he could not explain them. His calculations are swift as a flash of lightning; best of all, they come out right! This may seem incredible to one who is born an old man; but there are still some boys who hark back to their great-great-grandfathers; they were not born and nursed within six walls!

The colors of tree, grass, and rock tell the points of the compass to the initiated. On the north side, the bark is of a darker color, smoother, and more solid looking; while on the southern exposure it is of a lighter hue, because of more sunshine, and rougher, because it has not been polished off by the heavy beating of snow and rain in the cold season. An Indian will pass his hand over the trunk of a tree in the dark and tell you which way is north; some will tell you the kind of tree, also.

The branches of the tree tell the same story; on the south side they grow thicker and longer, while the leaves lie more horizontal on the sunny side, and more vertical on the north. Again, the dry leaves on the ground corroborate them; on the north side of the trees the leaves are well-packed and overlay each other almost like shingles. The color and thickness of the moss on rock or tree also tells the secret.

But I must leave some things for you to discover; and I advise you to select a rock or tree that is well exposed to the elements for a first attempt. Of course, in well-protected localities, these distinctions are not so marked, but even there are discernible to a trained eye.

If you ever lose your way in the woods, do not allow yourself to become unnerved. Never “give up.” Fear drowns more people than water, and is a more dangerous enemy than the wilderness. A normal man, with some knowledge of out-of-doors, can without much effort keep in touch with his starting-point, and, however tortuously he may rove, he will pick the shortest way back. Know exactly where you are before starting, in relation to the natural landmarks, and at every halt locate yourself as nearly as possible. Measure your shadow (it varies according to the season), and scatter dry earth, leaves, or grass, to learn the direction of the wind. The watershed is another important point to bear in mind. On a clear night, look for the well-known stars, such as the “Great Dipper,” which lies to the north in summer, the handle pointing west. The “Milky Way” lies north and south. Once you locate the camp, you may be guided by these or by the wind in night travel.

The Indian, as an out-of-door man, early learns the necessity of a weather bureau of his own. He develops it after the fashion of another system of precaution; that is, he takes note of the danger-signals of the animals, those unconscious criers of the wilderness, both upon water and land. These have definite signals for an approaching change in the weather. For instance, the wolf tribes give the “storm call” on the evening before. This call is different in tone from any other and clearly identified by us. Horses kick and stamp, and the buffalo herds low nervously. Certain water-fowl display a strange agitation which they do not show under any other circumstances. Antelopes seek shallow lakes before a thunder-shower and stand in the water—the Indians say because lightning does not strike in the water. Even dogs howl and make preparations to hide their young. Ducks have their signal call; but the chief weather prophet of the lakes is the loon, as the gray wolf or coyote is of the prairie.

Certain leaves and grass-blades contract or expand at the approach of storm, and even their color is affected, while the wind in the leaves has a different sound. The waves on the beach whisper of the change, and we also observe the “ring” around the sun, and the opacity and disk of the moon. The lone hunter may be left with only the open prairie and the dome of heaven; but he still has his grass-blades, his morning and evening skies. Sometimes the little prairie birds give him the signal; or, if not, he may fall back upon his old wounds, that begin to ache and swell with the change of atmosphere.

XXIV—THE ART OF STORY-TELLING

True stories of warfare and the chase are related many times over by actors and eye-witnesses, that no detail may be forgotten. Handed down from generation to generation, these tales gradually take on the proportions of heroic myth and legend. They blossom into poetry and chivalry, and are alive with mystery and magic. The pictures are vivid, and drawn with few but masterly strokes. Often animals as well as men are the villains and heroes, and in this way a grotesque humor is artfully yet naturally developed.

In the old days, it was customary among us for each clan to have its official story-teller, whose skill in making the most of his material had built up a reputation which might extend even to neighboring villages. He was not only an entertainer in demand at all social gatherings, but an honored schoolmaster to the village children. The great secret of his success was his ability to portray a character or a situation truthfully, yet with just a touch of humorous or dramatic exaggeration. The scene is clearly visualized; the action moves quickly, with successive events leading up to the climax, which must be handled with much dignity and seriousness, or pathos and gravity may be turned upside down in the unexpectedness of the catastrophe.

Here is a short example of Indian story-telling:

Far out in the middle of the “Bad Lands” upon the Little Missouri, there stands a pillar-like butte some four or five hundred paces in height. Here and there upon its sheer walls cling a few stunted pines and cedars, some hanging by one foot, others by their great toe only. Not one of the many gulches that furrow its sides affords a safe path, or even a tolerable ladder to the top. There is generally a pair of eagles who breed there, and an occasional Rocky Mountain sheep may be seen springing along its terraces. We Indians have long regarded this butte as a sacred temple, the very spot for solitary prayer and fasting; but tradition states that only two men have ever set foot upon its summit for this purpose.

Feared-by-the-Bear was a warrior of unquestioned bravery. One day he announced that he would fast upon Cloud Butte. Thereupon other well-known braves decided to fast there also. Their leader managed the ascent with much labor and difficulty. When, just at sunset, he reached the summit, he was happy; the world seemed revealed to him in all its beauty and majesty. “Where can such another shrine be found?” he thought.

He took his position upon a narrow projection of rock extending over the abyss, where it is said no human being has stood before or since. The full moon had risen, and the brave stood above that silvered gulf of air with uplifted filled pipe and extended arm, praying without words, as is our custom.

Suddenly his ears rang with the cry: “Haya háy! A grizzly! A grizzly!” He was compelled to suspend his devotions for an instant, and to throw a glance in the direction of the call. He perceived that his example had been followed, and that what seemed an avenging spirit was pursuing his fellow worshipper.

“Dodge behind a tree! Run your best; he is almost upon you!” he shouted. But the nearest tree hung upon the verge of the precipice. If the man missed his footing, he must go down to death.

There was no time to consider. Around the tree he flew and disappeared like a passing shadow. At his heels the desperate grizzly, who had prolonged his unwilling fast upon the butte for days, not daring to attempt the descent, lunged heavily against the swaying cedar to save himself from falling headlong. He was half a second too late!

Feared-by-the-Bear had not yet been discovered. He clutched his long pipe and still pointed it toward the starry sky in silent supplication. Indeed, he had now more immediate cause for prayer. “Waugh!” uttered the hungry bear, and approached him with wide-open mouth.

The dizzy shelf on which the brave stood had been an eagle’s nest for ages, but was just now unoccupied. Old Mato, the bear, seemed reluctant to advance, for on either side the sheer rock descended to a great distance. The warrior merely turned toward him the filled pipe which he had been offering to the “Great Mystery.”

“To your spirit, O Bear! I offer this peace pipe, the same I have just offered to the Maker of us both. Will you partake of it, and commission me to be as brave and strong as yourself?” Thus speaking, and without showing any nervousness, he pointed the long stem of the pipe directly at the bear, upon which Mato growled ungraciously, but did not offer to come nearer. On the other hand, he showed no intention of leaving, and the way to escape was blocked.

Feared-by-the-Bear lighted his pipe with the “fire maker,” and smoked deliberately. Then he kindled a little fire in the dry twigs of the old eagle’s nest. This seemed to disturb the bear, whereupon he boldly threw a firebrand at him. The dry leaves caught and blazed fiercely. Mato ran for his life, and with this new fright behind him, found no serious difficulty in getting down the trail.

In due time, the faster left his position with all dignity, and approached the leaning cedar tree behind which his friend, as he supposed, had leaped to death. His first shuddering look over the brink showed him that the young man still hung suspended by his hands from a large branch. With much difficulty he was dragged up to solid rock, and his involuntary ordeal brought to a close. This event established the names and reputations of “Overcliff” and “Feared-by-the-Bear.”

XXV—ETIQUETTE OF THE WIGWAM

Each band has its chief, or leader, who governs through his council, and a herald to announce their decisions. Scouts and soldiers are appointed by the council. When several bands camp together, all know that there will be no change in the general order, aside from a few special and temporary rules. The clans simply enforce the usual codes conjointly, though any special service necessarily carries with it greater honor, because of serving a larger community.

If a member of any band commits an offence against one of another band, all the chiefs constitute the grand jury. Their verdict is attested by the grand council, while the two persons affected have no voice in the matter, except as they may be called upon to testify of what they know. The punishment decreed is strictly carried out without prejudice or favoritism. No boy or man can flee from the voice and hand of justice. Where can he go and be at peace with his own conscience?

I have said elsewhere that the tents are pitched in a circle, or group of circles. In case of a large band, their position in the circle is determined by their relative strength and reputation. The strongest band takes its place on the right of the entrance, and the next strongest takes the left. Opposite the entrance is the post of honor, which is accorded to the greatest chief or temporary head of the large camp.

Now the family circle in the wigwam is arranged on the same principle. The circle is symbolic of life, also symbolic of the day’s journey. Woman rules the lodge; therefore on the right of the entrance is the position of the grandmother, if there is one. Next her are her granddaughters, the youngest nearest her. Then comes the grandfather, and next him the grown sons, if any; then the father, and between him and the mother, who occupies the first seat on the left of the entrance, are one or two of the smallest children. The guest is seated opposite the entrance.

It is a rule of the Indian home that the grandfather is master of ceremonies at all times. He is spokesman for the family if a stranger enters. If he is absent, the father or the husband speaks; all others may only smile in greeting. If both men are absent, the grandmother is spokes-woman; if she is away, the mother or the wife speaks, with as much dignity as modesty. If no older person is at home, the eldest son or daughter greets the guest, but if they have no brother to speak for them, and an entire stranger enters, the girls may properly observe silence. The stranger should explain the cause of his intrusion.

In the presence of a guest, promiscuous laughing or a careless attitude are not permitted. Rigid decorum and respectful silence are observed, and if any children are present, they must not stare at the stranger. All noisy play and merriment must be kept within familiar family circles, except on the occasion of certain games and dances.

In the matter of greetings, the men alone greet each other with “How!” No woman may use this greeting. Indians do not usually say “Thank you!” but acknowledge a gift or favor by using some appropriate term of relationship, as grandmother, little sister, cousin, etc. “Hi, hi!” or “Thank you!” is occasionally used, but only when one is especially grateful.

You should always address everybody in the clan by the regular term of relationship, rather than by name. If too distant, the word “Kólah,” or friend, may be used. Perhaps a prettier word for the Boy Scouts to adopt is “Kechúwah,” or comrade.

The serving of food is always orderly and polite. Guests are offered food, at whatever hour of the day they may appear, as, in the wilderness life, it is safe to assume that they are hungry. The mother of the family serves first the guest, if any, then her father, her husband, her mother, the children in order of age, and, of course, herself last of all. Each returns his empty dish to her with the proper term of relationship as a sign of thanks.

Silence, we believe, is the basis of order and decorum, and the peace and dignity of the camp must be maintained at all costs. Thus any emergency is quickly made known and is met with calmness and decision. All formal announcements are made by the mouth of the camp herald or crier.

Our Indian “Boy Scouts” are the immediate and unofficial guardians of our safety. If any one approaches, they quickly pass the unspoken signal from boy to boy, without letting the stranger know that he is discovered; and if there is any doubt as to his identity and character, that, too, is indicated, so that the experienced may see to it before he comes too near. The reports of the returning hunters are given by means of certain calls, so that the home folks may be prepared to receive them.

For instance, when a bear is killed, the boys announce it with the peculiar call, “Wah, wah, wah!” in chorus. If it is a deer, they cry: “Woo koo hoo´! woo koo hoo´!” In welcoming the buffalo hunters, the boys hold one another by the shoulders and imitate the lowing of the herds, finishing off with a shrill whistle. Possibly your college and class yells were founded upon the Indian game signals.

XXVI—TRAINING FOR SERVICE

One must have a trained mind, if only in order to reach the height of one’s physical possibilities, and all-round efficiency depends much upon the kind of training described in the foregoing talks. The “School of Savagery” is no haphazard thing, but a system of education which has been long in the building, and which produces results. Ingenuity, faithfulness, and self-reliance will accomplish wonderful things in civilized life as well as in wild life, but, to my mind, individuality and initiative are more successfully developed in the out-of-door man. Where the other man is regarded more than self, duty is sweeter and more inspiring, patriotism more sacred, and friendship is a true and eternal bond.

The Indian is trained in the natural way, which means that he is kept in close contact with the natural world. Incidentally, he finds himself, and is conscious of his relation to all life. The spiritual world is real to him. The splendor of life stands out pre-eminently, while beyond all, and in all, dwells the Great Mystery, unsolved and unsolvable, except in those things which it is good for his own spirit to know.

The good things of earth are not his to hold against his brothers, but they are his to use and enjoy together with his fellows, to whom it is his privilege to bring them. In seeking thus, he develops a wholesome, vigorous body and mind, to which all exertion seems play, rather than painful toil for possession’s sake. Happy, rollicking, boy man! Gallant, patriotic, public-spirited—in the Indian is the lusty youth of humanity. He is always ready to undertake the impossible, or to impoverish himself to please his friend.

Most of all he values the opportunity of being a minute-man—a Scout! Every boy, from the very beginning of his training, is an embryo public servant. He puts into daily practice the lessons that in this way become part of himself. There are no salaries, no “tips,” no prizes to work for. He takes his pay in the recognition of the community and the consciousness of unselfish service. Let us have more of this spirit of the American Indian, the Boy Scout’s prototype, to leaven the brilliant selfishness of our modern civilization!