rother, take up the pony-whip,
Come, brother, take up the pony-whip,"

and much more that was soothing to his mood.

After a time he sprang to his feet and drove the woman out of the lodge.
Untying his war-bags he produced a white buffalo-robe and arranged it
to sit on. This was next to the bat-skin his strongest protector. When
seated on it he lost contact with the earth--he was elevated above all
its influences. Having arranged his gun, shield and war-bonnet over
certain medicine-arrows the sacred bat-skin was placed on top. This
last had in the lapse of years been worn to a mere shred and was now
contained in a neat buckskin bag highly ornamented with work done by
squaws. Lighting his medicine-pipe, after having filled it in the formal
manner due on such occasions, he blew the sacrificial whiffs to the four
corners of the world, to the upper realms and to the lower places
and then addressed the Good Gods. All the mundane influences had
departed--even his body had been left behind. He was in communion with
the spirit world--lost in the expectancy of revelation. He sang in
monotonous lines, repeating his extemporizations after the Indian
manner, and was addressing the Thunder Being--the great bird so much
sought by warriors. He sat long before his prayers were heeded, but at
last could hear the rain patter on the dry sides of the tepee and he
knew that the Thunder Bird had broken through the air to let the
rain fall. A great wind moaned through the encampment and in crushing
reverberations the Thunder Bird spoke to the Fire Eater: "Go--go to the
Absaroke--take up your pony-whip--your gun wants to talk to them--your
ponies squeal on the ropes--your bat says no arrow or bullet can find
him--you will find me over your head in time of danger. When you hear me
roar across the sky and see my eyes flash fire--sit down and be still--I
am driving your enemies back. When you come again back to the village
you must sacrifice many robes and ponies to me." Lower and lower spoke
the great bird as he passed onward--the rain ceased to beat--the split
sticks no longer burned--the Fire Eater put up the sacred things and was
alone in the darkness.

In the early morning the devotee stalked over to the great
war-prophet--a mystery man of the tribe who could see especially far
on contemplated war-paths. The sun was bright when they were done with
their conversation, but the signs were favorable to the spirit of war.
The Thunder Bird ha