strictly professional
life, to the usual active habits of the hunting and warring tribes. He
dwelt almost alone on a far northern branch of the Saskatchewan River,
revered for his gifts, feared for his power, and always approached with
something of reluctance by the Indians, who firmly believed the spirit
of the gods to dwell within him. He was an austere and taciturn man,
difficult of access, and as vain and ambitious as he was haughty and
contemptuous. Those who professed to have witnessed the scene told of a
trial of power between this man--the Black Snake, as he was called--and
a renowned medicine-man of a neighboring tribe. The contest, from what
the Indians said, must have occurred about 1855.

The rival medicine-men, each furnished with his medicine-bag, his
amulets, and other professional paraphernalia, arrayed in full dress,
and covered with war-paint, met in the presence of a great concourse.
Both had prepared for the encounter by long fasting and conjurations.
After the pipe, which precedes all important councils, the medicine-men
sat down opposite to each other, a few feet apart. The trial of power
seems to have been conducted on principles of animal magnetism, and
lasted a long while without decided advantage on either side; until the
Black Snake, concentrating all his power, or "gathering his medicine,"
in a loud voice commanded his opponent to die. The unfortunate conjurer
succumbed, and in a few minutes "his spirit," as my informant said,
"went beyond the Sand Buttes." The only charm or amulet ever used by the
Black Snake is said to have been a small bean-shaped pebble suspended
round his neck by a cord of moose sinew. He had his books, it is true,
but they were rarely exhibited.[E]

The death of his rival, by means so purely non-mechanical or physical,
gave the Black Snake a pre-eminence in "medicine" which he has ever
since maintained. It was useless to suggest poison, deception, or
collusion, to explain the occurrence. The firm belief was that the
spiritual power of the Black Snake had alone secured his triumph.

I mentioned this story to a highly educated and deeply religious man of
my acquaintance. He was a priest of the Jesuit order, a European by
birth, formerly a professor in a Continental university of high repute,
and beyond doubt a guileless and pious man. His acquaintance with Indian
life extended over more than twenty years of missionary labor in the
wildest parts of the west slope of the