e recognize. The Indian, in
other words, has a development almost like the instinct of the fox or
beaver. Upon this delicate barometer, whose basis is physical fear,
impressions (moral or physical, who shall say?) act with surprising
power. How this occurs, no Indian will attempt to explain. Certain
conjurations will, they maintain, aid the medicine-man to receive
impressions; but how or wherefore, no one pretends to know. This view of
_minor medicine_ is the one which will account for many of its
manifestations. Whether sound or defective, we will not contend.

The medicine-man whom I knew best was Ma-que-a-pos (the Wolf's Word), an
ignorant and unintellectual person. I knew him perfectly well. His
nature was simple, innocent, and harmless, devoid of cunning, and
wanting in those fierce traits that make up the Indian character. His
predictions were sometimes absolutely astounding. He has, beyond
question, accurately described the persons, horses, arms, and
destination of a party three hundred miles distant, not one of whom he
had ever seen, and of whose very existence neither he, nor any one in
his camp, was before apprised.

On one occasion, a party of ten voyageurs set out from Fort Benton, the
remotest post of the American Fur Company, for the purpose of finding
the Kaime, or Blood Band of the Northern Blackfeet. Their route lay
almost due north, crossing the British line near the Chief Mountain
(Nee-na-sta-ko) and the great Lake O-max-een (two of the grandest
features of Rocky Mountain scenery, but scarce ever seen by whites), and
extending indefinitely beyond the Saskatchewan and towards the
tributaries of the Coppermine and Mackenzie Rivers. The expedition was
perilous from its commencement, and the danger increased with each day's
journey. The war-paths, war-party fires, and similar indications of the
vicinity of hostile bands, were each day found in greater abundance.

It should be borne in mind that an experienced trapper can, at a glance,
pronounce what tribe made a war-trail or a camp-fire. Indications which
would convey no meaning to the inexperienced are conclusive proofs to
the keen-eyed mountaineer. The track of a foot, by a greater or less
turning out of the toes, demonstrates from which side of the mountains a
party has come. The print of a moccasin in soft earth indicates the
tribe of the wearer. An arrow-head or a feather from a war-bonnet, a
scrap of dressed deer-skin, or even a chance fragment of