s volunteered to try their medicine
and see if the clouds could not be made to yield their vapor by the
charm of their eloquence. It was a dreadful alternative, as, failing to
produce any result, they suffered everlasting disgrace at the hands of
the entire tribe. The preliminaries having been arranged, the candidates
were drawn by lot and a day assigned to each one to lift his voice on
high and persuade the rain to descend. The celebrant took up his
position on the top of the council lodge, while below the worthy doctors
continued to burn their incense, and with song, prayers, and
incantations, commanded the clouds to obey them.

Wah-kee (the shield), ascended the wigwam at sunrise and made elaborate
preparations to frighten the clouds into obeying him. After indulging in
war-whoops, brandishing his lance, shield and tomahawk, and going
through various other absurd performances, he subsided and betook
himself to counting his mystery beads. The whole village had assembled,
and were howling lustily for his success. Not a cloud appeared--the day
was calm and hot; and when the sun declined behind the mountains, he
descended from his exalted position, and withdrew with a crestfallen
air.

He returned to his lodge a sadder if not a wiser man, disgraced and with
no prospect of ever attaining to the dignity of a medicine man.

The next morning the performance was repeated, Om-pah (the Elk), saying
that his importunities would certainly be heard. He was quite nude, and
his body besmeared with yellow clay. A beautiful shield was displayed on
his left arm, and his right hand grasped a long lance. The skin of a
raven adorned his head. Shield and lance were flourished, but in vain.
Not a cloud obscured the brightness of the noon-day sun. The squaws were
crying, and the corn was withering at its roots.

War-rah-pa (the beaver), was the next, but he, like the others, spent
his time in vain; and Wak-a-dah-me took the stand the next morning. He
was much more gaily attired than any of his predecessors. In addition to
a shield ornamented with "red chains of lightning," he carried in his
left hand a bow and single arrow. The concourse was as great as on any
previous day. Striking an attitude, he tossed up a feather to ascertain
the course of the wind, then turning to the mob below, began a lengthy
harangue, something after the following manner:

"Apaches! Children of the Sun!--You behold me here a sacrifice. I shall
this day relieve