notonous but rhythmic sound. This ceremony over, I am again
led out and my clothes stripped from my back; substituting in their
stead leggings and moccasins only. My body is then besmeared with paint
and oil. My hair is shaved with _scalping knives_, leaving only a small
ridge on my head, that ran from my forehead to my neck. Thus disguised
and regenerated, I am again led into the presence of the chief, who
embraces me, and waving his arm a young warrior advances with a
necklace, shield, bow and quiver, tomahawk and lance; these are given
to me in addition to a tobacco pouch filled with _k'neck k'nick_, the
Indian substitute for tobacco. Thus accoutered, I am once more placed in
the center of a circle, this time outside of the lodge; a small piece of
turf is removed and the savages again commence their incantations. The
dance is exceedingly grotesque, and consists of a series of yells, jumps
and jarring gutterals, which are sometimes truly terrifying. Every step
has its meaning, and every dance its peculiar song. When one becomes
fatigued by the exercises, he signifies it by bending quite forward and
sinking his body towards the ground, then withdraws from the circle;
when all have retired in this manner the dance is ended, and all that
remains to make me one of them is _branding_. During these ceremonies, I
often wondered why I should have been singled out for adoption, when
there were others who would, in my opinion have answered their purposes
so much better; the Mexicans, for instance, with whose language they
were familiar, would have been more serviceable; again, why should they
take anyone into the tribe? Later, all this was explained. It seems that
the medicine man is averse to initiating any of his _own_ people into
the secrets and hocus-pocus of his art, as the apprentice, with the
knowledge thus gained, might in time become a formidable rival. By
adopting a captive this risk is obviated, as under no circumstances
could he aspire to the honors of priesthood. In the event of his
escape, the only damage would be the loss of an experienced assistant.
From this time I was always addressed by my new name TAH-TECK-A-DA-HAIR
(the steep wind), probably from the fact that I outstripped my pursuers
in my vain effort at escape. I was allowed to roam at will through the
village, but I noticed that wherever I went, watchful eyes followed my
every motion.

I was actuated in my rambles solely by the desire to see my wife; vai