to send to them each his "dream," his unseen counsellor,
which should speak to him out of its more than earthly wisdom.

When the young man was troubled and knew not which course he should
pursue, he went up to this hill alone, and so laid hold upon Fate that
it fain communed with him. He held up his hands at night to the stars,
very far above him, and asked that they should witness him and be
merciful, for that he was small and weak, and knew not why things
should be as they were. He called upon the spirits of the great dead
about him to witness the sincerity of his prayer. He placed offerings
to the Dream People. He prayed to the sun as it rose, and besought it
of its strength to strengthen him.

Sometimes when a young man had gone up alone from the village to this
hill to pray, there were seen at night more forms than one walking upon
the summit of the hill, and sometimes voices were heard. Then it was
known that the young man had seen his "dream," and that they had held a
council.

Very many men had thus prayed upon the summit of the Hill of Dreams in
the days gone by. Its top was strewn with offerings. It was a sacred
place. Sometimes the stone cairns did not withstand the wolves, but
none the less the place was consecrate. Hither they bore the great
dead. It was upon the Hill of Dreams that his people buried White
Calf, the last great leader of the Plains tribes, who fell in the
combat with the not less savage giant who came with the white men to
hunt in the country near the Hill of Dreams. Since that time the power
of the Plains tribes had waned, and they had scattered and passed away.
The swarming white men--Visigoths, Vandals--had found out this spot for
centuries held mysteriously dear to the first peoples of that country.
They tore open the graves, scattered the childlike emblems, picked to
pieces the little packages of furs and claws, jibing at the "medicine"
which in its time had meant so much to the man who had left it there.

The Visigoths and Vandals laughed and smote upon their thighs as they
thus destroyed the feeble records of a faith gone by. Yet with what
more enduring and with how dissimilar a faith did they replace that at
which they mocked? White but parallels red. Our ways depart not
widely from the ways of those whom we supplanted, our religion is
little more than theirs, our tokens of faith but little different from
theirs. We still wonder, we still beseech, we still grope, a