as widely known
at that time as among the greatest hunters of his tribe.

All boys were expected to endure hardship without complaint. In
savage warfare, a young man must, of course, be an athlete and used to
undergoing all sorts of privations. He must be able to go without food
and water for two or three days without displaying any weakness, or to
run for a day and a night without any rest. He must be able to traverse
a pathless and wild country without losing his way either in the day or
night time. He cannot refuse to do any of these things if he aspires to
be a warrior.

Sometimes my uncle would waken me very early in the morning and
challenge me to fast with him all day. I had to accept the challenge.
We blackened our faces with charcoal, so that every boy in the village
would know that I was fasting for the day. Then the little tempters
would make my life a misery until the merciful sun hid behind the
western hills.

I can scarcely recall the time when my stern teacher began to give
sudden war-whoops over my head in the morning while I was sound asleep.
He expected me to leap up with perfect presence of mind, always ready
to grasp a weapon of some sort and to give a shrill whoop in reply. If
I was sleepy or startled and hardly knew what I was about, he would
ridicule me and say that I need never expect to sell my scalp dear.
Often he would vary these tactics by shooting off his gun just
outside of the lodge while I was yet asleep, at the same time giving
blood-curdling yells. After a time I became used to this.

When Indians went upon the war-path, it was their custom to try the new
warriors thoroughly before coming to an engagement. For instance, when
they were near a hostile camp, they would select the novices to go after
the water and make them do all sorts of things to prove their courage.
In accordance with this idea, my uncle used to send me off after water
when we camped after dark in a strange place. Perhaps the country was
full of wild beasts, and, for aught I knew, there might be scouts from
hostile bands of Indians lurking in that very neighborhood.

Yet I never objected, for that would show cowardice. I picked my way
through the woods, dipped my pail in the water and hurried back, always
careful to make as little noise as a cat. Being only a boy, my heart
would leap at every crackling of a dry twig or distant hooting of an
owl, until, at last, I reached our teepee. Then my uncle would perhaps
say