to Miss Katherine Palmer, of Plattsburg, for kindly
allowing me to see the unpublished manuscript memoir of her grandfather,
Peter Sailly, who was Collector of the Port of Plattsburg at the time of
the war.

Another purpose in this story was to picture the real Indian with his
message for good or for evil.

Those who know nothing of the race will scoff and say they never heard
of such a thing as a singing and religious red man. Those who know him
well will say, "Yes, but you have given to your eastern Indian songs
and ceremonies which belong to the western tribes, and which are of
different epochs." To the latter I reply:

"You know that the western Indians sang and prayed in this way. How do
you know that the eastern ones did not? We have no records, except
those by critics, savagely hostile, and contemptuous of all religious
observances but their own. The Ghost Dance Song belonged to a much more
recent time, no doubt, but it was purely Indian, and it is generally
admitted that the races of continental North America were of one stock,
and had no fundamentally different customs or modes of thought."

The Sunrise Song was given me by Frederick R. Burton, author of
"American Primitive Music." It is still in use among the Ojibwa.

The songs of the Wabanaki may be read in C. G. Leland's "Kuloskap the
Master."

The Ghost Dance Song was furnished by Alice C. Fletcher, whose "Indian
Song and Story" will prove a revelation to those who wish to follow
further.

ERNEST THOMPSON SETON.

Chapter 1. The Wigwam Under the Rock

The early springtime sunrise was near at hand as Quonab, the last of the
Myanos Sinawa, stepped from his sheltered wigwam under the cliff that
borders the Asamuk easterly, and, mounting to the lofty brow of the
great rock that is its highest pinnacle, he stood in silence, awaiting
the first ray of the sun over the sea water that stretches between
Connecticut and Seawanaky.

His silent prayer to the Great Spirit was ended as a golden beam shot
from a long, low cloud-bank over the sea, and Quonab sang a weird Indian
song for the rising sun, an invocation to the Day God:

"O thou that risest from the low cloud
To burn in the all above;
I greet thee! I adore thee!"

Again and again he sang to the tumming of a small tom-tom, till the
great refulgent one had cleared the cloud, and the red miracle of the
sunrise was complete. Back to his wigwam went the red man, down to his
home t