Of buffalo,
beaver, deer, antelope, moose, bear, quail, grouse, duck of all kinds,
geese and plover meats there was an abundance. Fish of all kinds, and
every kind of wild fruit were cooked, and when all was in readiness, the
heralds went through the different villages, crying out: "Ho-po, ho-po"
(now all, now all), "Dead Shot and his wife, Beautiful Dove, invite all
of you, young and old, to their tepee to partake of a great feast, given
by them in honor of a great bird which their son has killed, and also to
select for their son some good name which he will bear through life. So
all bring your cups and wooden dishes along with your horn spoons, as
there will be plenty to eat. Come, all you council men and chiefs,
as they have also a great tent erected for you in which you hold your
council."

Thus crying, the heralds made the circle of the village. The guests soon
arrived. In front of the tent was a pole stuck in the ground and painted
red, and at the top of the pole was fastened the bird of variegated
colors; its wings stretched out to their full length and the beautiful
white waving so beautifully from its topknot, it was the center of
attraction. Half way up the pole was tied the bow and arrow of the young
marksman. Long streamers of fine bead and porcupine work waved from
the pole and presented a very striking appearance. The bird was faced
towards the setting sun. The great chief and medicine men pronounced the
bird "Wakan" (something holy).

When the people had finished eating they all fell in line and marched in
single file beneath the bird, in order to get a close view of it. By the
time this vast crowd had fully viewed the wonderful bird, the sun was
just setting clear in the west, when directly over the rays of the
sun appeared a cloud in the shape of a bird of variegated colors. The
councilmen were called out to look at the cloud, and the head medicine
man said that it was a sign that the boy would grow up to be a great
chief and hunter, and would have a great many friends and followers.

This ended the feast, but before dispersing, the chief and councilmen
bestowed upon the boy the title of White Plume.

One day a stranger came to the village, who was very thin and nearly
starved. So weak was he that he could not speak, but made signs for
something to eat. Luckily the stranger came to Dead Shot's tent, and as
there was always a plentiful supply in his lodge, the stranger soon had
a good meal served him