g in the
hospital at the fort, and Old Sneak happened to be present at a general
clearing out. The medicine was given to him; and away he went to his
home, hugging it up close to him like a veritable old miser. It was too
precious to be shared with his neighbors; the medicine of the white man
was "wahkun" (wonderful)--and, carrying out the principle that the more
of a good thing the better, he, with his wife and children, took it all!
I felt assured that the infant strapped to its mother's back was dying
at that time.

The "dog dance" is held by the Sioux in great reverence; and the first
time it has been celebrated near the fort for many years, was about five
summers ago.

The Chippeways, with their chief, "Hole in the Day," were down on a
visit, and the prairie outside the fort was covered with Indians of both
tribes. The Chippeways sat on the grass at a little distance, watching
the Sioux as they danced, "to show how brave they were, and how they
could eat the hearts of their enemies." Most of the officers and ladies
of the garrison were assembled on the hospital gallery to witness
the dance.

The Sioux warriors formed a circle; in the centre was a pole fastened in
the ground. One of the Indians killed a dog, and, taking out the heart
and liver, held them for a few moments in a bucket of cold water, and
then hung them to the pole. After awhile, one of the warriors advanced
towards it, barking. His attitude was irresistibly droll; he tried to
make himself look as much as possible like a dog, and I thought he
succeeded to admiration. He retreated, and another warrior advanced with
a different sort of bark; more joined in, until there was a chorus of
barking. Next, one becomes very courageous, jumps and barks towards the
pole, biting off a piece of the flesh; another follows and does the same
feat. One after another they all bark and bite. "Let dogs delight" would
have been, an appropriate melody for the occasion. They had to hold
their heads back to swallow the morceau--it was evidently hard work.
Several dogs were killed in succession, when, seeing some of the
warriors looking pale and deadly sick, Captain E. determined to try how
many of their enemies' hearts they could dispose of. He went down among
the Indians and purchased another dog. They could not refuse to eat the
heart. It made even the bravest men sick to swallow the last
mouthful--they were pale as death. I saw the last of it, and although
John Gilpin's