and I went to school together in later years; but she
could not endure the confinement of the school-room. Although apparently
very happy, she suffered greatly from the change to an indoor life, as
have many of our people, and died six months after our return to the
United States.

III: The Boy Hunter

IT will be no exaggeration to say that the life of the Indian hunter was
a life of fascination. From the moment that he lost sight of his rude
home in the midst of the forest, his untutored mind lost itself in the
myriad beauties and forces of nature. Yet he never forgot his personal
danger from some lurking foe or savage beast, however absorbing was his
passion for the chase.

The Indian youth was a born hunter. Every motion, every step expressed
an inborn dignity and, at the same time, a depth of native caution.
His moccasined foot fell like the velvet paw of a cat--noiselessly; his
glittering black eyes scanned every object that appeared within their
view. Not a bird, not even a chipmunk, escaped their piercing glance.

I was scarcely over three years old when I stood one morning just
outside our buffalo-skin teepee, with my little bow and arrows in my
hand, and gazed up among the trees. Suddenly the instinct to chase and
kill seized me powerfully. Just then a bird flew over my head and then
another caught my eye, as it balanced itself upon a swaying bough.
Everything else was forgotten and in that moment I had taken my first
step as a hunter.

There was almost as much difference between the Indian boys who were
brought up on the open prairies and those of the woods, as between city
and country boys. The hunting of the prairie boys was limited and their
knowledge of natural history imperfect. They were, as a rule, good
riders, but in all-round physical development much inferior to the red
men of the forest.

Our hunting varied with the season of the year, and the nature of the
country which was for the time our home. Our chief weapon was the bow
and arrows, and perhaps, if we were lucky, a knife was possessed by some
one in the crowd. In the olden times, knives and hatchets were made from
bone and sharp stones.

For fire we used a flint with a spongy piece of dry wood and a stone to
strike with. Another way of starting fire was for several of the boys
to sit down in a circle and rub two pieces of dry, spongy wood together,
one after another, until the wood took fire.

We hunted in company a great deal,