fired; and some old men, who are to be the judges, fling up the ball
in the middle, half-way between the two goals.

_Brian._ Now for the struggle.

_Hunter._ One party being painted white, every man knows his opponent.
No sooner is the ball in the air, than a rush takes place. Every one
with his webbed stick raised above his head; no one is allowed to
strike or to touch the ball with his hands. They cry out aloud at the
very top of their voices, rush on, leap up to strike the ball, and do
all they can to help their own side and hinder their opponents. They
leap over each other, dart between their rivals' legs, trip them up,
throw them down, grapple with two or three at a time, and often fall
to fisticuffs in right earnest. There they are, in the midst of clouds
of dust, running, striking and struggling with all their might; so
that, what with the rattle of the sticks, the cries, the wrestling,
the bloody noses, the bruised shins, the dust, uproar and confusion,
such a scene of excitement is hardly to be equalled by any other game
in the world.

_Brian._ How long does the game last?

_Hunter._ It begins about eight or nine o'clock in the morning, and
sometimes is scarcely finished by sunset. A minute's rest is allowed
every time the ball is urged beyond the goal, and then the game goes
on again till it is finished. There is another ball-play somewhat
resembling this, which is played by the women of the Prairie du Chien,
while the men watch the progress of the game, or lounge on the ground,
laughing at them.

_Austin._ Do they ever run races?

_Hunter._ Yes, and very expert they are. Many of the tribes are
extravagantly fond of horses. You see an Indian, with his shield and
quiver, his ornamented shirt, leggins, and mocassins; his long hair
flowing behind him, or his head-dress of the war-eagle tailing
gracefully nearly to his heels; his lance in his hand; and his dress
ornamented with ermine, shells, porcupine quills and a profusion of
scalp-locks; but you see him out of character. He should spring on a
horse wild as the winds; and then, as he brandished his lance, with
his pendent plumes, and hair and scalp-locks waving in the breeze, you
see him in his proper element. Horse-racing among the Indians is an
exciting scene. The cruel custom, of urging useful and noble animals
beyond their strength, is much the same in savage as in civilized
life; but the scene is oftentimes more wild, strange, and picturesque
th