"There were some praying-men who came to us some time before the trouble arose.They ob-served every seventh day as a holy day.On that day they met in a house that they had built for that purpose,to sing,pray,and speak of their Great Mystery.I was never in one of these meetings.I understand that they had a large book from which they read.By all accounts they were very different from all other white men we have known,for these never observed any such day,and we never knew them to pray,neither did they ever tell us of their Great Mystery.
"In war they have leaders and war-chiefs of different grades.The common warriors are driv-en forward like a herd of antelopes to face the foe.
It is on account of this manner of fighting--from compulsion and not from personal bravery--that we count no coup on them.A lone warrior can do much harm to a large army of them in a bad country."It was this talk with my uncle that gave me my first clear idea of the white man.
I was almost fifteen years old when my uncle First Impressions of Civilization 285presented me with a flint-lock gun.The posses-sion of the "mysterious iron,"and the explosive dirt,or "pulverized coal,"as it is called,filled me with new thoughts.All the war-songs that I had ever heard from childhood came back to me with their heroes.It seemed as if I were an entirely new being--the boy had become a man!
"I am now old enough,"said I to myself,"and I must beg my uncle to take me with him on his next war-path.I shall soon be able to go among the whites whenever I wish,and to avenge the blood of my father and my brothers."I had already begun to invoke the blessing of the Great Mystery.Scarcely a day passed that Idid not offer up some of my game,so that he might not be displeased with me.My people saw very little of me during the day,for in solitude Ifound the strength I needed.I groped about in the wilderness,and determined to assume my po-sition as a man.My boyish ways were depart-ing,and a sullen dignity and composure was taking their place.
The thought of love did not hinder my ambi-tions.I had a vague dream of some day courting a pretty maiden,after I had made my reputation,and won the eagle feathers.
One day,when I was away on the daily hunt,two strangers from the United States visited our camp.They had boldly ventured across the northern border.They were Indians,but clad in the white man's garments.It was as well that Iwas absent with my gun.
My father,accompanied by an Indian guide,after many days'searching had found us at last.
He had been imprisoned at Davenport,Iowa,with those who took part in the massacre or in the bat-tles following,and he was taught in prison and converted by the pioneer missionaries,Drs.Wil-liamson and Riggs.He was under sentence of death,but was among the number against whom no direct evidence was found,and who were finally pardoned by President Lincoln.
When he was released,and returned to the new reservation upon the Missouri river,he soon be-came convinced that life on a government reserva-tion meant physical and moral degradation.There-fore he determined,with several others,to try the white man's way of gaining a livelihood.They ac-cordingly left the agency against the persuasions of the agent,renounced all government assistance,and took land under the United States Homestead law,on the Big Sioux river.After he had made his home there,he desired to seek his lost child.
