revel is closed, one of the friends will have buried his knife in the
other's heart.

We will pass on to the next teepee. Here we witness a scene almost as
appalling. "Iron Arms," one of the most valiant warriors of the band, is
stretched in the agonies of death. Old Spirit Killer, the medicine man,
is gesticulating by his side, and accompanying his motions with the most
horrid noises. But all in vain; the spirit of "Iron Arms," the man of
strength, is gone. The doctor says that his medicine was good, but that
a prairie dog had entered into the body of the Dahcotah, and he thought
it had been a mud-hen. Magnanimous doctor! All honor, that you can allow
yourself in error.

While the friends of the dead warrior are rending the air with their
cries, we will find out what is going on in the next wigwam. What
a contrast!

"The Whirlpool" is seated on the ground smoking; gazing as earnestly at
the bright coals as if in them he could read the future or recall the
past; and his young wife, whose face, now merry, now sad, bright with
smiles at one moment, and lost in thought the next, gained for her the
name of "The Changing Countenance," is hushing her child to sleep; but
the expression of her features does not change now--as she looks on her
child, a mother's deep and devoted love is pictured on her face.

In another, "The Dancing Woman" is wrapped in her blanket pretending to
go to sleep. In vain does "The Flying Cloud" play that monotonous
courting tune on the flute. The maiden would not be his wife if he gave
her all the trinkets in the world. She loves and is going to marry "Iron
Lightning," who has gone to bring her--what? a brooch--a new blanket?