brought anything or not, she was always pleasant.

Once, when we were running buffalo, one of the boys, who was a buffalo,
charged me when I got near him, and struck me with the thorn which he
carried on the end of his stick, and which we used to call the buffalo's
horn. The thorn pierced me in the body, and, according to the law of our
play, I was so badly wounded that I was obliged to die. I went a little way
toward the village, and then pretended to be very weak. Then my companions
carried me into the camp, and to the lodge, and Standing Alone mourned over
her husband who had been killed while hunting buffalo. Then one of the
boys, who pretended that he was a medicine man, built a sweat lodge, and
doctored me, and I recovered.




_The Way to Live._


I must have been ten years old when my uncle first began to talk to me.
Long before this, when he had made a bow and some arrows for me, he had
told me that I must learn to hunt, so that in the time to come I would be
able to kill food, and to support my mother and sisters. "We must all eat,"
he had said, "and the Creator has given us buffalo to support life. It is
the part of a man to kill food for the lodge, and after it has been killed,
the women bring in the meat, and prepare it to be eaten, while they dress
the hides for robes and lodge skins."

My uncle was a brave man, and was always going off on the warpath,
searching for the camps of enemies, taking their horses, and sometimes