our lives.

No people have a better use of their five senses
than the children of the wilderness. We could
smell as well as hear and see. We could feel and
taste as well as we could see and hear. Nowhere
has the memory been more fully developed than in
the wild life, and I can still see wherein I owe
much to my early training.


Of course I myself do not remember when I
first saw the day, but my brothers have often
recalled the event with much mirth; for it was
a custom of the Sioux that when a boy was born
his brother must plunge into the water, or roll in
the snow naked if it was winter time; and if he
was not big enough to do either of these himself,
water was thrown on him. If the new-born had a
sister, she must be immersed. The idea was that
a warrior had come to camp, and the other chil-
dren must display some act of hardihood.

I was so unfortunate as to be the youngest of five
children who, soon after I was born, were left
motherless. I had to bear the humiliating name
"Hakadah," meaning "the pitiful last," until I
should earn a more dignified and appropriate
name. I was regarded as little more than a play-
thing by the rest of the children.