In the second case, two of the weights attached to the arms refused to yield, and
the hapless neophyte crept as best he could to the steep bluff overhanging the
river, where he drove a stake into the ground. Fastening the weights to this stake
by a couple of ropes, he lowered himself about midway down the cliff, and so
hung suspended for more than two days, until the obstinate flesh gave way, and
allowed him to drop into the water. He swam to the side, crawled up the
acclivity, and returned to his village. It gives one a vivid idea of the remarkable
vitality and physical force of the Indian race, when one reads that this man, too,
recovered!
The Indian has a vague idea of God and immortality. He believes in a Great
Spirit, who, after death, admits the brave to his happy hunting-grounds, where
game is inexhaustible, and the pleasure of the chase is ever open to the hunter.
Beyond this dim and dubious conception, his imagination never carries him.
He is prone, as might be supposed, for such proneness is the cause of ignorance,
and ignorance is the Red Man’s bane, to the wildest and coarsest superstitions,
and he is always at the mercy of the medicine-man of his tribe. One of his most
potent superstitions is that connected with the “medicine-bag,” which he firmly
believes to be his sole “secret of success,” his all-powerful charm and talisman,
without which he would fail in every undertaking and be defeated and disgraced
in battle.
At the age of fourteen or fifteen, the young Indian goes forth into the woods in
search of his medicine. On a litter of leaves and twigs he lies for some days—as
long, in fact, as his physical powers hold out—neither eating nor drinking; for in
proportion to the duration of his fast will be the potency of his “medicine.” His
endurance at length gives way, and he goes to sleep. The bird, beast, or reptile of
which he dreams becomes his “medicine.” He returns home, and as soon as he
has recovered his strength, he sallies forth in quest of the charm; having found
and killed the animal, he preserves the skin in such shape as his fancy suggests,
—usually in the form of pouch or bag. If small, he slings it round his neck, and
wears it concealed. In other cases, it hangs from his waist or shoulder.
However he may wear it, the Indian never parts from it. He would be disgraced
and defeated in battle—he would fail in his undertakings—if it were absent from
his person. Should he be deprived of it in battle, he is overwhelmed with shame,