bow, are left.
Then comes the last scene of this strange, eventful history, bringing the
neophyte’s sufferings to a climax. The skewers by which he is suspended to the
roof are removed when he is lowered, but eight still remain; two in each arm,
and two in each leg. To each is attached a heavy weight, such as a bison’s skull,
and they must not be drawn out, but must be torn out by sheer force. With this
view he is required to run the last race,—which takes place in the open air, and
in the presence of a concourse of excited spectators. Leaving the medicine-
lodge, the master of the ceremonies leans his head against the Big Canoe, and
fills the air with a loud long wail. Immediately a score or so of young men, all
matched in height, wearing beautiful dresses of eagle-quills, and carrying in one
hand a wreath of willow-boughs, issue from the dressing-hut. On arriving at the
Big Canoe they assemble round it in a circle, holding on to each other’s willow-
wreath, and then race around it at their utmost speed, screaming and shouting
until the air is filled with their uproar.