How did our poor sick cousin stand it? I'm sure I can't tell. The little fellow lay with closed eyes and hardly moved. This queer doctor at length stopped his song and got ready to go away. He told Yellow Thunder's papa that his son would be sure to get well. And you know already from my story that our red cousin did get over his sickness, and grew to be a big, strong boy. Whether the treatment he got was any help, or whether Mother Nature did all the work, I leave you to decide for yourselves. I have my own opinion in the matter.
Yellow Thunder is very fond of music. I wonder what he would think of a church organ or grand piano. His own instruments are very simple. He made them himself. He has a tambourine on which he often plays in the evening while other children dance. He cut a section of wood from a hollow tree and stretched a skin over it, and his instrument was made.
He also has a flute. It was a little more work for the red boy to make this. He carved two pieces of cedar in the shape of half cylinders, and fastened them together with fish glue. He next hunted about in the woods for a snake. After he had found one and killed it, he took off the skin and stretched it over the wood. Eight holes were then made in the instrument, as well as a mouthpiece like that of a flageolet.
When Yellow Thunder blows upon this flute, it makes soft and sweet music. It lay by his side when he was sick with the fever, and as soon as he was strong enough to sit up, he amused himself by playing some simple tunes his mamma had taught him.
Our little friend is very fond of dancing. His people have so many dances that I shall have to tell you about some of them.
They believe the Great Spirit gave them the gift of dancing. They have a Dance for the Dead, a Medicine Dance, the War-dance, the Dance of Honour, and I don't know how many others. In some of them only men take part, and they have special costumes, while in others there are none but women. It seems as though there were always something happening among the Indians to give them a good reason to dance.
The War-dance is only performed in the evening and always on some important occasion.
Fifteen or twenty men are usually chosen, one of whom must be the leader. All appear in costume and wear knee rattles of deer's hoofs. When the time draws near, the people gather in the council-house and wait quietly for the dancers to arrive. A keeper-of-the-faith rises and makes a short speech on the meaning of the dance. Hark! The war-whoop sounds outside! It is heard again, and still again. The band is drawing near. Ah! here they come at last.
To our eyes they look hideous in their war-paint and feathers, but to the crowd of eager Indians who are waiting, they appear very fair, indeed.