The tribe had many sacred bundles containing supernatural power; all had songs for their rituals, and all the songs were different. The medicine men who led the ceremonies had to know the songs of the different bundles. This required many years of patient study and was an important part in the preparation of a medicine man.
In the ceremonies of these bundles, the objects they contained were of minor importance; the songs were the means of contact with religious power. Some of the ceremonies were believed to have power to heal the sick, others to promote the welfare of the people, or to bring success in war. But [[242]]each bundle was owned by an individual who, in turn, could transfer it to another.
The Sun Dance was the only ceremony in which all the people participated. It was a great tribal festival held every year at midsummer when the grass was long and food plentiful. It always had its origin in a woman’s vow to the Sun generally in behalf of a relative who was dying. Some attended to fast and pray, others to fulfill vows; but most of the people came for social enjoyment, and to see the ceremonies and social dances.
Mad Wolf, my Indian father, and his wife were the givers of a Sun Dance. One day in the early summer, I rode Kutenai, my saddle horse, across the prairie to attend their opening ceremony. When I came to a long ridge-like summit that led down to his camp, I dismounted to rest and view the landscape.
In the wide and grassy valleys were herds of fat horses and cattle. Sharp against the western horizon stood the snowy peak of Divide Mountain, where two continental divides meet, and the rocky summit of a mountain called “Chief” by the Indians, because it stands apart and is higher than the other peaks. It was evening and the hills and mountains were bathed in the rosy light of sunset. On all sides I heard the sweet sounds of prairie birds—the Western meadowlark and lark sparrow and the serene and exalted song of the willow thrush.
But the dogs of Mad Wolf’s camp soon broke the spell; they got wind of the approaching white man and began an incessant barking. So I leaped into the saddle and rode down to his camp.
When I entered the lodge, the chief and his wife Gives-to-the-Sun were seated together at the back, their heads bowed in prayer. He looked at me with his keen glance, then shook hands and, directing me to a seat on a couch, said: [[243]]
“I am glad in my heart that you have come to our Sun Dance. Ever since you went away, I have prayed to the Sun for your safe return. Now you can see our ceremony. I shall tell you everything and you can explain it to the white men; for I believe you are straight and will tell them the truth.”
I asked Mad Wolf how it happened they were giving a Sun Dance, and he replied:
“Last winter, at the time of the second big blizzard, Small Otter, our youngest grandchild, was ill. Snow lay deep over the prairie; it was cold and for many days the sun did not shine. The doctors, White Grass and Ear-Rings, came. They gave root medicines; they danced and sang and beat upon their medicine drums. But our child grew weaker; they said he was going to die.