And Winnenap’ will not any more.  He died, as do most medicine-men of the Paiutes.

Where the lot falls when the campoodie chooses a medicine-man there it rests.  It is an honor a man seldom seeks but must wear, an honor with a condition.  When three patients die under his ministrations, the medicine-man must yield his life and his office.  Wounds do not count; broken bones and bullet holes the Indian can understand, but measles, pneumonia, and smallpox are witchcraft.  Winnenap’ was medicine-man for fifteen years.  Besides considerable skill in healing herbs, he used his prerogatives cunningly.  It is permitted the medicine-man to decline the case when the patient has had treatment from any other, say the white doctor, whom many of the younger generation consult.  Or, if before having seen the patient, he can definitely refer his disorder to some supernatural cause wholly out of the medicine-man’s jurisdiction, say to the spite of an evil spirit going about in the form of a coyote, and states the case convincingly, he may avoid the penalty.  But this must not be pushed too far.  All else failing, he can hide.  Winnenap’ did this the time of the measles epidemic.  Returning from his yearly herb gathering, he heard of it at Black Rock, and turning aside, he was not to be found, nor did he return to his own place until the disease had spent itself, and half the children of the campoodie were in their shallow graves with beads sprinkled over them.

It is possible the tale of Winnenap’’s patients had not been strictly kept.  There had not been a medicine-man killed in the valley for twelve years, and for that the perpetrators had been severely punished by the whites.  The winter of the Big Snow an epidemic of pneumonia carried off the Indians with scarcely a warning; from the lake northward to the lava flats they died in the sweat-houses, and under the hands of the medicine-men.  Even the drugs of the white physician had no power.  After two weeks of this plague the Paiutes drew to council to consider the remissness of their medicine-men.  They were sore with grief and afraid for themselves; as a result of the council, one in every campoodie was sentenced to the ancient penalty.  But schooling and native shrewdness had raised up in the younger men an unfaith in old usages, so judgment halted between sentence and execution.  At Three Pines the government teacher brought out influential whites to threaten and cajole the stubborn tribes.  At Tunawai the conservatives sent into Nevada for that pacific old humbug, Johnson Sides, most notable of Paiute orators, to harangue his people.  Citizens of the towns turned out with food and comforts, and so after a season the trouble passed.

But here at Maverick there was no school, no oratory, and no alleviation.  One third of the campoodie died, and the rest killed the medicine-men.  Winnenap expected it, and for days walked and sat a little apart from his family that he might meet it as became a Shoshone, no doubt suffering the agony of dread deferred.  When finally three men came and sat at his fire without greeting he knew his time.