I had no saddle, and when I reached the camp I was very sore and stiff from riding so long without a saddle.  Nevertheless, I was pleased, for I had taken a horse that was fast, long-winded and tough; and I had taken also a fine bow and arrows, with an otter-skin case.  The leader spoke to me, and told me that I had done well to go into this lodge.  He said to me, “Friend, you have made a good beginning; I think that you will be a good warrior.”  Also, when we reached the village, my uncle praised me, and said that I had done well.  He looked at the bow and the arrows, and told me that to have taken them was better than to have taken a good horse, and that he hoped that I would be able to use them in fighting with my enemies.  Such was my first journey to war.

A Grown Man.

That summer my uncle gave me a gun, and now I was beginning to feel that I was really a man, and I hunted constantly, and had good luck, killing deer and elk, and other game.

One day the next year, with a friend, I was hunting a two days’ journey from the camp.  We had killed nothing until this day, when we got a deer, and toward evening stopped to cook and eat.  The country was broken with many hills and ravines, and before we went down to the stream to build our fire I had looked from the top of a little hill, to see whether anything could be seen.  My friend was building a fire to cook food, and I had gone down to the fire and spread my robe on the ground, and was lying on it, resting, while our horses were feeding near by, when suddenly I had a strange feeling.  I seemed to feel that I was in great danger, and as if I must get away from this place.  I was frightened.  I felt there was danger; that something bad was going to happen.  I did not know what it was, nor why I felt so, but I was afraid.  I seemed to turn to water inside of me.  I had never felt so before.  I sat up and looked about; nothing was to be seen.  My friend was cutting some meat to cook over the little fire, and just beyond him the horses were feeding.  My friend was singing to himself a little war song, as he worked.

My feelings grew worse instead of better.  I stood up, took my gun, and walked toward a little hill not far from where we were, and my friend called out to me, “Where are you going?  I thought you wished to rest.”  I said to him, “I will go to the top of that little hill, and look over it.”  When I got there I looked about; I could see nothing.  It was early summer, and the grass was green.  The soil was soft and sandy.  For a long time I looked about in all directions, but could see nothing, but then I could not see far, for there were other little hills, nearly as high, close to me.