discomfort in memory of their relatives.  It took all the influence we could bring to bear to break up these absurdly superstitious practices, and it looked as if no permanent improvement could be effected, for as soon as we got them to discard one, another would be invented.  When not allowed to burn down their tepees or houses, those poor souls who were in a dying condition would be carried out to the neighboring hillsides just before dissolution, and there abandoned to their sufferings, with little or no attention, unless the placing under their heads of a small stick of wood—­with possibly some laudable object, but doubtless great discomfort to their victim—­might be considered such.

To uproot these senseless and monstrous practices was indeed most difficult.  The most pernicious of all was one which was likely to bring about tragic results.  They believed firmly in a class of doctors among their people who professed that they could procure the illness of an individual at will, and that by certain incantations they could kill or cure the sick person.  Their faith in this superstition was so steadfast that there was no doubting its sincerity, many indulging at times in the most trying privations, that their relatives might be saved from death at the hands of the doctors.  I often talked with them on the subject, and tried to reason them out of the superstitious belief, defying the doctors to kill me, or even make me ill; but my talks were unavailing, and they always met my arguments with the remark that I was a white man, of a race wholly different from the red man, and that that was the reason the medicine of the doctors would not affect me.  These villainous doctors might be either men or women, and any one of them finding an Indian ill, at once averred that his influence was the cause, offering at the same time to cure the invalid for a fee, which generally amounted to about all the ponies his family possessed.  If the proposition was accepted and the fee paid over, the family, in case the man died, was to have indemnity through the death of the doctor, who freely promised that they might take his life in such event, relying on his chances of getting protection from the furious relatives by fleeing to the military post till time had so assuaged their grief that matters could be compromised or settled by a restoration of a part of the property, when the rascally leeches could again resume their practice.  Of course the services of a doctor were always accepted when an Indian fell ill; otherwise the invalid’s death would surely ensue, brought about by the evil influence that was unpropitiated.  Latterly it had become quite the thing, when a patient died, for the doctor to flee to our camp—­it was so convenient and so much safer than elsewhere—­and my cellar was a favorite place of refuge from the infuriated friends of the deceased.