of disaster. In all cases, it may fairly be said, as the exceptions are so rae, prisoners find no quarter, Every mode of torture, if taken anve, is applied to them. To be burnt to death, or punctured liberally with spears and arrows-a part usually enacted by the squaws-is the most ordinary mode. If pressed, the sufferings of the victims are mitigated by instant death with the tomahawk or bullet. The scalp is the trophy, always necessary to victory. Without scalps, the wonderful stories told by the savage warrior to his admiring squaw and affrighted papooses, upon his return to the village, are regarded with incredulity. The scalp is, therefore, absolutely a necessary feature of a successful war-party, by way of a voucher for the bravery of its proprietor. The scalp is carefully preserved, and retained for a certain time, when it is deposited in the "medicine lodge."

The mutilation of dead bodies, after a fight, is a common practice, and to put an arrow or a bullet into the lifeless form of the victim, is considered "good medicine."

Having triumphed over their enemies, the war-party returns to the village. Their approach is generally announced by a courier sent in advance. The old men, women, and children, gather to witness the arrival. As the warriors get near, they begin to sing and recount their deeds, and discharge volleys from their fire-arms. Reaching the village, they break up and go to their lodges. The scalps are immediately suspended on poles, and at night the usual practice of firing vollies of bullets or arrows is complied with.

The return of the war-party is followed by the scalp-dance, in all its fiendish finery and discordant noise. The families of warriors killed, nightly chant a requiem for the dead. The most marvelous stories, supported by a scalp or two, are now listened to with interest by all the members of the village. Each tries to out do his comrade, in an effective narration of remarkable performances, until even the credulous squaw is slow to believe. Boasting is a characteristic eminently belonging to the red-man. Even a defeated war-party, returning, has

its own story, and the lucky possession of a selection from the pate of an enemy is sufficient ground upon which to make a great victory. If Indian stories were to be believed, a defeat would never be heard of. Even the warriors lost in a disastrous conflict would be accounted for, and immortalized in legend.

The natural intellectual force of the Indian has evinced itself on so many occasions during the several centuries of contact with the whites, that the question can hardly be considered worthy of controversy. The speeches uttered by the more brilliant minds of the race, are master-pieces of feeling and oratorical effect. The American Indian is by nature an orator. The wild independence of his spirit is conducive to that lively flight of mental vision, which resolves itself into ideas and images, burning with the warmth of eloquence.

On all ceremonies of a public or private nature, great state and formal proceedings is observed. The chief, presiding in the council, the head men and braves of the tribe, each speak in turn until all, having a desire, have expressed their views. This form of procedure is eminently adapted to the development of the power of expression and persuasion, for in every case the action of the tribe is influenced more or less by the effect of the speeches of the warriors.

The Indian, away from his family and his native huntinggrounds, appears as a dignified, repulsive being, constantly contemplating some horrible scheme of massacre. There are times when the expression of his face and his rigidity of manner are inflexible. There are moments, also, when he relaxes. With the warriors of the village he often tells his stories, jokes, laughs, and smokes, with as light a heart as a country wag.

The languages of the five wild tribes are entirely different from each other, though in some there is a resemblance with the dialects of a few of the northern and north-western tribes. For instance, the Arrapahoes and the Gros Ventres family of Sioux speak about the same language, evidently emanating from the same parent stock. The Black Feet also speak the same language. The Comanches and Snake Indians can con

verse with each other. The Comanche is also very much adulterated with Mexican-Spanish. The Kiowa tongue does not show any particular affinity with any of the other languages, and those people seem to have forgotton whether they ever Icould hold verbal intercourse with other tribes. The Kiowa and Sioux speak a different language, or perhaps different dialects of the same language. The two tribes, in early years, were close neighbors.

It is here unnecessary to speak of the dialects of the five wild tribes, philologically. Indeed, such an undertaking would prove almost a hopeless task. Having no literature, the language of the red man is subject to constant change, corruption, and adulteration, In this respect, we see no more forcible example than in the dialects of the southern tribes, that for years past have been in frequent contact with the Mexican. The majority of sentences appear to have no regular form of construction. Words, in many instances, are arbitrary sounds. In their speeches, however, the warriors of oratorical power show a delicate sensibility of figure and strong force of expression. They speak more from objects in nature than from absolute metaphysical forms and reasoning. The language is mainly gutteral. Some of the sounds, however, are mellow and smooth.

The infinite variety of dialects which exist, it would naturally be supposed, would prevent or at least obstruct intercourse. Appreciating this inconvenience, and frequently thrown together through a community of interest and friendship, the plains tribes have, by long practice, instituted a language of signs which enables them to communicate with each other with ease and rapidity. This sign language is the most remarkable of all the peculiarities of these strange people. It would seem to be a development of their system of signals for personal intercourse. So widely diffused are these signs, that a Sioux, from the remote banks of the Yellowstone, can communicate with the Comanche of the Pecos and the Red.

Each tribe, to begin with, has its name in sign. A Comanche

Indian, for instance, marks out with his finger the movements of a snake, that being the sign of his people on ecount of the stealth they practice towards their enemies. A Sioux draws his first finger across his throat, meaning that he belongs to the cut-throat tribe, a civility shown to his deaa nemies. The Cheyenne draws his hand across his arm, as if entting it, meaning "to scarify," a common practice with his tribe. The Kiowa makes a peculiar undulating motion of the hand, meaning the prarie tribe, and the Arrapahoe rubs his first finger against the side of his nose, meaning the cut-nose tribe. The Apache, (Lipan), designates himself by a downward motion of the hand, meaning the "poor" band.

A journey is represented by a sort of galloping motion of the hand, and its length by resting the side of the head in the palm of the right hand, repeating that motion for each day, that is so many sleeps, about fifteen miles constituting a sleep or day's journey. A chief indicates the fact of his ran by passing his hand, palm downward, over his head in a curve line towards his back. Each chief has a high opinion of the altitude of his own greatness, and enjoys very much communicating the fact to every one he presumes not cognizant of the fact. It is amusing to observe the display of egotism. The chief, in signifying his rank, invariably describes a curve so tremendous that he raises on his toes in the effort. By inis they mean to convey that they are very big chiefs, and none can compare with them.

Two Indians, approaching from opposite directions, if not certain as to each other, go through this form The first Indian raises his hand, palm front, and moves it backwards and forwards, meaning to halt. If the second Indian be not hostile, the signal will be obeyed. The right hand is again raised as before, and moved towards the right and left, signifying "who are you." If a friend, the other Indian will raise both hands and grasp them as in shaking. If hostile the second Indian disregards the overtures of the first.

CHAPTER XXXI.

INDIAN HIEROGLYPHICS-TRADITIONS-FABLES-RELIGION-DEATH-BURIALMOURNING FESTIVITIES-MUSIC-AMUSEMENTS-RACING

TRADING-IMPLEMENTS.

HOUGH without any written language, I found among the plains tribes a rude system of hieroglyphics, by which the leading events in their history were recorded. In the village of Black Kettle quite a voluminous account of the warlike performances of that chieftain and his warriors was taken. It was drawn in an old daybook, which evidently had been captured. A number of leaves were missing, which previously contained, quite likely, the business transactions of some luckless trader of the plains The drawings were designed to represent a war-party. The soldiers of the white man were in wagons, drawn by mules. The colored troops were indeed quite artistically colored, evidently with a burnt stick. The chiefs were represented in most desperate encounters. One had as many as two soldiers impaled on the end of his spear, and had hewn down several others with his battle-axe. The chiefs were portrayed with immense rows of feathers trailing over their heads and down their backs. They were also highly illuminated in person and attire, vermilion and blue predominating. This book is a valuable Indian curiosity.

The writer is in possession of a fine buffalo robe ornamented with picture painting by Satanta and Lone Wolf, chiefs of the Kiowas. The figures represent the encounters of those two worthies with the Utes and Navajoe tribes. Under the circumstances they probably considered the subject of their biographical sketches had better turn to a less direct subject than to