INDIAN BOYHOOD

By Ohiyesa (Charles A. Eastman)

CONTENTS

I. EARLIEST RECOLLECTIONS

I. Hadakah, "The Pitiful Last"
II. Early Hardships
III. My Indian Grandmother
IV. An Indian Sugar Camp
V. A Midsummer Feast

II. AN INDIAN BOY'S TRAINING

III. MY PLAYS AND PLAYMATES

I. Games and Sports
II. My Playmates
III: The Boy Hunter
IV. Hakadah's First Offering

V. FAMILY TRADITIONS

I: A Visit to Smoky Day
II. The Stone Boy

VI. EVENING IN THE LODGE

I: Evening in the Lodge
II. Adventures of My Uncle

VII. THE END OF THE BEAR DANCE

VIII. THE MAIDENS' FEAST

IX. MORE LEGENDS

I: A Legend of Devil's Lake
II. Manitoshaw's Hunting

X. INDIAN LIFE AND ADVENTURE

I: Life in the Woods
II. A Winter Camp
III. Wild Harvests
IV. A Meeting on the Plains
V. An Adventurous Journey
XI. The Laughing Philosopher

XII. FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF CIVILIZATION

I. EARLIEST RECOLLECTIONS

I. Hadakah, "The Pitiful Last"

WHAT boy would not be an Indian for a while when he thinks of the freest life in the world? This life was mine. Every day there was a real hunt. There was real game. Occasionally there was a medicine dance away off in the woods where no one could disturb us, in which the boys impersonated their elders, Brave Bull, Standing Elk, High Hawk, Medicine Bear, and the rest. They painted and imitated their fathers and grandfathers to the minutest detail, and accurately too, because they had seen the real thing all their lives.

We were not only good mimics but we were close students of nature. We studied the habits of animals just as you study your books. We watched the men of our people and represented them in our play; then learned to emulate them in our lives.

No people have a better use of their five senses than the children of the wilderness. We could smell as well as hear and see. We could feel and taste as well as we could see and hear. Nowhere has the memory been more fully developed than in the wild life, and I can still see wherein I owe much to my early training.

Of course I myself do not remember when I first saw the day, but my brothers have often recalled the event with much mirth; for it was a custom of the Sioux that when a boy was born his brother must plunge into the water, or roll in the snow naked if it was winter time; and if he was not big enough to do either of these himself, water was thrown on him. If the new-born had a sister, she must be immersed. The idea was that a warrior had come to camp, and the other children must display some act of hardihood.

I was so unfortunate as to be the youngest of five children who, soon after I was born, were left motherless. I had to bear the humiliating name "Hakadah," meaning "the pitiful last," until I