University of Virginia Library

3. CHAPTER III.

The dance to the Giant is always performed inside the
wigwam. Early in the morning the dancers were assembled
in the chief's lodge. Their dress was such as is
appointed for the occasion. Their hats were made of the

bark of trees, such as tradition says the Giant wears.
They were large, and made forked like the lightning.
Their leggins were made of skins. Their ear-rings were
of the bark of trees, and were about one foot long.

The chief rose ere the dawn of day, and stood before the
fire. As the flames flickered, and the shadows of the
dancers played fantastically about the wigwam, they looked
more like Lucifer and a party of attendant spirits, than
like human beings worshipping their God.

Markeda stood by the fire without noticing his guests,
who awaited his motions in silence. At last, moving
slowly, he placed a kettle of water on the fire, and then
threw into it a large piece of buffalo meat.

Lighting his pipe, he seated himself, and then the
dancers advanced to the fire and lit theirs; and soon they
were enveloped in a cloud of smoke.

When the water began to boil, the Indians arose, and,
dancing round the fire, imitated the voice of the Giant.

“Hah-hah! hah hah!” they sung, and each endeavored
to drown the voice of the other. Now they crouch as
they dance, looking diminutive and contemptible, as those
who are degrading themselves in their most sacred duties.
Then they rise up, and show their full height. Stalwart
warriors as they are, their keen eyes flash as they glance
from the fire to each others' faces, distorted with the effort
of uttering such discordant sounds. Now their broad
chests heave with the exertion, and their breath comes
quickly.

They seat themselves, to rest and smoke. Again the
hellish sounds are heard, and the wife of the chief trembles
for fear of the Giant, and her child clings closer to her

breast. The water boils, and, hissing, falls over into the
fire, the flames are darkened for a moment, and then burst
up brighter than before.

Markeda addresses the dancers—“Warriors! the Giant
is powerful—the water which boils before us will be cold
when touched by a friend of the Giant. Haokah will not
that his friends should suffer when offering him a sacrifice.”

The warriors then advanced together, and each one puts
his hand into the kettle and takes the meat from the boiling
water; and although suffering from the scalds produced,
yet their calmness in enduring the pain, would induce the
belief that the water really felt to them cool and pleasant.

The meat is then taken out, and put into a wooden dish,
and the water left boiling on the fire. The dancers eat
the meat while hot, and again they arrange themselves to
dance. And now, the mighty power of the Giant is
shown, for Markeda advances to the kettle, and taking
some water out of it he throws it upon his bare back,
singing all the while, “The water is cold.”

“Old John” advances and does the same, followed by
the next in turn, until the water is exhausted from the
kettle, and then the warriors exclaim, “How great is the
power of Haokah! we have thrown boiling water upon
ourselves and we have not been scalded.”

The dance is over—the sacrifice is made. Markeda
seeks his young wife and fears not. He had fancied that
her cheeks were pale of late, but now they are flushed brilliantly,
his heart is at rest.

The warriors disperse, all but the medicine man, and

the chief's store of buffalo meat diminishes rapidly under
the magic touch of the epicure.

Yes! an epicure thou wert old John! for I mind me
well when thou camest at dinner time, and how thou
saidst thou couldst eat the food of the Indian when thou
wert hungry, but the food of the white man was better
far. And thou! a Dahcotah warrior, a famous hunter,
and a medicine man. Shame! that thou shouldst have
loved venison dressed with wine more than when the
tender meat was cooked according to the taste of the
women of thy nation. I have forgotten thy Indian name,
renegade as thou wert! but thou answerest as well to
“old John!”

Thou art now forgotten clay, though strong and vigorous
when in wisdom the Sioux were punished for a
fault they did not commit. Their money was not paid
them—their provisions were withheld. Many were laid
low, and thou hast found before now that God is the Great
Spirit, and the Giant Haokah is not.

And it may be that thou wouldst fain have those thou
hast left on earth know of His power, who is above all
spirits, and of His goodness who would have all come unto
Him.