normally culminated, it was a most weird and curious spectacle. An- 

 other strange sight was beef-issue day, when steers were driven out of a 

 corral, while an old Indian, with a voice like a trumpet, called the 

 names of families to which each animal was assigned. Then mounted 

 Indians chased the cattle over the plain and shot them down with 

 rifles. To the participators, beef-issue day was the pale and feeble re- 

 vival of the vanished glories of a buffalo hunt. 



While at Pine Ridge Agency, I was the guest of the agent. Dr. McGil- 

 licuddy, one of the best-known men in the Indian service. On starting 

 out for the bad lands, I asked him whether he had any advice to give 

 us concerning our conduct, while we were on the reservation and he 

 rephed that he had emphatically. "These Indians will kill you in a 

 minute," he said, "if they can do it and not be found out, though they 

 know that I will punish them, if they are caught. I would therefore 

 strongly advise you never to let any one leave camp unarmed, never to 

 send out less than two men together and always to be on your guard 

 against treachery." From Joe Richard, our half-breed guide, who had 

 married a squaw and lived among the Indians, I learned that there 

 were two opinions about us, both equally dangerous. One party believed 

 that we were locating a railroad and the other that we were in search 

 of gold. Past experience had taught them that railroads or gold mines 

 meant the loss of their lands, 



Joe also told us a myth which expressed the Indian belief concerning 

 the fossil bones so common in the bad lands. I have never been able to 

 verify this and give it for what it may be worth. According to this tale, 

 the fossils occasionally come to life and go hunting with a magic gun, 

 which never fails to kill, even when fired around a corner. The Indians 

 search for this mystical weapon, beUeving that, if they could rub their 

 own guns with it, their weapons would acquire the same magic proper- 

 ties. I did not learn whether the Indians suppose that the fossil bones 

 are those of men, as I presume they do, for such a belief is very general 

 among unlettered peoples. Forsyth Major told me that in 1888 he had 

 been driven out of the island of Samos by the infuriated inhabitants, 

 who were convinced that the fossil bones which he had been excavating 

 were those of their ancestors. 



Our first collecting camp was on the White River, which was most 

 uncomfortable, hot, infested with mosquitoes and flies and with bad 

 water. As we left it, I observed a board, put up by one of the soldiers, 

 on which was neatly lettered "Camp Misery." Crossing White River, 

 we went up on the grassy "bench" between the White and Cheyenne 



