462 MEDICINE-MEN OF THE APACHE. 
The wailing of the children at the sun dance as their ears were slit 
will always be to me a most distressing memory. 
The warriors of the Plains tribes used to assume agnomens or battle 
names, and [ have known some of them who had enjoyed as many as 
four or five; but the Apache name once conferred seems to remain 
through life, except in the case of the medicine-men, who, I have always 
suspected, change their names upon assuming their profession, much 
as a professor of learning in China is said to do. 
The names of mothers-in-law are never mentioned and it would be 
highly improper to ask for them by name; neither are the names of the 
dead, at least not for a long period of time. But it often happens that 
the child will bear the name of its grandfather or some other relative 
who was a distinguished warrior. 
All charms, idols, talismans, medicine hats, and other sacred regalia 
should be made, or at least blessed, by the medicine-men. They assume 
charge of all ceremonial feasts and dances—such as the nubile dance, 
which occurs when any maiden attains marriageable age, and war 
dances preceding battle. Nearly all preparations for the warpath are 
under their control, and when on the trail of the enemy their power is 
almost supreme. Not a night passes but that the medicine-men get 
into the “ta-a-chi,” or sweat bath, if such a thing be possible, and 
there remain for some minutes, singing and making “ medicine” for the 
good of the party. After dark they sit around the fire and sing and 
talk with the spirits and predict the results of the campaign. I have 
alluded quite fully to these points in a previous work. 
When a man is taken sick the medicine-men are in the zenith of their 
glory. One or two will assume charge of the case, and the clansmen 
and friends of the patient are called upon to supply the fire and help 
out in the chorus. On such occasions the Apache use no music except 
a drum or a rawhide. The drum is nearly always improvised from an 
iron camp kettle, partially filled with water and covered with a piece of 
cloth, well soaped and drawn as tight as possible. The drumstick does 
not terminate in a ball, as with us, but is curved into a circle, and the 
stroke is not perpendicular to the surface, but is often given from one 
side to the other. The American Indian’s theory of disease is the 
theory of the Chaldean, the Assyrian, the Hebrew, the Greek, the 
Roman—all bodily disorders and ailments are attributed to the malefi- 
cence of spirits who must be expelled or placated. Where there is only 
one person sick, the exercises consist of singing and drumming exclus- 
ively, but dancing is added in all cases when an epidemic is raging in 
the tribe. The medicine-men lead off in the singing, to which the 
assistants reply with a refrain which at times has appeared to me to 
be antiphonal. Then the chorus is swelled by the voices of the women 
and larger children and rises and falls with monotonous cadence. 
Prayers are recited, several of which have been repeated to me and 
transcribed; but very frequently the words are ejaculatory and con- 
fined to such expressions as ‘“ugashe” (go away), and again there is to 
