118 THE WAILAKKI, BTC. 
through the woods, jump, swing their arms, fling clubs, and make a deal of 
noise. I have seen an Indian boy of fourteen run a rabbit to cover in ten 
minutes, split a stick fine at one end, thrust it down the hole, twist it into 
its scut, and pull it out alive. This was easier than it would have been to 
shoot it, especially if he missed it. 
One of their favorite dances is the black-bear dance, which is cele- 
brated when one of the Wailakki braves has been so fortunate as to kill or 
trap one of these animals of happy omen, or has even succeeded in pur- 
chasing a skin of one. They stretch it up on stakes, and then caper and 
chant around it in a circle, beating the skin with their fists as if they were 
tanning the same. 
Another joyous occasion is the clover dance, which is performed in 
the season when the burr-clover gets lush and juicy to eat. The squaws 
deck themselves out in deerskin-robes and strings of pretty shells, which 
jingle and glint to their hopping, while each man has a circlet or coronal of 
the soft white down of owls around his head, twisted in a fluffy roll as large 
as his arm, and another very long one of the same description around his 
loins, tied behind, with the two ends reaching down to the ground. In 
short, the men endeavor to make themselves look as much like the great 
white owlas possible, and the main purpose of their numerous antics appears 
to be to keep these long tails flopping about. They stand in two circles— 
the men inside, the women outside; strike up the inevitable droning chant, 
and the women dance by simply jumping up and down on both feet, while 
their partners in front of them leap, skip, brandish their arrows, and at a 
certain turn of the chant they all jump up together, with a loud whoop and 
shaking of bows and arrows, after which there is a dead silence for a few 
moments, when they commence chanting again da capo. There is no feast- 
ing at any time. 
Filial piety cannot be said to be a distinguishing quality of the Wailakki, 
or, m fact, of any Indians. No matter how high may be their station, the 
aged and decrepit are counted a burden. The old man, hero of a hundred 
battles, sometime “lord of the lion heart and eagle eye,” when his fading 
eyesight no more can guide the winged arrow as of yore, is ignominiously 
compelled to accompany his sons into the forest, and bear home on his 
