332 THE GEOEGE CATLIN INDIAN GALLERY. 



" ' Sacr^ veugeauce ! Oli, mouDien! Let me cry — T shall cry always, for evare. Oh, 

 he is not true, I hope ? No, monsieur, no !' 



" Yes, Ba'tiste, it is a fact ; thus ended the days and the greatness and all theiiride 

 and hoijes of Wi-jun-jon, the ' Pigeon's Egg Head,' a warrior and a hraveof the valiant 

 Assinahoiues, who traveled eight thousand miles to see the President and all the 

 great cities of the civilized world ; and who, for telling the truth, and nothing hut 

 the truth, was, after he got home, disgraced and killed for a wizard. * * » 



" Now, my friend Ba'tiste, * * * I myself feel sad at the poor fellow's unhappy 

 and luckless fate ; for he was a handsome, an honest, and a noble Indian. This man's 

 death, Ba'tiste, has been a loss to himself, to his friends, and to the world, but you 

 and I may profit by it, nevertheless, if we bear it in mind — we may profit by his mis- 

 fortune, if we choose. We may call it a 'caution;' for instance, when I come to 

 write your book, as you have proposed, the fate of this poor fellow, who was relating 

 no more than what he actually saw, will caution you against the imprudence of tell- 

 ing all that you actually know, and narrating all that you have seen, lest like him 

 you sink into disgrace for telling the truth. You know, Ba'tiste, that there are many 

 things to be seen in the kind of life that you and I have been living for some years 

 past which it would be more prudent for us to suppress than to tell." 



475. Butte de Mort. Upper Missouri, a great burial-place of the Sioux, called by the 



French '"Butte de mort," hill of death. Painted in 1834. 



Regarded by the Indians with great dread and superstition. There are several 

 thousand buffalo and human skulls, perfectly bleached and curiously arranged about 

 it. ''The Butte des Morts— Hill of the dead — near the banks of the Fox River, in Win- 

 nebago County, Wisconsin, a large and apparently artificial m'onnd, said to contain 

 the remains of Indian warriors killed in ancient battles. Its notoriety dates back of 

 all written history, however early, of this part of the northwest, and gathers about 

 it the charms of many traditions. — H. W. Beckwith. 



476. Rain-making amongst the Mandans, a "Very curious custom. Medicine-men 



performing their mysteries inside of the lodge, and young men volunteer 

 to stand upon the lodge from sunrise until sundown, in turn, commanding 

 it to rain. Painted at Mandan Village, 1832. 



(Plate No. 58, page 134, vol. 1, Catlin's Eight Years.) 



Each one has to hazard the disgrace which attaches (when he descends at sun- 

 down) to a fruitless attempt; and he who succeeds acquires a lasting reputation as a 

 mystery or medicine-man. They never fail to make it rain ! as this ceremony continues 

 from day to day until rain comes. 



Did you ever hear of rain-makers? If not, sit still, and read on ; but laugh not. 

 Keep cool and sober, or else you may laugh in the beginning, and cry at the end of 

 my story. Well, I introduce to you a new character — not a doctor or a high-priest, 

 yet a viedidne-man, and one of the highest and most respectable order, a rain-maker ! 

 Such dignitaries live in the Mandan nation, aye, and rain- stoppers too; and even 

 those also amongst their conjnrati, who, like Joshua of old, have even essayed to stoj) 

 the sun in his course ; but from the inefficiency of their ?ne(?'iew(e or mystery, have long 

 since descended into insignificance. 



The Mandans raise a great deal of corn, * * * but sometimes a most disastrous 

 drought visits the land, destructive to their promised harvest. Such was the case 

 when I arrived at the Mandan village on the steamboat Yellowstone. Rain had not 

 fallen for many a day, and the dear little girls and the ugly old squaws, altogether 

 (all of whom had fields of corn), were groaning and crying to their lords, and im- 

 ploring them to intercede for rain, that their little respective patches, which were 

 now turning pale and yellow, might not be withered, and they be deprived of the 

 pleasure of their customary annual festivity, and the joyful occasion of the "loasting 

 ears," and the green-corn dance. 



