tJtiiUUiY If. OF 1- UR8AKA- 
y . 
In Sahaptin Land 
III.—The Initiation of the White Medicine Man 
A Sweat Hath and a Deer Drive 
By CHARLES S. MOODY 
A FTER I had been three years among 
them, the Indians decided that I was 
entitled to adoption. A council was in 
progress in the big council tepee, and that after¬ 
noon one of the sub-chiefs, who was a friend 
of mine, came and told me that I was expected 
that night; at the same time he presented me 
with a buckskin bag containing some tail 
feathers of the black-billed magpie and the skin 
of a white weasel. These he told me to retain 
until called for. He came for me that night 
at dusk, at the same time presenting my wife 
with a small white-and-black duck that breeds 
along the river, telling her that her name should 
be the same as that duck, Kot-kot, and by that 
name she is still known. Fie dressed me in a 
robe of rabbit skins and led me to the door of 
the tepee. A human radius to which was at¬ 
tached a bladder filled with small pebbles was 
given me. In one end of the lodge a fire burned 
and about it were seated the old men of the 
tribe. The tu-at stood at the head of the fire. 
He took from it a brand and touched my hand 
with it lightly, saying, “May our fire ever warm 
you.” Food was placed before me and I was 
bidden eat. The tu-at said, “May our food ever 
nourish you.” Several young men now marched 
in, ranged themselves on either side of me and 
each drew his revolver. The tu-at said, “May 
our young men ever defend you.” He caused 
me to kneel, took from my hand the rattle with 
which I had been invested, struck me several 
times with it and said, “You are now one of 
us and your name shall be Los-Los Sikiptuat. 
This name means many things rather difficult 
to explain to the uninitiated, and especially to 
those unfamiliar with Indian customs. In order 
to make you understand it will be necessary to 
begin at the back end of it. A tu-at is a re¬ 
ligious functionary who exercises curative 
powers as a side issue; that is, he is in direct 
communication with all the spirits, good and 
bad. The evil spirits cause disease and the 
tu-at is supposed to exorcise them. When the 
patient dies the evil spirits are more power¬ 
ful than the sikip or medicine of the tu-at. 
Now, I was a tu-at in that I healed disease. I 
used sikip, but my sikip was different from the 
sikip of the regular tu-at in that it consisted of 
material things endowed with spiritual powers, 
while his was only of the spiritual. Lastly, it 
was necessary to give me some distinguishing 
adjective, and taking an unfair advantage of 
my extreme height they saddled me with Los- 
los, or, in other words, long. Therefore, the 
reader, if he has followed me closely, will un¬ 
derstand that they dubbed me “The-long-man- 
who-cures-with-medicines.” 
This adherence to the tu-ats deserves more 
attention on our part. No matter how thor¬ 
oughly you may Christianize the Indian, his be¬ 
lief in the tu-at still remains. It was this belief 
and the failure of a certain general to appre¬ 
ciate the sacred character of the tu-at that 
plunged the Sahaptins into war with the whites. 
An Indian may appear to conform to all the 
teachings of his religious instructors, he may 
live as nearly the life of the Nazarene as he 
can, but when he comes down to the shore of 
the dark river his mind reverts to his ancestral 
teaching that is older and stronger than the new 
religion of the white man. His Christian teach¬ 
ing is good enough to live by, but when it comes 
to death it does hot supply the desire in his 
soul. He must die in the religion of his fathers 
and under the incantation of the tu-at. 
I managed to dodge the sweat bath for sev¬ 
eral years, but finally, like fate, it overtook me 
and I had to surrender. The reader who fondly 
imagines that the Anglo-Saxon is the only per¬ 
son who occasionally takes a bath, and that the 
Indian is personally uncleanly, only needs to join 
a party of them in one of their bathing rites to 
have his mind disabused quickly and for all 
time. There are two things to refuse which are 
tantamount to expressing your contempt of an 
Indian. One I have already mentioned; the 
other is the sweat bath. The Indian only asks 
his personal friends and intimates to join him 
in this ceremony, and to refuse it is a great in¬ 
sult to his dignity. 
It chanced to be a bitterly cold day when one 
of my aboriginal brothers took it into his head 
to have a bath. He invited several of his own 
complexion and on the theory, I suppose, that 
variety is the spice of life, he asked me. By 
this time I had acquired all the finer shades 
of Sahaptin etiquette, so I bowed gracefully 
and murmured. “Delighted, I assure you.” Just 
how delighted I really was, deponent sayeth not. 
The sweat house stood on the shore of the 
river. It was composed of willow twigs sharp¬ 
ened at both ends and driven into the ground 
in the form of a bow in such manner as to con¬ 
struct a hut not unlike that of an Eskimo. This 
was covered with sods and over! the sods were 
thrown several heavy blankets. A pit had been 
made in the sand and into it were rolled several 
large stones, a fire made over these and they 
were brought to a red heat. 
The wind blew a gale and the air was filled 
with scudding snow. I divested myself of my 
habiliments at the house and threw a blanket 
over me. In this guise I followed my dusky 
guide down to the shore. There were several 
qf my Indian friends seated about the fire, smok¬ 
ing. They were clad in their native modesty 
and nothing else. When all was in readiness 
my host arose, and followed closely by myself 
and the other savages, entered the low doorway 
of the sweat house. We packed ourselves away 
in there very much as you have seen sardines 
packed in a tin. An Indian who remained on 
the outside rolled several of the red hot stones 
in among us, then passed in a bucket of water 
and dropped a heavy blanket over the opening, 
leaving us to our fate. The Indians started a 
sort of dismal chant. My host threw water 
from the bucket on the stones. The effect on 
the atmosphere in that house has to be experi 
enced to be appreciated; language fails to ex 
press it. It was hot before; it became torrid. 
For thirty minutes I stewed until it seemed the 
skin was dropping from my flesh. Those of 
you who think you have perspired are blissfully 
ignorant of what perspiration really is. , 
When there was not a single drop of moisture 
left in my body and I was slowly but inevitably 
curling up with the heat like a pork rind in a 
skillet, the Indian threw up the flap and issued 
forth. What a relief! But my martyrdom was. 
not at an end. Chanting, my host started for 
the river, into whose icy embrace he resigned 
himself. His companions followed suit, and nol 
to be outdone, I also. You may at some time 
in your life have slipped off a smooth rock intc 
the chilly waters of a trout stream and though! 
it cold, but upon my honor as a man and s 
fisherman, water under those conditions is warn 
compared to the second degree of an Indian 
sweat bath. As soon as courtesy admitted oi 
it I stole out, wrapped my flaming red blanket 
about me and scurried to the house. I fully 
expected to die of pneumonia, but I am pneu 
monia proof, for next day I was in good health 
but not desirous of repeating my performance 
At present a drive of deer is one of the thing: 
of the past. Within the past few years the deei 
have been so thinned out by pot-hunters anc 
others that but few are left, and at times om 
must hunt diligently for a head. In the tim< 
of which I write it was customary for the In 
dians in winter to make a drive and kill enougl 
deer for the whole settlement. It was my gooc 
