Rain-in-the-Face (Itiomagaju) hobbled into the tent to-night, as McFadden and I were discussing the events of the day, and seating himself, unbidden, with true Indian stoicism, he grunted out that one word of all words so dear to a Lakota, “Minnewaukan!” which, literally translated, means “Water of God,” but which by usage has been interpreted as “fire-water.” Since the other Indians were all away from camp on a visit to their friends, the Oglalas at Buffalo Bill’s camp, I decided to yield for once to Rain’s oft-repeated demand, which had been hitherto as regularly denied. He took my flask, and with a guttural “How!” drained it at one gulp, without straining a muscle of his face. “Ugh! good! like Rain’s heart,” he remarked, as he handed the empty bottle to “Mac” with a self-satisfied look. Then, after a long pause, he joined in our hearty laughter, and added: “Wechasa Chischina (Little Man, as he always calls me) good! Potoshasha (Red Beard, his name for McFadden) good! Minnewaukan good! All heap good!” “Something’s come over the old man,” laughed Mac. “His heart’s good to-night. Suppose we take advantage of it, as the boys are all over at the Oglala tepees, and get Rain to turn his heart inside out. Here, give me my hat and I’ll get the flask refilled and bring back Harry with me to interpret.” Off he went like a shot, leaving me to entertain Rain as best I could with my small knowledge of the Sioux lingo and signs. McFadden soon returned, bringing Harry McLaughlin, our interpreter. It didn’t take long to get Rain started; after he had had another pull at the flask, he said: [Illustration: RAIN-IN-THE-FACE _From a sketch from life made in 1894 by Edward Esmonde_ ] “If you want a story, I will tell a true one. It’s about myself. I was a bad man and dangerous to fool with before I had to walk with crutches. My heart’s good now, but it was all the time bad when I was a fighter and a hunter. The maidens admired me, but the bucks were afraid of me. I would rather fight than eat. The long swords (soldiers) trembled when they knew I was near, and the Rees and Crows always felt of their hair every morning to see if their scalps were still on when Rain was near by.” Here Harry headed him off, for it’s natural for an Indian to boast, and if any one will listen he will sing his own praises for hours at a stretch. “Yes, we know you were a bad man and a fighter from ’way back,” said Harry, “but we want to hear about the time Tom Custer made you take water. If you were such a brave man, how did it happen that a little man like Tom Custer got the best of you?” This had the desired effect, and Rain winced under such a reflection on his bravery, for he measured forty-six inches around his chest, stood five feet nine inches, and weighed about 195 pounds at that time, while Captain Tom Custer was under the average weight and height.