A large fire was burning cheerfully in the centre. Over it hung a kettle which was kept constantly stirred by an old Indian, dressed in a buffalo robe, whitened with chalk, and ornamented with hieroglyphic symbols. As he stirred he hummed a low chant, occasionally raising his voice until he caused it to sound loudly through the whole building, and then again sinking it, until it reached the ear of the listener, in low and almost inaudible murmurs. There was something wild, and rather forbidding in the features of this individual. A few steps from the fire, lay two forms, completely covered by a heavy buffalo robe; and bending over these stood another Indian, dressed similar to the first. He too, was humming a low song, at intervals dancing to a slow measure round the robe. The doctor suspected that these were Medecin-Men,[G] and that they were performing some of the miraculous cures, which they boast of in the village, and which give them a reputation for superior sanctity among the credulous Indians, who believe them to hold communion with the Great Spirit. Their ability to perform these cures, arises frequently, from their superior knowledge, of the hidden medicinal virtues of different herbs. By jumbling with their healing art, an unintelligible species of mystic mummery, and by pretending to hold a direct intercourse with the Deity, the cure of their patients is attributed more to his immediate interference, than to any virtue of the medicines which they have received. [G] Every tribe of Indians has its Medecin-Men. They are a kind of priest or prophet. Their influence, however, is very variable, and depends upon the popularity which they may have acquired with the nation. As long as they confine their prophecies to those events, which they know will be agreeable, so long are they regarded with high veneration; but as soon as they commence predictions of evil—or attempt to reveal unpalatable truths, their influence wanes, themselves are shunned, and their predictions scorned. They are also skilled in the virtues of herbs, and act as physicians in healing the sick. From this they have derived the name of Medecin, (signifying in French, physician.) After humming round them, the Medecin raised the edge of the robe, exposing the naked heads and shoulders of two old, shrivelled squaws. The person at the fire, then reached to the other a large dipper, filled with part of the contents of the kettle, which was greedily swallowed by the squaws. The robe was then thrown over them, and again the Medecin commenced his hum and dance.