“This spring the white men shut off my rations. They refused to let me have food for my children, because I was making ready to give the Sun Dance. I had to give the ceremony to save the life of a child that was dying; its mother had already made her vow to the Sun. Now my heart is bitter against all white men; I do not want to make known any of my knowledge to a white man. But Onesta, you are my relative, and have made a long journey. This white man can remain in my camp for a few days to rest; and during that time we may get to know each other better.” Then a slender, pretty girl, dressed in soft-tanned deerskin, came into the lodge. She was the youngest daughter of the chief and was named “Whistling-All-Night,” because she was born in the moon, “when the jack rabbit whistles at night in calling its mate.” Said Brings-Down-the-Sun to Onesta and Little Creek: “My family comes every summer to gather wild berries in this valley; and we are glad to have you come too. Berries are plentiful this summer; you had better gather a supply and dry them for winter, as we are accustomed to do. But I ask you to be careful of our berry bushes. Do not break the branches, or injure any of our big trees. I am looking ahead for the good of my people. I want to preserve the trees and berry bushes for future generations. I am accustomed to warn my fellow tribesmen not to be shortsighted like the Blood Indians. They once had big trees like ours, but they cut them all down for firewood. Now their country is bare and they have few berry bushes. I told my people to haul their firewood from the forests on the mountains. They have followed my advice, and we still have our big-leaf-trees (cottonwoods). The trees with long leaves we call spear-leaf-trees (balsam poplar); we have also round-leaf-trees (quaking aspen), and thickets of brush-sticks (willows). We call the big trees ‘the-old-time-trees,’ and the small ones ‘young-people-trees.’” So they talked until darkness settled over valley and Indian camp. I saw the pale light of the rising moon shining on the tepee walls. And, while I sat watching this venerable medicine man, I thought: “How strange that he, of a savage race, an untaught son of the wilderness, should have the wisdom and foresight of a statesman in trying to husband their natural resources of big trees and berry bushes; and, although he had just cause for hating the white race, yet he treated me with kindness and generosity.” As I was leaving the tepee, I made presents to all his family—a silk handkerchief of bright colors to Brings-Down-the-Sun, a blanket to his wife, and a bracelet of shining white shells to his daughter, Whistling-All-Night.