Then, when the moon rose over the plains, the night-singers appeared. They rode around the camp circle, singing to an accompaniment of jingling bells, keeping time with the slow jog-trot of their horses and giving shrill war-whoops at the end of each song. From different lodges came the sound of drumming, where dances and ceremonies were taking place. In one tepee the Brave Dog Society was giving a dance, shaking their rattles and singing; in another, a band of young men were singing and beating drums as a prayer for their Grass Dance on the morrow. And from Mad Wolf’s lodge I heard the sound of solemn chanting by many voices in unison, both men and women, accompanied by rhythmical beating of rattles on the ground. After dark I went down from the hill and entered the camp. But I soon lost my way; the plain was level with no paths to guide. The big Indian camp was over a mile in circumference and at night all the tepees looked alike. Then I met Rattler, the doctor, and his wife, First Strike, with drums and sacks of roots and herbs, on their way to visit a patient. I joined them and they took me to the lodge of Stuyimi, an old friend of mine who had been ill for many months. We found the patient lying on a couch of robes and blankets. His wife and two daughters were seated on another couch across the lodge. Rattler and I took places at the back of the lodge, while his wife, First Strike, joined the women. I was no sooner seated than a small coyote puppy crawled from the blankets at my side. It had a long pointed nose and bright eyes, and his coat was soft and fluffy. I put forth my hand to stroke it. Like a flash it snapped viciously and narrowly missed; then snarled and showed his fangs, until one of the girls called him by name, “Apis” (Wolf), when he ran to her, hopping on three legs and dragging his hind quarters, after the manner of coyotes, and soon fell asleep in her arms. They also had a pet dog named “Sa-sak-si” (Freckle Face). To show off his tricks, one of the girls said: “Ai im skotos” (laugh at him); the dog lifted his upper lip for a smile and wagged his tail. Then she called: “Iks katsit” (watch it), and the dog sat glaring at the door. All this time the women were talking and gossiping and eating dried meat and service berries, while old Rattler waited in silence; he wanted to begin his doctoring. He was a large man, over six feet in height, with massive head and long gray hair, which fell in waves over his broad shoulders. He was genial and good-natured. Every one liked Rattler. He feigned an air of confidence in his own wisdom and power, which helped him with his patients and added greatly to his success as a doctor.