Near by was the lodge of a young man named Two Eagles. That night his only child was ill. I heard a medicine man enter and begin his monotonous drumming. The beating was soft and regular, unlike the lively drumming for a ceremony or dance; this was slow and steady and sounded muffled, like the steady throbbing of a human heart. After midnight the beating suddenly ceased, and I knew the child had died. For a moment there was silence; I heard the mother sobbing as she took up the lifeless body; then realizing it was dead, she broke into a mournful wail. Just before dawn a rider galloped through the camp, calling for every one to get up and go to work. But it was only a joke; no one took it seriously; every one knew it was a man who was humorously inclined. Then came the morning breeze from the mountains, making a humming sound against the ropes; and the ears of our lodge began to flap. I heard the beating of a horse’s hoofs on the soft turf, going towards the meadow where the tribal herds were feeding; and knew it was the day man going to relieve the night herder. Suddenly the sound of drums, with shouts and singing, came from the band of Fat Melters. At last Lone Chief had caught some one with his Pipe. Then Elk Horn, the herald, rode forth beating a drum. He shouted as he galloped through the camp: “You Fat Melters! Get up and cook breakfast. Wolf Plume has been caught with the Pipe. Let every one help. He must pay many horses, robes and blankets. Do not delay; the sun will soon rise. The dance will take place in the lodge of Wolf Plume. Let every one come.” Quickly I dressed and made ready my cameras. When I went out from the lodge, a bright morning star was rising over the prairie. In the dim light, I saw a crowd gathered about one of the tepees. Then the drums began again—the signal for Lone Chief and his friends to come forth with the sacred Pipe. I saw them march through the camp and made picture records of these interesting events, though the sun had not risen. Lone Chief and Wolf Plume were at the head of the procession with the Medicine Pipe. Then came their wives carrying the sacred bundles. The drummers were behind; also prominent men with their wives, who were to help Lone Chief in the ceremony. When they came to Wolf Plume’s tepee, they halted; but the singing and drumming continued. In the doorway of the lodge stood the aged mother of Wolf Plume. She had snow-white hair and leaned heavily on a staff. When she saw Wolf Plume with the Pipe, and heard the singing and drumming, she was so overcome with emotion that she joined in the song. She waved her stick in the air and shouted: “Good boy! Wolf Plume! Good boy! My son! You are now a great chief.”