In the center, at No Water’s camp, stands the sacred tree. It is a nearly straight sapling thirty or forty feet high, trimmed of branches to a height of several feet. To the topmost twigs is attached a small white flag or canvas strip, supposed to be an emblem of purity, together with some colored strips. The base of the tree is wrapped with rushes and flags to a thickness of some feet. Between the reeds the dancers from time to time thrust little gifts or peace-offerings. These offerings are supposed to allay the anger of the Great Spirit, and are given in perfectly good faith by the poor natives. They consist of small pieces of calico, bags of tobacco, or pipes. During the height of excitement, those worshippers most deeply affected cut small particles of flesh from their arms, and thrust these, also, between the rushes of the holy tree. Henry Hunter (the Weasel, “Itonkasan”) informs me that after the dance had been running some days, the rushes covering the base of the tree were literally besmeared with human blood! As the circle moves toward the left, the priest and his assistants cry out loudly for the dancers to stop a moment. As they pause he raises his hands toward the west, and upon all the people acting similarly, begins the following remarkable prayer: “Great Spirit, look at us now. Grandfather and Grandmother have come. All these good people are going to see Wakantanka, but they will be brought safely back to earth. Everything that is good you will see there, and you can have these things by going there. All things that you hear there will be holy and true, and when you return you can tell your friends how spiritual it is.” As he prays, the dancers cry aloud with all the fervor of religious fanatics. They moan and sob, many of them exclaiming: “Great Father, I want you to have pity upon me.” One can scarcely imagine the terrible earnestness of these people. George E. Bartlett, and Mr. Sweeney, one of the agency school-teachers, the chief herder, Mr. John Darr, and others, have informed me that during their extended experience at the agency, of many years’ duration, they have witnessed many different dances. They describe the scene of the dance, especially at night, as most weird and ghostlike. The fires are very large, and shed a bright reflection all around; the breasts of the worshippers heave with emotion; they groan and cry as if they were suffering great agony, and the priest begs them to ask great Wakantanka to forgive their sins.