After trying in vain to convince me that it was useless to waste time further with the Indians, the clerk started back again after supper, satisfied that that part of the country was safe so far as the Ghost dance was concerned. By this time it was dark, and the Indians invited the interpreter and myself to come over to a tipi about half a mile away, where we could meet all the old men. We started, and had gone but a short distance when we heard from a neighboring hill the familiar measured cadence of the ghost songs. On turning with a questioning look to my interpreter—who was himself a half-blood—he quietly said: “Yes; they are dancing the Ghost dance. That’s something I have never reported, and I never will. It is their religion and they have a right to it.” Not wishing to be an accomplice in crime, I did not go over to the dance; but it is needless to state that the old men in the tipi that night, and for several successive nights thereafter, knew all about the songs and ceremonies of the new religion. As already stated, the Shoshoni had really lost faith and abandoned the dance. Among the Shoshoni the dance was performed around a small cedar tree, planted in the ground for that purpose. Unlike the Sioux, they hung nothing on this tree. The men did not clasp each other’s hands, but held on to their blankets instead; but a woman standing between two men took hold of their hands. There was no preliminary medicine ceremony. The dance took place usually in the morning, and at its close the performers shook their blankets in the air, as among the Paiute and other tribes, before dispersing. However novel may have been the doctrine, the Shoshoni claim that the Ghost dance itself as performed by them was a revival of an old dance which they had had fully fifty years before. The selection of the cedar in this connection is in agreement with the general Indian idea, which has always ascribed a mystic sacredness to that tree, from its never-dying green, which renders it so conspicuous a feature of the desert landscape; from the aromatic fragrance of its twigs, which are burned as incense in sacred ceremonies; from the durability and fine texture of its wood, which makes it peculiarly appropriate for tipi poles and lance shafts; and from the dark-red color of its heart, which seems as though dyed in blood. In Cherokee myth the cedar was originally a pole, to the top of which they fastened the fresh scalps of their enemies, and the wood was thus stained by the blood that trickled slowly down along it to the ground. The Kiowa also selected a cedar for the center of their Ghost-dance circle.