When the Indians go camping far back into the mountains, and even if a white man accompanies them, they always insist on making the first camp fire, when a camping place is selected. In building the fire the first stick of wood they lay down points directly north and south, on the north end of this stick of wood they place another stick some eight or twelve inches back from the north end, placing this branch east and west, thus making a cross. When the cross is made they proceed to kindle the fire, and during the whole time they are offering up a prayer to God in a low tone of voice. This prayer is earnestly offered up to the Almighty asking Him to protect them from the Indian devils and wild animals, while they are in the wilds and to keep them from accidents. After the first worship has been offered up any one can build the camp fire as long as they camp in the same place, and the Indians do not repeat this form of worship until they move away to a different camping place. The Indian places his soul in the care of God, and worships at his shrine under the open Heavens and boundless skies, and not at the religion and traditions of another race that has a tradition from the beginning of the creation of a living man, and down through the long centuries of thousands of years. If this is true, let me quote from the so called civilized races, for instance, Rome had its Caesar, oft writ in history, “Great and brave,” but all the world knows that he lived the heartless conqueror, crushing out the lives of men, his hands were dipped in human blood and he died the tyrant’s death. All the world knows that France had its monarch, his name is writ on Fame’s record as the mighty conqueror of Europe. The winding rivers of Europe were once red with the blood it shed, there were gory battle fields left in his wake, to say nothing of broken hearted mothers and children who went weeping under cheerless skies without a home to shelter them. For example, our own United States, in 1861–65, cities went down in ruins, homes were destroyed, human blood flowed like wine, thousands sleep in unknown graves, they died martyrs for a great cause, and the Redman was just as much of a martyr for his cause as they.