commenced plucking out his hair by the roots.[2] Soon Tom twitched from head to foot, and water stood in his eyes; but the red men still kept on with their work, dipping their fingers in ashes occasionally to enable them to take a better hold.  Before long his head was completely bald, with the exception of one long tuft upon his crown, called the scalp-lock.  This was immediately stiffened and plaited, so as to stand upright and hold a variety of ornaments, which his glum hairdresser fastened upon it.  Then two old Indians pierced his nose and ears and hung big rings in the smarting holes.  They then took off his clothing and painted his body with every variety of color.  Next they hung a gaily embroidered cloth about his loins, put a wampum[3] chain about his neck and fastened silver bands on his right arm.  When this was done the whole party gave three shrill whoops, and men, women, and children crowded around him, making the most frantic gestures, and uttering the most horrid sounds that ever a poor fibbing white man heard.

Next the maidens of the tribe rushed upon him, and, hurrying him to a stream that ran near by, dragged him into the water until it reached his waist, and tried to force his head under.  This of course, aroused all his spirit of resistance; but, when one of the girls, named She-de-ah (wild sage), cried into his ear.  “No kill! no kill!” he concluded to submit.

After this he was ducked and held under most unmercifully, until, believing by this time that “the white blood must be all washed out of him,” they led him up the shore, all shivering and dripping, and presented him to their principal chief.

The next performance was to dress him in an Indian shirt ornamented with feathers and beads and bits of porcupine quill.  They put leggins on his legs and moccasins on his feet, and, seating him upon a bear-skin, gave him flint and steel to strike a light with; then a pouch, a tomahawk, some tobacco, and a long pipe.  Then the chiefs seated themselves beside him, and smoked in silence.  Tom knew well enough that he was expected to smoke too, and filled and lit his pipe accordingly, never dreaming of the consequences.  Old as he was, nearly twenty, this was his “first smoke,” and very soon the poor fellow found himself growing deadly sick.  He could feel the cold chills creeping one after another into his very face.  Finally, something within him seemed to turn somersaults, when, yielding to a sudden impulse, he flung the pipe upon the ground, and rushed into the recesses of the wigwam, where he usually slept.  This the Indians, who attach an almost sacred importance to the pipe, took as a great affront; and only when Tom afterward, by the most earnest gestures, explained to them the real cause of his conduct, did they allow their injured feelings to be pacified; though it cut him sorely to notice the expressions of contempt, and ridicule that were soon lavished upon him.  Whether this proof of what seemed in Indian opinion a want of manliness