Sunset Ranch: A Story of a Boy's Adventures in the West — page 147: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

An Indian Brave. 135 several of the boldest wolves raised their melodious voices, as if eager to get at their customary meal. Cuthbert trod over the rattlesnake weed and wild roses that grew everywhere, heading for the village, where the cheery glow of fires could be seen that told of another meal. The drowsy chirp of crickets, and the shrill voices of katydids sounded among the wild plum trees and the hazel bushes, telling of the August night and the frost in store. One thing Cuthbert desired to investigate, and this, chief of all, aroused his curiosity. It was the weird old medicine man, that worthy who assumes the office of doctor and druggist, as well as oracle, for every tribe—who, by his incanta- tions, appeases the wrath of the Evil Spirit, prophe- sies coming events, attends to those who are sick, bestows magic talismans on those able to pay for protection, and, in a word, holds the tribe, from the big chief down, in the hollow of his skinny hand. He is always a keen-witted, unscrupulous rascal, who knows full well how best to play upon the super- stitious nature of his fellows, and who can readily manufacture an excuse that sounds reasonable enough whenever one of his prophecies goes wrong. Cuthbert had never been able to get on visiting terms with the big medicine, when the tribe to which Little Buckshot belonged had taken up temporary quarters in the vicinity of Sunset Ranch. His ambition was still unsatisfied, and he resolved to make some discoveries in this quarter if the op- portunity opened. He could hear the old fellow holding forth now, beating some sort of tom-tom, now slowly and anon with fierce emphasis, all the while chanting what was doubtless an ode to the departing day, or an invo- cation to the spirits of the night. At least the wild, barbaric music seemed just in comiclooks C©