The desire to be a man--the native spirit of the explorer and the
hero--this is the strong inner motive which leads a boy out on the
wilderness trail to discover the world anew. First of all, he discovers
what he himself must be in order to overcome difficulties, to resist
pain and hardship, and to win the object of his quest.
With these impulses at their purest and strongest, the Indian boy begins
his career with the building of a sound and efficient body. The rivers
and lakes present themselves as obstacles in his path, and as a very
young child he starts in to swim, as naturally, almost, as he begins to
walk. The writer barely remembers standing on the white, pebbly beach
with his grandfather at his side; standing silent, full of sincere
reverence for the spirit of the deep, as he stood before the towering
cliff, or the majestic, solitary tree. In advance of every undertaking,
the Indian loves to meet thus the all-pervading Spirit in the attitude
of wordless prayer.
Now the grandfather makes the plunge with a boyish shout. "See, see!" he
calls to the boy as he comes up, breathless and exultant, from his dive.
"I am happy as I lie here cradled by the yielding water. You can be as
happy, if you will but make up your mind to try!"
Do you see the idea? The simple effort, the plunge, that is the
important thing. The boy is neither frightened nor forced; he follows
soon of his own accord, and the lesson is begun aright under the eye of
an experienced master.
As the child grows, he becomes more and more expert and daring; from
this time on he eagerly seeks perfection in his new art. His idea of
perfection is, first, endurance, then swiftness; grace and form come
naturally while aiming at these two. Therefore he swims at all times, in
rough water and against strong currents. When some day he is cast
suddenly into the water at a disadvantage, wounded, it may be, or
obliged to swim long under water in order to escape the enemy, he knows
how to utilize his strength to the utmost, and often overcomes
tremendous odds with the remarkable tact and skill of the Indian
athlete.
Clear your mind of all dread and suspicion; this is the first step in
the wilderness life. Think not the water will drown you, or that
anything in the water or on land will bite or poison you. Have
confidence in nature and yourself. Perhaps three-fourths of your
physical failures are due to lack of nerve and will-power.
It is not my purpose to teach you to swim, but to tell you how to use
the art of swimming toward perfecting an out-of-door body and a logical
mind. The Indian swims freely at all seasons of the year when the water
is open. The usual method of bathing in winter is to go into a sweat
lodge (the original Turkish bath) for five or more minutes; then he
jumps into a hole in the ice, which he has cut large enough to enter
safely, and comes out in a few minutes. After a short run, he wraps
himself in a buffalo robe with the hair inside and sleeps for a while.
This makes him a new man. The Indian boy often rolls in the snow naked
when fresh snow is on the ground.
A perfectly trained outdoor man has much natural heat in his body, and
can generate much more by exercise. Little clothing is actually needed,
and I have seen Indians sleep all night without covering, in fairly cool
weather at that. Much depends upon habit and early training; yet it is
quite possible to learn new habits after one is well grown.
One of the first things to do is to accustom yourself to lie on the
ground until your muscles make the necessary adjustment to its hardness
and unevenness, and you can rest in comfort. Do not worry about snakes
or insects; they will rarely do you harm; nor is there any danger from
dampness, once you are in training. A few evergreen boughs over frozen
or wet ground are protection enough. The best way to sleep in camp is
feet toward the fire. There are several reasons for this. If, by any
mischance, the fire escapes, your feet are very sensitive and will
awaken you in time. Also, it is easy to get up without disturbing any
one.
The Indian must always arouse every fiber of his body before he begins
the day. The first thing he does when he awakes is to stretch every limb
to the utmost, and finally the entire body. He takes pleasure in the
most tremendous yawns. He rises and starts up the fire; then he runs to
the nearest stream or lake shore and either plunges in or splashes the
fresh cold water upon his face, chest, and arms. Often he holds his face
and eyes under water for several seconds. After that, he rinses his
mouth and throat, rubs himself vigorously with the palms of his hands,
and combs his hair, with the placid pool or spring for his only mirror.
In awakening his sleeping body, the Indian patterns after his animal
friends. You will observe that no dog gets up and walks off without
thoroughly stretching himself, from the nose to the tip of his tail.
This is an excellent cure for early morning laziness.
Before winter sets in, he begins to take ice-cold foot-baths, and as
soon as the first snow comes, he walks barefoot in it until he gets up a
fine glow; then puts on warm, fur-lined moccasins. He is perfectly able
to enjoy life out-of-doors at any season of the year, and has no use for
the artificial house-heat of civilization. If he wets his feet at any
time, he puts dry hair or even grass inside his moccasins, and runs
until his feet are dry and warm.
The Indian's stomach is very strong, and this is something you should
look well to, for much depends upon a perfect digestion. The teeth are
valuable assistants, and these he exercises vigorously on tough muscle
and fiber and keeps them clean without a toothbrush; in return they give
him excellent service. He washes out his stomach twice a year, after
fasting for twenty-four hours, by taking a mild decoction of herbs in a
quart or two of lukewarm water and then tickling his throat with a
feather. Sometimes he repeats the process.
His best meal is in the evening, when he eats heartily, sometimes taking
another meal later in the night. His breakfast is a light one, and if he
expects to run much, he eats nothing at all. At noon, he cooks some game
for himself, if convenient. An occasional short fast is enjoined upon
the Indian boy, as a means of developing his endurance and
self-restraint.
Although trained from babyhood to awaken easily, his sleep is sound and
sweet; such sleep as comes after a day of healthful bodily exercise in
the open air, when a good evening meal and the warmth of a cheerful
camp-fire bring on that delicious drowsiness to which it is a luxury to
yield.