Next day he came to say he was all right, and would soon again be
as good as half a dozen men.

At this same camp in Grand Rapids another cure on a much larger
scale was added to my list. An Indian had "the bones of his foot
broken," crushed by a heavy weight, and was badly crippled. He
came leaning on a friend's shoulder. His foot was blackened and much
swollen, but I soon satisfied myself that no bones were broken,
because he could wriggle all the toes and move the foot in any
direction.

"You'll be better in three days and all right in a week," I said,
with calm assurance. Then I began with massage. It seemed necessary
in the Indian environment to hum some tune, and I found that the
"Koochy-Koochy" lent itself best to the motion, so it became my
medicine song.

With many "Koochy-Koochy"-ings and much ice-cold water he was
nearly cured in three days, and sound again in a week. But in the
north folk have a habit (not known elsewhere) of improving the
incident. Very soon it was known all along the river that the Indian's
leg was broken, and I had set and healed it in three days. In a
year or two, I doubt not, it will be his neck that was broken, not
once, but in several places.

Grand Island yielded a great many Deermice of the arctic form, a
few Red-backed Voles, and any number of small birds migrant.

As we floated down the river the eye was continually held by tall