The farewell of my friend Checkered Cloud can never be forgotten.

She was my constant visitor for years; and, although a poor and despised Sioux woman, I learned to look upon her with respect and regard.

Nor does my interest in her and her nation cease, because, in the chances of life, we may never meet again.

It will still be my endeavor to depict all the customs, feasts and ceremonies of the Sioux, before it be too late.

The account of them may be interesting, when the people who so long believed in them will be no more.
We can see they are passing away, but who can decide the interesting question of their origin?
They told me that their nation had always lived in the valley of the Mississippi--that their wise men had asserted this for ages past.